D, going through my photos of Onam, shrugs nonchalantly and says, “You are not as innocent as you look.”

I look up, confused. Me? Innocent? Did I actually hear someone saying I look innocent? Exasperated, I turn around to face him and say, “D, how dare you even think of calling me innocent?”

In case you are wondering why I took so much offense, it’s because innocent is the worst possible way to describe me. I am not innocent and will never be! D looks at me, and starts laughing. “You are only person I know who actually hates being called innocent,” he says, still laughing uncontrollably. “Most people would kill to get that compliment.”

Raising one eyebrow, I look at him, “Well…I am not most people…”

D decides he has had enough. “You most definitely are not!”

I love having the last word in conversations. But this is one conversation in which I’ll give that a pass.

Ever gone through matrimonial ads in the newspapers? All of them ask for brides who are slim, fair and “homely”. Mommy dearest, in her quest for the perfect son-in-law (another post for another time) decided to put in a description of her darling daughter (read ME) the other day over phone to someone. “My daughter is tall, slim and fair”, she proclaimed. Sitting at my computer, engrossed in finishing my reading list on Google Reader, I was barely paying attention to what she was saying until that minute. However, I did a minor double take when I heard her description of me.

Wait a minute. Just when did I become slim? Or fair for that matter? At five feet and nine inches of height, I surely tower over most Indian women, and even some men. But slim? I don’t think I’ve ever written about it, but my desperate attempts at going to the gym, salsa classes and even aerobics met with dismal failure barely one month after the start. I wouldn’t call myself overweight or fat, but I certainly can’t be classified as slim. As in, I do not resemble a lizard, an escape from Somali famines or Kareena Kapoor at size zero. Sorry. Nor is this my idea of beauty. I turned and looked at my mother, with an expression of disbelief. She ignored it. Over the phone, she continued eulogizing her daughter’s perfect proportions.

As if that were not enough, she called me “fair”. Not wheatish, not brown…fair!! Yikes! Me? Fair? Since when is brown skin considered “fair”? Dusky at best, would aptly describe my complexion. But no, mom refused to be convinced. According to her, her daughter is still slim, tall and fair. My arguments failed. Sigh! For the first time, I found myself giving up without a fight. All because of one sentence. She turned around, exasperated at my pointless protests and said, “Kaakkaikku than kunju pon kunju.” Now, who can argue with that?

PS: At least she didn’t call me homely. That would have been the ultimate sacrilege! 😛

Dare I even talk? But, since I am such a sweet person, I decided to give my male readers (ok…I am delusional) some information on what women really want.

There are three major criteria of eligibility for a guy: beauty, intelligence and wealth. Now ideally, a guy should possess all three for a girl to choose him. But then, the probability of that happening is infinitesimally minute. The intersection of the three sets can be illustrated like this:

As you can see, the probability of men fulfilling all three criteria is about one in a million. That leaves us with very little choice. To make it mathematically accurate: there are a total of three choices, not counting the eligible bachelor bit.

Scenario 1 – Man is good-looking and rich but hasn’t a gram of brain in him.

In this, you have two options.

Option 1: take the money, have fun, do your thing, but don’t expect him understand the finer nuances of existential philosophy. For that, you have friends.
Option 2: fret and fume that you have a brainless husband, get depressed, and commit suicide.

Scenario 2 – Man is rich and intelligent but not good-looking

Two options again!
Option 1: Tell yourself that beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder. Thank your stars that the man has the brains, the car, the house and the servants to wait on you hand and foot. Enjoy life.
Option 2: fret and fume that you have an ugly husband, get depressed, and commit suicide.

Scenario 3 – Man is intelligent and good-looking, but not rich

Option 1: Live life for what it’s worth. Be happy without the car and the house. Go out for dances and plays (only if you don’t have to pay for the entry), work your ass off for that house, that car and those servants.
Option 2: fret and fume that you have no money, get depressed, and commit suicide.

Now, as you can see, option two rules itself our because of its sheer stupidity. That leaves you with the option of reconciling with fate and living life. But, there is a small problem. I would much rather marry an ugly, poor but intelligent man than marry a stinking rich Greek god with no brains. However, given that intelligent men, in themselves, are such an endangered species, it becomes a bit difficult to decide. As they say, life is not fair!

Disclaimer: This post is inspired by conversations with Sriram and Sankhya and has no reference to any person living or dead. It is all in good humour and I don’t want to handle trolls accusing me of being shallow and a gold-digger.