Letter to the Big B

Dear Prospective Bridegroom,

Hi. I’m a fun-loving, vivacious, young woman whose parents think it’s about time they married her off.

I have a Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature, a Postgraduate Diploma in Advertising and a job as a copywriter. (If you don’t know what a copywriter is, stop wasting your time and read the profile of the next eligible young bachelorette.)

My interests include reading, writing, watching movies, listening to music and being a smart-ass. I’m particularly fond of books, so if you haven’t heard of Franz Kafka, stop reading. If you have heard of Kafka and enjoy reading him, stop reading anyway. Both the author and this passage.

As you might have guessed by now, I’m also prone to being esoteric, sardonic, sarcastic and ironic. If you don’t know the meaning of any of these words, it was nice having your attention so far but it’s time you moved on. Really.

Among my many talents lies an unparalleled ability to wriggle out of housework and altogether avoid the kitchen. I can also sing very well in the bathroom, embarrass anybody I know even slightly and cause severe discomfort with a well-aimed knee.

You should also know that I studied Feminist Writing for three years.

My family consists of my parents, who’re both bankers and extremely Maharashtrian. In everything. My family also consists of my brother, who’s secretly trying to become an engineer without doing anything too provocative, like actually studying for it.

My parents are looking for a smart boy from a decent family, who’s well-educated, holds a well-paying job and is also extremely Maharashtrian. Not to mention a KoBra. My dad in particular is very keen upon the latter.

But I suspect that if you are in fact, a smart boy from a decent family, who’s well-educated, holds a well-paying job and is also extremely Maharashtrian, then this would be your cue to do what any smart boy would do.

Run.