Swallow And Sleep.

“Abhishek and Aishwarya didn’t get each other just like that... they had to struggle and become famous before they got noticed. Everybody wants to get noticed, no? Change. IMPROVE! That’s how you will find a nice, rich husband.”

And that, dear reader, was my “well-wisher’s friendly advice”. A co-baarati, co-non-dancer, total stranger and, lest I forget, my well-wisher. Sozzled well-wisher, if you ask me… but then again, to me, everyone looked unsteady and smelt the same. No, I wasn’t the one sozzled.

So. I ought to sign up for Bhangra classes. Be enthusiastic about a bit of sporadic wiggle waggle with a bunch of other revelers. Shriek intermittently since that’s part of the job profile. Set an example, there being a kid sister and all. And even the slowest gazelle must run faster than the fastest lion. There. I just condensed 20 minutes of counsel into 5 sentences. Should head to that twitter-tweet place.

In case my take counts for anything – I like the ringside view when it comes to that particular circus. Just watching people can be so entertaining. Particularly when those people are weighed down with bling but are obliged to look, feel and sound Punjabi-style festive. Loud festive. And frankly, some cute guy’s wedding is most definitely no reason to hop-shrug-stamp-screech.

And therefore, to quote a pal, “Swallow and sleep”.

- - -

The more I think about it, the more sense it makes. It’s all a public conspiracy. Jaise my world is split into three – one part consists of my Mom’s patients. They recognize me on the streets --dangerous!-- “Arre, bilkul Mummy ke tarah dikhti hai!”. Yeah well, it just happened. Funny you should mention it, no one ever notices... medical miracle and whatnot. I now feel an unnatural kinship with you. Brains of the world, unite! Bah. The second part has all the relatives, ‘family friends’, friends of family friends and such. People who care about you... every time some results are due. Perhaps they’re not so bad - and perhaps they are!

What these two groups have in common is this – they derive some perverse pleasure when they sneak up on you and attack. And they really make you wish you had a brother.

Mid-checkup they go “Woh waha aapki beti thi kya Doctor? Mere building ke saamne hi thi, koi ladka saath tha...” because “bataana chahiye, farz banta hai”. Oh, sure. Power be to you. Hence the brother. And if not that, they dish out shady schemes for The Good Life. The one in which you shimmer and shine like a beacon (literally), get noticed and dig your beacony claws into the next unsuspecting good looking guy. Your life is made. In a nutshell – Bleargh.

For whoever has been paying attention – the third part of my world consists of people I won’t know during the course of my life. No, I’m not talking rebirth and afterlife. They’ll be the ones that never knew me, but showed up at the funeral because they expected to meet some business prospects. Lawyers, probably. So much for that.

PS - Mera life sahi hai, tension mat lo. People in general are much nicer than I believe I made them out to be. Morning posts are just likely to be bitchy. Okay? Okay.