“The bottom line is that Kareena needs a man,” she continued. “Which is why we asked Bindu to help us bring you here.”
Prem scanned all the expectant faces in front of him and realized exactly where this was going. Damn, he knew this was a setup. If there were aunties and single people in a room together, there was bound to be some sort of matchmaking. “You’re joking if you think that this woman and I would be a good match,” Prem said. He’d believed it at one time, but not anymore. “I mean, we both dodged a bullet when I got a call and had to leave our—”
“Date,” she interjected.
“Date.”
Bindu rushed on, her wrists covered in gold bangles clinking as she wrung her fingers together. “The aunties sent out Kareena’s biodata in their network, and literally no one wants to date her. She’ll have to marry someone who isn’t desi at this rate.”
“What are you talking about?” Kareena asked. She turned to her aunties. “I didn’t give you my biodata.”
Every last one of them looked guilty. Farah Aunty said, “Darling, we just wanted to help. We wanted it to be like a birthday present for you.”
“We got the platinum subscription plan ready for Shaadi.com,” Mona Aunty said, referring to the popular arranged marriage dating website. “But no matches yet according to the criteria we chose. We also used my coupon for a session with the matchmaker pandit in Jackson Heights, Queens, who was supposed to give advice on your future match. It was twenty minutes, and all he said was that you’d meet your match this year, so not very helpful.”
Falguni Aunty cleared her throat. “And to be honest, beta, we reached out to our personal network, and all the other aunties didn’t want their sons near you. They were afraid that you’d be too . . .”
“Difficult,” they said in unison.
“God save me from desi aunties and desi men,” Kareena grumbled. She propped her elbows on her knees to rest her chin on her fists.
“Prem, your reputation is, frankly, not that great, either,” Bindu said. “This is not just affecting my sister.”
“Because you livestreamed our argument!”
“I forgot it was still recording.” Bindu tossed her long wavy hair over her shoulder. “But I’m not mad about it. Viewership is up. I know this sucks for you, so I’m helping the aunties. Because you two only have each other now.”
“Bindu,” Kareena snapped.
“The best marriages start this way,” Farah Aunty. “Don’t you watch Bollywood movies? You two have so much fire. Everyone saw it. Our proposition is that you two get to know each other. Just see if there is anything more.”
Prem would’ve believed the aunties a week ago when he had the best conversation of his life with a woman named Rina at a bar. Now, any attraction between them didn’t matter. He was almost 100 percent positive of that. This was a disaster waiting to happen. “Mrs. Gupta said this can work,” Dadi added.
“Who is Mrs. Gupta?” Prem asked. “Another aunty?”
“Close enough,” Kareena said. “She’s a gossip columnist who gives dating advice for Indians Abroad.”
“She wrote that a woman with intelligence and beauty, with fire, needs a partner who has the same amount of intelligence and handsomeness.” Dadi motioned to Kareena and Prem. “See? She’s right.”
Kareena covered her face with her hands. “Oh my god, I’m not a charity case. This has gone way too far. I can’t believe you would even think something like this would ever happen!” She got to her feet. “I love all of you, but I could never love a man like him—”
“Sit down,” they all said in unison. Judging by their placid expressions, it wasn’t the first time they’d told Kareena to be quiet, either.
Sonali Aunty called his name. “You need money for your center, right? How wonderful would it be if you could regain your investors by presenting your family?”
“Have you been talking to my friend Deepak?”
“And Kareena’s father won’t give her the money to pay for the house unless she is engaged. She has four months, too.”
“Aunty!” Kareena snapped. “Stop trying to guilt people into going out with me! That’s so humiliating.”
Prem ignored Kareena’s outburst and volleyed his gaze back and forth between the aunties.
If they both need money, maybe there was an opportunity for partnership after all. But not in the way the aunties were thinking. He was too practical to believe that anything romantic between him and Kareena would work now. But they could make a business agreement.
“You have to be married by September?” he asked.
“She has to get engaged,” Mona Aunty said. “That’s the only way her dad will give her the money for her house.”
This could work. It was a long shot, but maybe this insane plan had a chance.
Like Sonali Aunty and Deepak suggested, if he was able to repair his public reputation, then maybe, just maybe, he’d get his donor back. And if that didn’t pan out, there was always his mother. But he’d have to be engaged in either situation.
He looked over at Kareena’s profile while she argued with her sister. She was still as gorgeous as the first time he saw her. Could both of them remember how things were when they first met?
Good lord, what was he even thinking? Prem rubbed the back of his neck and tuned out the conversation around him. There were way too many things that could go wrong, but like Bindu said, they only had each other as an option.
“Prem?” Bindu said, interrupting his thought process. “So?”
“Bindu, you can’t just pimp me out!”
Prem nudged Kareena in the arm, interrupting her indignation. Frankly, since this whole experience was like The Twilight Zone, what was the harm in shooting his shot?
“You talked about your mother’s house when we first met. How much does it mean to you? Like really mean to you?”
Kareena’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before her jaw dropped. “Please tell me you’re not considering this.”
“I mean, they have a point,” he started. “Maybe we just need to hit the restart button and go back to when we first met. You want this house, I want my reputation fixed, and although this setup is a little . . . unorthodox, we could give it a try.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You still have to have some sort of feelings for me.”
It bothered Prem more than he cared to admit when Kareena shook her head, then turned to argue with her aunties.
“You have lost your damn minds,” she shouted and got to her feet. “I refuse to lower my standards and be with a man who could never love me back. Mom wouldn’t want that for me, and neither should any of you.” She pointed at all the women in the room. “I’d rather be alone and heartbroken then be with a man who could never love me.”
She whirled and stormed out of the house. A second later, the front door slammed shut.
“That went well,” Falguni Aunty said. “Is it time to eat the samosas?”
“You know what?” Prem said, grinning. “I think I’ll have one now.”
Interstitial
Indians Abroad News Dear Readers, It’s important to encourage your children to diversify their candidate pool. In addition to using their networks, there are a slew of online sites available, including ones specifically designed for arranged marriages. For those of you who follow me on my website, subscribe to my newsletter to receive a free spreadsheet of all online dating sites with a high percentage of South Asian profiles.
Mrs. W. S. Gupta Columnist Avon, NJ
Chapter 7
Kareena
Aunty WhatsApp Group
Mona Aunty: What happened between you and Prem? Are you ever going to tell us?
Kareena: Not that again.
Sonali Aunty: Every couple has conflict, beta. I’ll pray for you both.
Falguni Aunty: If Prem isn’t going to work out for you, then we’ll keep trying with the biodatas to see if we can find someone else for you to date. And with the online websites.
Kareena: I appreciate the help. I can manage the online websites myself.
Mona Aunty: Okay, beta. Here is the login for the accounts we’ve already set up. Just make sure to send us any of the dirty pictures that you get so we can inspect them as well.
Kareena: AUNTY!