Unsuitable Boys

Sonal, a divorced and undeniably attractive Indian woman, navigated the bustling world of Bangalore as a software engineer at a prestigious investment bank. The city pulsed with a vibrant energy: the sharp, insistent blare of auto-rickshaw horns punctuated the air, a counterpoint to the mellow, resonant clang of distant temple bells. The very air hummed with activity, carrying the heady, sweet, and earthy scent of jasmine garlands from roadside vendors, mingling with the exhaust fumes and the faint tang of spices from nearby eateries.
Inside the sleek, glass-and-steel edifice of her office, cool, recycled air whispered from the vents, a steady counterpoint to the city's shimmering heat, laced with the faint, clean scent of lemon-scented polish on the vast, reflective surfaces. Harsh, bluish-white fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, casting a bright, sterile glow that bleached the colors from her modern desk, where the rhythmic click-clack of her ergonomic keyboard echoed in the otherwise quiet corners of the open-plan office.
Sonal, dressed in a crisp, coral-colored kurta, her dark hair pulled back, surveyed her domain. She had money, independence, and an opinion on practically everything. More importantly, she had a goal: to find her dream guy. Her journey through the labyrinthine world of modern Indian dating, however, proved to be less a straight, sunlit path and more a dimly lit, often bewildering, obstacle course filled with unexpected noises and strange aromas.