Once upon a time, there was ( and still is ) a continent named Asia. On the very southern edge of this biggest continent, stood a subcontinent, ruled by the British Empire, dominated by English rulers. But a day came, when the queen's men left, leaving the reign of power to the native leaders.

The subcontinent went through a few more levels of metamorphosis and thus, one day, my glorious motherland took birth.

Well, if we talk about nature, she's . . . wealthy. Rich. Baronial.

But economically, she's . . . umm . . . I'm avoiding the question.

Anyway, me along with my family, now reside on one part of her midsection. I mean in a city, situated almost at the middle of the country.

Now why the hell did I give you guys a not-so-necessary history lesson when this book is clearly about . . . a wedding? Trust me, I don't know the answer either. Maybe it was to clarify that the customs and rituals here, do not resemble the western style. Or maybe it was simply because of my blabber mouth. Blabber hand . . . in this case?

Ah! Let's go back to the main subject of this book.

So, the main juice is, I live in a small city of a small country. And this small city has a good number of small villages.

Ah! Villages . . . my mind is running back to those green paddy fields again, the saplings dancing better than prima ballerinas in the light breeze. The vivacious rivers, meandering through lush meadows, their waves glittering under the lux of sunlight. The thatched huts, shadowed by the velvety leaves of carambola, banana and sometimes bamboo. The cerulean sky overhead, playing with ribbons of clouds. Housewives, gossiping and weaving kanthas, their soft laughter rivalling melodious nightingales.

Aha! I know, my villages can't really win against the cascades of Niagara or the sandy beaches of Pattaya. But there's always a genuine touch in our lands. A feeling of familiarity, hospitality. A pull of roots.

Wait! Wait! Wait! Don't go! I know I'm blabbing again. My patriotic zeal just kicked in, dude! Can't help it!

Okay! I'll start the story now! Promise!

Actually, my grandparents live in a village like that. So . . .

Anyway, my grandma and grandpa both are old. When the events of this story occurred, three years ago, they were . . . old?

I guess I didn't need to share that piece since all grandparents are always old. Seriously, I've never seen anyone writing about young grandparents. They are always old and cozy and wrinkly and owner of candyfloss hair and . . .

Don't you think it's a bit . . . cliché?

Okay! No more blabbering bullshit.
So, apart from my grandparents, I have an aunt and two uncles. The uncles have their own names. But . . . there's a butt . . . since they are not really important in this story, let's just call them 'uncle-1' and 'uncle-2'.

My aunt is the main protagonist by the way. Now, she's thirty-five, happily married and expecting a child soon.

But when this story took place, she was a bit over thirty. Not old at all. But . . . again butt . . . according to the 'rules' established by the dead patriarchs of our society, custom and all, remaining single at thirty is considered a . . . sin.

So, my mother and my uncles, being the saintly siblings, were trying to marry off my aunt as soon as possible.

We were hunting for grooms. Almost the whole country was scrutinised. But . . . butt again . . . no suitable suitor.

Now ask, why?

Because of my aunt's groom-standards.

An A4 size paper, containing the written version of groom-standard, used to be pinned on her dressing table. She tore it off later, on the wedding day, not willing to show those high demands to her dear hubby. But that part is for future chapters.

Now moving on to develop this chapter . . .

Whenever my mom and uncles told aunt about someone, the first thing aunt would do, was to find faults.

I know, no man is without faults.

But . . . holly butt . . . my aunt really wanted a husband who was perfect. Like perfect in walking, perfect in sitting, perfect in . . . ahem . . . you know what I mean.

Her standards are given below, take a look . . .

1. The husband must be handsome. ( My aunt has always wanted good looking kids. )

2. The husband must be tall. ( Actually my aunt is a little short. She wanted her kids to fill in the gap. So . . . )

3. The husband mustn't be too rich. ( My aunt used to think . . . no, she still thinks that rich people have some character issues . . . )

4. The husband must be an only-child. ( My aunt had to go through hell with three other siblings, in her childhood, so . . .)

5. The husband must be slim. ( Aunt is a little . . . too healthy. But it goes well with her pretty face. )

6. The husband must be an all-time class topper. ( Aunt had never been a class topper, but she always had a crush on those classroom geniuses. )

7. The husband must be a good cook.( My aunt's cooked foods are not edible . . . )

And the list continues . . .

I'll give you some demonstrations of my aunt's impression towards the 'imperfect' guys . . .

Guy #1: Tall, slim, only child. Wears Armani, travels in a sports car, have his own valets, bodyguards and a big magazine company.

Aunt: "No! No! No! Too rich! Also, a magazine company? He will run away with those hourglass models. Then how will I raise my kids? Sister! Block him!"

Guy #2: Slim, middle height, class topper.

Aunt: "No! No! No! He has five more sisters! He would love his nieces and nephews more than our kids. Sister! Cut him!"

Guy #3: Only child, class topper, short.

Aunt: "No! No! No! He is shorter than me. My kids will be even shorter! Sister! Chop him!"

Guy #4: Slim, class topper, tall, middle class family. Perfect, almost.

Aunt: "Look, he isn't chewing his food well."

Me: "Yeah, maybe he has a cavity."

Aunt: "No! No! No! I don't want my kids to have cavity! Sister! Kick him!"

Guy #5: Super hot, only child.

Aunt: "Hey, handsome. You're so good looking. But can you cook?

Guy : "Um . . . no? Isn't that women's work?"

Aunt: "Shut up, you sexist! This guy can't cook .What will my kids eat? Sister! Punch him!"

Guy #6: Cute. Tall. Middle class. A chef.

Aunt : "Umm . . . why is he looking at that direction?"

Me : "There's a girl over there. Ex girlfriend?"

Aunt : "No! No! No! I won't marry such a cheap flirt. If I do, my kids will be characterless. Sister! Whip him!"

Guy #7: Tousled hair. Good build. Topper.

Aunt : "No! No! No! He is a show-off. Look, his buttons are open. He is showing off his abs. I don't want my kids to be such jerks! Sister! Smack him!"

Guy #8: Tall, dark, handsome.

Aunt : "His results are not good. My kids won't be meritorious if I marry this guy. Sister! Sue him!"

Guy #9: Funny. Can cook. Only child.

Aunt : "He eats too much. What will my kids learn? Gluttony? Also, they'll be fat."

Me : "But aunt, you also eat too much."

Aunt : "That's why your future uncle has to eat less. To make the kids slim. Sister! Burn him!"

Guy #10: Tall, handsome, middle class, only child, class topper. Most importantly, a good cook.

Me : "Aunt, this guy is perfect for you."

Aunt : "Umm . . . but, I don't feel like that. Anyway, where do you work, mister?"

Guy : "Oh! America. After the marriage, I'll take you there. We'll have a happily ever after."

Aunt : "What? Who told you that I would go with you? Wait, are you trying to rule over me. Listen, jerk, I will raise my kids here, in this very village. Sister! Send this guy to hell!"

Guy #11: Seven feet tall . . .

Aunt : "Are you kidding me? He's . . . he's two feet taller than me! How in the world would I even . . . produce my babies? Sister!"

Mom : "What do you want now? You are the one who wanted an Eiffel tower hubby!"

Aunt : "I didn't ask for that much!"

Uncle-1 : "He came a long way, from Paris. What do we do to send him back?"

Aunt : "I don't know! Just . . . fuck him!"

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Guy #100: No physical description available.

Aunt : "It hasn't been five minutes yet. And he already went to the bathroom!"

Me : "Maybe he heard about your great treasure hunt. So he chickened out?"

[ 15 minutes later ]

Aunt : "He hasn't arrived yet. What's going on? Let's go check the bathroom."

Me : "Hey, Wait. You can't just barge in like that!"

The bathroom door flew as my aunt's superkick landed on it's cheap polymer body. No sign of a person was found inside and the window was wide open.

"He escaped!" I declared.

"Such a coward! Sister, I'll not marry that guy or else my kids will also develop such cowardice."

"Now what should we do?" my grandmother sighed, "We have even lost the 100th man."

The whole house went silent after that, but one could easily hear the scribbling sounds of a pen, violently running over a paper --my aunt adding another standard to her legendary list.

A/N:- This story is written only for entertainment purposes. I do not intend to disrespect anyone. So, please don't feel offended. ^^