You’ll date a man who can’t see faces, just blurred heads on bodies. He’ll tell you that you’re beautiful, like Kangana Ranaut, because you just impulsively got your hair thickly curled after your close girl friend told you your locks look out of place. You’ll pull out a photo of Kangana on your mobile to shove it at him that you look nothing alike and you’ll tell him it’s annoying and, frankly, lazy to compare you to her solely based on hairstyle. He’ll remind you of his disability and you’ll feel guilty because you forgot he can’t see faces. He will break up with you and suggest that you need sensitivity training.
Your mother will set you up with Krishna, a really nice young charming man. He’ll invite you to rasas, but each time you try to go you’ll be struck down by lightning because you sold your soul that one time for EDM tickets. It will be hard to make other plans, since he doesn’t use technology and spends all his days herding cows and protecting his people. Krishna will eventually ascend to heaven and never return your texts, not because he’s heartless but because he has no business down under until his next avatar.
Ever determined to find you a husband, your mother will next set you up with Mohabbatman from the movie OSO. At first you’ll be into this truly unique relationship, but, honestly, the love won’t be great, and you’ll soon be worn out by his constant need to save damsels in distress. After the breakup, when you reach out to him to ask if he’d be comfortable with you dating Sal-man, or Thinking-man, or, really, any of his other new superhero friends, who are infinitely more interesting (you’ll even take Ayush-man), Mohabbatman will say that’s not cool.
On a Jodhpur safari with your latest boyfriend, a lioness after gorging on the infamous blackbuck which had died but not killed, will pounce and drag him out of your arms. The animal will stare you right in the eyes as she has the guy, and you’ll just sit there thinking, Oh, my god, I am so incapable holding on to my man.
Just as you’ve resigned yourself to being alone forever, you’ll discover a Bhoot-uncle haunting your apartment. You’ll be pretty sure it’s a man because it never cleans up after itself (wears the dirtiest coat where colonies of insects and other low lifes breed), but it could also be Manjulika from Bhool Bhoolaiya who stopped caring because, well, she’s dead. The ghost won’t be the best partner and will, in fact, terrify you every time it randomly floats through the wall, but it will have a unique sense of humor—like how it possesses your mother when she drops by unexpectedly. For his rebirth, you will solve the mystery of how it was murdered and, unfortunately, because it will have now found closure, it will leave you.
Finally, at the wedding of your niece (who literally grew up under your nose), you’ll run into your childhood imaginary friend. He’ll look really good and it will be just like old times. You’ll wonder why you ever cut ties with him. The two of you will elope a few weeks later. When you announce this to your family, they will be dumbfounded, and although they will claim that they honestly just can’t see your husband, you won’t care because you’re finally marrying someone. You’ll be all smile and think, I did it—I finally found the perfect man.