"Marriage is like rasam. Sometimes it's perfect, sometimes it's salty, but in the end, everyone drinks it."
That's what Karthik's grandmother said. And that's exactly how this whole chaotic love story beganâwith rasam, roasting, and ridiculous reasoning from two sets of parents.
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The Great Parental Convincing Mission (With a Side of Rasam Mishaps)
At Karthik's HouseâŠ
Karthik stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of rasam, his face a mix of determination and mild panic. His mother sat at the dining table, arms crossed, watching him like a strict cooking show judge. His father, hiding behind the newspaper, peeked over the top, ready to attack with logic.
"Amma, Appa⊠I love Nithya, and we want to get married," Karthik declared, bravely adding a spoonful of tamarind.
His father lowered the newspaper dramatically. His mother gasped.
"You?" His father adjusted his glasses. "You love her? Are you sure you proposed properly? Or did you just send her a WhatsApp forward saying, 'Good morning, let's get married'?"
Karthik rolled his eyes. "Appa, I'm serious!"
"Serious?" His father scoffed. "You barely passed maths in school! You don't even know how to calculate 20% discount without a calculator. And now you want to calculate a whole marriage?"
"Oh my God," his mother gasped, clutching her chest like she had witnessed a crime. "What if he marries her and realizes he didn't carry the one properly?"
"Amma, marriage isn't maths!"
"Exactly! In maths, at least there are rules. In marriage, there are only mistakes!" His father folded his newspaper. "Tell me, Karthik, can you even make rasam properly? How can you handle marriage if you can't handle tamarind and salt in the right proportions?"
As if on cue, Karthik tasted the rasam. His face twisted in horror. Too salty. He quickly added water. Now it was too bland. His mother shook her head.
"See? If this was your marriage, your wife would have already packed her bags."
---
At Nithya's HouseâŠ
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Nithya stood in front of her parents like a lawyer presenting her final argument.
"Amma, Appa⊠I love Karthik, and we want to get married."
Her mother dropped her spoon into the sambar. Her father removed his glasses, as if the situation would make more sense in HD.
"You⊠love him?" He stared at her, waiting for the punchline. "Just like that? Without checking horoscopes? Without a government-issued certificate of compatibility?"
"Appa, love doesn't need approval!"
"Beta, even Aadhaar card needs approval. And you're choosing a husband without proper verification?"
Her mother shook her head. "This is why I never let you watch Bollywood films."
"Amma! He's a good guy!"
"But what does he do?"
"He's an engineer!"
Her father raised an eyebrow. "So was the guy who built the Titanic. See how that turned out."
Her mother sighed. "If you marry him, you'll end up fighting over who sleeps closest to the fan every night."
Three hours of argument, roasting, and emotional damage laterâŠ
Karthik's father was convinced his son would fail at marriage like he failed algebra.
Nithya's father was certain this love story would sink like the Titanic.
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The Unexpected Savior: The Grandmother's Rasam Philosophy
Karthik's grandmother, who had been silently chewing betel leaves, finally spoke up.
"Let them get married."
Silence.
"Marriage is like rasam. Sometimes it's perfect, sometimes it's salty, but in the end, everyone drinks it."
And that's how they got married.
Only to realize later that love wasn't just about winning arguments, fighting over the fan, or calculating emotions like maths. It was about the **chaos, the humor, the heartbreak, and the moments that no one scriptedâ**but they lived anyway.