Pieces of the Puzzle

Life is back to normal; the way it should be. I have so much to say (as usual). I hope God gives me bonus time to blog for every minute spent working.

My dad has recovered well. Thanks for all your wishes. Though he may never completely get back to being his 20 year old self again, he is fine. He even came to the airport to receive me. "The doctors have sent me on parole to see you," he smiled when he detected my shock on seeing him there. His hands were swollen with all the IV injections and color from his face had drained. He had lost a lot of weight. But I could only feel grateful that he had some strength left in him and hadn’t really given up on life. He kept telling me that I shouldn’t have made this trip in a hurry and that he had just seen me two months ago, but deep down I knew he didn’t mean a word of it. More than anything, its me who wanted to see him and make sure things were alright.

He got discharged just after my arrival and the mysterious fever just left as mysteriously as it came. All my relatives gave me undue credit. "It’s all because of you that he has become alright. He was really upset that both his children were so far away at a time like this". I regretted that I had left my country. My masters, my job, my future, everything seemed insignificant and petty. By giving us the best education we could ask for and by encouraging us to follow our dreams, my dad and mom have trampled their own hopes. The longing to be with their children in old age without having to travel across the world has become an illusion. ‘My daughter is doing very well in Chicago. My son had graduated with a 4.0 GPA and has joined Microsoft’ says my proud father to all his acquaintances. But on closer observation, the wrinkled brows and the tired eyes are aching for us being around him forever, even if we are nobodies.

I didn’t budge from home this time around and I held on to every moment spent with them to an extent that my dad asked me if I was such a big loser that I had no friends in Madras. I was glad that he was regaining his old strength and sleeping well. We discussed issues and it led to arguments while my mom pampered me with the best food one can only fathom. ‘Ma, these vadas are unhealthy.. So much oil. I’ll just have one.’ Before I knew it, half a dozen of those same vadas somehow made its way into my stomach without much protest. My mom smiled looking at the empty plate. Aah, the smile that wipes away all my blues. She works around the clock and wouldn't let me help her. How does she do it? All the three of us owe it to her- big time. Two weeks flew by. I didn’t do a thing, just ate and slept and ruminated (not good at all).

Back in the airport, it was goodbye time again. As a policy I don’t encourage crying while parting. It just makes me more miserable. So I was going to make a classy exit when I noticed a mother sending her son away for his Master’s education. She was sobbing uncontrollably and the son kept assuring that he will be back. She nodded helplessly telling us that her elder one had gone away like this and now she has to part with this one. I cried, my mom cried and I looked at my dad. I thought he would launch into another tirade on ‘Another one bites the US dust’, but he just said, ‘Humans shouldn’t be this emotional. Next time don’t come running from Chicago like this for such a trivial thing. Take care of Pi and your career. I’ll let you know when I am on my deathbed.’

At that time I hope I am not in Chicago.

I have to insist that is English- very sleepy English , if you will. Let me decrypt it for you anyway. I haven’t even tried interpreting this.. its just too weird. I'll leave that to Sigmund Freud.

1. I’m in Germany (here I have no money to even go on a trip to see my brother in Florida) in Parmanu’s house. They have twins, which was the big surprise. Congrats guys! The girl resembles Parmanu and the boy looks like his wife (pretty boy). The girl twin (who is 6 months old) is smarter, can walk talk and apparently was washing dishes (prodigy sorts) while I was there (what child-abusers). Whereas the boy was just staring at the teddy-bear, gurgling and peeing (which reinforces my point that a boy child is treated better than a girl-child in Indian households). I later realize that they are not twins and the parents are hiding something (a Robin Cook thriller in the making).

2. I am at Gaythri chiti’s wedding (she has been married for 20 years now). There is a lot of confusion and I am the main cause of it. I jump out of closets on unsuspecting guests (not too far away from reality). My next door neighbors being there was quite surprising to me in my conscious mind; but in my dream, I didn’t seem to mind their presence. I wish I had written more about this because as soon as I brushed my teeth, I forgot everything.

3. This one is just heart rending. I am on a cruise (hopefully in the Caribbean  and not some stupid cruise in Lake Michigan) and my dog (I never had a dog in my life) gets kidnapped (by pirates?). I am supposed to have realized how petty I had been all my life due to this kidnapping act. It would have been interesting to know why and how. But sadly, I couldn’t comprehend the significance of it all. 

My life before marriage was so exciting. I used to be a chronic liar exaggerator with a flair for lying exaggerating in the least deserving situations. Each day was a challenge to outwit the world. Each moment was filled with apprehensive heart-beats. I was caught a million times with my tongue stuck to a trap. I didn’t think of it as a problem till I met Pi. Pi is so truthful that it hurts. So I stopped lying considerably just to save my face than for conscience reasons.

Conversation at a party-

'I wanted to come for your baby's birthday party, but somehow I got stuck volunteering for the old age home.' I manage to atriculately save the situation and wink at Pi.
 
Pi can't take the blatant hint,' What old age home? And why are you winking and stamping my leg?'

‘Sorry we are late. A Stealth Bomber exploded in front of our car.’ I gush trying to wriggle out of the quick-sand.

‘What bullshit! That’s not true, Alpha took long to get ready.’ Says Pi and spoils all my chances of getting away with another mind boggling story. Such a party-pooper! We become the boring couple yet again. So I stick to mundane topics, ‘I had an accident the other day and my passenger side totally caved in.’

‘Not entirely’, he butts in, adjusting his glasses in the most professor-like way ‘Only 4/5^th of the passenger side was affected. I wouldn’t call that caving in. And nothing happened to the interior.’

Now all of a sudden, my accident achievement seems like a piece of cake that happens to everyone. The people who just dropped their jaws are in the process of collecting it from the floor giving me sneers. I have become a non-entity with a boring life! But it feels good as I am under no pressure to be creative (I hope the sarcasm was caught).

They called me abnormal. They called me adopted. They placed me in the end of the class-line with the boys. I could never sit in the front row without burying my head between my legs. I was always spotted trying to escape classes from under the teacher’s nose. I hunched to be accepted.

As much as you think its enviable to be tall, its a tough life for a tall girl in Indian society.

‘Which college do you go to?’ I would get that once in a while when I was in my 7^th grade.

‘Yes, I remember you,’ said my PT sir when I visited school after 5 years of graduating, ‘You used to be a basketball player.’ Never mind the fact that I can’t tell the difference between a shuttle cock and a basketball. The only useful thing I did with my height was bring down pickle containers from the top shelf and place it back.

‘Sorry madam, we don’t make jeans your size. You sure can get something from the men’s rack. Actually jeans above the knees are trendy these days.’ Offers a helpful salesman. I stuck to tailored pajamas.

My parents were horrified when I didn’t stop growing after 5’7". They panicked, wondering how would I ever get married. "Aiyoo, we are doomed. Someone start hitting her head with a hammer to retard growth." My mom cried, throwing away shoes that had even a centimeter heel.

"Err.. Alpha ke pitaji, The groom is fair, well bred, convent educated and cooks like Sanjeev Kapoor.. and he is 5’6", very tall for some girls. I am so sorry." Sympathized uncles-turned-marriage-brokers.

That’s when I took it upon myself to find Mr. Height. To be in the medium height category, the guy must be at least 5’9", which is just as tall as me. Anyone shorter is too short. Anyone above 6 feet is acceptable.

The guys I date had to be tall. Do not confuse necessity with vanity. I like to stand on my toes to kiss my man. No dumb ideas please. I will not carry a step-ladder for the guy everywhere we go. So that eliminated every Desi guy I knew and could hold conversations with. Moreover, when guys are intimidated by my height, they refuse to stand within a 6 feet radius. My next idea was to buy one of those wheel chairs and move around, never getting up.

Pi is 6’1". Just made the cut. I cut a lot of slack for him in other avenues. If height was the only factor why I got married to him, that would be extremely shallow. He is good at giving gifts too. 

According to Patrix, I got my job because of my height. Wow.. all this while I was thinking it was becoz of that Equal Opportunity thing.

My birthday is tomorrow and I’m turning 18. Though I am kinda sad that my teens are getting over, I’m glad I can finally vote!! Yippeeyoo!

I was trying to recollect all my past birthdays. Yes, I am going to put you through some real torture. But breathe easy, I don’t remember much. Don’t you hate it when your folks don’t take any pictures of your birthdays. Now how is one supposed to remember? At least I am better off than my granny who doesn’t even know how old she is. Hmm.. that’s a nice tactic Grandma! I can’t escape- my parents made the damn birth certificate.

Birthdays I do remember-

1^st year- They don’t let me forget it. I was taken to the hospital because I spilt scalding hot tea on my stomach while the guests waited bated breath for my safe return. How does a one year old get hold of tea.. hot, that too? Now that’s a classic case of irresponsible murderous parents.. not my fault.

7^th year- All I remember is getting real shitty presents. Cloth bits of various colors and sizes. Why would anyone in their right mind gift cloth pieces to an impressionable kid? That’s worse than getting steel tumblers. At least you can throw steel tumblers, create noise and show displeasure. I lived among real horrid people, I must admit. Well, my mom stitched stuff for me to wear with those bits of fabric and I HAD to wear them. There went my hope of getting a love letter.

16^th birthday- I was studying in a school where rich spoilt kids threw Birthday bashes and distributed Nestle Crunch to all and sundry (watchman, ayahs included). When you throw birthday parties that strangers gate-crash into, then you know you are among the influential class. I shamelessly attended all these parties without realizing that my birthday would come soon. It came and I casually asked daddykins for some money to treat a few of my wealthy, super-rich friends (those who called me to their parties) in Bombay Halwa House, maybe. A late night party at Chola Shereton was out of the question; I was aware of my standing in the food chain.

"Ok fine!" said Dad, ‘Ask amma to give you 30 ruppees.’

’30 ruppees??!! You kidding me? I won’t even be able to buy them balli-mittai. I might as well not even mention its my birthday to anyone.’

That was what happened. I grew an year older mysteriously one day.

21^st Birthday- I remember getting a card from my dad saying, "You’re 21! Now that legalizes you to do anything you want."

Yeah right! ..was my take on that.

Oh wait, I was supposed to be turning 18 tomorrow!! Oh darn.. Now you know. Continuing on my birthday saga…

Was in college. My room-mates were awfully sweet that year. They forgot to wish me and when I got back later that evening and decided to remind them, they screamed "Happy Birthday!" and proved to me that they hadn’t forgotten and were just acting the whole day. They told me to enter the room which was shut for some reason. Choking with emotion, I almost choked to death when I entered the room.. There was a cake, there were candles and then there was flame.. a really huge flame. A candle tipped on the table cloth.

22^nd Birthday- My roomates/hostelites were not as kind this year. They called me to the hostel courtyard, gave me birthday-bums (I limped for days), poured a concoction on my head, ran to their rooms and locked themselves inside. That smell was so awful that I was holding my nose and begging them to let me in (cursing them under my breath and vowing to take revenge very soon, maybe in the next 5 minutes.. if only they opened the door). Two stray dogs gave me company for a while trying to lick some of the goo that dripped off of my face. They tasted that, gagged and ran for their dear lives. Gawd! I was to later find the ingredients of this super stinky birthday potion- 5 days old daal (that too mess daal), toothpaste, ketchup, eggs, Fevicol, cough syrup (that smell never went from my hair) and ofcourse piss, they added. I hope the dogs are OK.

25^th Birthday- I have always stated my dislike for calculated surprise parties or huge parties of any kind. I just despise it… don’t ask why. Pi decided to surprise me with a birthday party at his friend’s house. Makes me wonder how I got married to him. So I am whisked to Jason’s place for his house warming party on the 24^th of June. Now you would think- It was not Jason’s party and that there would be people hiding behind doors and as I enter they would pounce on me saying- Surprise!!- right?

Very wrong, you predictables!

Jason, whom I didn’t know very well to start with, had invited 20 people whom I dint know at all. So when I enter, there are people sprawled all over happily doing their own thing. I smile and say, ‘Happy House warming, Jason’. And he says, ‘Thank you and Happy Birthday’.

‘Oh gee.. Thanks.. That’s nice of you to remember’.

Jason goes on, ‘Don’t mention it, this was also a surprise party for you. Pi contributed too. We decided to combine the two parties.’

At this point, two strange people, while taking a helping of chips, look at me and go, ’Oh so its you. Happy Birthday!’ They proceed to watch TV.

All I can hope for this time is no cloth bits, no barbecued cakes, no hair conditioners and God forbid…no Surprise Party!! *clink*