Ramalingam Iyer was flummoxed.
He had downloaded the Tinder app on his Iphone, but couldn’t figure out how to use it. Earlier this week, he had seen his 27-year old daughter, Vaishnavi, going through photos of men on it. He had wanted to know what she was doing and she had informed him that the app was useful in finding a husband. He offered to assist with the search but she insisted on doing it herself.
His daughter was an intelligent, beautiful, and independent woman. However, he strongly believed that parental guidance was required in this important matter. He wanted to ensure that she was meeting a boy from a good family. Now-a-days, one could never be too careful. Too many duplicitous people out there, especially on these apps and the Internet! In addition, she wasn’t getting any younger and the marriageable age window was quickly slipping away. Therefore, he was determined to figure out how the app worked, as any concerned father would be.
The app had a video about “swipes” but he failed to understand how that led to “perfect matches.” Where did one put in one’s profile, family information, and the horoscope?
A widower and retired high school English teacher, Ramalingam’s daily routine included going to the Shiva temple near his house every evening, sharp at 6 pm. He enjoyed meeting his “temple” friends, retired men and women like him. That evening he pulled his best friend, Swaminathan, aside. Swami was a retired bank manager who was much more comfortable with technology than he was.
“Swami, have you heard about this app called Tinder? Vaishu said it is helpful to find marriage alliances.”
“Oh, like tamilmatrimony.com. Unfortunately, I haven’t used this one for either of my children’s marriages. Maybe Usha might know. She tends to keep up with these trends.”
Usha was a divorcee in her 60s, who had moved to the locality a year ago. Ramalingam had taken an instant dislike to her. She loved to gossip, and he felt she was constantly trying to pass off as much younger than her true age with her flamboyant saris and garish makeup. He had grudgingly adjusted to her regular presence at their evening temple sessions.
Ramalingam let out a sigh. “Fine, I will speak to her,” he said grumpily. He saw that there was space next to her, and went and sat beside her.
“Hello Rama,” she chirped.
“Hi Usha, I was hoping you could help me. Have you heard about Tinder?”
“I have but why the sudden interest in it?” she asked, a sly grin on her face.
Ramalingam’s unease increased. “Vaishu has been meeting potential candidates for marriage through it. I was hoping to help her with the process.”
She guffawed. “Oh Rama, you poor, naïve man. It’s not a marriage app but one for dating. Your Vaishu is definitely meeting men, except for something very different and likely more naughty than what you are thinking,” she said with a wink.
Ramalingam Iyer was flummoxed.
Photo By: Yogas Design
This is an entry for Five00-7, a writing event hosted by ArtoonsInn. Check out the event prompt and guidelines here: https://writers.artoonsinn.com/five00-7/
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