For my new feature Spotlight, I’ve invited my favourite humor writer and friend Anand over to write the first one for Wandering Soul. Anand is an amazing humorist/caricaturist who blogs at Anand’s Parodies & Caricatures. To those who don’t know him already, you sure are missing something. Head there now and also do subscribe to his amazing humor magazine here. (Psssttt…. It’s free!)
So, when I handed over the reins to him, little did I know what he would come up with. Apparently, he has managed to do the unthinkable! Without giving away much, here’s presenting Anand.
Matchmaker, Matchmaker, Find me a Match – An interplanetary quest for the right life partner!
Incredible things aren’t things that happen to me.
But this morning, the status-quo changed.
This morning, when I was out jogging, I turned the corner near the park and came upon an alien!
We looked at each other and shrieked!
I shrieked in Hindi, and he shrieked in alienese. He stood no taller than three feet from the ground in heels and somewhat heavyset in frame; these two signs were enough for me to conclude that he might’ve arrived on earth from a high-gravity planet and his five feet high jump that accompanied his shriek, confirmed my conclusion.
“Youuuuu…uuuummmaann?” he pointed a shaky finger at me. I looked closely and realized that he had just one finger and a thumb, so he was pointing a whole shaky hand at me.
“Youuuuu…aaalienn?” I shook a heavy and hirsute Punjabi fist at him. Aliens weren’t welcome in my colony. Come to think of it, if it was left to the egotistical retirees that lived here, dogs, cats, birds, even lowly humans of the programmer-ilk would face a restraining order, signed by the retired judge who heads this platoon of mad homeowners!
I heard some whirring and clicking while the alien rolled his lone eye in all directions before focusing it on me once again. I trust he went looking for “Learn English in Five Seconds for Dummies!” on a futuristic alien version of Google because now he spoke impeccable English.
“Anand, are you human?” he asked.
What the heck?! How did he know my name?
But before I could ask, he quirked his single brow at me. “Yes, Are you?”
“You mean, “a human” or “human”?” I replied, countering his question with a question. When you’ve just written a post inviting the Grammarians of the world to come after you with a hatchet, you become a nasty nitpicker yourself.
“Take it how you will. But if you are human, you’ll help me find a bride,” he said with a snarky smirk on his non-existent lips.
Now that changed the complexion of things somewhat. The guy was here to find a bride, so he came in peace. And I knew someone who was just right for him. Anand, why not play the matchmaker? A small voice in my head asked. Why not? I answered back. Going by alien standards, this guy was pretty good looking – and for all I knew he could be a billionaire businessman in his world. You can’t expect a pauper to book a seat on a spacecraft and go planet-hopping in search of a bride, can you?
“I think I might know someone who’s just right for you. Let us talk about it over a cup of tea,” I said, extending my hand.
His fingerless hand closed over mine in a confident grip. Why. He might as well be a Punjabi alien, I thought – and they couldn’t come better than that.
Our conversation over tea spanned a wide range of topics. We discussed his family, his job, his interests, and more than everything else, we discussed his culture. Because a marriage doesn’t just unite two hearts, it unites two families; and before I took his proposal to Piyusha’s father, I needed to know everything about him.
Over a cup of tea and a bowl of cashew nuts, he came to the point and produced a piece of paper from a pocket that I could swear wasn’t there on his stomach just minutes ago.
“My friends think she’s the girl for me,” he said, pointing to Piyusha’s likeness that was published in the third issue of the QSM Magazine.
“What?” I spluttered. “Your friends subscribe to the QSM Magazine?” I asked, bewildered.
“Oh, it’s quite a rage on our planet. But let us talk about more important matters. This girl? You think she’d be interested in me?”
I was speechless. The match-making was already underway.
“Well. I don’t see why not. It’s evident that she dreams of you,” I said, a little cautiously perhaps.
“What I like best is that she’s got two eyes!” he exclaimed.
“And that fuzzy thing on her head…” he added.
“That’s her hair,” I replied, puzzled.
“Out of fashion on our planet,” he mused. “Do you think she’ll be willing to…say emulate my style?”
We talked and talked…
But I’ll tell you about it later…
Right now, it will please you to learn that the alien is asleep in the box that Amazon delivered wifey’s exerciser in. He’s going to stay with us until the D-day, for I am sure, Piyusha’s family wouldn’t be able to refuse the fingerless hand of my rich alien friend for their naajo-ki-pali bitiya-rani.
Gotta go. Wifey wants to know if our alien guest would like Aloo ke paranthe for breakfast.
Translations for Piyusha’s phoren-visitors:
naajo-ki-pali bitiya-rani: a daughter who’d been brought up like a princess.
Aloo ke paranthe: a tortillish fried bread-form stuffed with spicy-potato filling – best eaten piping hot the moment it leaves the pan and lands on your plate. Usually relished with a side dish of curd (a less creamy form of yogurt!)
QSM on the Web: