Gurleen had never thought she'd meet someone through a matrimonial service while studying in Canada, but after months of nudging from her family in Ludhiana—and some gentle persuasion from her own heart—she decided to give NRI Marriage Bureau a try.
Manraj, a soft-spoken computer networking student from Amritsar, had also enrolled with similar thoughts. Away from home, juggling part-time jobs and university lectures in Brampton, he longed for connection—someone who shared his roots, his beliefs, and maybe his taste in cha.
Their profiles aligned surprisingly well—both were ambitious yet family-oriented, modern yet respectful of tradition. After a few weeks of exchanging messages, and two phone calls laced with nervous laughter and “haanji”s, they decided to meet in person at an Indian Restaurant in brampton.
The venue? Indian Sweet Master in Brampton.
It was a Sunday afternoon. The restaurant, known for its authentic Punjabi sweets, chole bhature, and lassi towers, was buzzing with families and college students alike. Manraj arrived ten minutes early, adjusting his watch and triple-checking his shirt buttons in the car mirror. Gurleen arrived soon after, her dupatta fluttering in the warm breeze, clutching her purse a little too tightly.
As they sat down, the first few minutes felt like a scene from a polite rishta meeting—questions about studies, work permits, and long-term plans. But soon, laughter replaced formality.
Gurleen teased Manraj for calling mango lassi “overrated,” and he playfully accused her of being too serious about gol gappas. They bonded over growing up in strict Punjabi households, late-night Maggi cravings, and the challenges of juggling part-time jobs with full-time dreams.
“I never thought I'd find someone who understands both paranthas and project deadlines,” Gurleen smiled, wiping a drop of chutney from her plate.
By the time dessert arrived—two warm gulab jamuns and a shared rasmalai—the awkwardness had melted away. They were just two young Punjabis far from home, feeling oddly at home with each other.
As they stepped out of the restaurant into the cool Brampton evening, Gurleen looked at Manraj and said, “So… will there be a second round of samosas?”
Manraj grinned. “Only if you promise to try the mango lassi again.”
