“Mr. Grewal will see you now.”

WTF…either I am out of my mind or was that a line from 50 shades of Grey?

I am standing outside a glass door on the top of a fancy restaurant, waiting to meet my ‘date’, Mr. Rohit Grewal, the Owner of this eatery. BTW, this filthy rich guy is also a ‘book-lover.’

Not to mention that I am mighty pissed off. Jeez, who asks his date to come to his own restaurant? All this reeks of arrogance!

For some unfathomable reason, the girl who had spoken those words was herself looking at me apologetically.

“Arranged marriage website?” she suddenly whispers to me.

“Umm… yes, it is there that my dad stumbled upon the profile of this Rohit Grewal.”

She shakes her head knowingly (which seemed weird to me), before ushering me into the room. Since my anger was reaching a certain boiling point, I was pretty sure that I would give this Grewal guy an earful for his disgusting behaviour before storming out, but the sight that greets me in the room leaves me utterly dumbfounded!

Rewind: The ‘literary’ ladka

“You know, you could have gone to Canada. Lived there happily ever after…”

“Yes, spending my time cooking the Thanksgiving turkey for AJ while he would go on with his India bashing tirades…huh?” I finish my mother’s sentence.

Apparently, after my failed date with AJ, his parents called up my folks and complained about how instead of acting as a potential sanskaari bahu, I had left their son high (don’t blame me, it was Sarthak’s weed) and dry.

“Which new book are you reading currently, beta?”

My father, who till now had been silent, (which, of course, seemed quite unusual to me) has joined the conversation with a question that seemed complete out of place.

“A God in Every Stone, written by Kamila Shamshie, why?” I ask curiously.

“It’s not often that we get to meet like-minded people, isn’t it?”

“Dad, what are you hinting at?” Now I am suspicious.

“There’s this naya ladka, Rohit, whose profile in the wedding website says that he loves literature. So, I thought you two might strike a chord with one another,” he says with a grin.

“Wow dad, what a logic! If such was the case, all literature students must be paired with their classmates even before the start of their first semester exams!”

And thus started the story of my third date, this time with a ‘literary’ guy.

Psycho or plain crazy?

A man is sitting in front of me, wearing a terrible-looking blue suit that is so tight; it appears the stitches might give in at any moment. The whole room smells of some hitherto unknown brand of perfume which is enough to give anybody a bad headache.

“Ah, you are here,” (he pronounces here as hare in his half-broken voice).

“Yes. Although, I want to point out how unhappy I am about the fact that you made me wait so long. I am here for more than 20 minutes already, and the only reason I waited is because I wanted to tell you that how dismal your behaviour is!

My words have hit the bull’s eye.

“Err… I didn’t mean to offend you. This is how I had pictured it.”

Pictured??? Now I am absolutely sure that I have been set upon a date with either a madman or a pervert!

“What does that mean?” my curiosity speaks.

“Aha…Actually, I am a big fan of epic literary novels, and since I heard that you too are a literature enthusiast, I thought that I would set our date according to a scene from one of my favorite books.”

“You know, Rohit, I accept that my knowledge of literature is not that vast but I can hardly recall any literary masterpiece that includes a scene akin to this.”

I cringe inwardly trying to picture Mr Darcy wearing this abominable perfume or Romeo in the balcony scene, sporting this horrible tight suit. Juliet would have killed him herself!

Seriously, Sexpeare?

“No no, you won’t find them in any of Sexpeare’s novels.”

“Woah!! Man, it is pronounced ‘Shakespeare’ and not ‘Sexpeare’. And when did Shakespeare write any novels?”

I am sure that if the playwright had heard this literature lover, he would have been rolling in his grave right now.

Rohit shakes his head before speaking again. And after hearing what he says next, I throw another string of expletives under my breath for my ex-boyfriend, because of whom I had lost the bet.

“Arey I am talking about my favorite classic, 50 Shades of Grey!”

Are murders allowed on dates?

Question: So, what could be worse than a guy obsessed with Canada along with a weed-smoking struggling artist?

Answer: A mad restaurant owner who thinks that 50 Shades of Grey is a Classic and wants to moonlight as Christian Grey for a nice little role-play sequence.

My phone rings. It’s dad. The last thing needed to make this farcical date the worst of the lot.

“Beta, I hope everything is going well.”

“Oh, great dad, both of us are discussing the Classic, 50 Shades of Grey. Rohit was thinking about enacting a few scenes from the book,” my voice is heavy with sarcasm.

“That’s very good (he is too ecstatic to notice that I am sarcastic). I won’t disturb you.”

“Bye, dad. You can check out the book on the internet. It is indeed a Classic,” I say sardonically, before cutting off the line.

Grewal looks at me appreciatively.

“So you are also a fan! You know, I am in awe of Christian Grey and have started to style myself like him.”

Tell me, are murders allowed on dates?

He continues, “I am rich and also have a ‘dominating personality’. Even our names are similar.”

Here’s what Daddy dear went through back at home:

“Sudha, it seems that we have finally managed to find the perfect match for our little girl. All the credit goes to literature. I decide to know more about this book that has played a Cupid for my daughter.”

He types the words on Google, 50 Shades of Grey and the results start showing up.

Every hair on his head (and there’s not many) stand up when he sees the image results. He cries out, “What the hell is this guy doing with a whip in his hand with the handcuffed girl?”

As he browses through the photos, and starts sweating. He murmurs, “Wait, didn’t she say that Grewal was going to enact some scenes?? Shit!”

Since this was enough to hit the trigger, Dad decides to rescue me by arriving at the date venue.

Grewal seems to be quite encouraged by my conversation on the phone.

“You really want to enact scenes from the book? You know, I think that Christian Grey is the greatest literary character created ever. Even other literary masterpieces such as Chetan Bhagat’s Half Girlfriend have no match to it.”

Now I seriously feel that if there is an alternate version of 50 Shades of Grey, then I would be happy to use the whip generously on this desi version of Grey aka Grewal. At least, he might take out the phrase ‘literature lover’ from his profile that he’s out up on the arranged marriage website!

“Have you seen the intensity in his eyes when he stands with the hunting crop or the whip?” he goes on.

While I was to consider what to do with this guy, the deep baritone of my father booms through the room.

“By talking about hunting crop and whip, what are you hinting at, son?”

And, here’s how the ‘Sasur and almost-damaad’ conversation went on:

“Dad? What on earth is he doing here?”

“Hello, uncle! We were just talking about Christian Grey, a ‘classic figure’ in literature.” 

“I know who he is. What was that bit about whips and hunting crops?” dad’s voice is deadly serious.

What happens then? After a shaky laugh (which my dad seems to hate), Rohit tries to explain how he has started styling his ‘closet’ after Christian Grey, along with collecting whips and other BDSM equipments. Oops!

What follows next is a showdown between my father and the ‘desi Christian Grey’ which ends something like this:

Rohit – (screaming) There’s a reason why my name is Grewal. You will see one day when they will cast me in the Indian version of 50 Shades of Grey, the greatest literary piece ever!

Dad – (shouting even louder) If I see you coming anywhere within 50 metres of my daughter, I will show you my potential of using a whip better than this guy, Christian Grey!

And needless to say, it was all so funny that by the time we exited Mr Grewal’s place, I had a good laugh out of it at both of their expenses.

“Sorry, I put you through all that. The guy’s crazy!”

“Oh, there are crazier people, Dad, who think an arranged date with any random guy could result in marriage.”

I hear dad, sigh.

Surprisingly, I don’t want to argue anymore. I snuggle closer to the driver’s seat, near Daddy.