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Its all relative!

cloudz Groupbie
cloudz
cloudz

Joined: 17 January 2005
Posts: 90

Posted: 02 March 2005 at 4:00pm | IP Logged
It's All Relative - (Author: Viji Raghunathan)

Grandmother was pretending to be lost in prayer, but her prayer-beads
were spinning at top speed. That meant she was either excited or
upset. Mother put the receiver down. "Some American girl in his
office, she's coming to stay with us for a week." She sounded as if
she had a deep foreboding. Father had no such doubt. He knew the worst
was to come. He had been matching horoscopes for a year, but my
brother Vivek had found a million excuses for not being able to visit
India, call any of the chosen Iyer girls, or in any other way advance
father's cause. Father always wore four parallel lines of sacred ash
on his forehead. Now there were eight, so deep were the furrows of
worry on his forehead. I sat in a corner, supposedly lost in a book,
but furiously text-messaging my brother with a vivid description of
the scene before me.
A few days later I stood outside the airport with father. He tried not
to look directly at any American woman going past, and held up the
card reading "Barbara". Finally a large woman stepped out, waved
wildly and shouted "Hiiii! Mr. Aayyyezh, how ARE you?" Everyone turned
and looked at us. Father shrank visibly before my eyes. Barbara took
three long steps and covered father in a tight embrace. Father's
jiggling out of it was too funny to watch. I could hear him whispering
"Shiva shiva!". She shouted "you must be Vijaantee?" "Yes, Vyjayanthi"
I said with a smile. I imagined little half-Indian children calling me
"Vijaantee aunty!". Suddenly, my colorless existence in Madurai had
perked up. For at least the next one week, life promised to be quite
exciting.

Soon we were eating lunch at home. Barbara had changed into an even
shorter skirt. The low neckline of her blouse was just in line with
father's eyes. He was glaring at mother as if she had conjured up
Barbara just to torture him. Barbara was asking "You only have
<> vegetarian food? Always??" as if the idea was shocking to her. "You
know what really goes well with Indian food, especially chicken?
Indian beer!" she said with a pleasant smile, seemingly oblivious to
the apoplexy of the gentleman in front of her, or the choking sounds
coming from mother. I had to quickly duck under the table to hide my
giggles.

Everyone tried to get the facts without asking the one question on all
our minds: What was the exact nature of the relationship between Vivek
and Barbara? She brought out a laptop computer. "I have some pictures
of Vivek" she said. All of us crowded around her. The first picture
was quite innocuous. Vivek was wearing shorts, and standing alone on
the beach. In the next photo, he had Barbara draped all over him. She
was wearing a skimpy bikini and leaning across, with her hand lovingly
circling his neck. Father got up, and flicked the towel off his
shoulder. It was a gesture we in the family had learned to fear. He
literally ran to the door and went out. Barbara said "It must be hard
for Mr. Aayyezh. He must be missing his son." We didn't have the heart
to tell her that if said son had been within reach, father would have
lovingly wrung his neck.

My parents and grandmother apparently had reached an unspoken
agreement. They would deal with Vivek later. Right now Barbara was a
foreigner, a lone woman, and needed to be treated as an honored guest.
It must be said that Barbara didn't make that one bit easy. Soon
mother wore a perpetual frown. Father looked as though he could use
some of that famous Indian beer.

Vivek had said he would be in a conference in Guatemala all week, and
would be off both phone and email. But Barbara had long lovey-dovey
conversations with two other men, one man named Steve and another
named Keith. The rest of us strained to hear every interesting word.
"I miss you!" she said to both. She also kept talking with us about
<> Vivek, and about the places they'd visited together. She had pictures
to prove it, too. It was all very confusing.

This was the best play I'd watched in a long time. It was even better
than the day my cousin ran away with a Telugu Christian girl. My aunt
had come howling through the door, though I noticed that she made it
to the plushest sofa before falling in a faint. Father said that if it
had been his child, the door would have been forever shut in his face.
Aunt promptly revived and said "You'll know when it is your child!"
How my aunt would rejoice if she knew of Barbara!

On day five of her visit, the family awoke to the awful sound of
Barbara's retching. The bathroom door was shut, the water was running,
but far louder was the sound of Barbara crying and throwing up at the
same time. Mother and grandmother exchanged ominous glances. Barbara
came out, and her face was red. "I don't know why", she said, "I feel
queasy in the mornings now." If she had seen as many Indian movies as
I'd seen, she'd know why. Mother was standing as if turned to stone.
Was she supposed to react with the compassion reserved for pregnant
women? With the criticism reserved for pregnant unmarried women? With
the fear reserved for pregnant unmarried foreign women who could
embroil one's son in a paternity suit? Mother, who navigated familiar
flows of married life with the skill of a champion oarsman, now seemed
completely taken off her moorings. She seemed to hope that if she
didn't react it might all disappear like a bad dream.

I made a mental note to not leave home at all for the next week.
Whatever my parents would say to Vivek when they finally got a-hold of
him would be too interesting to miss. But they never got a chance. The
day Barbara was to leave, we got a terse email from Vivek. "Sorry,
still stuck in Guatemala. Just wanted to mention, another friend of
mine, Sameera Sheikh, needs a place to stay. She'll fly in from
<> Hyderabad tomorrow at 10am. Sorry for the trouble."

So there we were, father and I, with a board saying "Sameera". At last
a pretty young woman in salwar-khameez saw the board, gave the
smallest of smiles, and walked quietly towards us. When she did
'Namaste' to father, I thought I saw his eyes mist up. She took my
hand in the friendliest way and said "Hello, Vyjayanthi, I've heard so
much about you." I fell in love with her. In the car father was
unusually friendly. She and Vivek had been in the same group of
friends in Ohio University. She now worked as a Child Psychologist.

She didn't seem to be too bad at family psychology either. She took
out a shawl for grandmother, a saree for mother and Hyderabadi bangles
for me. "Just some small things. I have to meet a professor at Madurai
university, and it's so nice of you to let me stay" she said. Everyone
cheered up. Even grandmother smiled. At lunch she said "This is so
nice. When I make sambar, it comes out like chole, and my chole tastes
just like sambar". Mother was smiling. "Oh just watch for 2 days,
you'll pick it up." Grandmother had never allowed a muslim to enter
the kitchen. But mother seemed to have taken charge, and decided she
would bring in who ever she felt was worthy. Sameera circumspectly
stayed out of the puja room, but on the third day, I was stunned to
see father inviting her in and telling her which idols had come to him
from his father. "God is one" he said. Sameera nodded sagely.

By the fifth day, I could see the thought forming in the family's
collective brains. If this fellow had to choose his own bride, why
couldn't it be someone like Sameera? On the sixth day, when Vivek
called from the airport saying he had cut short his Gautemala trip and
was on his way home, all had a million things to discuss with him. He
arrived by taxi at a time when Sameera had gone to the University.
"So, how was Barbara's visit?" he asked blithely. "How do you know
<> her?" mother asked sternly. "She's my secretary" he said. "She works
very hard, and she'll do anything to help." He turned and winked at
me. Oh, I got the plot now! By the time Sameera returned home that
evening, it was almost as if her joining the family was the elders'
idea. "Don't worry about anything", they said, "we'll talk with your
parents."

On the wedding day a huge bouquet arrived from Barbara. "Flight to
India - $1500. Indian kurta - $5. Emetic to throw up - $1. The look on
your parents' faces – priceless" it said.

The following 2 member(s) liked the above post:

IFlover*dels*

samir_soni Goldie
samir_soni
samir_soni

Joined: 19 December 2004
Posts: 1773

Posted: 03 March 2005 at 12:58am | IP Logged
LOLgood one, but too long
punjabi#1 IF-Dazzler
punjabi#1
punjabi#1

Joined: 06 June 2006
Posts: 3378

Posted: 09 April 2007 at 8:51pm | IP Logged
that was too funny
*dels* IF-Rockerz
*dels*
*dels*

Joined: 24 February 2006
Posts: 7250

Posted: 10 April 2007 at 3:34pm | IP Logged
That was simply great!! i will try this one day if i need it Tongue LOL
thammeem Senior Member
thammeem
thammeem

Joined: 29 April 2007
Posts: 329

Posted: 29 April 2007 at 12:37pm | IP Logged
ROFL
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