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or most women, it is that time of the month. For my mother, it is that time of the week. The time
when she goes hysterical on the phone and wants one thing more than anything else in the world
—my marriage.
‘Not today, mom, please. Any other day,’ I said.
‘Why? It’s Sunday. It’s the only day you are relaxed and can talk properly.’
‘I am not relaxed today,’ I snapped. I opened my laptop and logged on to Facebook.
‘Why? Are you working?’
‘No.’
‘So? You are at home, right? Did you go to that Ikka shop to get the sofa bed?’
‘IKEA. Eee-Kee-Aaa.’
‘Whatever. Did you get a sofa bed?’
‘No. I went there this afternoon. I liked one. I didn’t get a chance to buy it.’
‘Why?’
‘Leave it, mom. I told you. Not a good day.’
‘How will we come if you don’t have a sofa bed?’
‘I’ll get it, I promise.’
‘Why are you so irritated?’
‘Because I know what you are going to say.’
‘What?’
‘Register your profile. See some boys. Mom, why are you obsessed with me getting married?’
‘If I don’t care what will happen? You will continue buying sofas alone. Is it even a woman’s
job? To buy furniture?’
‘Don’t start, mom,’ I said. I searched for Debu. He had kept his profile private. I don’t know
why, I wanted to see his profile picture. Maybe he was single again.
‘Okay, listen to just one proposal,’ she said.
‘See, I knew it. That’s the only thing you talk about!’
‘Chemists.’
‘Chemists?’
‘I know what you are thinking. But this is a family with six chemist shops in the heart of Delhi.
They even have one opposite AIIMS. Do you know how much business that can do?’
‘Mom, you want my husband to sit in a chemist shop?’
‘He manages the shops. He doesn’t just sit there dishing out strips of Crocin.’
‘What’s his qualification?’ I said.