How I Met Missy

Back in 2019, I wasn’t yet a traveler or a YouTuber. I was a guy living in Mumbai, only ever having traveled between there and Gujarat, where my native place is. I had barely explored India beyond that.

In March of that year, Fenil, my best friend, suggested we go on a trip to the Northeast. The name "Northeast" barely resonated with me, except for the vague memories of geography lessons from school about Meghalaya having the world’s highest rainfall. But there was something about the unfamiliar that excited me, so we booked our flights for May 2019.

We landed in Meghalaya, and I was instantly captivated by the people and the landscape. My newly bought DSLR camera became my companion as I clicked portraits of the people there—people with the kind of Oriental features I had always found fascinating. It was during one of these picture-taking sprees that something happened that I never expected—a moment that would change everything.

We were driving to Mawlynnong, which is known as the cleanest village in Asia. To be honest, I wasn’t even in the mood to go, having been exhausted from our previous camping adventure. But Fenil insisted, so we went. On the way, our cab driver made a detour, suggesting we check out a lesser-known living root bridge. I wasn’t keen—after all, I had already seen a living root bridge in Nongriat. But Fenil insisted again, so we stopped.

That’s when I saw her.

A fruit vendor, sitting at a roadside shop, selling freshly picked pineapples. There was something about her—a quiet charm that drew me in instantly. I was supposed to go down to the bridge, but I told Fenil to go on without me. I stayed, pretending to be interested in the fruit, but I had only one goal in mind—talk to her.

When her transaction with a customer was done, I walked up confidently, DSLR in hand, and asked, "Can I click a picture of you?" She laughed, a little caught off guard, but agreed. That laugh—that picture—everything about it felt like something new was beginning.

We exchanged contacts under the pretext of sending her the photos. She didn’t have her phone with her at the time, so she gave me her number. Smooth, right? And that’s how it all started—innocently enough, but with a purpose.

Over the next several months, we talked every day. The pandemic hit in 2020, and plans to visit her again were delayed. We kept in touch, but something shifted; the distance started to feel heavier. I promised to visit during her cousin Sunshine's birthday in May, but COVID had other plans. Communication slowed down, and I could sense she was having doubts.

It wasn’t until late 2021, after the lockdowns eased, that I finally made my way back to Meghalaya. We met again, this time with her sister Iba tagging along, since we were still in that ‘friends’ phase, but something had changed. There was a subtle shift in the air between us, a tension that neither of us could ignore.

The trip was amazing, filled with laughter, stories. It was the second last night of the trip when I decided it was time to lay my cards on the table. We were texting about all sorts of things when I said, "I want you to be mine."

She laughed at first, almost dismissing my words, unsure if I was serious. But I was. "Do you even know what you’re talking about?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, without a hint of hesitation. "I do. And I mean it."

The next day was our last day and we met at Ward's Lake. I knew that if I wanted to be clear and sincere, I needed to talk to her face to face.

She didn’t say yes immediately. Missy was thoughtful, cautious, and she had her family, her people to consider. I respected that. She told me she needed time to think, especially with the cultural differences that could become a hurdle. I appreciated her honesty, and that indecision—while nerve-wracking—was part of what made me admire her even more.

Before I left, I made it a point to talk to Iba as well. I wanted her to know my intentions were serious. We walked around the lake, and I shared everything, hoping she’d be okay with it. Iba understood, which was the first sign that maybe things could work out.

A week after I returned to Mumbai, Missy gave me her answer. It wasn’t a resounding yes, but it was a commitment to try. She planned to talk to her parents over Christmas, and we’d take it from there.

The journey wasn’t easy. There were cultural challenges, family concerns, and doubts, but I was determined. After all, when you know, you just know.

And I knew I wanted her to be mine.

We both tell our own version of the story in this video.