Pari-wars
I sit before my computer screen covered in yellow goo. Almost delicious, gloopy concoction of milk, honey, haldi and besan. It's rather befitting the occassion I think. The What-ika Star Pari-war Awards air tonight and one and a half of my family is watching with, what is to me, scary amounts of fascination and near reverence. I will not hide the shameful fact. I have Kekta lovers in my family. Sob.
I say one and a half of my own Pari-war is watching because my Maa and Aunty G from the fourth floor has graced us with her chatty presence tonight. Now she isn't khoon ka nata, but she's decided not to let that get in the way and has adopted my little family in her endeavour to create her own Pari-war, Baa inclusive. Therefore, one and a half.
I was attempting to understand Public Administration when Aunty G bust open, literally, my closed door and yanked me out, textbook and all, to watch the awards. This is an occassion she annouced and besides, she complained that I have turned into something of an Id ka chand and my mukhda is chupa-chupa these days.
I think it was at this point, as she pinched my very inadequate cheeks in her ginormous fingers, that she noticed the "state" of my mukhda. Apparently, I had taken my being the Chand a little seriously and my face had developed "itne bade daag(s)" on it. Not good, not good she announced. And thus, the Aunty G Anti Daag squad was deployed. Ingredients were duly glooped and applied (plastered, actually) as we watched a series of Bahus and Betas and Baas and Betis get jiggy wid it on TV.
Aunty G is very satisfied. As I feel my facial muscles stiffen into place Aunty G says, "Oy-hoy, muh pila ho gaya, ab bas haath pile ho jaye." I suddenly find my muscles stiffen more from shock than congealed goo. I knew this day would come, but come on, not when my defences are down and I'm looking like a massive bhujiya. My mother giggles politely, "There's still some time for her to get married," she offers lamely. But this is Aunty G- she ain't backing down so quick. "Haan haan, but she's 21 now. Balik hai, BA hai. Ladka to dhundna shuru karo." Balik and BA, my two qualifications.
I knew better than arguing with the G-force, and besides my face was incapabale of movement. Thankfully some Kantaben and Kamleshbhai in shiny clothes started dancing on our TV screen and distracted Aunty G. Before her argument for the addition of a suitable boy to our Pari-war can go any further, I escape to the sanctuary of my room.
Here I'm not 21, Balik and BA. I am neither Id ka chand, nor chand ke daag. I'm just covered in yellow goo.
This entry was posted
on 2.4.06 at 8:36 PM.
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:) .. funny, I told you , you are :)
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