The restaurant buzzed with a quiet hum of conversation, the kind that tiptoed between polite laughter and the faint clinking of cutlery. Shalini sat at the central table, her back ramrod straight, her perfectly draped sari a shield of elegance against the chaos this evening promised. Across the room, her parents were seated at a smaller table, their vigilant gazes darting between her and the entrance.
Her father sipped his water, the action repetitive and measured, as if it would communicate to her: Don’t mess this up. Her mother, ever the orchestrator of optimism, flashed her a smile that seemed both reassuring and expectant.
Shalini fought the urge to glance at her phone for the time. This wasn’t just any dinner—it was the arranged meeting, carefully planned, from the location to the menu, with the intention of subtly steering her toward matrimony. The candidate? Ravi, a “promising young entrepreneur,” as described by her mother. The man currently running late.
The door swung open with a little more force than necessary, and in stumbled a man who could only be Ravi. His blazer was a touch too big, his hair slightly over-groomed, and his walk carried the kind of nervous energy one associates with public speaking.
As he paused to scan the room, his eyes landed on her, and for a moment, Shalini thought he might turn and leave. Instead, with a visible breath, he strode toward her—or at least tried to.
On his way, he bumped into a waiter carrying a tray of glasses. A sharp clinking sound made heads turn as the waiter steadied his tray with practiced reflexes. “Sorry, sorry,” Ravi muttered, his face already red.
By the time he reached her table, he had a sheepish grin plastered on his face. “Hi,” he said, his voice too loud for the setting. “I’m Ravi. Sorry I’m late. Traffic.”
“You live five minutes away,” Shalini pointed out, her tone neutral. “Your mother mentioned it.”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Ah, yes. Well… parking was tricky.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Right.”
Ravi pulled out the chair across from her, the legs screeching against the floor. He winced at the sound but sat down quickly, adjusting his blazer. Shalini sipped her water, waiting for him to settle.
“This is a nice place,” he offered, his voice too eager.
“My parents picked it,” she replied curtly.
“Oh, great. Parents know best, right?” He smiled nervously.
Shalini didn’t respond, letting the silence hang for a moment. Ravi fidgeted with the corner of his napkin before attempting again. “So, you’re a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“Corporate law, right?” he asked, nodding as if he’d solved a riddle.
“Correct.”
“That’s impressive,” Ravi said, leaning forward. “I mean, it’s not for me—arguing and all that public speaking. Terrifying. But impressive for someone else. For you, I mean.”
Shalini stared at him, unsure if she should be flattered or insulted. “Thank you?”
Their waiter arrived, saving Ravi from further digging. He launched into his order with the enthusiasm of someone desperate to impress. “I’ll start with the paneer tikka, medium spice—no, low spice—and extra mint chutney. And for the main, butter chicken. Actually, could you make it without butter? Just a mild chicken curry. Oh, and naan. Whole wheat, if possible.”
The waiter blinked but nodded politely.
“I’ll just have a green salad,” Shalini said, handing back her menu.
Ravi grinned as the waiter walked away. “I like to be specific about my food. Details matter, right?”
“Clearly,” she replied, her lips twitching into the faintest smirk.
“So,” he began again, “I run a start-up. Tech-based. Very cutting edge. Blockchain, AI, you name it.”
“Impressive,” Shalini said, her tone carefully neutral. “What’s your company called?”
“Oh, well, we’re still in stealth mode,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “You know, keeping things under wraps.”
Her eyebrow arched again. “Stealth mode. Convenient.”
Ravi faltered. “No, really, it’s legitimate. We’ve got investors lined up. Big names from Silicon Valley.”
“Which ones?”
“Uh…” He reached for his water glass. “Can’t say. NDAs and all that.”
Shalini bit back a smile, choosing instead to sip her own water.
Their parents appeared suddenly, hovering at the edge of their table.
“How’s it going?” her mother asked brightly.
“Great!” Ravi said, sitting up straighter.
Shalini’s father clapped him on the back. “Good lad. Solid handshake, too. That’s important.”
“Dad,” Shalini hissed, glaring at him.
The waiter returned with their food, and the parents retreated, though her mother leaned in to whisper, “Eat slowly, dear. It’s more elegant.”
Ravi reached for the breadbasket, but his sleeve caught the edge of his soup bowl. The bowl tipped forward, and a flood of tomato bisque spilled directly onto his lap.
“Oh, God,” Ravi gasped, jumping to his feet.
Shalini stared at the mess, her lips twitching despite herself. She looked up at Ravi, who was dabbing furiously at his pants with a napkin.
“I—this isn’t—” he stammered.
The laugh burst out of her before she could stop it, a loud and unexpected sound that turned a few heads.
Ravi looked up, startled. Then, to her surprise, he started laughing too. “This… isn’t how I imagined this going.”
“How did you imagine it?”
“Well, less soup. More charm.”
Her laughter softened into a smile. “It’s not the worst first date I’ve been on,” she admitted.
“Really? What was the worst?”
“This one,” she said, smirking. “But there’s still time for redemption.”
By the end of the meal, the awkward tension between them had eased, replaced by something resembling camaraderie. Ravi had stopped trying so hard, and Shalini found herself—against all odds—enjoying his company.
Outside the restaurant, as their parents lingered behind to chat, Ravi turned to her. “So… do you want to do this again sometime?”
Shalini studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly. “I think one disaster is enough for now.”
He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Fair enough.”
As he turned to leave, he stumbled over the curb, barely catching himself. Shalini watched him go, shaking her head but smiling.
For all his flaws, she thought, at least he was honest.
It’s strange how the most awkward encounters can sometimes teach us the value of being unapologetically ourselves.
