All sorts of dreadful things have happened. These have largely included my parents saying, “You go for a lot of shoots, right? Can’t you request one of the photographers to take a nice picture of you? You know. To show people.” Yes, and maybe after that I can dance naked at the Flora Fountain traffic-signal singing Que Sera Sera. That’d be less embarassing at least.
The mater has also made dire threats of putting ads in the newspaper saying “Husband Wanted”. I helpfully suggested adding “Conditions apply”. She was not amused.
Emotional blackmail has also been put to use. “My health isn’t what it used to be. Don’t you think you should face your responsibilities now?” No, I think I should shove my head in the sand and pray to the 30 lakh Hindu gods to turn me into an ostrich.
It’s a full-scale conspiracy. Even television isn’t safe anymore. Simplymarry.com, jeevansaathi.com and hundred other dot coms are promising marital bliss with just one click and THEY’RE DOING THIS ON PRIMETIME TELEVISION! In full view of my parents!
Why? I mean, I’m not a terribly bad person. Yes, I’m mean and nasty and sarcastic and even a little condescending and not always pleasant or friendly, but I’m also helpful and usually kind to small animals (mosquitoes are not animals – they’re bloodsucking parasite bastards).
Yet, this is still happening to me. Obviously, Justice and Fairness have gone for a girl’s night out, gotten sloppily drunk and are probably throwing up in a back-alley somewhere. And on the one free weekend I’ve gotten in a while too.