My friend G has a granny, like every friend, and every human in general does. G’s granny is different though. She seems to be the enlightened one, knowledgeable about things around her, and always full of examples and anecdotes from life.
She explained to G long back how the marriage market works. It’s like a buyer in the busy vegetable market. The earlier you went there, the better the supply of vegetables was. Crisp, fresh, green, nutritious, healthy vegetables, no puns intended. The later you went in the day, the more the chances you ended up with rotten vegetables, not fit to be consumed except by the flies. So the earlier you decided to tie the knot, the better you had your chances of finding the person of your choice. The older you got, the lesser your choices were. All that remained in the unmarried market were scarred, rotten vegetables.
I kept listening to G’s granny’s words of wisdom, with a scary image forming in my head. I was in a vegetable’s market, much later in the day, where there were hardly any vegetables left. The ones that were there were the rejected ones. Was that what I’d end up buying? Or would I go home vegetable-less?
Then I had an even more scary image in my head. Someone was sifting through the vegetables later in the day. I was one of the rotting vegetables.