Sunday afternoons are for reading obtuse articles on obtuse sites and checking mail obsessively. Rediff's homepage tantalises me with images of - presumably - nubile young men, dangling youth like a trophy, smiling winsome smiles. Randomly I click into a profile, a fair, smiling mustachioed man. I can choose what I'm looking for.
Groom, I pick. Between 28-31. Profession: homemaker.
Images of an apron-clad husband waiting for me when I return home late in the evening dance before me. "Warm soup?" he will ask on a wind-lashed winter evening. (Or alternatively, "Cold lassi with mint leaves?" on a sizzling summer night. Etc.)
You should get married, my relatives urge.
"You can get married, go abroad and do your Masters," says my great aunt.
"Your husband will ensure you have an egg a day with cheese in it," says my mother who sees Life as one great culinary endeavour to fatten her daughter.
On rediff there is no talk of egg-preparing, grad-school allowing young grooms. Instead the homemakers have their egg-grad school equivalent demands.
Such as:
I Want Very High Class Indian Bride.She must belong to a Rich Family who have no financial problems like me [Please]
and
Nothing Special about me am a simple man.I donot have great thoughts.Want to live a tension less life.
So much simpler to demand an EggADay and a free Masters.
