The biggest driver for women wanting to marry

India will have women marrying at a younger age, and hopefully will agree to an arranged one too, much to the relief of parents.
Why you ask? Because of Tanishq of course. They have embarked on a beautiful and well-thought of campaign:
A highly ambitious and successful girl is adamant on not marrying, despite her dad's pleadings to at least consider the case of this really nice guy he has chosen for her. The mother, looks on scornfully, until she asks her daughter to stop the car and enters Tanishq, the jewellery shop. She makes her daughter try on all the jewellery making her look, well, bride-like. When the mother realises that it was wedding jewellery, she asks her daughter to take them off, making the girl very sad and almost on the verge of tears. She decides immediately what needs to be done. Hestitantly and shy-like, she asks her father, "What is the boy's name?"
The mother sends a smug sms to the father - After 25 years of marriage, yous till don't know what a woman wants.

It was enlightening to say the least. 20-something old girls need nothing more than gold, silver and diamond jewellery to be happy. For a vulnerable, malleable and underdeveloped mind like ours, jewellery is the key (and perhaps the only) criteria for getting married.
I hope its a series. The next best thing would be an ad on how women are ready to have children, considering the amount of jewellery they will get to wear on the child's first birthday.

Olfactory Senselessness

It was a surreal experience standing in front of the pearly gates, but I was looking forward to confronting The Highest Authority and asking him few naaku-pudongara (painful) questions. Lord, as is deducible, knew my motives and sent his scribe to meet me. A flustered old man, he reminded me of the rabbit in Alice In Wonderland. I wondered how he could help me.

Scribe: Yes yes, I can.
Me: I want to know why I was treated unfairly by him.
Scribe: But thats blasphemous (covers his mouth)... impossible i mean.
Me: Well he was. I haven't had any olfactory senses since I was 25.
Scribe (with what looks like a suspiciously evil smile): Oh yes, I remember that particular punishment. Oh yes, I do(rubbing his hands now, to my greatest discomfort). Wait, I have your book here with me. Let me think.. It was the day Indra was very angry with you.
Me (shocked): What?! What did I ever do to him?
Scribe: You wouldn't remember would you now?! Ah here we are.. it was decided in court on December 3rd 2009.

I take the millions of pages thick book, and start reading.

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Indra walks in. He looks characteristically impatient and angry.
Indra: I have had it with her!
Lord: Who?
Indra: Batch no 16098987867676766, girl no: 122989
Lord (with a sigh): What has she done now?
Indra: She complains! (as if that would explain it all to the almighty all-seeing lord)
The Lord remains quiet
Indra: I haven't seen anything like it. She likes public transport, and is adament on taking trains and buses. She in fact scoffs at people who don't. Then she complains about sticky bodies pressing against her, and about the sweaty smells she has to bear. She actually crinkles her nose in public!
Lord: Hmm.
Indra: She can't stand cigarrette smell either. She forcefully makes her friends have a chewing gum as soon as they are done smoking, but never considers leaving them alone to enjoy it!
Lord: Oh good good.
Indra: She wears nail polish and takes it off immediately, all the while commenting about the smell of the remover.
Lord (almost sleepy by now): oh hmm?
Indra: She is allergic to the smell of malli-poo*.
That got Lord's attention. No one, I mean no one was allergic to malli poos. Clouds gathered overhead as he deliberated. Finally, the Lord stood up.
Lord: It is indeed shocking and your anxiety is well founded. The girl needs her due punishment. I think I have the perfect solution. Starting today, the girl will have a cold that will last all seasons and all places. No medicine can cure her, and no man can give her respite from that. She will, henceforth, be unable to smell anything good or bad, and will remain in an odourless world.
Indra, satisfied, took a deep bow and exited.

I had tears in my eyes, my respect for the Lord's justice and sound mind renewed manifold.
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I closed the book with a heavy sigh, and started exploring my new heavenly abode, all the while hoping for a hankerchief to magically appear.

This, for all I know, may be the holy truth. I hadn't heard of an "all season cold" until I had it. I hadn't heard of a senseless nose until I got it.

Maybe in the theory of evolution, I was born off soorpanaka**. Maybe all her descendants have ill-formed noses.
Or maybe, I just made Indra mad.

*malli-poo - A kind of a white flower, which most of ladies keep on their hair for adornment, or offer it to Lord.
** Soorpanaka** - Ravan's sister in the epic story of Ramayan, whose nose was cut off by Lakshman.