How I met a girl
Sometime in March 2017, I met a girl via my friends, Poornima and Aditya.[1] She stuck out in many ways: she was six feet tall, attractive and an obvious foreigner bopping around Indiranagar. [2] Moreover, she had a wicked sense of humour, was personable and exuded chill vibes. After hanging out with her a few times, I started having that familiar feeling.
On our third hang-out, she invited me to McLeod Ganj and I…dashed; I had a crush on her. I later learnt that she did too (I had an inkling). We spent six days in Dharamkot and fell hard for each other. The Himalayas and its pristine air played wingmen. It was the furthest I had travelled from home.
One thing led to another and we started dating. We had to go back and forth between America and India to make it all work, with tourist-visa restrictions and what not. It wasn't easy to say the least. The worst was when COVID hit and we were stuck on different continents, separated for a year and three months. After going through a trying time, we reunited in Zipolite, Mexico—the only country that would let us both in. Viva La Mexico 🇲🇽 (I wrote about that here.)
But for the visa restrictions, there have been no other obstacles in our relationship. We both have been lucky to have open-minded people for parents and siblings: accepting, loving, unconditional in their support. With all of that, our hearts were always full. I do like to believe that 'we' would have happened no matter what.
Back in 2017, three nights before leaving on that trip to McLeod Ganj, I sat at a bar, having a drink by myself, wondering whether or not I should go hangout with this random foreigner. I didn’t quite know her. I worried that I would come across as desperate if I accepted her invitation too eagerly. I didn’t want to feel too excited by the prospect of her and me dating. I had no money for a romantic escapade. A deadline to deliver a film project was very near. And the whole ordeal seemed too good to be true.
As I sat at this seedy bar, penning my thoughts amidst the cacophony—both, around me and inside my head—I kept knocking against one consideration: what is the worst that can happen if I go? This person may not be fun to hang out with and I would have embarrassed myself by going all the way. But what if I don’t go at all? Then I would never know what awaited me on the other end… and, maybe, this person would be gone before I got to know them even. I decided to risk feeling embarrassed; I’m glad I did. Three days ago, four and a half years after that night, I married her.