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Her unwillingness to drive but constant requests for being driven around. It’s invariably ataant or a dhakai in the mornings, which fluffs up around her already generous middle and makes her look dumpy and unsexy. Or the way she drapes a dupatta on it to get the door. After marriage she will stop asking you if she looks fat. And that a leisurely stroll in the morning will get rid of it. She will pester you to try tangra and gule fish while you want just chingri malai curry. Saris are a must on all occasions and most unattractive at times. They will pet and spoil their husbands like overgrown babies and then they’ll ask you not to be a mamma’s boy. If she had her way, she would keep the sellotape too. She won’t leave a single mirror free of stick-on bindis.
Or at least to be able to recite Bonolota Sen (where she is that beauty) and pretend that you mean it. All expressions of love must be accompanied by Tagore in his various moods. So she will wear that shankha pola and sindur with jeans, and that gold-coveredloha with her cocktail dress. And the mangalsutra is a must slip-on every time she steps out of the house. And yet for all the fighting, her “modern woman” airs are gone after marriage. In private they snub, in public they idolise to an uncomfortable degree.