The Matchmaker

 

It’s about time you got married.’ She said, looking up from her faithful laptop.
‘You can’t let one man ruin your life!’

‘That man was your father.’ said her mother, her eyes twinkling with silent humour behind a pair of reading glasses.
‘ Don’t be dramatic, beta. My life is very far from ruined and you know that!’

On the side table sat a stack of papers, all belonging to her immensely prosperous corporate firm.

‘Well, he hasn’t been around for more than twenty years. I don’t know why we have waited so long to have the big fat Indian wedding you deserve, Ma!’

Not one to dwell over the past, Ma fought to keep a straight face in front of the fiery, stubborn daughter on a fiery, stubborn mission. Before she could get a single word of wisdom out, the daughterly tirade began in full flow.

‘You are amazing and successful. I know it’s going to be a little difficult to find—‘
‘ Oh come on!’ interrupted the mother , laughter finally getting the best of her. ‘I can’t get married at 50. Don’t be ridiculous!’

The laptop spun around with extraordinary speed.

‘Say that to the profile I made for you on the matrimonial site! 15 requests already. Ha!’

‘WHAT??’

Then, with a mischievous wink, the young conspirator said
‘Who knew you were such a hottie, Ma!’

‘Oh shushh! I can’t believe this!’

Ma was too stunned at the absurdity of it all.

The girl tapped on the screen gleefully , ‘Look at this one, mother mine . Entrepreneur. Well read. Loves to cook. And not even creepy!’

That afternoon, the household erupted with peals of laughter as the matrimonial site churned out name after name, for the Lady in question.

A year later, among the happy guests, holy fire and the Boardroom Bride,
The little Matchmaker wore the biggest smile.

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