Tag Archives: the ties that bind
November 5, 2005 

lost the plot

I’m looking for that really crowded room. The kind filled with random people, four legs short of a fire hazard, and squashed bubbles of laughing, talk, and intimate exchanges. And me standing, amid the static murmuring and intermittent explosions of mirth, waiting for my moment.
When from across this room of crowd, stands another, and our eyes should meet.
One glance, held frozen, with the tacit acknowledgement of having found our kismet within each other.

What? What do you mean that’s not how it happens? I’m reading from the script here, and it’s pretty direct:

Crowded room, check.
Eyes meeting, check.
The smile-and-look-away, check.
The look-again-and-hold stare, check.
The subtle approach, check.
The easy-introductions, check.
The finding-you-have-absolutely-absolutely-everything-in-common-including-
mutual-interest-in-modern-poets, check.
The long-conversations-into-the-night ending with the numberswap, check.
The I-had-a-fantastic-time-speaking-with-you-this-evening-hope-we-can-
encore sms later, check.
Subsequent daily phonecalls/emails, check.
Feeling like you’ve found-the-missing-puzzle-piece-and-your-soul-is-now-complete, check. Meeting the parents, check.
Beautiful-lilies-roses-organza-memory-making wedding, check. Blissful-domestic-harmony-cute kids-candyfloss-pretty things-promotions-overseas holidays, check.

I’m just working off what I’ve been given. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t adlib through this. This is breach of contract.

Dammit, I’m getting a new agent.

October 19, 2005 

The ties that bind part 2

This must surely be a test from the Almighty. A trial placed before me so that my faith may be tempered. Sacrifice my first born, abandon my family to the desert, Yes My Lord, I Submit, willingly! but not this. Hear my importunate please!

Not this, not this.

My littler cousin wants me to be her bridesmaid. Oh, the mortification! I wouldn’t mind so much if it meant just looking pretty and hanging around. But no, the indignation escalates. She’s having one of those Indian weddings with a “stage” set-up. This means that I will be effectively displayed before her 300 guests in all my turquoise finery (yes turquoise, apparently it’s very In this season, she says).

If that wasn’t ghastly enough, I will also be the oldest woman “on set”.

My cousin-to-be-wed and the other bridesmaid are barely knocking 20 and the groom, well, he doesn’t really count, but he’s a few months younger than me anyway.

All eyes on me.

But not in that celebrity “no autographs please” kind of way.

My mother will probably have to field the questions: “So that’s your daughter? How old is she? Is she still studying?” This roughly translates into: “She should be married by now. What’s wrong?”

I envision the scene, mouths full and busy with gajar halwa, the darting looks, the frenzied conversation, possible enquiries regarding my sexual orientation. (ok, maybe not the last one, but “why else isn’t she fixed/engaged/married?”)

Aargh!

September 18, 2005 

The ties that bind part 1

Most of my friends are married. Some have even begun to breed. And it’s great. Really.
The fact that they’re beginning new chapters in their lives and playing mommy and daddy for real, it’s just brilliant. They have walked their paths and have found compatible traveling companions to continue the journey.
And I’m not jealous. Not one bit. Honest. I know that a time will come when I too shall find a suitable escort on my life’s traversal.

So, seeing as I’ve made peace with that and am just doing my own thing in the meantime, why won’t people stop asking me the same retarded questions about my pending nuptials?

I’ve got three family weddings coming up. Female cousins, all younger than me. (can you feel my situation, people?) The schlep of deciding what to wear to whose, has been overridden by the far more pressing dilemma of how to deal with relatives who want to know when’s my big day.

Just once I’ like a really snappy answer that’ll freeze the smudgy-lipsticked smile off their M.A.C-attacked faces.

“My girlfriend just got her psychological assessment back and the doctor has green-lighted the gender-reallocation procedure. We’ll set the date as soon as the bandages come off.”

“Get married? Are you crazy, I’m having too much fun just sleeping around.”

“But I’ve already married Inzamam. We can’t get divorced just yet or else immigration will get suspicious. If they deport him, I won’t get the money his uncle promised me.”

“No one’s liked me enough to ask me. Okay. Now leave me alone.”

“But all the good ones are taken. Mmm…Is that your husband? Yummy, *wink* *wink*”

But of course, my mamma never raised me to be rude and vile. And what if Aunty has a really nice son/nephew/neighbour/dentist she’d like to introduce me to?

« Newer Entries
Afrigator