Diary,

I’m finally in Agra, home of the Taj Mahal. Let me tell you about the Taj Mahal. The name means “Crown of the Palace”, and it’s an ivory-white marble mausoleum on the right bank of the river Yamuna.

The fifth Mughal emperor, Shah Jahan built it to house the tomb of his beloved wife, Mumtaz Mahal. Construction started in 1631 and took more than 20 years to build. Basically, a man loved his wife so much that he spent a fifth of a century building her a gravesite on more than 40 acres of land.

Sorry about the history lesson, but what in actual hell? This, of all the places on earth, is the place you want to bring people who are so jaded by love that they’ve decided to stay single all their lives. It’s like housing a weight-loss gym behind a bakery.

I pose this question to madam Penelope, who’s heading the study. I know, I know. It’s the least Indian name I’ve come across, too.

“I mean, you might have invited us to Paris, the city of love, instead,” I add.

“The town had nothing to do with this study,” Penelope says. “I work in the university here, that’s all.”

“I notice you’re married,” another study subject notes. He’s a gangly guy from Italy.

Penelope looks at the ring on her left hand. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“What if we convince you that being single is the way to go?”

She laughs a little self-consciously. “The purpose of this study is not to decide which is better, being single or being attached. It’s to understand why more and more people are choosing to stay away from committed relationships. Let’s start with you, Mario. Why do you choose to be single?”

“It wasn’t an easy decision and luckily, I didn’t have to make it myself. The universe chose this path for me.”

“Interesting. But how so?”

“Simple. I just turned 40 last month.” Clapping all around. “Thank you, thank you. So, 40 years old and I’ve been married three times, divorced three times. First wife ran away with her yoga instructor. Second one said I was too… you know, well-endowed. Said it was fun at first, but then sex became too much work.”

Laughter all around.

Only Penelope looks unimpressed. “Is that a true account, Mario?”

“Oh, you think that’s weird?” says a female participant. I’m yet to get caught up with their names. “Get a load of this. I was only married once. For like 10 seconds, when I realised my husband was planning on bringing his mother along for the honeymoon.”

Gasps.

A tiny smile from Penelope. “And?”

“She came, but that’s not the saddest part. Apparently, she ‘had’ to come along because she was still breast-feeding him. A grown man was still sucking his mum’s titty. But guess what? Up until the wedding, everything was fantastic. So, now I take the win while the going’s still good.”

 Penelope turns to Mario. “Back to you. What ended your third marriage?”

Mario chuckles. “We were married three months when I decided to play a trick on her. I bought a lottery ticket with the previous day’s winning numbers. She checked online and without a word, bolted upstairs.

“Minutes later, she comes down with her suitcase packed, says she forgot to say she was supposed to look in on her sick mother. And poof! She was gone. Later that evening, her mother calls me and says I should go to hell for making her daughter think she’d won the lottery.”

We all bow to Mario.