My Rite of Passage

I guess you guys have had enough of the PMS rants, so I am listening to Lady Gaga on full volume (the playlist is called sing it girl :D) and trying to write something different.

I went to Hyderabad few weeks back after the thing that shall be referred as “The Drama”. My parents were away for the first two days, I was pretty much happy being all by myself at my parents’. I had the music blasting in the house with all those tracks I wasn’t allowed to play when I was a kid. I ate sitting on the bed. I did all those things that I was not allowed to. I wore my shorts and went out to buy groceries (at this point I was just checking things off the list I had :D). I had one of my brother’s Opeth t-shirt on (I was never allowed to wear because well I look like a dyke in a rock concert according to my mother, which I am not sure how she knew). I stayed up all night. I lived on an all-you-can-eat-fast-food diet. I even had my usual cup of “coffee”. It was great, it was like I regressed back to when I was 16, trying to sneak books into the house and hot-wiring the cable connection to watch random movies on HBO.

Anyways, the freedom dint last long, my parents landed on Monday. As soon as they walked it my mom made me stand straight so she can look at me properly and say “you look old!”  After the physical which would make even the prisoners in shawshank blush, she went on to check the contents of our fridge, see whether I actually am good at what I have been boasting for quite some time. Then she checked the clothes I washed the previous day to see whether they are properly cleaned. BTW It’s still seven in the morning. It felt like an auction where they are checking the prize mare’s attributes!

We settled down after breakfast, a very unusual thing in our household because by this time my parents would be rushing for their offices it been a week day and all. The silence was deafening with both my parents glaring at each other as if to say “You go, no you go”. Finally after felt like forever both of them started, “so what do you think of this guys that I have been mailing you about?”. I should probably tell you about these wonderful specimens of the male variety at this point.

Bachelor No. 1: The IBanker

He is from this town  where apparently the people are very short tempered according to my parents.Nonetheless he was added to their list. He has an Ivy League degree and is an IBanker. He looks like Barrister Parvateesam (I started calling him that much to my grandma’s plight). The downside he is short. I can kiss all my high heels good bye, okay that’s not actually a bad thing because I can never walk in them for more than an hour.

Bachelor No. 2: The oil field guy

This guy has way too many degrees. He has an MA and then an MS, I don’t know what this means but he lives in Scotland and works for one of those oil field companies. My grandma loves this guy because their family is apparently sopheestikated (!). I think I have enough of oil field connections, so again a no go. Also, he likes Twilight on facebook. I am baffled, because I can’t think of any reason where a grown ass man would like that movie unless someone high-jacked his account.  S, I know you are still laughing at my predicament.

                                                                                                                                                                                      

Bachelor No. 3: Florida-Swamp Man

Not much information other than that he lives in Florida (apparently the name of the state should make me swoon and say yes!) and my mother says she likes him. That means there is something is most definitely wrong somewhere. I am going to find something shady about this one too.

Bachelor No. 4: The IIT-IIM wildcard

Now, why did this have to happen to me? Another guy! Seriously, I don’t have a new story to say no this one.  But my grandma doesn’t like their family, bless her so for now I am out of the cross hairs but you never know when she will move to the enemy camp.

I am utilizing my internet sleuthing skills to ferret out information and say no before something irreparable happens but this time I am all alone, the few staunch supporters I have garnered after the last round of debates moved to the other side.

Anyways so the conversation went on for most part of the morning. With me sitting in one position, head down, bobbing whenever it seemed apt, because this time it was an all-out emotional tug-of-war. I am the reason my brother is irresponsible, the reason why he smokes, why he shaved his head and why he has lost weight. I am the root of all problems. It was so funny when my mom tried to actually justify these accusations but I couldn’t laugh or she would start off with the other topic of my money problems. I just nodded and kept quiet.

In the meantime, here in Mumbai I am trying to forget this whole thing by frequenting Blue Frog and dancing my woes away. I never thought I would say this, but sometimes I like dancing (when there is lot of drink involved beforehand obviously :D).

Let the games begin!