I am incredibly proud to introduce a new voice on The Ajnabee. She is the multi-talented, beautiful, warm and simply fabulous Zenobia Shroff. I met Zenobia nearly two years ago during one of the most important days in my life - the day I watched, for the first time, Sooni Taraporevala’s film ‘Little Zizou’. Much has been written about this little film that could - and did! - and all of it praised the wonderful performance by Zenobia as Roxanne, the mother figure we all wish we could have in our lives! Although her powerful acting prowess and genuinely kind personality made her the perfect choice for playing the role of Roxanne in ‘Little Zizou’ - Taraporevala recently confessed that ‘Zenobia was a gift from the gods, a saving grace’ - the gorgeous Zen herself is a single girl in the city. This fact makes it even more commendable that she found her mothering instincts so naturally, organically and convinced everyone who has been lucky enough to have watched the film that she is indeed the perfect mother. But I could go on and on and bore you to death. For more on Zenobia Shroff, read her bio on the ABOUT page or watch her in action on YouTube. And, by all means, stay in touch with her here on The Ajnabee where her column is titled ‘Zen and the Art of…’! N-joy her funny and insightful piece on dating in the city!
WHAT? I HAVE TO PUT ON MY FACE FOR THIS!
At thirty-four I decided enough was enough! The gods had taken it upon themselves to collectively doom my love life and I was not going to take it anymore. Armed with a good friend and my best summer look, I enrolled in a dating service offered at a local coffee shop. Doing something of this nature was not something I had imagined for myself at this age or for that matter, at any age. Raised the youngest of three girls in a liberal upper-middle class household in Bombay, India, I had your standard school-girl fantasy (or for some, reality) that I would be married with two kids, the house and the dog by the time I was thirty. I however chose a different path and as a result found myself still single in the city at thirty-four. This was my choice. I did not have any regrets but the proverbial biological clock was ticking. I love children. I hadn’t met any one with whom I wanted to have them. So I decided to do something about it. My good friend Lauren told me about the coffee shop. The atmosphere was decidedly “Friends” like, with over- stuffed couches, magazines and giant coffee mugs. You had to go through books of profiles, pick men you were interested in and if they were interested in you too, you met at the coffee shop for a chat and hopefully more. I was sure it wouldn’t be that hard. After all these years of being single my “man-dar” (man plus radar, a term I proudly coined myself) would surely not let me down, right? Hah! Think again!
I picked three guys. Since I had a background in psychology and was at the time working in a psychiatric program as my day job, I started off with Paul, a psychiatric intern. The second guy was Matthew, a talent agent. Being an actress I saw definite potential there. The third was a self-described Michael J. Fox type. I chose him for that fact. So let’s start with Paul. It was a particularly hot summer evening. He hobbled in twenty minutes late, apologizing and sweating profusely. I said no matter. The delay, he informed me, was due to the length of his session with his therapist. It went long. Not a good sign. Over the next half hour we discussed the pressures of working in psychiatry. I ask him how he deals. He says, poker–faced “Oh, I just punch my fist through the wall”. I swallow hard, and flee shortly after, visions of my face being used as a punching bag swirling through my over-active imagination. Still I tell my self, one bad apple does not spoil the bunch.
In that spirit I meet Matthew. Matthew has described himself as “very cute, 5 foot 6 inches”. I leap up to greet him. We’re shoulder to shoulder. I’m 5’2’’. You do the math. As for ‘very cute’, I’m not going to touch that. Let me just say I was raised a lady. “Michael J. Fox’’ does not respond to my request to meet him. Thus ends round one. I am slightly deflated. Down but not out. A few weeks later I get a call saying there are four men wanting to meet me. I am newly buoyed. I go down to the cafe, check out the profiles and agree to meet all four. Profiles, ladies are very deceptive. If profiles were to be believed there would be not one unhappy woman on the planet. We would all be bathed in love, happy, rich and multi-orgasmic! And gentlemen - love you all but a helpful hint here - please tell it like it is. Don’t pretend to look like a movie star and live like a king. If you are a personal assistant to a banker don’t put investment banker under occupation. We will find out eventually. And then it’s just ugly.
Case in point, Dick. The first of the four, an actor. I consider this a good starting point. Now Dick you must understand has described himself as a Richard Gere look-alike. And Richard Gere is one of my most favorite movie stars. So naturally I am curious. Slightly cynical, but curious. We meet. Throughout the meeting I sat and silently scrutinized his face, what part of it he was referring to as the Richard Gere factor. He meanwhile is prattling on endlessly and carelessly. Finally he says, “So how do I measure up to my profile?” and it’s like, honey you don’t!!! Not to mention that he was an out of work actor, with all the requisite bitterness and whining that goes with it. (Not that I would know anything about that!)
So clearly this plan had holes. I needed to come up with a new plan. I needed to be ruthless, much as it was against my nature. Sitting there for one hour listening to them drone on was too much. I’d give them half an hour. Prove yourself buddy, or I’m outta there! But apart from that I had to have an out. A tag line. This then is what it boiled down to: “ Excuse me, I have to make a phone call” the phone call inevitably borderlined on an ‘’emergency”, and would beat a hasty retreat. This did work a few times after, though good, god-fearing girl that I am I was consumed with guilt by my deception. Yet it had to be done. My only hope was that they would not follow me because thay would have found me at the neighborhood Barnes and Noble frantically looking through Feng Shui books on how to redeem this mess! What should I buy? Crystals? Hearts? A pair of sitting ducks?
(Continued)
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