Today, I received a rishta from the most unlikeliest of places: from an old American man (who was not Desi I might add). He wasn’t Hugh Heffner part two looking for his next young thang. He was merely looking for a bride for his son.
After rummaging through some photos, he approached me, pointed to a young man in a photo standing by a bridge in New York, and said: “Would you be interested in marrying my son? He’s a stock broker you know!”
In my head, I thought “he could be the Wolf of Wall Street for all I know.” But such things we don’t say out loud in the real world, so I politely and unabashedly declined.
No doubt if any rishta aunties were near by, they would have been toba toba-ing away and tutting as passionately as King Tut himself, had they witnessed this man attempting (unsuccessfully) to take their crown for being the most voracious bunch of match makers you’ll ever come across.
Don’t worry aunty jees, your crown is safe for now…