Will I Marry Me?

Translation: “I am my own favourite!”

Ugh, as much as I love Bollywood as especially Jab We Met to be specific — I am anything but our loveable quintessential Manic Pixie Dream.

A Manic Pixie Dream Girl or MPDG, is a term coined by film critic Nathan Rabin after seeing Elizabethtown. It refers to “that bubbly, shallow cinematic creature that exists solely in the fevered imaginations of sensitive writer-directors to teach broodingly soulful young men to embrace life and its infinite mysteries and adventures.” A pretty, outgoing, whacky female romantic lead whose sole purpose is to help broody male characters lighten up and enjoy their lives. — Urban Dictionary

With little acne, visible rosiness on my tanned skin and a large everyone-is-wearing-those-big-glasses — I’m barely the lead heroine at 5'1". Added to that, I’m equally brooding, sharp-tempered and someone who’d rather stick her nose to a novel than chirp with Mr-I’m-Hot-But-Broody.

Disclaimer alert: If you’re actually a happy go lucky in real life, I really salute you. My problem is about these Manic Pixie Dream Girls in our rich media where beyond our heroes — these female characters cease to exist! If you’re a real person, you obviously are so much more than that!

It’s not that I don’t try — I do become excessively happy on days where my mother fondly complains that when I doze off, the house is dead… but then I have a set of complicated emotions. So growing up watching manic-pixie-dream girls made me wonder if I lacked in myself? I even began to grow an obsession towards bangles and jhumkas because they became symbolic to the ever-happy-girl-who-always-gets-what-she-wants. On the contrary, I became even more broody when I realized none of these tricks of the trade actually worked. In spite of ‘dolling’ up to every single heroine I came across — my day would go just as horrible as destined!

Now who doesn’t want to be their dreamy self? Like why do some people even post their best hot pictures on social networks — it’s all to get that said popularity. Oh, aren’t these dreamy versions always popular? Like everyone in the town adores them or they have friends that will die for them and la la la.

Well I really didn’t have a 2 am friend, and mostly the people I grew up with left me with mixed signals when they had their own set of best friends.

Lost, irritated and frustrated — I let out a whoosh of fiery breath when I realized that I am nowhere close to the heroines I cherish or write. They are always manicured and waxed! Like how is that possible — what happens after twenty days? We have hair. Which grows. And we get frustrated when period happens.

I do.

So you can pretty much understand that I was upset big time — I literally had great expectations for myself. In fact, I was never the one to delve into a man’s mind… to think of every interaction with male species I’ve had (blood relations excluded) I’ve been snappy, rolled my eyes, ignorant or a mother hen to them.


Flipping off my previous fictions, I read my heroines as they’re never the epitome of physical perfection but definitely of mental spunk. To think of it, I prefer them wearing glasses and have dark brown hair. To people who don’t even know how I look like — they’re like me. The girls are at times irrational, bursting their hearts out at moments and retaining sweet sanity when time prevails. They return to their heroes only when they’re worth it and they’re never really as perfect, and the men aren’t always completely broken.

Sometimes both are broken.

And that makes those stories perfect.

Like how it makes me perfect — for myself.

I’ve never liked any fictional heroine who’s way too different from myself. I’ve never wanted a fictional hero who has never thought about his heroine the way I would (hypothetically) want anyone to think about me.

Hmm; introvert, opinionated, intelligent, shy, warm, short-tempered, socially anxious and someone who loves to talk.

The people I like are a different reflection of myself. I’m not vain — I’m honest. You know, in life we’re so used to ourselves that we don’t realize we want to spend our lives with someone who shares all their fundamental values with us. We’re finding for someone different who ends up having the same story like us. It’s strange. But it’s true. That reminds me, there’s only one person in this world who would like to sleep, stare at the ceiling, play subway surfer and right highly opinionated stuff as a perfect date (add Hum Saath Saath Hai to that bunch).

Don’t worry, I’ll hate myself tomorrow for an annoying reason but I know one thing — if there’s anyone I trust the next 70 years of my life with… it’s me :)

Dialogue credit: Jab We Met; Originally published on 7th January 2017 in www.intangiblebonds.wordpress.com