Let Me Put My Love Into You

It is true that my people, by which I mean most readers of my blog, are not half-wits or sub-intellects. And it is people like you I put my love into, for whom I write, whose comments make my day.

Unfortunately, there are more half-wits and sub-intellects in this world than we would care to have. And they are also very righteous and indignant. Usually for all the wrong things. Which is, of course, why they are mostly half-wits and sub-intellects.

Instead of indulging in a chuckle they indulge in criticism, instead of witty dialogue they believe in vituperative diatribe. And vice-versa. These are the people who make jokes on body types or jokes on sexual orientation often in ignorance, bad taste, and with worse language.

This time they decided to focus their righteousness and indignation on behalf of all the men and their families who showed no sense of language, class, or even basic decency when it came to forging matrimony. With me.

Unpardonable, you say?

An ex-colleague enjoyed the last instructional post so much she decided to post the link on her Facebook Wall thinking many of her friends will also enjoy it. Sadly, she didn’t tag me on the post.

The tiny controversy it created was something I could only watch from the sidelines first with amusement, then niggling annoyance, and finally resignation.

There were outraged protests, bitter laughter, stinging wit, and congratulatory encouragement to those doling the protest. All in cringe-inducing English, of course. None of them bothered to leave a comment on the blog. As I recall, LOLz were thrown in heedlessly. Arranged marriage became Arrange Marriage. I was addressed (The horror! The horror!) as ‘another female.’ The majority of the dissenters were of the opinion that I was ‘another biased female ranting’. I bet you see the irony. Ranting, as is evident by the post, was my idea and my word.

The ex-colleague ended the controversy with a weak, ‘I support the poster as I am good at highlighting others faults’ & conceal mine 😉 Guys, I really don’t understand arrange marriages and don’t know how it works so I better not comment 🙂 Peace peace please :D’

I am not really sure what she meant.

Usually after an experience like this where I have had to shut up and suck it, I would rant. And rage.

But now that I am moonlighting as a lecturer and instructor I am full of optimism and hope to change this dastardly world and groom people like the ones above. And make them people whom we could someday consider treating as our equals.

However, I will not instruct with dictum. I will educate with examples. Specifically of how not to be when conversing with a woman you wish to wed.

I have been told by the more conventional thinkers that refusing a person who wants to marry me, based on one grammatical mistake or a pronunciation error is a bit much. I always got back with, “Please, I want someone who can say, ‘I do’ not ‘I does’.” Just imagine being wed to someone who will assure you with a, ‘I jeninely (genuinely) love you.’

So while most men don’t make the cut, a few I spoke to did stand out at least as far as language was concerned.

The first one had a forty-five minute talk with me on the telephone detailing his life in the US, his family, how his mom was a babe, his sister a super-star who had groomed him for bride-hunting, what was expected of me in terms of being an amiable and uncomplaining companion to the babe and the super-star, and how I was to please his dashing and debonair father. Details of the sort of pleasure involved were thankfully not divulged. Other things expected of me included looking immediately for a job in the US post-wedding and cooking North Indian cuisine because frankly he hated to cook but loved North Indian cuisine. He barely tolerated South Indian food. He liked okra. He did drink occasionally but saw no need for me to do the same. Or smoke. Even if I did both now, I would, of course, give it up after the wedding. The wedding, he added, would have to be in India and very grand. They had an image to keep up. They also had a spiritual guru and astrologer who would decide if I would be good for his family and how they would benefit by wedding me.

He didn’t make a single grammatical error while he spoke and he spoke with an American accent. I listened flabbergasted and terrified. He seemed to have liked the way I listened to his talk. I did not interrupt. I was shell-shocked. It was my first encounter with vocal, ambitious, green-card holding MBA who knew the world belonged only to him.

Fortunately for us, our horoscopes were an utter mismatch, hinting that horoscopes probably do know what they are about. And the grand wedding and my subsequent slavery never materialised.

The next person called himself ‘spiritual’ and went on to reveal that he was looking for a ‘religious mate.’ Since it was an unusual topic for the first conversation, I asked him to tell me more. That is when he revealed that God spoke to him. Regularly. He went on to narrate a story of how when he was lost, hungry, and cold in a remote village in Tamil Nadu, he decided to take shelter in a small, nondescript temple. That was when God visited him in the form of crows who rang bells that hadn’t been there before, and awoke the villagers from their siesta. The villagers apparently crowded around him and fed him and looked after him. God had shown him the way. I thoroughly enjoyed the tale. He also discussed in great detail how we were to bring up our children. Yes, in the plural. Yes, in the first ever conversation we shared. Apparently, education and religion were the mantras we were to follow. I laughed away. It was just so damned interesting.

Perversely, I let him call me again the next day. He sounded happy and pleased to speak again. He wanted to tell me what transpired between him and God after our conversation. But before he could begin, he heard strains of Let Me Put My Love Into You by AC/DC playing in the background. He was shocked.
‘You listen to AC/DC?’
‘But they talk about sex. Very kinky sex. I like them. But I feel guilty. It’s not Godly, you know.’
And that’s when I hung up.

Number 3 and I chatted on Google. He was reluctant to call till he was sure I was the one or so he said. I was unconcerned.

Day 1 of chat was interesting and normal. We discussed things we liked doing, places we had travelled to, cuisines, favourite hang-outs in Bangalore and the like.

Day 2 of chat was about that risqué topic – sex.

‘Are you OK if your husband-to-be is not a virgin?’
‘God! Are you kidding! I am praying he won’t be. LOL.’
‘Thank God. You are one of the most open girls I have ever spoken to. Most girls insist on virginal husbands.’
‘Really? Well, no, I’m not like that.’
‘So you are absolutely OK, if he is not a virgin? That he has had a relationship with another woman.’
‘Well, yes, as long as he doesn’t continue the relationship with the other woman after the wedding, how does it matter?’
The silence stretched.
Then abruptly, ‘OK. You are 100 percent fine if the man is not a virgin?’
‘No. Say it.’
‘Eh? Say what?’
‘Say I am OK if the man is not a virgin.’
I ignored him.

Day 3 went something like this.

‘Are you OK if your husband-to-be is not a virgin?’
‘Why are you bringing this up again? We spoke about it, yesterday, remember?’
‘No. I want to be absolutely sure.’
‘So you are absolutely OK, if he is not a virgin?
The silence stretched.
Then abruptly, ‘OK. You are 100 percent fine if the man is not a virgin?’
‘No. Say it.’
‘Say what? What the hell is this about?’
‘Say I am OK if the man is not a virgin.’
I blocked him.

And this is how conversations do not happen. My efforts are useless, of course. Most men are beyond correction or redemption.

There are many people who are happy with all that a marriage entails. There are many who are at peace with the way marriages are arranged and organised in India. Still. It even works for them.

Big budget weddings; horoscope matches; desultory conversations that lead to instantaneous decisions to get hitched; the belief that 30 and above is already over the hill, so snatch that match even if it’s not a catch, and the rest will follow; money; relatives and more relatives – that is what an arranged marriage in India is all about.

Unfortunately, I want bigger, better, brighter.

Teaching people is not worth it either. You could try and make wits out of the half-wits; intellects out of the sub. But where men have no balls, women no conviction, and where both have absolutely no class; what can you do? In a world where mediocrity is repeatedly celebrated and congratulated how will things ever change?

Biased rant from another female?
No, you half-wit, that’s a Queen’s resignation. Now bow in shame for all that you can never be.

As for the rest of you, sweetie darlings, here’s AC/DC!


About Bhumika's Boudoir

I love to laugh, and end up being a part of high drama and stormy emotion even when I don't pursue it. Being creative, and communicating with people get me going. I enjoy all the good things in life especially those that are slightly risque, and apologise little, if ever, for all that I do. Literature is a passion and so is music.
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12 Responses to Let Me Put My Love Into You

  1. Sanchita says:

    I can’t help but notice that you have had the misfortune/fortune to meet some of the rarest gems (and use that term very loosely) in the ‘arranged marriage’ pool!

    On that note, one of the first guys I met, called me 2 days after an hour’s meeting over coffee to find out my ‘answer’. To which I politely told him, I had none. I was then submitted to a lecture about how arranged marriages work. Post lecture, I was again asked what my answer was. I insisted I had none and we had to meet again. 2 days later, (I think he had a thing for calling once in 2 days!) he called again to ask me for my ‘answer’. By then I was irritated enough to ask him what his answer was. His response? “If you say yes, then it is yes. If you say no, then it is no.” Needless to say I never heard from him after that!

    That meeting has now become a very interesting anecdote that I don’t waste time in narrating at parties (or otherwise) when the topic of arranged marriage crops up! Couldn’t resist doing that here either!


  2. Ch4 says:

    Bhumika, you’re back! Loved the post! And yes, i too belong to the school of thought where I can’t imagine being with a person who makes grammatical errors and incorrect pronunciation. The Horror! The Horror!


    • We are horrible people, Ch4. LOL.


      • Marvin Grey says:

        This is nice. I mean you cant stop people commenting mid-stream. That comes with social networking. Our thing to dump them if it dumps onto our newsfeed. Which is what you have done by continuing from where you left off in the previous post.

        I think the last guy is a virgin. But he wont be once a girl declares ‘I am OK if the man is not a virgin.’ He shall then borrow money from his parents and head off to Bangkok. You know, one or several for the enagagment…. Clearly it is a dumb line of thought. OCD or even verbal BDSM are more pausible explanations.


  3. LOL. I thought last guy was one of those pathetic creeps. No exciting BDSM and all. But I love the Bangkok hypothesis. Can’t stop laughing about that. Yes, we are surrounded by half-wits especially on these social networks. Of course can only blame oneself for being addicted to social networks in the first place.


  4. Sandesh says:

    Firstly, I am not as thoughtful as you are, my thoughts are limited to the basic principle of survival. Bravo! Bravo!

    Secondly, Gwad! Evebry bodi wantz a phiece of Marriage! Oops my English is not as good as it should be. I am a Kannadiga! English is my second language, third in fact, wait, second it was. Or was that third?? Anyhow, my mom till date pronounces “Zero”, “Geero”, I did correct her when I was in 7th Grade, I have given up on her as of now. Some just consciously wait for that moment to be rapt away in the talons of the stopping falcon.

    I am loving the feeling that I have right now, restless, fretful, right eye twitching, seething, nervous, skittery. At this very moment I could use my wings to cause a typhoon in Australia or may be Nigeria, which ever is far.

    I indeed enjoyed your virtual company on your blog as I read your magnificent lines, idea’s, words and metaphor’s and I don’t know who you are, except for the name. But you enjoy trolling as much as any dudette from JNC. 😀

    +Dark Blessings+


  5. Rachana says:

    I stumbled upon this post by change when i was browsing the web for writing and you looked familiar.(I follow you blog on FB).This is an amazing piece of writing.And i have gone through some of these “so called meetings”. One particular just happened last week.I am north India basically,but cant tolerate the slangy and grammatically incorrect English.

    This guy pinged me ,dad thought i might like him…ewww

    amitji27: working today
    me: yep,wat abt u?
    amitji27: ya working, but hacktick
    Aunt had to operated for heart
    me: hacktick?

    By now i thought i had come across a new word !Curse it, it was just Hectic!You are blocked dude!


    • Thank you, Rachana. Welcome. And that is indeed a frightful story. 🙂


    • amitji27 says:

      “I am north India basically,but cant tolerate the slangy and grammatically incorrect English.” Really? I guess it should have been I am from North India, not I am north India.
      And by the way, What is stumbling upon by change? Or is it stumble upon by chance?
      And it is I follow your blog, and not I follow you blog.
      And I suggest someone who uses SMS lingo in chat should never really comment on grammar and language.


      • Amitji27, this is good. I like it when people turn editors on my blog. Welcome. But if this is some personal vendetta between you and Rachana — get a room; or general spam — curious how similar your IP addresses are— then please bugger off. Danke.


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