28 May 2008
16 May 2008
My family of four isn’t renowned for its social outings. So when we went with The Groom to The Bride’s place to well, check out The Bride and her family (family is important, says Father), it was an awkward moment for everyone concerned. I arrived late and my parents introduced me to The Bride, who I’d met twice before.
They opened the conversation with perhaps the only Amaresh line they’re confident of… “here! Meet the only non-CA in the family!!” And I smiled and sat down, and they spoke, about Audit, Accounts and Tax. The Groom, His Mother, and the Bride, all worthy CAs, looked at each other, smiling always, even as the conversation went like "How many people are working in your firm? 12? Oh good! Mine has 14."
I’d like to think that my Parents really like audit. On the rare occasions that they slip outside audit, they have trouble initiating conversation. To break the uneasy silence, The Bride’s Mother brings Bondas to eat. Everyone slipped into their Somalian shoes and the only sound heard for the next minute was of Bondas in our mouths. You know, the Bondas weren’t That Good.
I proposed that we celebrate the occasion with some alcohol. Everyone laughed, eager to not come across as uptight and uncool. Then they spoke about the state-run Wine Shop next-door and the social problems and local nuisance created by the Wine Shops.
Invariably, they ran into silence again, and I intervened, again. I thanked them for hijacking my suggestion of alcohol, and asked them to reconsider it. This time they spoke about Wine Shop Accounts, the legal claims to the land on which some of them sit, the problems involved in their audit… The Bride and The Groom played their shy part to perfection, and The Mothers were quiet.
Then, the Mothers felt like reliving the depressing TV shows, and suggested that someone sings. Somehow The Bride’s Mother asked me if I could sing. I tried a third time, explaining to her how after 2 drinks I can sing, dance… like a true Auditor’s Wife, she offered to give me the alcohol after I sing. Then I explained the difference between audit fees and alcohol that helps me sing.
Once The Bride and The Groom’s Mother were spotted fighting, both eager to clear the dishes. Anyway, they fought over it in exceedingly polite ways, and I was thinking, first day it’ll be like this… after a couple of months, “hey bitch, clear this shit. now!” and if we were to believe some of the Tamil films enjoyed by middle-aged Mothers, she might even spit into it as it’s being picked up.
Finally, they discussed wedding dates, mostly revolving around the financial year-end and tax year-end.
I reassured The Bride’s Father that I’m not alcoholic, and he said he knew, and I asked him how?
And then everyone left in different cars.
10 May 2008
6 May 2008
i asked help from a lot of people and successfully boarded the plane. i got drunk on the plane on remy martin and they refused to serve me more citing an arbit 3 drinks per 2 hours policy. anyway, im struggling to type in this keyboard. france screwed my typing. my country does have a strong smell. my room smells too. but the cab guy who drove me home had some strange desire to have nauseating flowers in the cab at 130 in the morning. so i liked the smell of india a little more thanks to the cab guy.
i've been in a talkative mood. the cab guy and i spoke more than with all the strangers put together in france. my head i can hear french music and im thinking tomorrow morning il wake up to orange juice, bread, tomato chutney and cheese. i loved the trip. i feel like i know so much more! this morning when i left the apartment in paris, it felt so weird.
i didn't visit any museums during the trip. the crowd to climb the eiffel tower was too much and too motivated, so we took a nap on the grass and admired it from far. i didn't do anything spectacular. amy the bars expert took me to a lot of bars to meet a lot of people. also, i never spent a night in a hotel. the strangers don't talk and the people i was introduced to were extra nice.
after 23 years and 9 months of indian food, amy thought it was a nice idea to take me to an indian fastfood place. at brussels airport there were tonnes of indian families speaking in english. anyway, the indian fastfood guy spoke one word for 3 questions from me (the word was bengal) and he despised my intrusion into his routine of preparing a katti roll every 2 minutes.