January 9, 2003

My friend Kuldip guffawed. Simeen clucked her tongue pitifully. Ramya giggled. Saima exclaimed, are you serious???? After these heartening reactions, I decided not to tell my best friend, Amina (who lives ensconced in the mundanities of matrimonial mayhem in a remote enclave of Western Europe). My worst nightmare had come to pass. I had remained unmarried long enough to receive a resume.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a resume (as the initiation to the process of an arranged marriage) must be in want of a life!

It arrived promptly and pragmatically in my hotmail inbox, photo attached. He had mentioned his name (duh!) along with the correct pronunciation in parentheses. There were several other bits of useful information. Like his height —5’10” — and weight — 70 kg. “Fat,” remarked Simeen, then smiled apologetically. Wait, he had also mentioned that his health was “excellent and athletic” so that was probably the weight of his bulging muscles and not body fat, I argued lamely — desperately. But Simeen wasn’t convinced.

There was a detailed list of his siblings too. Not their names, but their ages and their educational and professional qualifications - all very relevant. Would be a great help in breaking the ice, no? Hello, PhD! How’s the health of those . . . errrr . . . post-Surat bubonic plague-traumatised mice lice? Or, my dear MSc, what a lovely necklace you’re wearing!

Of course, his own educational achievements were also listed, along with his academic ambitions. And I must confess, his array of professional credentials was rather impressive. If I were the CEO of a financial institution, I’d be very impressed.

He had also mentioned his marital status - “never married before!” (the exclamation mark is his, not my addition) —- and I must give credit where it is due. Merely mentioning “single” could also mean “divorcee”, no? At age 34, he rightly assumed that some people could think he’d been married at least once before. Hence the emphatic assertion and clarification. Good thinking!

Then there was the usual stuff that job applicants, oops! prospective suitors, include. Such as parents’ names and address etc. A section on ‘Interests’ would have been appreciated. But I suppose a guy who doesn’t have time or inclination to get to know — and be known to — a girl through less clinical means, will not have time for interests.

Thank God for a sense of humour! Mine, I’m talking about. Because I probably would have died of mortification at this eventuality - being at the receiving end of a pre-nuptial resume — had God not equipped me with one. Too bad he hasn’t been blessed with one as well, though. Because I thought my response to his clinical first move was quite amusing, not to mention clever.

“Thank you for the detailed resume,” I began, “but I’m not the INS, you know.” (He’s an American hari parchi wala). “Nevertheless, it is good to know that your health is ‘excellent and athletic’. As for quid pro quo,” I continued, “no-one - but NO-ONE - is privy to my weight.” (No self-respecting SWOT divulges her weight to anyone, even if it is 47kg!)

So I told him he’d have to make do with the attached photograph, and if he wanted any other relevant details, he could always email or call.

Now wasn’t that clever? I certainly thought so. My friends did too. But not Mr Excellent N. Athletic. He neither emailed, nor called and I hear he’s been giving the dodge to the kind aunt who got this ‘business’ started. Too busy to call back, is the message she keeps getting. I’ll bet!

Oh well. Next time, along with the additional list of pertinent queries like his shoe size, his favourite jello flavour and the name of his third grade violin teacher, I will surely ask a guy whether he has a sense of humour.

Did I just say next time? Oh, no! God, please get me a life!

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