Page 33 - Unlikely Stories 5

Mix and Match with Max and Mitch

not been given the official M&M press guide? Ah, I see it peeking out
of your briefcase. In its beautifully-illustrated pages you will learn
how we began as computer scientists working together for a large
online search-engine company, and that our dissatisfaction with the
traditional arranged marriage system of India led to the foundation of
our company. I’m sure you realize we cannot divulge any technical
details of our method, Miss Seville. Now, what else can we tell you?”
“Nothing.” She snapped closed her notebook and put everything
on her lap back in her briefcase. “I am going to tell you a few things,
ending with what might be construed as blackmail.”
Max and Mitch blinked, the goofiness falling from their faces.
“Us? Blackmail? Is this American humor?” cried Mitch.
“No, that is not possible. We are honest entrepreneurs, family
men, not a blemish on our records. Are you serious?” thundered
Max.
She waited until their spluttering outrage subsided.
“Gentlemen, I have done more than read your compendium of
puff pieces. My research began several months ago—in Delhi. I
know that you, Mitch, are Mitesh Prakash, and that Max here is
Matsendra Mahalingam, formerly functionaries in the Congress Party
during the nineteen-seventies.”
Cupid’s helpers sat mutely. Their toys continued signaling fun and
games.
“During that period you were young, idealistic followers of Sanjay
Gandhi. Your enthusiastic participation in implementing his forced
sterilization program is well-remembered. After his death you
disappeared—but not completely. I found people who knew that you
left India for graduate studies in London. That is where and when
you became technologists. And soon after graduation you adopted
the identities of Max and Mitch, love-besotted dispensers of romance
to the masses. Would you like to hear more, or should I leave now? I
do have my story already written, by the way: eliminating me would
only trigger its publication in fifteen major newspapers—including
The Straits Times.”
The two men regarded her warily.
Mitch’s voice was flat. “No, don’t go.”
Max muttered, “Let’s hear the rest of it.”

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