The Semi-Arranged Hustle: Inside the Chaos of India's Digital Matrimonial Stock Market

In the grand, chaotic theatre of modern Indian matchmaking, matrimony apps have become the digital equivalent of a high-stakes stock market — except instead of trading blue-chip shares, users deal in “Fair-skinned MBAs” and “Settled-Abroad Software Engineers.” Dating apps are a known jungle for the urban Indian millennial, but Indian matrimony is an entirely different ecosystem: bios ghost-written by overzealous parents, profile photos cropped from a cousin's 2018 wedding, and an “Interest Sent” notification that feels less like flirtation and more like a legal summons. Behind the sleek interfaces sits one core problem — these platforms try to force ancient cultural expectations through modern algorithms, producing a magnificent comedy of errors where high tech collides head-on with old-school anxiety.

The War of the Gatekeepers

The core confusion of the matrimonial app is an identity crisis: the “User” is rarely the “Product.” Young adults log on to find a genuine partner, but their parents hijack the platform, running it like a competitive LinkedIn ecosystem.

This creates a clash of two operating systems. Dads approach the app like corporate procurement managers, locking down strict filters for “Package, Property, and Pin code” — a candidate whose CTC lacks enough zeros is classified not as a prospective groom but as a budget deficit. Moms, meanwhile, operate like the FBI- cross-referencing a candidate's third cousin on Facebook to rule out any family history of “being too modern.”

The result is a hilarious disconnect: two young professionals match on an app only to discover their fathers have already spent three weeks BCC-ing each other salary slips and bank statements. The couple is invariably the last to know they are “spiritually compatible.”

A Masterclass in Creative Writing and Filter Fails

When users do control their own narratives, the profiles dissolve into a literary genre where reality goes to die. Coding phrases have become survival mechanisms: a “simple, down-to-earth boy who wants a blend of traditional and modern” means someone with a high-paying corporate job who still wakes at 6 a.m. to make his parents ginger tea. “Extremely fair and convent-educated” is often code for a profile written entirely by parents while the daughter prays they never find her real Instagram account. And the classic “Innocent Divorcee” tag leaves one wondering if “Guilty Divorcees” are out there plotting bank heists.

Algorithm failures compound the fiction. Select “Vegetarian,” and an over-eager AI may still serve up a man who “eats chicken only on Tuesdays.” Physical and professional metrics suffer similar inflation — a listed height of 5'11" requires a measuring tape, since he's likely 5'8" on a good day in thick-soled sneakers. And the coveted “H1-B Mirage” profiles promise tech moguls in America, only for the bride to move to Ohio and discover her husband resets corporate passwords from a windowless basement.

The Digital Bermuda Triangle

Even a genuine match can vanish into the “Digital Bermuda Triangle” of Accept & Ghost. Here, “Accepting an Interest” is the digital equivalent of a polite nod across a crowded room — it doesn't signal a desire to converse, only that your face wasn't found offensive.

The ecosystem is choked by “Match-Hoarders” — ego-collectors who treat the app like Pokémon, catching them all with zero intention of ever training one for marriage. For women with strong profiles, the inbox resembles a DDoS attack, a standard greeting instantly buried under horoscope PDFs from hyperactive parents.

Should a match survive the inbox, moving to WhatsApp launches a full diplomatic negotiation. Scheduling a first coffee date between two urban professionals feels harder than clearing the civil services exam, wedged between corporate deadlines, weddings in Udaipur, and late-night US client calls — with a mandatory LinkedIn background check thrown in to confirm he isn't a serial killer, or worse, lying about his job title. By the time the date happens, both arrive looking like they've finished a double shift in a coal mine, spending the first twenty minutes comparing calendars for the next meeting.

Even then, the vanishing act can strike at any moment, fuelled by the illusion of a better offer. The matrimonial app is the only place you can be mid-conversation about your future one minute, and in digital cold storage the next — because a “Premium Member” with a slightly higher salary clicked “Like.” The “Seen” blue ticks on WhatsApp become the tombstone of a potential marriage: you aren't being rejected, you're just on hold in case the guy with the H1-B visa doesn't reply.

The Verdict

Do these apps work? Statistically, yes — millions of Indians find spouses through them. Socially, though, they represent a beautifully chaotic transition phase, caught between two eras that refuse to fully let go of each other.

The real failure of the digital matchmaking experiment isn't the technology itself. It's the realization that even with AI, 5G networks, and high-definition filters, you cannot outrun culture. You can meet via algorithm, talk via WhatsApp, and fall in love over shared trauma about parental expectations. But eventually the screen turns off — and when it does, no amount of technology can save you from a 45-minute interrogation by a prospective mother-in-law about why you still haven't mastered the art of making dal makhani.

 

What Children Really, Truly and Absolutely Need

 

Twenty-Two years and some eight months after my first born was born and sixteen years and  some  months after my second child was born, I attained enlightenment. That the moment of seeing light, unlike in the case of Buddha, was twenty-two years and some months too late, touched me at places which hurt a bit and ached a bit more. Many a times I caught myself waiting for someone to ask me the typical HR question popped at unsuspecting MBA aspirants – “if you could relive the last five/ ten years of your life, would you make any changes to it"?  I know I would have changed all the things I didn’t get right as a parent. And this comes from someone who has been a hands-on, committed parent.

But you know and I know that life doesn’t give second chances. So, for all you young parents out there, here is some unsolicited advice from someone who never sat under a Bodhi tree, but would nevertheless want to share some Gyan, from her vantage position of more than three decades of motherhood.

Here is what children truly need:

 A lot of Love

Children need love: absolute and unconditional love. When I say children, it means our kids at any age- be it at year two or year thirty. As parents we love our children. This is true in most cases. But somehow, we get so entangled in the business of life that we forget to communicate this to our children on a regular, nee daily, basis. The communication doesn’t have to be verbal always. It can be in the hugs given, the hand on the head, the look in the eyes. The hug, the loving hand and the look tell the child that it is loved. The child grows up in the warmth of that love, goes out into the world secure in the knowledge that no matter what, he/she is loved.

 A lot of Praise

Praise is important because it helps the child’s confidence and sense of self-worth. Every time you praise your child, it reflects your pride in him/her. The child learns positive talk and the need for recognising the effort of others.

Praise can be age appropriate. You can praise the young ‘un for combing her hair neatly, the teenager for coming back from a friend’s party at the agreed upon time, the son, on the cusp of graduation, on his first investment in a stock, the daughter for the music she has put on for you. The praise reflects your pride and joy in the child.

 A lot of fun time

 There can be nothing as beautiful as connecting with your child over fun and laughter. Giving small children and teenagers plenty of opportunities to play, is one of the best ways to help them grow into healthy, curious, creative, and happy adults, equipped with the skills needed. This is one area which I neglected. Till the kids were in school, the time I spent with them was all about feeding them well, supervising their studies, ensuring their safety, adequate sleep hours, etc. Their fun came from playing in the evening with neighbourhood friends, birthday parties, friends coming over. I know they associated me with a lot of positives, but not fun. It is only when they were in college and would come home during semester breaks that we slipped into the routine of doing fun things together like shopping sprees, followed by a leisurely lunch, or a movie and popcorn. I saw series like Stranger Things, Peaky Blinders, Sherlock, Sons of Anarchy, the John Wick movies with my son. These were ‘our’ shows. We bonded over the music, the characters, dialogues etc. The look on their faces when I said ‘S**t happens’, the first time was priceless. This from their very proper mother!! Now the phrase has become like our own anthem- the highest level of profanity uttered in the house when things go south. It works every time in bringing levity.

  A lot of you

I know that a lot of ‘you’ is not always possible for all mothers: mothers who have full-fledged careers, mothers who are busy with household chores, mothers who are doing both- juggling a job and house work. The idea is to give the child the security that whenever he/she needs his parent/s, the parent/s will respond. There will be no occasion when the child is left feeling alone. Concomitant with this is the essential that the child knows that come what may, that whatever he/she has done wrong, the parent will be there. It does not mean that any and all wrongdoing is going to be swept under the carpet. No. It means that the son/ daughter will get support and guidance in making sure things are set right.

  A lot of positivity between parents

 This one may be a difficult terrain to negotiate in married life,on a 24x7 basis , but it is an extremely important component in a child’s life. Conflict is normal, it’s how the conflict is expressed and resolved that has important consequences for children. The idea is to invest time and energy in your relationship with your spouse and address tense topics in a non-confrontationist manner. This will help sustain you during tough times. When children see parents in a strong relationship, it boosts their confidence and gives them a greater sense of security. On the other hand, when children see parents sparring unpleasantly on a regular basis, it both scares and scars them. Even now, with three decades of married life behind us, on the rare occasion that husband and I are tetchy with each other, the daughter and son get a very set look on their faces. Children do not ever get habituated or used to parental stress.

  Children also need a lot of opportunity to learn to be independent, but above all they need unjudgmental parents. Being a parent comes with a lot of pressure to do right by our kids. It also comes with a lot of confusion. We over think everything: from which school is best for them, their grades, their friend group, or lack of friends, their course in university- everything.  Yet, what our kids need from us is much more basic and straightforward. They need parents who ‘see’ them, listen to them, and delight in them.

 

 

The Day the Blue Ticks Won: A Digital Nightmare

The phone rings. It’s a friend. She doesn’t say hello; she demands to know why I haven’t replied to her message sent four hours ago. I deploy my standard, high-level defense: "So sorry! Having a manic morning, haven’t checked WhatsApp in ages."

“But you have read it,” she counters, her voice turning icy. “There are two blue ticks. I can see you, you digital ghost.”

The volley is served with the finesse of Sinner annihilating Alcaraz. I am left speechless. I look up for divine inspiration, and it comes in the form of  frantic ringing of the doorbell. It is the husband. He looks at me with the kind of annoyance usually reserved for people who leave the milk out.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The OTP! I sent it three times. You read it, I saw the blue ticks! I’m standing in the lobby, locked out, and  being ignored by my own wife.”

Drat! I had, in fact, seen the notifications but had passed them off as  spam, meant to be ignored.

Welcome to the new, terrifying age of digital accountability, where the "Read Receipt"—affectionately known as the Blue Tick—has transformed from a simple notification into a weapon of mass disruption.

Just as I , quite successfully, finish calming  the husband down,  my phone pings . It is  the family group chat. It’s a crisis. The tenant has decided to play hooky on rent. The eldest sister dictates that a "stern message" must be sent to the errant tenant to pay up or move out. The ceremony of drafting this ultimatum is a dramatic, group-chat affair, editing out "un-parliamentary language" for twenty minutes before clicking send.

Within nanoseconds, the surveillance  begins.

"Check if he’s read it!"
"No, still grey."
"Okay, check again."
"Still grey... wait! BLUE! HE READ IT."

It is a tense, digital stakeout. The second eldest sister pipes up: "I read somewhere you can read messages without the blue ticks showing up."

A collective gasp in the group. "What a sneaky, immoral thing to do," we agree. "But just the thing our guy would do."

Panic sets in. The minutes tick by. Why isn’t he responding? Has he dropped his phone in a puddle of coffee? Is he ignoring us? The game is on—our prey is being tracked, monitored, and judged.

In the WhatsApp netherworld, you are either the predator, anxiously awaiting the turn to blue, or you are the prey, desperately trying to appear "offline" while processing life.

It is the Upside Down of modern communication. The blue ticks are the Demogorgon, the MindFlayer, AND Vecna, all rolled into one tiny, pixelated mark. It is a world without privacy, where even the "Last Seen" feature feels like a violation of human rights.

So, what does one do? The answer, my friend, is to embrace the chaos. I’ve decided to turn off my read receipts entirely.

I’m currently in a "grey tick" sanctuary. Sure, my friends are furious, and my husband thinks I’m ignoring him, but at least I can live my life without being judged for reading a meme at 3 a.m. and not replying until noon.

 

 

The key to… Something Else Entirely: My Michelin One Key Experience

 

Well, it's got a Key. One of them. Michelin says Narendra Bhawan is a "very special stay" with "character," and oh boy, did it deliver on character! This isn't your bland, "perfectly beige" luxury; this place has personality, much like that eccentric aunt who collects porcelain dolls and tells slightly alarming life stories.

 Narendra Bhawan is a heritage property in Bikaner, Rajasthan. Bikaner is a quintessential one horse town, which is either good or not so great, depending on which color lenses one is seeing it through. For us, it was Bikaner because of Narendra Bhawan. And Narendra Bhawan  because of the one key given by Michelin. Simple.

 So, here’s looking at you, Narendra Bhawan.

 The Vibe: So, you think you're fancy? You've got your passport stamps and your artisanal coffee. Well, welcome to Narendra Bhawan, where your 'local experience' means pretending you're the last Maharaja of Bikaner, Narendra Singhji, who apparently had excellent taste in interior design and a serious aversion to palaces. Think 'genteel chic' meets 'curated chaos.' The design is bold – maybe a little too bold in places.

This isn't just a hotel; it's a 'Landscape of Memories', which is code for you’ll be spending most of your time staring at curated nostalgia and wondering if your own life is sufficiently grand.

 The property, a Michelin Key holder for "A Very Special Stay," offers a royal Bikaner experience with a stunning heritage design, reflecting the last Maharaja's life, featuring vibrant rooms, a rooftop pool, amazing local food, and personalised service that makes you feel like royalty, but be prepared for a serious dose of luxury and nostalgia wrapped in Indian heritage – it's less a hotel, more a storybook come to life, and your Instagram will thank you. 

 The Vibe (Beyond the Key):

The Michelin Key? Pfft, that's just official confirmation that you've entered a different dimension. You'll find yourself sipping chai in a breezy courtyard, lounging by a rooftop pool that looks like it belongs in Portugal, and wondering if you should just move in permanently.

 The Room (Your Personal Time Capsule):

My 'Regiment Room' was less a room and more a contemporary cocoon, probably designed to soothe my modern-day anxieties after witnessing so much regal opulence. The 'Prince Rooms' boast mosaics and velvets that scream 'more is more.’ Honestly, picking a room is harder than choosing a Netflix show, but you can't go wrong. Just don't expect plain white walls; this place is as subtle as a peacock in a sandstorm. Our room had a feature wall that seemed to be having an existential crisis, and the lighting scheme made me feel like I was starring in a moody indie film. It's definitely a "stay," not just a "room." 

 The Service: The staff are wonderfully attentive, almost psychic. They're so attentive, you'll start feeling like you actually belong in a haveli." They anticipated needs before I knew I had them, like the moment I thought, "I wonder if I'm slightly lost in this labyrinthine hallway," and poof, a smiling face appeared with a map (and perhaps a mild concern for my sanity). They go the extra mile, but that mile does not involve a miniature golf cart ride to your room because the property is, well, not expansive. To put it more bluntly- open spaces are very limited. The tour ends before you can say 'Vasco de Gama'.

 The Food (Prepare for Culinary Enlightenment):

They call it 'Halwai breakfast,' and it's less buffet, more royal decree. Expect dishes so exquisite and local that you'll feel guilty eating them with a fork. Seriously, the food is so good, you might try to pay for it with a forgotten piece of royal jewellery. Each meal feels like a personal tribute from the chefs, who seem to channel the spirit of Bikaner's finest feasts. One of the halwais, er chef with a white cap, would glide upto to our table every breakfast with a plate of three dainty jalebis and a pat of rabdi. 

 The Royal Symphony The 'Wake-Up Call': From your charming art deco room, enjoy not only vibrant décor reflecting a Maharaja's travels, but also the authentic sounds of a bustling kitchen courtyard, starting before dawn – think rhythmic clanging as your gourmet experience takes shape. It's a unique, 'immersive' auditory experience, guaranteeing you'll wake up refreshed (or at least, very aware) and ready for their lavish buffet, proving true luxury includes breakfast prep soundtrack. 

Forget gentle birdsong; here, you get the exhilarating percussion of stainless steel as the kitchen preps your exquisite Halwai breakfast. It's a real 'cultural immersion'!" and a true testament to their dedication – they start early!".

 The Verdict: "Come to Narendra Bhawan if you want to feel utterly spoiled, steeped in history, and slightly underdressed. It's a 'Very Special Stay' that genuinely transcends the ordinary. Just remember to pack your best 'regal' expression and a camera – your followers need to know you've been touched by royal magic. If you're seeking absolute silence, perhaps a monastery is more your style. But for a luxurious stay where even the kitchen staff become part of your story (and alarm clock), Narendra Bhawan delivers.". 

 

 

The One About an Idea Being Born

Every idea starts with a niggle, like a soft pain in the leg. You ignore it and the pain seems to subside. Only to come back in a sharper form, nudging you to take action. Until you do. My niggle had been very patient with me- giving me week on week to do other pressing things-like binge watch Slow Horses, cleaning out all the cupboards, taking out each and every weed from the garden. And then it sidled up to me and whispered gently ‘what about your idea? ‘

The idea itself is a very simple one. To help people speak well. To help them to pronounce simple words like development, monastery, determine, government, breakfast correctly. So that, unknowingly, they don’t embarrass themselves. Like I did. As a 17-year-old from hick towns of Uttar Pradesh, entering the Delhi University of yore. Admission to the top colleges was given to only the best, and getting a hostel seat was even more coveted. All around me, that first day, were girls from the best schools in the country, wearing levi jeans (a big thing then), speaking an English which seemed so different from mine-  from convent educated me. A face popped up in front of me and said, “How do you do?”  I replied, “fine, thank you”- giving myself away in that reply. Not knowing that a how do you do is always answered with another how do you do!

The first few months I must have made so many faux pas. I remember the ‘steak’ time clearly. Never having eaten steak- I always read it as steek. One day there was a discussion around food, and I don’t know why and in what context – but I said steek. There was a moment’s silence and then someone picked up the thread and said stake was her favourite and she had it medium done. From that day I vowed that I would never speak a word I didn’t know how to pronounce correctly. I would observe and practice and only then speak. College was followed by my first job at The Times of India. We were a young team of three, and the chairman’s son and daughter took us under their wings. There were many lunches at five star hotels and there I picked up a lot of dining, ordering etiquettes, as well as the pronunciation of many dishes. Watching English movies did the rest.

The debate around "speaking well" versus "not speaking well" is multifaceted, encompassing not only linguistic skill but also social perception, personal confidence, and even the impact of words themselves. While eloquence and polished language are often valued, there is always going to be appreciation for authenticity and the ability to connect with others on a personal level, even if one's speech isn't diction perfect. It is not only, and always ,command over a language that gets you to your sweet spot- many well spoken gentlemen have landed in jail, or fled the country to avoid jail. But, being well spoken does ensure that people listen to you. Whether you are able to use this time to your advantage is another story.

The story that is breaking now is mine. About an idea whose time has come.

#pitchperfect_you

 

 

My Goan Holiday

 

The lesser known Goa, through my lens

Goa had been on my bucket list for the longest time- almost three decades from the time I graduated from university. We holidayed at places not on the bucket list but somehow Goa kept getting pushed to the backburner. The holiday finally happened early this year, with me in my mid fifties and my husband a solid sixty. But no regrets about that: this was the first holiday the husband and I took alone since the arrival of the first child some 28 years back. And it worked!

We were in Goa for five magical days. I had heard a lot from people about the place – and from that had images of sun kissed tourists dressed in lovely beach wear, drinking feni and indulging in PDA firmly entrenched in my mind. We landed in Goa all prepared to be the proverbial uncle ji and aunty ji, but soon realized that the place lets you be yourself.

Half the charm of the holiday was that we stayed at my husband’s cousin’s place. Cousin is a retired babu who, very wisely, bought himself a very cute villa in north Goa post retirement. He stays half the year in Goa and the other half in Delhi. The six months he is in Goa, family and friends make sure he is never alone. When we were at his place, his younger brother- another retired babu- was also staying with him. The housekeeper is a very pleasant Nepalese, who makes the most awesome food. I finally mastered the art of making upma from her- as also the thinnest softest moong ki daal chillas. A young boy, forever smiling, serves as the Man Friday.

Our daughter, considering herself a Goa veteran, had made a detailed day wise itinerary which included the ‘must see’ spots as per her and her friends. But when we returned from our holiday and exchanged notes, she had a blank look at almost all the places we mentioned! That’s when I decided to pen my own ‘Must visit Goa spots’ for all kindred souls who want to experience this charming city away from all the normal touristy spots.

 

 

The places we ate at:

Cafe Chocolatti

Café Chocolatti is on Fort Aguada Road in Candolim. It is a charming place, with outside seating and the sun peeping in through lush green palms and other tropical foliage. We went twice here, both times for our mid morning coffee. Definitely a must visit.

Amavi by Sumera

Amavi is in Calangute. We visited the place for dinner on our second night.  Smart décor, live music and singing and a great European menu even for vegetarians like the four of us.

 

 

 

 

Mum’s Kitchen 

A must visit, Mum’s Kitchen is in Panjim. When you enter the place, you feel you are entering someone’s well maintained residence. 

 

 

 

 

Mum’s Kitchen is a celebration of Goan legacy: recipes that have been handed down from one generation to the next. The place also has an extremely well appointed washroom, proving that small spaces too can be done up well !

The husband enjoying his relaxed afternoon at Mum’s

 

 

 

Bhojan in Hotel Fidalgo

Fidalgo in Panaji has a restaurant serving authentic Gujariti – Marathi food in huge thalis. Bhojan is a no fuss place with amazing food- which just keeps on coming. Go here on an empty tummy:)

Mojigao

The place is located in a forested and well landscaped part of Assagaon. The cafe at Mojigao offers delectable vegetarian and vegan items on the menu, with fresh fruit juices and delicious desserts. This eco haven in Assagao is a must experience.

 

The Lazy Dog

                      

The Lazy Dog is located at the back of Mandrem beach and is the perfect location to view the beautiful beach. It has comfortable settees and chairs for drinks or dining. The varied menu offers light snacks to a full meal. Nice!

Places we visited and recommend

Altinho Hill

If there is an address to die for in Goa, then it is Altinho Hill. The hill has a picture perfect location and offers a splendid view of the city from the hilltop. It neighbours Panaji and houses the Archbishop's Palace, the house of the Chief Minister, the All India Radio Station and Government Servant Quarters.

                                              The Archbishop's Palace

Reis Magos Fort

The Reis Magos Fort is located in North Goa and is a must visit. The short walk up from the main road is a delight to traverse. Reis Magos fort was originally a fortess and later used as a jail.

                    

            

The fort is extremely well maintained and probably offers the best view in the whole of Goa

 

Museum of Goa

Another memorable part of our trip to Goa was our visit to the Museum of Goa, a private museum conceptualized by Mr. Subodh Kerkar. Art exhibitions are held here throughout the year. The day of our visit, Mr Subodh Kelkar was there, happily mingling with the visitors and answering questions. We purchased a lovely print from the Souvenir shop. The girl at the shop got it framed in wood for us within fifteen minutes. We spent that time chatting with Mr Kelkar.

 

Friday Night Market at Little Vagator

The Friday night market is again a must visit- if only to soak in the ambience and atmosphere. It has great live music, with DJs and the whole works, food, shops/ stalls. Parking is free and the whole thing is well organized.

 

 

 

Mario Miranda’s Gallery

Mario Gallery at Calangute was an absolute delight. The artist’s body of work is on display, as are curios, posters, cushions, lamp shades, prints etc. We spent a very enjoyable couple of hours browsing through Mario Miranda’s vision of Goa.

The Quirky entrance to Mario’s gallery

 

 

 

Fab India Gallery in North Goa

We went to Fab India because our host wanted to pick up some spreads. The place is on my list only because it is one of the very well-appointed Fab India outlet- comparable, if not better, to any Delhi outlet.

Fountainhas Walk by Make it Happen

This walk definitely has to be one of the highlights of our trip. Fontainhas is not only the oldest but the largest Latin quarter of Asia. The walk guide was a young enthusiastic Goan who took us through the whole walk without losing either his smile or his energy.

We saw heritage homes

A hindu heritage home

 

 

 

 

 

Portuguese architecture

 

 

Met some wonderful people

 

 

 

 

Ate delicacies from the oldest bakery in Goa

 

And met a renowned Goan musician who played Fado and Latin music for us. The Make it Happen guys are definitely doing a good job.

 

We also did these

Saw ‘Jimmy’s House’ from far. Jimmy apparently was another Vijay Mallya type tycoon. Entertained film stars and politicians and threw lavish parties. Hasina Maan Jayegi was shot in his house.

Took the Dolphin ride (comme ci comme ca), saw quite a few churches (beautiful), indulged in a Spa session( expensive), saw the old and the new light house, drank fresh sugarcane juice, went for morning walks and ate fresh pois daily.

And then some more poi ! If food is religion in Goa, then it starts with paos and pois from family-run bakeries.  In fact, poi can be a meal in itself, with fresh salad vegetables. We had them slathered with melted butter and sinful garlic cheese. The poi delivery boys (called ‘poder’) cycle to every house at dawn and dusk, announcing their arrival with a ringing of the cycle bell.

I also ‘did’ a weekly local market- it was quaintness and sweetness personified. Tables were set up in the square and locals/ nearby residents had set out their home cooked / home prepared ware. I was there for almost an hour and was amused to see the table owners hopping across to other tables to sample and purchase.

The People

We found the local residents to be well informed, educated – and laid back. Almost everyone we met was politically very aware.

What just didn’t work for us in Goa

If there was one thing which really didn’t work, it was that there is almost no system of transport for people like us. Used to Uber in almost all the places we had visited in the past few years, we just took it for granted that Uber would certainly be in a tourist hot spot like Goa. But no, forget Uber, there is no taxi service worth its name. Yes, Goa Miles is there, but we soon realized that it is highly unreliable and almost always cancels a trip after taking the booking. The local cabbies have mastered the art of fleecing and charge very pocket unfriendly rates.

Advisory: carry your driving license (which husband did not do!!) and hire a car.

 

Would I like to visit Goa again? Yes, definitely yes. Fingers crossed that the second doesn’t take another three decades!

 

 

Life in Corona Times

In lazy slow motion, like a sloppily shot scene of a bollywood potboiler, the exact moment when it, the virus, actually entered our life plays itself over and anon. We have just started dinner and are half tuned into Mr Modi’s address to the nation when he announces that from midnight of that night, the country is going under lockdown. For a second no one speaks: none of us are sure that we heard it right. But then he repeats it and in a nano second we get into survival mode. I still remember the adrenaline rush, the exact order of the vegetables and fruits I picked up that night, the panic buyers clamoring for milk and other essentials, the empty shelves and bread cartons in the neighborhood shops, the realization that terror  now had a new name and it was COVID-19.

For about a week life was all about reading up on the virus. We would exchange real news, fake news, forwards- anything and everything, at mealtimes, on family whatsapp groups, over phone calls. Everything was inside out, or should that read outside in? Where earlier one stepped outside the serenity of the house to be immediately enveloped in sound and people and watchful eyes, now the outside was quiet and calm and the unhingement was all inside. We tried to wrap our heads around what was happening. And everything seemed to be happening at the same time, in an uncoordinated avalanche of ruthlessness. Salary cut for the first born, an indefinite postponement of law school Day Zero  for the younger one, no house help, an office bereft of staff for the husband. But then slowly we emerged out of the shapelessness and elasticity to find our Mojo. 

 Laughter was now in seeing the son making the beds and the husband setting the table for lunch and dinner. Love was in the sheer indebtedness of being together and alive.  Work from home and online classes helped maintain order and rhythm. The husband discovered the joy of working in an empty office- the luxury of putting his feet on the table! And I discovered that Sooraj Barjatya had got it right some twenty-five years back: as long as Hum Saath-Saath Hain, even cleaning, cooking and washing up had an endearing appeal.

What has also been proven right is the ability of humans to adapt. The pandemic may have forced us to break with the past and build a new world of social distancing but this world is no different from what we were living in. As a matter of fact, it’s an even closer, more contracted world where the friend in Singapore, the niece in London and the cousin in the US are as close as the sister in the city. It is a world where distinctions have blurred. No one will be traveling for a long time, posting touched up pictures, wearing Prada or attending book launches. It’s also a more convenient world. Bored of the conversation thread? No need for prolonged a good bye. Bad network connectivity is a fault proof alibi.

In all this unpredictability what has also been comforting is the tedium of human nature. We are wired to communicate, to attitudinize, commiserate, brag. I truly want to hug that person who is still able to talk about her friend who is so well connected that at her son’s wedding a thousand Very Important Persons were in attendance ; the one who will have a drool worthy dish placed strategically during a zoom meeting; the right winger who will take any opportunity to turn the conversation to a strident defence of Modi ji, the enthusiast who will share every joke on the whatsapp group. I feel grateful to them for being that bowl of Maggi , providing comfort in continuity.

And on many moments in this period, I have felt pride in the stoicism and fortitude of my people; gratitude for those battling for solutions, shed tears for strangers and understood that what we, the world, are going through is unique and shared. This period of retreat has also helped me to come to terms with fear, understand that the cocoon one is wrapped in at the moment is extremely fragile and can rupture at any time. Understood too that the very seductiveness of its name, Corona, threatens to engulf us all at some point in time. It truly begs the iconic question from the The Jacket: "How much time do we have?"

A  Lifetime. The solemness of the words, connoting the duration of a person’s life, of eternity, are almost never spoken lightly. Lifetime.  But, as life as we knew it, ground to a screeching silence, we are, without any doubt, living a lifetime within another one.  We will all remember this time we are collectively living in different ways: the fear, loss, pain, bonding and love. Maybe, just maybe, some of us may indulge in the luxury of denial and not remember these days. But in all this uncertainty what is certain is that we have earned ourselves a place in history. Maybe, a Salman Rushdie will write another Midnight’s Children and call it The Virus Generation?