The year was 2005. I had just started my first job in Pune. I was young, single and ambitious. I wanted to live alone in a hostel. With friends who had questionable habits, ate at ungodly hours and did horrible things. I had dreams.
My father had other plans. He decided I would stay with his sister in Pune. End of discussion. For a couple of months, I was treated like their own son. Then something shifted. Conversations became whispers. The rooms felt quieter when I entered. I started hearing things about myself that I was never meant to hear.
My heart lost interest in Pune. My body followed suit. It broke out in protest. Literally. A strange skin condition landed me in a hospital for the first time in my life. My father arrived, took one look at me, told me to pack my bags and we left.
I went back home, took a break, did my MBA and by the time I blinked, it was 2009. Recession baby. Campus interviews happened. I even got selected to sell health insurance. But let us be honest. I was not built for that life.
So I chased what I loved - Advertising. I went to Ahmedabad, studied, came back, got a job in Mumbai. And once again, my skin looked at me and said, “Absolutely not.”
So I returned to Pune. This time, I was tired. Tired of being alone. Tired of wandering through life without a destination. I realised I needed a partner. My goal was simple and brutally honest. I did not want to marry the one I loved. I wanted to marry the one who loved me more. I tried finding her on my own. I failed gracefully.
Then my traditional father nodded and said, “Now my turn.”
He began searching within his circle. He called it a circle. It was a circus. I saw things. Horrors hiding in his contact lists. Clowns. Demons. Grotesque beings who felt like they had been banished from hell for being too much, even for hell.
That was my breaking point. I said, “Nope.”
My father had his checklist. Stars. Gotras. Griha mytris. Cosmic approvals from planets I had never heard of. He was shortlisting girls even before I saw them. I told him very calmly that if he continued this way, his son would end up as a Brahmachari. I also told him that if he ever found a match within the family or his bloodline, I would elope and get married out of pure spite.
The boundaries were clear. He agreed to let me search within the range he set.
And so I began. Most profiles wanted one thing. A guy working in Bengaluru. Even my father noticed this strange national obsession. So he suggested I move to Bengaluru. And, I did.
A few months later, exhausted and half-defeated, I found a profile. Seventeen out of thirty-six preferences matched on the matrimony site.
Seventeen. Barely passing. I thought, let us at least try. I was tired of hopes collapsing. Tired of liking someone only to have a checklist ruin it. This profile felt different. It felt possible.
The moment I saw her, one thought crossed my mind. She will be a great mother to my child. That is how I met my wife.
She was about to deactivate her matrimonial profile when my message landed in her inbox. Call it destiny. Call it fate. Call it bad timing that turned perfect.
We met. The spark was instant. Everything felt like it clicked into place, quietly and without effort. And yes. She was from Pune.
So here I was. A guy who moved from Pune to Bengaluru to marry a girl who wanted a guy from Bengaluru, only to end up marrying a girl from Pune.
A few months later, I quit my Bengaluru job and moved back to Pune.
I have been a proud Punekar since 2017.
No regrets. Only stories.
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