The Pair Of Perfect Guests.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Why don’t you look good?

Why do you look so fat?

Why can’t you do what we say?

I don’t understand, why do you have to shout?

Get out of my room.”

This is what Jane thought of when she thought of her mother. The woman she spent almost half her life with, she never felt loved or wanted. She felt like whatever she did it would never enough. Never!

And today she was going to come to her apartment, the one she bought two years ago. Her mother spent the first month with her, in the name of helping her to move. All she did through those thirty days is criticize every piece of furniture Jane bought for her apartment. When asked to keep her opinions to herself, she would say in a defensive voice, “I am just telling the truth and I am not going to apologise for that.” And she never did for anything she said. All those words that left her heart as if it were going to burst into a million pieces. And now she was coming for dinner. Jane looked around the house, her one bedroom apartment was fairly neat. But all the furniture was old, the yellow colour of the sofa was faded. The plain curtains she had bought from the thrift store looked dusty. The centre piece that her best friend gifted her was hidden under a pile of her magazines. She needed to get out of this situation and fast. She had lost the habit of listening to criticism. Everyone who came to her house always said that it’s not pretty but its home. And all she heard was “its home”.

Jane craved for her mother’s approval for the first ten years of her life and then she gave up. But it always bothered her.

What is the perfect excuse? She kept thinking to herself. Hey maybe I will tell her one of my close friends died, she thought. Oh no! But she wouldn’t buy that and even if she did she would want to come along. Meanwhile she started off with cleaning the apartment for her OCD stricken mother. She started off with the dishes certain to find a perfect excuse. Then she went on to clean the tiles of the toilet still clueless about the excuse. Then she scrubbed the floor disheartened and now certain she had to live through the evening. Then when she was vacuum cleaning the entire apartment an idea popped into her head like fire cracker. She could invite someone, “I can invite someone” she said loudly with a large smile spreading across her face. “I know the perfect person who can take my mother. And he is Kevin.”

At eight Jane was ready to welcome her mother, she was more excited than nervous. She thought it was war and today she was not willing to lose. The doorbell interrupted her string of thoughts, she almost ran to open the door. It was her mother, she stood there with that plastic smile on, the one people manage to put in front of the camera. “Hi darling” she said with a ringing voice. Then she looked around the room and Jane knew she had scanned the living room. Now she knew exactly where what was wrong and Jane waited for it begin.

Just then the doorbell rang again, Jane almost hurt herself while getting to the door. She opened the door, there he was or she was, as he preferred to call himself. Kevin was in the middle of a sex change operation, he was not a complete woman yet but he chose dressed like one. He came in and looked at her mother and a smile spread on his clean shaven face and flashed his perfectly curled eyelashes, while he said, “hi!”

 The look on Jane’s mother’s face told Jane that it was going to be an interesting evening and she had the perfect bottle of wine for it. 

The importance of meaningless details!!!

He opened the door and walked in, to his shock the room was covered with yellow paint! Yellow the color he hated the most. He could'nt stand it, he almost had a phobia. He felt the blood pressure rise and then he heard a thud followed by excruciating pain in his knuckles. It took him a few seconds to realise that he had hurt himself when he punched the wall. Soon after that he could not feel his hand. He heard someone calling his name, it was his wife. He saw her coming through the corridor, a fragile, fair woman with a high pitched voice. She came running towards him and took his hand in her hand. He wanted to punch her, he was almost certain that this was her doing. She was the one who turned his apartment into this... this hell hole. He wanted her head on her platter. "What happened?" he asked trying very hard to keep his voice down but he clearly failed because the reponse he got was, "why are you shouting at me?" He could not bear the anger anymore he want to scream or pull out her hair or his own, he kept thinking how could she?? how could she do this when I specifically told her that I hated this colour? How could she not have used her brain? Then he repeated himself but in much louder voice that sounded almost like a scream, "what happened? Answer my question!!" On hearing this she threw the ointment that she had in her hand and ran towards her room with tears rolling down her cheeks. At this point he found himself alone in the living room, he felt the as if the yellow paint was haunting him, he kept looking for a distraction, something that would take his mind off this color then his eyes fell upon a cricket bat that was standing against the wall. He picked it up and he felt a whole new kind of energy running through his insides and with great speed he marched into thier room and after that he lost control of himself.
After about thirty minutes he woke up, his head was hurting, he looked around him every thing seemed red. He told himself that it was a bad dream and with great effort he stood up, it took him a couple of minutes to register what he saw. There she was, his wife in a pool of her own blood and suddenly like a flash of light everthing came back to him. He had killed her with his cricket bat. He had just murdered his wife. He fell like a pile of flesh and stared at her lifeless but terrified face not knowing what to do.
Then suddenly the phone rang, it got transffered to the answering machine. It was his mother, she said " Hi dear, I hope you liked he way I re-decorated your appartment. Yellow is the new blue. Anyway call me once you get this."

Silence.

She went and sat on the nearest stool. It was white, everthing around her was white, it was like a dream, so surreal, so pure. But she didn't notice it, she looked around her, there was huge crowd talking to each other and to her but some how she could not hear them. She could not even make out what they were saying. The bright lights hurt her eyes; people wearing blue made her want to turn her face but she was unable to move. Her body resfused to listen to her mind, she tried to remember what was wrong but for some reason it seemed liked she had blocked her memories. She sat there waiting for it to hit her, trying hard fro something to trigger some kind of emotion. Just then a familiar sort of face came and sat in front of her. he looked at her with eager eyes waiting for her to move or say something or may be cry but she only stared back at him with empty eyes, she was trying to recollect who he was and where had she seen him. He remembered meeting her the day before they had left for their trip and he was thinking of how happy she was that her exams were over and she could waste her time. He had known her since she was five but had never ever seen her like this. It was always like he could hear her thoughts, they always understood each other perfectly. It was telepatic but now he scared. He wanted to say something but he didn't know what to say. She kept looking at him, he put his hand on her knee but she didn't even twitch. It seemed as though her body was in shock and her mind was confused. Like it didn't know why it was supposed to grieve. Just then a lady hugged her and shook her, leaving her tiny body moving to and fro. She said something to her all she managed to take in was "sorry about your father".
Just then it just hit her! Her cheecks felt damp, he then came and sat next to her and held her hand. She felt the silence break in her mind and now could hear people crying around her but she still felt empty.

"When you get married......."

Indians are very familiar to this conversation starter. We have been told since we were very little that a certain amount of things we need to know and we some one we need to be in order to be someone desirable. All the mothers start telling their daughters at every turn of life what would help them bag a good husband. Its like they are they  have taken this job of making a product that sells. Women have to look in certain way , walk in a certain way, talk in a certain way. Girls start hearing this phrase from the moment they are fifteen, its liked these rules have been hammered into their brains. And the rules never change. If you try to argue you are made to believe that you are going to die alone or end up with a not very pleasant person. One my sisters is about o get married and all the women in the family have opened their books of wisdom and given her a list of  Do's and Don'ts. Its funny because most have them had have to be sit-at-home mothers and house wife which is nothing remotely close to what she wants to be. At least I hope so!
It's only the girls but also the boys that get pulled into this social nonsense. But they are told hoe he must listen to his better half. he is taught phrases like 'THE WIFE IS ALWAYS RIGHT". And the girls portrayed as self absorbed, haughty and selfish individuals. If one sees closely these rules just don't make sense. It makes both the men and the women look bad. All of are taught how to make the other person and not how live happily together.
I know most of us don't take it seriously but for the people who do we really need better guidelines or better no guidelines at all. How about, Do what you want! Nobody cares!

A group of girls.

In a small restaurant in the suburbs of Mumbai sat a few girls or should I say young women. They all were in their late teens and were going through that phase of  "what kind of boy?". So, they sat there  like very other day and discussed the same topic and looked at grown men coming and going out of the restaurant.
On of them started by saying, "Daniel Craig is so good looking!" and the other three girls looked at her in confused looks. But she went, ignoring their expressions, "I saw Skyfall yesterday and all I could think through the film was "OH MY GOD, he is who I want." the girl beside her said, "yes so 100 million other women and at least 50 million other men."And everyone burst out laughing.
"But seriously guys what is it that we want? I mean, have we ever given it a thought?"said one.
"I want a good looking, intelligent,smart,rich..." she was going to go on when one of the girls cut her off and said, "Yes, are you going to marry 50 men?, I mean realistically! What exactly are we looking for?"
Then one who was from a conservative family, who was well aware that she was from a conservative family said, " I am going to have a string of relationships with all kinds of boys and marry a person that my parents choose for me." when she said this the others looked at her trying find a hint of laughter but she was very serious. They didn't ask her more because they all knew her family.
"Moving on" said one of them breaking the awkward silence, "What about you guys?" she went on.
Another one said, "I want him to be fun, I have just one condition and that is DON'T BE BORING!, and you?" she said to the girl  who had been quite throughout the conversation.
She said in a very soft but audible whisper, " I am going to ask him a question, only one question and that is how LONG is it?

Parents.

I don't know about all parents but the ones I have met are pretty .... a well, I don't know the word... I think I will go with mentally aged!
And that makes me wonder, what happens to a person when a child is in the picture. Is there some switch in their head that just switches off and they go from being fun people to worried and angry people. Honestly, is there really a way of knowing. And will we also turn into something like this?
No! no one really wants be that wining woman or that angry man who just care about their daughters hair or their son's grades. Well, at least I hope not.
Imagine a nine year old girl telling her father.
" When I grow up I want to be a mother" and then the father says " No! my dear, that's a bad idea."
and if the girl is one of those inquisitive brats she will go on and ask, "but dad you became a father and mom became a mother, so why not?
"Well, look where that got us!"
Honestly, take Indian parents for an instance, they used be amazing people before they got they decided to have sex without a condom!
What suck all the fun out of them? Is it really the child? If it is then why do they want to have it in the first place?
Is it about getting bored! Do they like bored of each other and decide to have a baby.
and is there like a moment or something? like this,
One day sitting in that old living room having a drink I realized I don't have anything I want to say to my wife and thus, I tell her, " hey, babe I think it's time we have a baby!"
Does that happen!
Well, no one will ever know!

Indian Clothing

 Indian Clothing For Women.

I mean really why? why?
Why do we even have this shit?
 I believe the first  thing we ever introduced was a sari!
Really that was what we wore, a long piece of cloth!
 Imagine a man going, "hey what do wear?"
 And the woman going," a piece of cloth".
 And the man going, "That's it! That's easy. Its easier than what we have here. all the leaves and animal skin.  Hey i think i will fuck you!"
 He then thinks to himself that he wont smell like leaves once he is done with her.
 And the woman happily going over and when he sees her, he has the shock of his life. turns out for two minutes of pleasure he has to spend 25 minutes on getting her naked. And after that they are so exhausted that its not even fun!
I mean seriously who the hell came with idea of a sari and the ones we have now are even more pathetic. They have gold and mirrors and stones and coins and barley paintings and scenery.
I recently went shopping with my mother, she wanted a sari. And we went in to this  beautiful shop with amazing lighting and lovely oil paintings. The salesman started showing us the latest saris and one of them actually had a woman's picture on it, who is also dressed in a sari with a earthen pot on her head. It got me thinking who would wear that? I mean really, are there women who consider themselves so ugly that they want a face of another woman on their sari just take the attention away!
surprisingly when my mother tried it on all we could see is the woman's breasts. not my mothers but the woman on the picture.
So now you know who will wear it.
Sonam kapoor!