Punjabis and Prawns.

For some reason, I'm inclined to being apologetic about the spate of pretty somber posts. Anyway,this post is little closer to home. To be honest, it is at home. It is about the most entertaining team of people you could ever meet- My family.

Please don't get me wrong. I love my family, and ergo I love their antics. So much so that, if I ever have the money and degree of mental instability to make a sitcom about them I wouldn't hesitate.

Before, you get ahead of yourselves and label us as sambar-eating-south indian-blondes, what makes my folks tick is their natural inclination to comic timing. Be it the occasional one liner, embarrassing public episode or flamboyant miscommunication - it's always comical :D

My family's one of the most amusing entities that was ever created. We're your average south Indian family with average south Indian values. But what is most striking about us is our inherent ability to amuse without realising it.

I'll narrate one of the epic instances that illustrate my point.

One vague summer, which I spent diligently slogging for an exam that supposedly would determine my whole future, we decided to have dinner at an authentic Chinese restaurant called "Mandarin". Needless to say, it was manned by Mizorami waiters with a fairly tapori accent, but the head chef was Chinese alright.

We got there pretty late, fairly around 9, which is quite late for "conservative" families. It all began with which table to pick. While my uber-cool "bro" loves the seats that are in the darker, shadier regions of the restaurant, my parents love the well lit squat-in-the-center-of-the-room-where-noone-can-miss-you sorta spots.

After careful examinations,altercations,compromises and embarrassing scrutiny, my folks picked a spot next to solo punjabi gentleman and a rather too quiet party of four.

And this is what happened.

(Lady from neighbouring table pinches a dinner plate from our table)

Brother: Apparently 3 plates at a Chinese restaurant isn't enough for somebody who seriously needs to look at gym memberships.

Mother - Glaring at brother, thinking the hint was at her.

B: Not you. Her. You've got some time left for that.

Dad is oblivious to all of the above.

He beckons the waiter with the same hand gesture most people would use to swat a fly.

Dad:Are you Chinese?

Waiter: I'm Bengali.

Brother: You know what? My stomach's not so great let's go to Shanthi Sagar!*

I get up to leave, only too eagerly.

Dad:No no this authentic Chinese food, very hard to get sit down.

So begrudgingly we do sit. and the neighbour's kid stomps all over my lap and my brother screams in a fit of fright.

Dad(to waiter, pointing at the yin-yang symbol on the menu): What is this?

Brother(to me): Let's leave. I'll pay you.

In the meantime, my mother's phone begins to vibrate and she fiddles with it unsuccessfully trying to get it off vibrate for a few seconds jabbing at it with her thumbs before finally taking it, and then paying heed to the newly acquired corporate table manners she walks out of the restaurant, and seats herself on the comfy cushions outside to take the call.

Little does she realise that above her head hung a board that declared "Smoker's Corner", guy next to her offers her a light,she says " che thu " and reenters and high pitchedly narrates the story.

By this time, my brother had hypothetically committed suicide several times.

So we want to order,my dad's converted to vegetarianism and I love prawn. :D
But since the night was quite fun I ask for lobster, but the guy says it'll be steamed therefore I go with prawn. My Dad however was confronted with the daunting task of picking out veg dishes.While wonton appears wanton to him,he ordered an unpronounceable dish which I shall call Teilamuisomeshit Mushroom rice while my mum orders Golden baby corn.The brother and i settle on Malaysian spicy noodles and some chicken noodles and prawn ofcourse.
:P :D
Now my dad is all confident about the order :P The waiter soon brings us the corn first. And my Mom gets hardly one piece, but soon the teilawtvshit appears and looks like someone ingested boiling rice and regurgitated it along with fresh vegetables.
Understandably, my mom freaks out,and brother starts laughing while my dad eyes it like it were about to jump at him from the plate.

Soon he starts eating and admits that it has no spice or taste.. and then goes"...mmm
it's nice". My mom starts to quietly protest and bicker, keeping with corporate manners, while my dad begins to proclaim his love for the dish and how hard it is to dislike it.

While my mum is so revolted she takes the plate and places it on the far end of the table and now my dad can't reach it and they have a silent where should I keep the dish fight.

By this time snake man and I have no breath left from giggling and then our platter arrives,you should've seen their eyes following it! :P Almost all of the dishes were non veg and they couldn't even touch it with a pole.

While my mom takes every opportunity to remind us to "pack it pack it pack it" my brother ensures her with "I want to eat it eat it eat it"

I was so caught up in this circus, that I hardly noticed that I dropped my ring
and the punjabi on the neighbouring table gets on all fours to look and embarrassed I join him on two :P

With my brother too.

Soon, Bengali chinki appears with an emergency lamp big enough to light up all of Afghanistan to look for a ring that I could've gone without and we find it snuggled up against my dad's shoe!

To dissipate the awkwardness, my Dad looks at the lantern and attempts a joke.
The lantern had arbit chinese looking alphabets on it and my dear father looked at the lantern and read -"Man Dar eeen". Mandarin. And we gave him a blank stare

Punjabi Gentleman(@ my dad): Gahahhahhahahhha!

Dad: *meek smile*.

Mom: Probably a terrorist.

Brother: wrong kind of turban.

A 15yr old snake freak, a 49 year old test pilot, middle school art teacher and a disoriented me make the phamily :P

I love. My family :D

Dear Heart,

Dear Heart,
I'm sorry I've broken you so many times. Over little things like toy trucks, pretty dolls and boys. Over things I've never needed and things I would've been better off without. I'm sorry I took apart your love for life. I'm sorry I took away your smile when you needed it the most. I'm sorry I hurt you so many times, you feel afraid to get hurt again.

But it's noone's fault but mine, that I promised you so many times over that there would be so much happiness in the world that we'd be filled with warmth and joy yet all we see is cold and dry everywhere around us. Where the world forgets you are still a child, where your naivete is undervalued.

Yet, somewhere between us is a faint ray of hope, that we will survive. And it is entirely yours to hold. I've no courage to give or take. Yet leap we do. Aiming for the stars, groping in the darkness for something to hold on to. Hang on dear heart, for who do I have but you. And,heal. There is still good left in this world, and wherever it is we shall find it.

Butterflies are free to fly, Why do they fly away.

She stared up at the ceiling, silent tears streaming down her face, unsure of which way to walk. Her feet wouldn't move. Her eyes couldn't close.



The minutes froze. Her body too. Her mind clouded with a million things to say, things to scream. Curses, Prayers, Wishes and wants, but they all faded away. The mist cleared. The fog lifted. Here was too far. Here was too hard. Walk she did. Away from the melancholy. Away from the misery. So sad she wasn't. Not so deep this sorrow. Yet hurt can never be measured. Walk she did.



Into the sunset the butterfly flew,wary of the roses she left behind. For after all, if a thorny rose tore her wing - who would carry her home.



There is no end nor beginning to this silent song of time. Hence, this song plays on.

Frankly Speaking.

Some things are strangely hard to comprehend, and one of the most convoluted things to get hold of is why we do the things we do. "As a society" is a term I fail to understand, for aren't we a bunch of microsocieties under the illusion that we are all part of something bigger? Aren't we all egocentric? then why is that a bad thing? When people talk of the harms of rat-races, exactly who steps out of them? Why do we always feel a compulsive need to be thankful to somebody else for whatever we've got? And what are philosophies for anyway? Sometimes they bring people together and at others they divide people into fragments based on every identifiable attribute.



Are ideologies basically tickets for identities? When we're all so scared to give why do we expect so much? And if god loves me, why do I have to pay taxes? If life were a test that each of us has to pass to get to heaven or hell, what's the system of grading? And if there were indeed was a multitude of Indian youth that does not believe in reservation, why're the seats filling up?



But basically, I've been wondering all my life: Why do women have to go through so much pain and suffering to look more presentable to men who barely do anything to look better. Yo! Do you know what peeling off a layer of your skin really feels like? Pain at the hands of the devil. Could any of you walk a mile in high heels? You'd die within the first three steps. Manicures, pedicures, skin treatments, facials, upper lip lower lip eyebrows, ayurvedic face pack, herbal face pack, fruit face pack, natural face pack, mud face pack,some-other-oriental-sounding-shit face pack (they all seem similar but they are all different!). Millions of shades of lipstick, lipgloss, lipliner and a million other lip things that keep getting invented every day. Perming,straightening,curling,soft curling,rebonding, permanent softening, temporary softening, my head spins at the thought of the things some women have to do. and this isn't even one tenth of the list of available stuff!



And you think it's like magic! Swoosh swish swash - pretty girl! Bloody hell!



And no woman could eat a chocolate cake or an icecream cone without thinking for atleast a nanosecond about what it would add to her weight , yet you unscrupulously gorge on everything in sight without a worry, right in our faces.



Why do women care? No really. There are fewer women in the world than men. So why do women have to work so hard?



In nearly every other species the male has to work harder at looking better, peacocks for example.



So why do women have to struggle to keep the men happy?



And then the morons go "Ille da.. Sad state da.. namma college la figures eh ille.."



Not coming for your faces.

Melancholy.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, staring out through the window and wondering. Why do we do some things even though we know we're going to get hurt. Why do we not hesitate to walk off a precipice that we know is under our feet. Sometimes I wish, there were no system, no rules, no expectations and no definitions to how we should feel. Free, I'd like to be.