That day I proposed a girl. She refused me saying I am like her brother.
Than again I proposed another girl, she said I look like a cobbler…I didn’t go further.
Than again I proposed a girl, she said she is suffering from aids. Ups…fishing in troubled water.
Than again I proposed a girl, she smiled and said she is single. I said great. Got the green signal. Got the go ahead. Fixed the date, venue, menu and figured out secretly items of panu (for beginners).
She came with a baby. Said, that bastard is her bundle of joy. Flight of fantasy. Chucked the idea, ran for life.
Than again proposed a girl. This time half-minded. The idea was to have fun. I was fed up exercising alone. Needed a change.
She consented to go with me. Venue mine, menu mine, idea mine, all panu party.
Went behind a bamboo bush. Had some frooty and Britannia biscuit. Played with her hands, hairs, lips…reached for the blouse. Touched something paperish. What’s this? I exclaimed?
“rate card” she said. Your bill still now is…Rs.50. she calculated. Showed the rate card.
Had only rs.35 in pocket. After some negotiation, matter settled in Rs 33. kept Rs 2 for a goldflake to cool my nerve. Was not a respectful exit though. She uttered all sorts of slangs. ‘khankee’ to start with and ‘asshole’ to conclude with.
After that stopped searching for girls.
My esteemed friends, if you don’t want me to become a misogynist. Get me a girl. Without a rate card. Caste no bar.
Promise, will invite you in our marriage.