Am I Marrying THE Engineer….?

Ok, so I finally managed to find my engineer who in addition to coming to terms with the impossibility of my finding a job in the Bay Area owing to my exemplary area of study had also agreed to pick up all my student loans and co-sign for any possible future maniacal educational endeavors. Surprised?? Me neither. The poor guy was madly in love with the damsel whose last major crush was a Navajo Indian who had nearly convinced her into spending spring break at the most happening city he had ever been to: Albuquerque. Horrified?? Me too.

Rewind Six Months:

Shalini, my friend from Kendriya Vidyalaya was the only girl in her IIT – Chennai computer science class. Her die-hard beliefs ranged from the fundamental software problem in the manufacture and application of the Y-chromosome to a rigid desire to migrate to Lhasa because of its reverse-dowry rules . Subsequently, she obviously didn’t have much of a chance with the exasperated guys there.

“Shal, dude you’re the luckiest freaking woman alive. You can get a custom-made husband with the choice you have.” For real, Shalini’s batch had the least number of girls in recent history. Since the remaining were personifications of ‘role-models’, they weren’t much of a competition for her. Or this is at least what she always paraded. But Shal had recently done the inevitable.

“Vids, I’m getting married da..”
“Wowoow…awwww… chooo chweeeet… I’m so happy for you…Saw your pic… you look so cute…you make such a good pair.”

Fast forward four months:

“Shal, I’m getting married.”
“WHAATTT??”
“Yup, to the man of yevaryone’s dreams !!!!”
“Keep dreaming...Nonsense”
“Shalini Iyer, I AM getting marr-”
“I can hear moron. But WHY? I mean are you sure everything is OK?”
“Shal-”
“What does the other moron do?”
“He’s a software developer at Complogistic solutions in San Fransisco”

Silence for a minute ------ “Meet me at 4 today” BEEEEP.

Shalini and the others always made it a point to remind their parents that any aspiring husband’s application be first forwarded to me. This noble gesture of theirs was accentuated the day I drooled over a cup of Ben n Jerry’s double chocolate chip ice-cream and seriously retorted that Ayman al Zawahiri, the second in command in the Taliban management was ‘hot’. There were five of us in the room: 1 mechanical engineer, 2 software, 1 industrial, and finally, the Research scientist. Oh, the last one’s me. At least that’s what it says on my portfolio. I might as well have been researching why my Navajo beau always sneezed whenever he saw me. After my mom told me that sneezing is a bad omen and by crossing it with another one ( me), it ensured good luck. Well, it made sense.
Anyways, so my query to my friends was that the Zawahiri dude had a job similar to most of them. He had a hectic job schedule, but sadly no job security. His boss was a maniac like all of theirs and he worked out of the exotic Afghan office.

“I think his profession is as interesting and exciting as all of yours’.
“Vidi, did you ever think for a while before choosing your Geology or whatever..?”
“ Oh yea, I did.. I was debating between seismology and English Literature (Whaat??), especially transcendentalism and Neo-Catholicism. But then-”

I was yanked away, gagged up and subjected to the worst type of Taliban-style torture for a week after my confession.

So yes, Jeez Louis, my marriage. How?? If I would’ve been approached by any homosapien with the proposition of me getting married in five months to an ‘object oriented programmer’, I would’ve scoffed and threatened to permanently settle in Uzbekistan for the rest of my life. So how did this phenomenon happen?

We met at a friends wedding in Hyderabad (because marriages are no longer made in heaven). He was definitely the type you’d notice in a huge gang. Yes, with his ‘I-know-I’m-the-center-of-attraction’ attitude and Prada goggles on a rainy-no-sun-at-all evening, you’d definitely notice him.

Renu aunty, Shalini’s mother was present at the wedding as usual. She always took the effort to pronounce every syllable in my name.

“Vaidehee beta, this is Vaibhav – He lives in San Fransisco”
Great – Is that going to prevent global warming?
“Vaibhav is a certified Java programmer”
# include Crap.. that’s not Java…
“Vaibhav, Vidi lives in Los ANGELS”
Aaaa you poor angel.
“She is studying Compewtar engineering”
Since when???
“Uhh.. no aunty, I’m studying Geology”
“%$^…..&^%”
“Geology, hmm … geography… hmm… Fluid Rock Interac-”
“ But beta, your mummy said you’re doing THE Java?”
“Vids, did you watch the latest Chelsea-Barcelona game?”

Thank heavens for small mercies. Shal knew where these types of introductions often lead. Before you knew it, phone numbers would be half heartedly exchanged, background checks done, relatives contacted and horoscopes matched.

That was the end of the Vaibhav factor and four rasgullas later, I left.

Fast forward two months:

LA- Café Spice at someone’s bachelor party. What in the holy name was I doing there? Word had spread that the guy who had ditched my roommate for a Brazilian Volleyball player twice his length in all axes was going to be there. Her loyal roomies were going to give him a good piece of their minds. Of course, it was only after seeing the guy that I’d realized that I would have gladly given him away to the next Brazilian who crossed me.

Suddenly,

“You should have seen her face…heheehhehehe … Geology …hehhehehe … which idiot studies it? I laughed so hard…so HARD…SO HA-”
“ Hey Vaibhav!”

You should have seen the boy’s face. I cried.

So yes, we exchanged phone numbers after realizing that we both hated pink, stuck our tongues out at every Camry and Accord on the road, went to the Santa Monica temple only on Sunday for the Laddu, threatened anyone who had taken a picture in front of the globe at Universal studios with dire consequences, and had bet $50 that Brangelina were going to divorce in exactly 75 days.

And therefore we got married. Believed me? Yup, I wouldn’t either.

Will leave all the dreaming, dating, blushing, musing, and drooling to viewer discretion. Except that in the journey of life that knows no destination,

no other hand will I hold,
no other touch will I feel,
no other smile will I absorb,
no other being will I deify….


[Background] “Ooooo…cho chweeet… MORON….So cuuteee…Freakin Insane…”


DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are anything but fictional. Any character or event bearing any resemblance to anything living or dead is everything but coincidental. You guys know who you are and you had better thank me for this !!!