Some time back, I had been on a trip to Chennai. A trip for a whole 35 days. I was absolutely excited. Punch Drunk to be honest! After a relatively uneventful flight journey, the moment my sight landed on my Dad and my Bro when they were waiting for me outside the airport, was one of the best ever moments of my life. I felt as if I was on whole new lease of life! Next was when my mom hugged me and I entered the new house that my family had moved into. And now starts the most frustrating part for any guy returning from the land of dreams to his native! Immediately the next morning, I was forced to make a series of calls to relatives, answer calls from relatives, and family friends. Call it courtesy, call it respect or whatever. The cliche here is everyone asks the same question!
"Padichi mudichitu angaye settle aaga poriyaa??"
"Padichitu inge vandhu velai pannu!"
"Ange edhaavadhu ponae paathu marry panityaa?"
Initially it kinda felt good being the center of attraction and all that! After a point, it became irritating. And towards the end it became unbearable, to the point that, as a reply to a similar question popped by my grand mother, I said, "Paati kavale padaadhingo. Ange oru ponnu paathu vechirkaen. Neengo thaan vandhu enga kalyaanatha nadathi vaekanam!" My mom who was over hearing this entire conversation, though did not find it all that amusing, that I was playing with a 93 year old lady! :P This is the crux of the problem. In spite of all this, I found the holiday to be exhilarating. So many people being concerned about my well being. So many people questioning my decisions. Each day just hog the most amazing food, watch tv, sleep umpteen number of hours and leave the decision making to my parents. But here, though I am not pestered by silly questions, at times I regret that there is no one to question the whats and the whys of my activities. And the worst part of it is, even if I need to talk my parents, I need to pay a bill of 60 dollars a month just for some 5 minutes conversation each day! Call it the musings of a grad student!
The Identity of Indiscernibles - Supra Amani, the Fifth Count of the royal estate of Amani sat in his imported Chesterfield sofa, gazing out of a French window that opened into a view of r...
1 month ago