This had to be done... There aren't enough cynics around

The Grand Debate

                Matrimonial sites-the FaceBook equivalent for parents of those kids that are unable to choose a mate by themselves. Given how this “author’s quest to find true love ended like John Kasich’s campaign- we had potential and were kinda nice, but for some reason, the world seems to like scheming lying assholes that want to grab the women by their Billy Bushes more- he had to finally concede defeat. But there were a couple of issues… For starters, I was awaiting my practical exam results and given how the odds of clearing the DNB practical exam in the first shot is like finding a sensible, colored person in a Trump rally- it is extremely uncommon but not unheard of, but even they have no idea about how it happened, I was apprehensive.

                After we cleared our theory papers, we waited as the results were announced for literally every other specialty. You see, it is difficult to start preparing for step 2 when you are not sure you have cleared the first hurdle, so we were waiting and then it happened. On a beautiful Friday, I learnt that I had cleared my theory exams. Irumugan was released that time. We were greeted by boos at the ticket counter as we had booked tickets for the first day, and contrary to the usual belief, this movie released on a Thursday and we had gone to the cinemas that Friday. Cursing our lack of luck and common sense, we had barely moved 100 yards when I was informed that my practical exams would be held in 10 days in the Telugu Heartland. If that doesn’t scare the living daylights out of you, nothing ever will.

                In the meantime, we were approached by these affluent folks that wanted a 25 year old doctor who was a neuro-cardio-oncologist… Given how I was neither 25 nor a super specialist, I had to keep away from those ambitious folks that seemed more interested in having a new addition to their polyclinic rather than in embracing a family member. Also, I honestly didn’t want the dinner topics to be chosen from the Indian Journal of Surgery.  The day before the exams I realized that one of the examiners was responsible for the infamous 100% massacre in Pune 6 months earlier. On the day of examination, the OGcian’s curse finally struck me as I was provided with a case of Carcinoma Ovary. Despite my best efforts, my best moment was when I explained a now obsolete procedure in excruciatingly painful detail.

                As I was hoping that Paul Mickulicz had actually saved my day, my parents spent a lot more than I would have liked on a profile that was a lot awkward than I thought it would ever be. Eventually I learnt a lot more about this unscrupulous world of matrimonial sites. For starters, every third girl/her family wants a guy that doesn’t have siblings, would prefer if the mom was also-for want of a better word- dead and still wanted ‘good family values’. Seriously, you don’t want the guy to have a family and how can you expect him to have family values and still hope to have a moral high ground?

                Now, I was cursing myself. I had spent close to a decade in the Medical field and still couldn’t find myself someone to share the rest of my life with. I mean, I wasn’t looking for the one Indian girl, I was looking for literally any other Indian girl. In the meantime, the matrimonial sites were doing a pretty impressive job of debunking the myth propagated by cinemas. You don’t see Trishas or Samanthas or Tams in the medical colleges… For fear of being called a sexist douchebag and the unlikely event that a prospective bride stumbles across this piece, that is all we shall say on this topic.

                 Whether to weather further academic challenges or get ready and face the challenge of starting a family is a question we have all faced at some point of our life. The scenario here is just like the American elections. Both the options are scary as hell and you have to choose one over the other. So whom do you choose…? Who do you want to be in charge of the nuclear warheads (of course, a metaphor)? I mean given the choices, the odds are the bomb is going to be dropped, but I would rather have someone who would drop it on any other place than on my own frigging head. Now that I have had official communication that Paul Mickulicz has indeed saved me, Neurosurgery it is… Or is it?

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