Episode 4: A Glimmer of Hope

The "decent" Rahul and his "cultured" family faded into the growing pile of polite disappointments. Anya’s parents, though initially optimistic, eventually conceded that "perhaps the connection wasn't quite there." This meant Anya was spared a second meeting, a small victory in a battle she felt she was losing.

The biodata carousel, however, continued its relentless spin. There was the software engineer who spoke only in tech jargon, the businessman whose family seemed more interested in her father's property than her personality, and the NRI who, during a video call, kept checking his watch. Each interaction chipped away at Anya’s already dwindling enthusiasm. She started dreading the ping of a new WhatsApp message from her mother, the prelude to another carefully curated profile.

"I feel like I'm stuck in a loop," Anya confessed to Sameer over a particularly strong filter coffee. "It's the same questions, the same forced smiles, the same feeling of being judged. I just want to fast-forward to the part where I can go back to my normal life."

Sameer, ever the optimist, tried to cheer her up. "Maybe the universe is just testing your patience, Anya. The right one will come along when you least expect it. Or, you know, when your mother finally finds someone who doesn't list 'breathing' as a hobby."

Anya managed a weak laugh. She appreciated his efforts, but cynicism was her current default setting.

Then, one Thursday evening, a new biodata arrived. Her mother’s voice on the phone was less effusive, more cautiously optimistic. "Anya, there's a new profile. Rohan. He's an engineer, works for a reputable firm in Pune. Not as close as Mumbai, but Pune is a good city. And his family… they seem quite grounded."

Anya opened the PDF with a familiar sigh. Rohan. Age 29. Height 5'10". Hobbies: Photography, Trekking. Okay, "Trekking" was slightly more specific than "Travel." The photo was clearer than Rahul's, a candid shot of him smiling genuinely, eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn't have the polished, almost artificial look of the previous candidates. There was a warmth in his expression, a hint of something approachable.

Her mother continued, "His parents are both professors, retired now. Very educated. And they said they're not looking for anything specific, just a good girl who can be a companion to their son." Anya almost scoffed at the "good girl" part, but "companion" resonated slightly more than "household manager."

The families exchanged initial calls, and the tone was noticeably different. Less about property and lineage, more about general well-being and shared values. Anya's mother, for once, didn't sound like she was selling a product.

A few days later, the video call with Rohan was scheduled. Anya dressed in a simple cotton kurta, feeling a strange lack of dread. Perhaps it was just exhaustion, or perhaps the slightly less formal tone of the preliminary calls had lowered her guard.

Rohan appeared on screen. He had a slight stubble, and his hair was a little disheveled, as if he’d just run a hand through it. He looked less like a polished candidate and more like a real person.

"Hi Anya," he said, his smile reaching his eyes. His voice was calm, a little deeper than she expected.

"Hi Rohan," Anya replied, feeling a tiny bit more at ease than usual.

Her parents, seated beside her, started with the usual pleasantries, but Rohan subtly steered the conversation. "I saw you work in digital marketing. That's fascinating. Do you ever get to work on creative campaigns?"

Anya's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't asked "what it entails," but about the creative aspect. She found herself talking about a recent campaign she was proud of, the challenges, the breakthroughs. Rohan listened intently, nodding occasionally.

"That sounds really rewarding," he commented. "I'm an engineer, so my work is more about logic and problem-solving, but I appreciate the creativity involved in what you do. It's a different kind of challenge."

Then, a moment that surprised her. Her father, trying to be helpful, asked Rohan about his trekking hobby. "Do you go often, beta? Is it safe?"

Rohan chuckled softly. "As safe as it can be, Uncle. Though I did once get completely lost on a trail in the Western Ghats and ended up spending a night under the stars with nothing but a packet of biscuits and a very confused wild boar for company."

Anya's lips twitched. A wild boar? It was an unexpected, self-deprecating anecdote. She found herself smiling, a genuine, unforced smile. And then, Rohan's eyes met hers, and he smiled back, a real, warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. For a fleeting second, the awkwardness dissolved, and a tiny, almost imperceptible spark flickered between them.

The rest of the call wasn't groundbreaking, but it wasn't painful either. It was... easy. When it ended, Anya didn't rush to her room. She sat on the sofa, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"He seems like a nice boy, no?" her mother asked, watching her.

"Yeah, Amma," Anya said slowly, a faint, unfamiliar feeling stirring within her. "He does." It wasn't love at first sight, not even strong interest. But it wasn't dread. It was a glimmer. A tiny, fragile glimmer of hope.

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