This morning, my mother's speaking over the phone with a socialite aunty, who's called up, absolutely disconsolate that I couldn't make it to her 'Diwali nite card party n dinner-dance, darling. dress sexy! ha ha ha!' and have absolutely dashed all her hopes of making me a match made in heaven with Aunty R's lives-in-london son. [ok, she only almost speaks like that]. So, my mother shakes her head at me, who am reaching out for the ten billionth tissue the better to wipe my nose with, and says to the Nokia:
"Aarey, M, all these nyaka girls! Lying in bed for 6 days with fever. Nothing to do?! And look at you! I mean, JAAST LOOK AT YOU!! Like a good parson, finding a good-boy for this girl. WHICH GIRL, JAAST SEE?!?! Just come and see, lying like moharani on the bed! *the doc had advised bed rest. which, i admit, i don't need. but hey, if i'm not allowed to leave the house, then i'm not quitting the bed either*
ladka dikhne mein achha hone sey kya hoyega? mera ledki ko dekho na abhi, beelkul shoshan ka mora ka maafik dikhne mein hai. goru ka maafik bhNuri hai, aur mukh mein ekdom gaal-tobrano. .. hain hain, aarey .. u know .. the cheeks ... almost inside the face *don't even ask*. And the hair is not there anymore! *wonder where it is* whatever she has, gone completely white. *grey*
anyway, i have given her so many rishtas, M. she only wants poet with jhola-daari! *i certainly don't. anyway, i suspect she meant jhola and daari. not .. uhm .. hanging beard-like* Ekdin uttha ke leyke aayegi mera matha khaane ke liye. .... no, no! jhaaru peetke peetke i will kick out any ghor-jamais!"
sigh. Happy Diwali everyone.