Vampires Never Get Old - Zoraida Cordova Page 0,36

Indian Institutes of Technology are working in partnership with the National University of Sciences and Technology in Pakistan to create synthetic blood. Early prototypes proved too acidic or bitter. So our scientists are working night and day (literally!) to perfect their formula. The name of this modern wonder—wait for it: Rooh Afza. It’s thick. It’s syrupy. It looks like blood anyway. Just don’t mix up the original with our knockoff. And it will be a lot less suspicious in the Vampmarts that will be popping up soon. No need to despair. You will have options soon. But until then, exsanguination is your lifesaver. You’re taking one for the team and saving your fellow desis from the truly awful fate of listening to an Angrez tourist try to pronounce namaste or as-salaam alaikum while totally screwing up the accompanying hand gestures.

MATCHMAKING

If you think being turned into a vampire is going to provide you a convenient excuse to avoid the eternally dreaded question—Beta, when are you going to get married?—you are about to be disappointed. Maybe you’re not going to have a profile on shaadi.com, but the immortal auntie network is alive and kicking, because being undead never stopped an auntie dead set on getting everyone married.

That’s right. You might be a teen vamp, wrongly sired, but there are plenty of middle-aged vamps who’ve been around for years—imagine having decades to hone the cheek pinch and the art of desi shade delivered like a syrupy sweet ladoo. Imagine being able to deliver the look of middle-aged auntie scorn forever. New vamps are feted and fawned over because you represent new blood. New projects. And what greater project is there than matchmaking.

Now, it’s true. You’re not marriage age. Yet. But a few years from now, in what would be your college years, you’ll start getting the questions. Biodata forms with photos of eligible strangers will mysteriously appear on your bedside table or desktop. The upside? You’ll never have to worry about someone photoshopping their pic to look younger. Because we never age. You’re a matchmaker’s dream! It won’t even matter that you’re not a doctor. Even when you’re old, you’ll still be young and beautiful. And trust us, if you don’t find a suitable partner soon, it doesn’t deter the auntie network because you’re eligible … forever! If that thought sends you screaming to the hills, don’t worry. There is an ashram in the foothills of the Himalayas, for all denominations, for young vampires who just need to get away. There are even special night runs of the toy train to get you there. We got you.

If you do happen to find your perfect match, then the desi wedding of your dreams can be yours. Unless your dream is Priyanka and Nick’s wedding, in which case, sorry, there’s no replicating that level of epicness. But there is a whole world of wedding designers and jewelers and florists who are ready to cater to you. Near Chandni Chowk in Delhi and Juhu Tara Road in Bombay are flourishing night markets, hidden from mortal eye by old enchantments held in place by vamp-friendly Mayong tantriks. (Warning: You’re a baby vamp, so keep away from the magics. For now. They are powerful and not to be trifled with. You’re already eternal; isn’t that magic enough?)

Imagine the most magnificent desi wedding you’ve ever been to—some palace in Rajasthan maybe? A houseboat in Kerala? A colorful outdoor tent in Shimla? Thousands of vibrant flower petals laid out in ombré swirls lining the marriage path. Mehendi so intricate it looks like lace. Zaiwar dripping with gems. All of that can still be yours. If you want it. And only if. Yes, the aunties will cajole you, but that’s their thing. You still have a choice and it’s yours alone.

SO NOW WHAT?

You’ve got the basics. Food. Community. Marriage. Stay out of the sun. Colonialism is the true bloodsucker, etc. Now what do you do? Like, literally now.

Find your people. Tell your truth. Live your life.

We don’t mean to be flip about it. Well, we do, a little. Trying to soften the blow with sarcasm and bad puns. The thing is, it’s hard, living your life. It was hard before this. It’s hard now. You didn’t ask for this. It was thrust upon you. Maybe, given the choice, this is what you would have chosen. Immortality is a hell of a drug. But the fact is you weren’t given the choice. And now all you have left is to keep living.