Recipe for Disaster
In love, are they? Yeah right, and they were born yesterday!
Desperate times, they say, call for desperate measures. They'd be right. Well, mostly.
Sometimes, a man, may, when bored out of his mind and robbed off wits, take measures which at first instance seem desperate but really aren't. And unfortunately, whether or not they are, is not his to say, but a matter of the understanding of others"sentimental, romantic fools no less. Well, then the situation ceases to be boring and crosses desperate.
That's when the man really, consciously, takes a desperate measure. And quite unfortunately, things don't go as planned, because well, God had other plans. Now, the measure which ought to have been a desperate one, meant to salvage the situation and restore normal routine, is some-bloody-how, deemed to be a romantic one, mushy and sloppy no less. Oh, add clichd, too.
Result was . . . the man, poor unsuspecting victim of ennui and meddling family, was to be married to a woman who couldn't stand his sight, nor he hers. Okay, maybe, she wasn't so hard on the eyes, if one went by the male-two-headed vision. She was pleasant enough to look at, attractive enough to inspire a handful of very interesting fantasies.
But other than that, Advil mused, she was a general pain in the ass. And guess-f**king-what, if he didn't do something soon, like soon-soon he'd be married to her. And once the seven rounds happened, he was done for a lifetime. Because well, you simply did not run from a marriage, not if you were a Dawn.
He could break the engagement, he knew. But he couldn't survive it. If the woman's family didn't kill him, his would. This all in the family pretty much sucked.
It was, Raman took a long sip of bear, quite simply a no win situation.
Desperate times, they say call for desperate measures. Desperate times, she says call for practical measures. Well, mostly.
Sometimes, a woman, having had the bad sense of being born the elder child, in her attempt to bail out her silly sibling, takes measures which seem desperate but really aren't. In fact, if one sat down and just thought over it as any person of rationale certainly would, they'd see that really, the measures were quite practical. Unfortunately, rationality is an anathema to well-meaning romantic matchmakers who see nigh but what their blind-to-logic eye sees.
That's a match made in heaven, their eyes told them. And voila! The match making papas, accompanied by match making mamas, trailed by gossip monger aunts, and assisted by freaking fate take the poor, unsuspecting lady victim of sibling-love under their wing and announce her engagement in front of a small (their standards) gathering of 50 people, close friends and family at that. The announcement, according to them, was a gift.
Some gift it was. Marry him? That baboon? She'd rather chew a bullet. Scratch that! She'd rather force one down his throat and hope he'd choke on it. The guy, Ishita mused, was passably good looking if you liked the ripped-jean messy-hair stubbly kinds. She, for one, had a finer taste, thank you very much.
Mind you, it wasn't the looks that made her contemplate running away instead of marrying, but it was his behavior, which could be classified as childlike at best and uncivilized at worse.
Thing was, the guy was a thorn in her hide. There was no freaking way she could stand being married to him. And if she didn't do something soon, she'd end up being married to him.
She could break the engagement, she thought. Might as well dig her grave and order a coffin! If she didn't die of the frigid airs, she'd succumb to the emotional drama.
It was, all in all, Ishita bit into a bar of chocolate, a no win situation.
PART 1 BELOW
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Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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