LITMIR.BIZ

      And that was that. After a few calls it was arranged for me to meet Shivani later that evening. I was nervous but looking forward to seeing how much we would get on. We’re two total strangers from different parts of the world who would never have met. But then again, this is what that chef Heston Blumenthal does: puts things together that shouldn’t work, like a fried egg and Viennetta ice cream as a main course, and people say it’s an odd match made in heaven. So who knows? At the end of the day, there are over 1.2 billion people in India, so you can hardly spend time searching for ‘the one’, can you? It’s hard enough finding a parking space in India, never mind ‘the one’.

      After buying myself a suit for £30 we were on our way round to meet Shivani and her parents. I was knackered, as shopping in India isn’t a very pleasurable thing to do. I’m not a fan of shopping at home due to noise and crowds, but it’s fifty times worse here. Wherever you walk it seems everybody else is going in the opposite direction and it’s one big battle. Every space is taken up. You think you find a quiet alley to just get a moment’s peace, but a moped will come hurtling towards you driven by a man holding a pig. The shop I bought the suit from had very little room for customers due to the stock taking up so much space, so there was no changing room, which meant stripping off by the cash till.

      We allowed plenty of time to get to Shivani’s place, but we were still late. You can never guess how long it’s going to take you to get anywhere in India, as the roads are chaos. It looks like when you disturb an ant nest. Two lanes are made into five lanes; one-way roads are definitely not one-way. An Indian sat nav probably just wishes you luck and tells you to go wherever you want. I suppose that’s what I find odd about arranged marriages: not that they exist, but the fact that they exist in India, a place where it seems nothing is properly arranged.

      Luckily, my being late wasn’t too much of a problem, as Shivani’s dad, Harash, informed me she wasn’t ready yet, as she and her sister were struggling to decide what to wear. I wandered off to find a toilet in a nearby hotel, as even though I’d only been in India for just over twenty-four hours, the dreaded Delhi Belly had already hit me. About forty-five minutes later Harash took me through his rug shop and into his home. I’d decided that I wouldn’t tell them about Suzanne, as I wanted to see how far I could get and if I could pass the test.