Rather mom and ‘her’ friends! My mom has a very few friends, her meager social structure does not extend beyond the confines of this country. Language problem, you see. She is not very comfortable conversing in anything but good old Hindi and if you can’t trade gossip, then you can be friends. English comes as a close second, but talking in English qualifies as a compromise.
Anyways, so it is very rare for me to be present at any of her social gatherings. I hate traveling. My unwilling mind, further instructs my body to not take those ten huge steps from the bedroom to the living room. So I guiltily stay locked in my room and tap away on the laptop. The only thing which will entice me to embark on this arduous journey, is perhaps the presence of a good-looking guy, who does not look like the aunty’s son (which he is) and is definitely bound to break my heart. The masochist in me…. Really!
Such an event, is like finding a lice on a bald man’s head. Could happen, only by accident. And accidents do happen. So when I walked in home, one breezy evening, I see this handsome gentleman, sipping tea from my mom’s favourite
My heart is thumping so hard, that I am afraid I am going to wake up my sleeping dogs and send them into a barking frenzy. I manage to remain Ms Super Cool with the right amount of attitude and seat myself on the settee opposite his. I have just patted myself on the back for handling myself so well, when the aunty says,
“We were just telling Chotu, what a cute little kid you were.”
I was? I already sensed my smile faltering
“Remember that time when you were three and we had gone to Shashi’s wedding? You peed on poor Shashi’s wedding Sharara! Ha ha ha ha….!” She laughed remembering the incident which had probably disgusted the bride then, scared the three year old me into peeing some more and mortified the current me into silence.
Why were they discussing my most embarrassing moments anyway? I could sense the oh-so-cute ‘chotu’ imagining me standing on the frills of a red wedding sharara, peeing in my pants. I felt as elated as a squirrel caught stealing a nut. The difference is, that the squirrel runs away with the nut, while I just wanted to run and hide into the hole, without the nut.
“ and…” My mom was saying, “Chotu was there too. He was just seven then. But he remembers it too! Ha ha ha ha…”
Even Chotu’s smile had broadened to accommodate an almost laugh. Of course Chotu would remember! Even he did not, he would darn well picture it now and remember ‘that’ picture for the rest of his life.
Seriously!!! Mom and her friends and well, their good-looking sons!!!
