Dear Readers,
Matchmaking assumes that much more importance in sustaining a community like ours, whose numbers are dwindling faster than the botas (mutton nuggets) disappearing from the dhansak-dal at a Sunday lunch! It’s a daring dance – one lovely Bawi musters the courage to flash a coy smile at a strapping Bawa, as they clutch cups of Irani chai and pretending not to notice each other’s under-manicured nails or that unhealthy third spoonful of sugar in the chai. Then there’s the electric thrill of discovering how both secretly prefer patra-ni-machhi over saas-ni-machhi.
But just when you think love has the field to itself, ‘Phase Two’ kicks in – the Parental Grand Inquisition – complete with glossy biodata dossiers and horoscope deep-dives, good enough to launch an archaeological dig! And this, dear friends, is when the real matchmaking begins. Sometimes standards aren’t met, sometimes horoscopes don’t match and sometimes half the promising pairings fizzle out because someone’s Mumma insists on cross-checking medical records and baby photos, like they’re state secrets!
But there’s bigger reasons that’s keeping our eligible Parsis from settling down with their perfectly compatible counterparts. First up, ambition’s on the throne. Many of our talented Parsi women out-earn, out-promote and outshine potential suitors who haven’t yet mastered the art of adulting beyond Mumma’s kitchen. Another reason why some of our finest Parsis are still camping in the kingdom of Singledom is the migration issue. One minute, our singles are locking eyes dreamily at a Starbucks café, and the next, they’re FaceTiming half-frozen from Toronto, or sending bronzed beach selfies from Australia! Long-distance love morphs into a world-tour of missed connections and passports stamped more often than romantic intentions.
I would be remiss here, if I don’t share one of my own legendary experiences which I term the ‘Jeroo (name changed) episode’… Some time ago, an enterprising and over-involved mum (is there even another kind?) landed at office to post a matrimonial advertisement, daughter in tow, breathlessly declaring, “We’ve met dozens of boys, but no one measures up to my Jeroo!” She followed up with an epic lament, which had Jeroo rolling her eyes so far back into her head, I thought she may have tap-danced through a few of her past lives. Suddenly, Jeroo snapped and interrupted with, “How many frogs do I have to kiss before my Prince Charming shows up?!” Trying to lighten the mood, I quipped, “Perhaps one could start acquiring a taste for frog-legs until then?” I would be putting it very mildly when I say, mummy was not amused.
And as I sign off on frogs and princes, remember, the quest for love and marriage is half comedy, half adventure. So, you could end up hopping through a few amphibians – some with questionable fashion sense and others whose umbilical cords are yet to be severed from their Mummas and Pappas! But keep your crown polished, your hearts open and your sense of humour intact. Your Prince (or Princess!) could be just around the corner, ready to leap into your life at the perfect moment. Until then, savour each quirky encounter and keep the faith going… ‘coz sometimes even the smallest frog can surprise you with a princely roar!
Have a lovely weekend!
– Anahita
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- Of Frogs And Princes… - 28 June2025
- Echoes of Identity – Celebrating Our Traditions - 21 June2025
