Think I’m crazy? Think again.

In a small town in North Eastern India, I was struggling to find network on my Nokia phone. It had been two days since I spoke to my parents and this was too much of a time gap. Being an obedient Indian middle-class girl, it was my duty to call my parents every day. And I gladly fulfilled it, never faltering even once. At 27, I called them every morning or evening.

That day I was frantically trying to call them up, but the call wasn’t going through. I thought of putting the phone to rest while grabbing a cup of black masala tea. As soon as I held that colorful ceramic cup in my left hand, the phone in my right hand beeped, causing a minor spillage. 

It was my father.

“I have a proposal for you. There’s no way for you to say no to him. He may call you sometime. Talk to him and decide.”

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I hung up without revealing that I was on a vacation with my friend. After having said no to about 20 arranged marriage proposals, my relationship with my papa had become strained. He thought I was acting pricey and snobbish.

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