The Telegraph
Since 1st March, 1999
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Itís that Thing

Dear Miss Cupid,

I have a weird problem. I used to live in Great Britain, where I met and fell in love with this great guy. He looks really cute and is the perfect partner anyone can ask for. His only setback is that he begins to stammer when heís emotional. But my father just doesnít seem to understand me. As soon as he found out about my boyfriend, he sold the business and house overnight (God only knows how) and dragged us all to a village in Punjab. He is forcing me to get married to this Jat fellow'whoís not so bad but his father isnít as cute or as much fun as my boyfriendís. Meanwhile, all my boyfriend does, is behave like everyoneís servant and polish off free sweets. What do I do'

Impossibly passive NRI girl, A village in Punjab.

A: Well, NRI girl, you seem to have landed yourself in a typical blockbuster problem. But donít worry, take a deep breath. Not now, whenever you are distressed. Hereís what you can do. Slip into your wedding outfit and get ready to elope. In case you get caught, tell your boyfriend to leave. And then run after him to the railway station with your dad. Meanwhile ask him to smear some ketchup all over himself. As the train begins to move, make a dash for it. Your father will take one look at your boyfriendís red face and let you go. And when that happens, donít look back. Who knows, your stubborn mule of a father may change his mind again!

Dear Miss Cupid,

I am in deep trouble. I am about to get married to my sisterís widower. But I am in love with his younger brother. We have been romancing right in front of our eldersí eyes all of last year, but they have turned blind it seems. Only my boyfriendís house servant knows about us. But he canít say anything. My boyfriend is acting like a mute moron who wonít open his mouth. Should I just marry my brother-in-law, who at least had the sensitivity of writing to me and asking if I was okay with this whole thing, although a tad late'

Dumb, not blonde, Doesnít matter from where

A: Dear Dumb, I hope either you or your boyfriend have a dog. It would be ideal if it were a white Spitz called Tuffy. But if not, any kind will do. When the baraat comes, write a last love letter and tie it around the dogís neck. And ask it to give it to your boyfriend. If your dog is smart, itíll go straight to your brother-in-law and then everything will be settled. If heís not so smart, heíll go to your boyfriend and at least you would have communicated how you feel before you make such a huge sacrifice. And if the dog is really, really stupid, itíll go to someone else in the crowd. And then youíll be in even deeper shit than you are now. I must tell you that the chances of this happening are really high, but thereís nothing else you can do really. So if you donít have a dog, buy one today!

Dear Miss Cupid, I am a dancer in a kingís court. My problem is I am in love with the prince. Heís really nice, just dresses a little weird. But thatís okay because I donít dress like Sushmita Sen either. We have been through hell together and Iím finally getting married to him tonight. But his father is forcing me to leave him unconscious and go to my death. Heís even going to give me a rose dipped in some intoxicating liquid. I donít want to die! What do I do' Desperate Danseuse, The Kingís Court

A: Your problem is familiar. I have seen the end to it, too. Believe me, itís not happy. So Iím going to suggest a different remedy than what Iíve seen. Hereís what you should do. Take the rose and go have a nice time with the prince; Iím sure thereíll be a lot of singing and dancing on your wedding night. And then make that fatso king smell his own rose. But please, please donít do it yourself. Get the prince to do your dirty work. After all, what are husbands for' Once youíve got the king all tied up, well whatís left to do after that' Live happily ever after!

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