"So..what are your hobbies?" he asked, trying to muster in as much enthusiasm as he could.
The restaurant was a dull clatter of shushed voices and expensive cutlery, the lighting was dim and a candle fluttered romantically between them, as if in childish excitement of the prospect of love.
She looked up while dissecting her chicken tandoori steak, an attempt to try American food while still maintaining her desi roots."Oh, well, I'm into photography!"
He smiled, it seemed as if a light bulb had switched on in her previously vacant eyes.
"Really? What kind?"
Finally, a safe topic I can steer this sinking ship of conversation to.
"Into all kinds. I just lovvve taking my own pictures. Capturing every moment instantly and uploading it all on Facebook. I wish I could have a webcam taking pictures of me all the time, you know?"
Don't judge. Don't judge. Don't judge. He silently told himself.
"That..that sounds so great!" he managed to say.
"You think so? Wait." She fished out her gigantic phone from her glossy red bag, and then slid right next to him. "Smilee!" She took around a dozen selfies of the two of us. All of them looked identical, blurry shots of her pouting and him smiling politely. They were then uploaded immediately, instagrammed - as she enlightened him, with a million hashtags. The fluorescent glare from her mega-mobile illuminated her shallow eyes, zapping out any prospect of having a decent conversation.
Why do I even try? This was a date through Tinder, for god's sake. He couldn't believe his love life had plunged into such desperate measures. Who am I to blame this girl? She lives her life, her way. I am nobody to judge. It's my fault I still long for a generation that is no more. My fault that I'm 30 years old and still going on meaningless dates hoping to find that elusive thing called love.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked teasingly. "I know you engineer types, my ex was one."
You don't look up from your phone much, do you?! Screamed his mind. Instead the social acceptance filter ingrained in his brain modulated it to, "It's not often that I'm out on a date with such a pretty girl, I'm bound to get nervous."
She giggled and then started punching in her phone.
Oh no. Please. Please do not tweet that.
"Do you read any books?" he asked, as if to neutralize her labeling of him as a shy engineer creep.
"Books, not many..The last one I read was by Chetan Bhagat. But I lovve scrolling through my news feed. It releases all my tension from office."
Her tongue rolled luxuriously on the word 'love'. It made him feel a little dizzy. He was a social animal after all, he had needs that were being left unfulfilled for quite a long time.
She must have caught him staring at her because the next thing she said was, "Wait for the next date," winking invitingly.
He grinned like an idiot and walked her home. It was a pretty silent walk along the suburbs of the city, the silence interrupted by pings and rings erupting from her phone. Meanwhile, his mind started doing some calculations.
The population of the world was around 7 billion, if I narrow my 'one true love' to the population of Delhi, which is staggering in its own right, 18 million and say, half are females - 9 million (although that is an exaggeration, considering the capital's notorious reputation as rape city and the high sex ratio), out of them only a million are in the age group 25-35, and if we consider that half are married, the number of women I see as a potential partner reduces to 5 lakh.
Out of those 5 lakh, I'd be attracted to only one percent of the women (this would be our success rate) decreasing the number to about 5 thousand potential mates. So if I start dating tomorrow everyday for the coming 5 years, that makes it 30x12x5 dates, around 1800 dates! Out of which probably only 18 dates will be successful. My chance of finding true love is very less - a dismal 18/5,00000 x 100 = 0.0036 % in the next five years.
So, what do I do here? Do I compromise on 'the one'? Adjust? Like I've adjusted with my degree, my job? Follow the road map like I have all my life and have it arranged? Or do I give up and live a life as a hermit in the hills of Himalayas? Do I even believe in destiny, serendipity? That the one will turn up at one fortune moment and all of my failed relationships will culminate at these coordinates of space and time? What if, my 'one' is already floating in the universe, far away, holding hands with another speck in the universe, or worse, isn't even born yet?
"So, are you coming up for coffee?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes seductively, her question like a bumpy shore to his flow of thoughts.
"Um, I had a lovely time today..but umm.." he hesitated. "Maybe some other time." He reached out for a handshake.
She shoved her phone under her arm, balancing her huge bag and shook his hand awkwardly.
"What is your full name? I need to tag you on Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus, Foursquare, Instagram.."
He smiled, shaking his head and started walking back in the late summer heat of Delhi.
The restaurant was a dull clatter of shushed voices and expensive cutlery, the lighting was dim and a candle fluttered romantically between them, as if in childish excitement of the prospect of love.
She looked up while dissecting her chicken tandoori steak, an attempt to try American food while still maintaining her desi roots."Oh, well, I'm into photography!"
He smiled, it seemed as if a light bulb had switched on in her previously vacant eyes.
"Really? What kind?"
Finally, a safe topic I can steer this sinking ship of conversation to.
"Into all kinds. I just lovvve taking my own pictures. Capturing every moment instantly and uploading it all on Facebook. I wish I could have a webcam taking pictures of me all the time, you know?"
Don't judge. Don't judge. Don't judge. He silently told himself.
"That..that sounds so great!" he managed to say.
"You think so? Wait." She fished out her gigantic phone from her glossy red bag, and then slid right next to him. "Smilee!" She took around a dozen selfies of the two of us. All of them looked identical, blurry shots of her pouting and him smiling politely. They were then uploaded immediately, instagrammed - as she enlightened him, with a million hashtags. The fluorescent glare from her mega-mobile illuminated her shallow eyes, zapping out any prospect of having a decent conversation.
Why do I even try? This was a date through Tinder, for god's sake. He couldn't believe his love life had plunged into such desperate measures. Who am I to blame this girl? She lives her life, her way. I am nobody to judge. It's my fault I still long for a generation that is no more. My fault that I'm 30 years old and still going on meaningless dates hoping to find that elusive thing called love.
"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked teasingly. "I know you engineer types, my ex was one."
You don't look up from your phone much, do you?! Screamed his mind. Instead the social acceptance filter ingrained in his brain modulated it to, "It's not often that I'm out on a date with such a pretty girl, I'm bound to get nervous."
She giggled and then started punching in her phone.
Oh no. Please. Please do not tweet that.
"Do you read any books?" he asked, as if to neutralize her labeling of him as a shy engineer creep.
"Books, not many..The last one I read was by Chetan Bhagat. But I lovve scrolling through my news feed. It releases all my tension from office."
Her tongue rolled luxuriously on the word 'love'. It made him feel a little dizzy. He was a social animal after all, he had needs that were being left unfulfilled for quite a long time.
She must have caught him staring at her because the next thing she said was, "Wait for the next date," winking invitingly.
He grinned like an idiot and walked her home. It was a pretty silent walk along the suburbs of the city, the silence interrupted by pings and rings erupting from her phone. Meanwhile, his mind started doing some calculations.
The population of the world was around 7 billion, if I narrow my 'one true love' to the population of Delhi, which is staggering in its own right, 18 million and say, half are females - 9 million (although that is an exaggeration, considering the capital's notorious reputation as rape city and the high sex ratio), out of them only a million are in the age group 25-35, and if we consider that half are married, the number of women I see as a potential partner reduces to 5 lakh.
Out of those 5 lakh, I'd be attracted to only one percent of the women (this would be our success rate) decreasing the number to about 5 thousand potential mates. So if I start dating tomorrow everyday for the coming 5 years, that makes it 30x12x5 dates, around 1800 dates! Out of which probably only 18 dates will be successful. My chance of finding true love is very less - a dismal 18/5,00000 x 100 = 0.0036 % in the next five years.
So, what do I do here? Do I compromise on 'the one'? Adjust? Like I've adjusted with my degree, my job? Follow the road map like I have all my life and have it arranged? Or do I give up and live a life as a hermit in the hills of Himalayas? Do I even believe in destiny, serendipity? That the one will turn up at one fortune moment and all of my failed relationships will culminate at these coordinates of space and time? What if, my 'one' is already floating in the universe, far away, holding hands with another speck in the universe, or worse, isn't even born yet?
"So, are you coming up for coffee?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes seductively, her question like a bumpy shore to his flow of thoughts.
"Um, I had a lovely time today..but umm.." he hesitated. "Maybe some other time." He reached out for a handshake.
She shoved her phone under her arm, balancing her huge bag and shook his hand awkwardly.
"What is your full name? I need to tag you on Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus, Foursquare, Instagram.."
He smiled, shaking his head and started walking back in the late summer heat of Delhi.
