Mirage or Marriage

We just had a school reunion, and we relived our past drenched in nostalgia, laced in an overdose of double meaning vocabulary (some learnt for the first time that I could utter them and I for sure was surprised more than once and asked myself ‘how come its me all the time that my innocent words are sounding so...ummm.. sexy?!’).

Now coming back to the course of interaction, I guess it went on following a set pattern: people start gathering, people talk, and people exchange numbers and then people disperse. And what people talk? Well, definitely about others lives and the most personal the better!!! Someone starts counting the number of singles in the group on the lines of a cricket coach recounting fall of wickets! Somebody would simply turn into an agony aunt or uncle (depending upon gender) to solicit marriage, giving their voluntary services to the most unwilling customers…err.. friends. I silently say a prayer for all the singles in the group before the assault starts.

Well, marriage is a personal choice and decision; some marries early and some late and then there is a whole drama called finding the right chap..err match, even if you find one you have to make sure whether that would stay or stray and overall that bloody decision making process makes you feel like a dog (it reminds me I have to get rid of those dog biscuits myself…what a joke!) and more so if you are a representative of fairer sex even with right amount of education and moolah and sans those cellulites. I am sure in this insecure time as ours even a single man must be seeing stars in the day when it comes to arriving at a decision even if he knows he is not getting younger by the day.
Well, so, you all self-certified agony aunt/uncles, do you get the right picture now??? And most importantly, if marriage is the panacea for all those ‘imaginary’ ills then who would not want to bow for the holy vow? I am sure even though single-hood is smart, single-hood is envied and sought after but with our cultural norms (self imposed or socially imposed) it’s what we all would normally want (oooo, when someone wants to become a zen guru or a nun, please forgive me!).

But then a reunion is a reunion and for that matter a meeting is a meeting and why we have to follow a set pattern (oh so boring stereotype) as if social behavior is programmed. Well, they are actually programmed by our culture but are we not sounding as if we lost our heads and forgot to talk about other things under the sun??? What about rainbows (it rained this afternoon, may be we missed that pattern on the sky!!!)??
And at the end of the day when I am reminiscing about what all we talked, my bloated stomach reminded me..oops…we forgot to discuss what all we ate….burp… drank, did not we??? And in my head I hear a song ..It happens only in India…(do you remember the lyrics by any chance and can you sing along with me??)

O’daddy!

Sending children to schools and that too to the ones you want, could be the most challenging task for any parent if you are from the city I come from and from the time I am living in. But someone had a lucky trip down there! It’s my dad and I guess he must have been the luckiest dad in terms of being able to send his daughter (and his son) to the schools he wanted in different cities and when he wanted with his untimely transfers.

The first one, an all girl’s school in the heart of a city in ‘city of joy’, had fascinated him when he as an NCC cadet set his feet in that huge stadium overlooking a school and he dreamt of sending his daughter to that ‘lake side – park side’ school one day. And the great Lord had granted him the wish, first with a daughter and then with a posting in that city when the daughter was just at the right age to go to school! It gives me a good feeling whenever I am reminded about this story… (You know, I love all that sentiments and things like that). But the ‘naughty-me’ is not satiated and intrigued about the source of his fascination since my mom came from a different city altogether and hence studied in a different school!!!! But the daddy’s girl in me says shouting…'don’t you know about his fixation with percentages and report cards????'. Oh yeah, good academic records, of course….

The second school from my daddy’s list is in the heart of the capital city with a name of a hill which is synonymous with the hot seat in the greatest democracy (oops….I am almost sounding like a quiz master and hey, don’t you scratch your head…its Raisina). He had heard about it during his innumerable visits to the capital city and wished his children (this time my brother had joined the team) to go to this school if he ever gets posted in the capital. His wishes were granted again when he got transferred to the capital in the middle of a year (to make the situation tough for us!). We both, brother and sister, had to sit for admission tests in an unlikely time to get admission (in the middle of an academic session as we were switching from different states and also different boards) and lo, and behold…the school had just one seat in each class we were to get in. And his wishes were granted again. Touch wood!

What do you say…is not my dad LUCKY?!