Next Time, Let Me Call You

“You can hang up now. Next time, let me call you.”

While that phrase has the bite of a gentle rebuff, coming from a woman I hoped to marry, especially during our very first phone call, I was smiling as we bid our polite goodbyes and brought the call to an end.

On the other end was Smitha, in Bangalore and on this side, myself in Kochi.

For months, we had been exchanging emails. I had found her profile on a matrimonial portal. Since I have a somewhat detached relationship with my parents, I figured it was time to take my future into my own hands and get serious about settling down. Without hesitation, I registered on the site and began scrolling through profiles. That’s when I discovered her.

Her picture stopped me in my tracks. She looked, quite frankly, angry and disinterested — like she was daring anyone to explore her profile. I remember thinking, “What on earth does she think of herself? Can’t she at least smile in her profile photo?” I made a promise to myself right then that I wouldn’t look at her profile again.

The next day, I looked again, and made the same promise.

The day after, I looked again, and renewed my promise.

On the fourth day, I clicked the “send a message” button and said hello.

There was something in her attitude, or maybe it was as Omar Sharif said in Lawrence of Arabia - “It is written”.

Within 24 hours, I received a reply. To my surprise, it was a warm, cheerful message filled with exclamation marks—completely at odds with the stern picture I had seen. She would later explain that her mother had dragged her to the studio to pose for the photo for her matrimonial profile, against her will and the angry expression was her little act of rebellion. I had to laugh when I heard that and thanked her mom in my mind. Even today, I share a warm rapport with her Mom, a self-made woman.

Later, she would also mention that after we started talking, she and her friend Vidya had returned to the same studio to take some new photos for me. When she shared those pictures, she was blooming in a beautiful orange-red saree, with a million-watt smile on her face.

And so, our email conversations began. They quickly became frequent and lively, filled with stories and jokes, and soon enough, she proposed we take the next step: a phone call.

I was nervous, but I dialed her number on that Saturday, my heart racing as I waited for her to pick up. When she did, all the nerves melted away. We spoke like old friends who had known each other for years. The conversation flowed naturally, and before I knew it, 25 minutes had passed.

That’s when she said, “Listen, this is an STD call, and it’s expensive. You can hang up now. Next time, let me call you.”

I was floored. These were the days before the mobile revolution, and an interstate call was indeed expensive. I was in my early days as an entrepreneur, and, here was this beautiful, practical woman who not only valued money but understood the struggles of earning it. She was thoughtful, unpretentious, and exactly the kind of partner I had been searching for. Her words and her empathy made me feel that she was there, alongside me, in my journey.

Right then, I decided not to delay things any longer. I had to make my move.

In a few weeks, I did.

Years later, on a warm Tuesday afternoon, we sat together at a self-service sushi restaurant for lunch, while the kids were at school. As we picked our choices, she smiled at me and said, “We should do more of these lunch dates.”

It was our 19th year of being together.