I have mentioned before about the recent very important event at my place, that was my sister's wedding. Now that it's over I have a bunch of new "relatives" and formalities to attend to. Few days back me and my family were invited for a dinner at one of my Uncle's house. For the sake of this post let's say he is Mr.S.
I have known Mr.S and his skinny wife for a long time now. Always ready to help, kind and very local Andamani in my opinion. Mr. S works for the money and Mrs.S works for Mr.S and their daughter, who goes to the same school once I went to.
After parking the car we walked down a narrow pathway and reached a house that was suppose to be 80 years old. My father says he used to come here when he was a kid.
It is your average Andamani wooden house. Old and dingy on the outside and colourful on the inside, usually decorated with mismatched and religious ornaments . So it was green and there was a wall hanging in every corner inscribed with Urdu or Arabic.
We were introduced to the couples father who was apparently losing his memory and kept getting confused about our identity. And then he asked my mother, "So where is your youngest daughter?". My mother pointed at me. The old man looked at me for sometime and croaked "How much do you eat to look like this?"
Seriously? You ancient old creature, I felt like retorting, which I did subtly.
Soon we were shown the huge kitchen which had a light and airy feeling to it, quite opposite to the rest of the house. Mrs. S proudly showed every details of her kitchen and with all honesty, it was spectacular. So all the females sat in the kitchen gossiping and discussing recipes and I observed everything quietly. Typical.
Dinner was served, and oh what a wonderful dinner it was. That made me happy. But my happiness was short lived.
After the dinner Mrs S, my newly married sister and Mrs.S's daughter talked about how wonderfully mature my sister is, and what a lovely family she married into and all that jazz. Since cooking is all Mrs. S can think about she started to advise her daughter to grow up and help her in the kitchen. And then she turned at me and said "it's about time you learn this too".
My smile disappeared but I regained my composure, quickly fake-laughed and said "I live alone, who do you think does my cooking?"
And all of a sudden it hit Mrs. S that I actually have grown up. Of course it takes a genius to look at me and figure out that I am not 10 years old.
My mother always asked me why I don't like visiting people. The truth is as much as I would love to, I cannot deal with the drama, the questions and the presumptions.
Who doesn't love being treated like pre-teen or teased about their weight by a cranky old man? I have to be crazy to ignore their existence, right?
I respect Mr and Mrs. S for their staid Andamani-ness and all the lovely social work they do but I like to keep a distance. Maybe I am too sensitive or too blunt or both. I really have no valid excuse.
I have known Mr.S and his skinny wife for a long time now. Always ready to help, kind and very local Andamani in my opinion. Mr. S works for the money and Mrs.S works for Mr.S and their daughter, who goes to the same school once I went to.
After parking the car we walked down a narrow pathway and reached a house that was suppose to be 80 years old. My father says he used to come here when he was a kid.
It is your average Andamani wooden house. Old and dingy on the outside and colourful on the inside, usually decorated with mismatched and religious ornaments . So it was green and there was a wall hanging in every corner inscribed with Urdu or Arabic.
We were introduced to the couples father who was apparently losing his memory and kept getting confused about our identity. And then he asked my mother, "So where is your youngest daughter?". My mother pointed at me. The old man looked at me for sometime and croaked "How much do you eat to look like this?"
Seriously? You ancient old creature, I felt like retorting, which I did subtly.
Soon we were shown the huge kitchen which had a light and airy feeling to it, quite opposite to the rest of the house. Mrs. S proudly showed every details of her kitchen and with all honesty, it was spectacular. So all the females sat in the kitchen gossiping and discussing recipes and I observed everything quietly. Typical.
Dinner was served, and oh what a wonderful dinner it was. That made me happy. But my happiness was short lived.
After the dinner Mrs S, my newly married sister and Mrs.S's daughter talked about how wonderfully mature my sister is, and what a lovely family she married into and all that jazz. Since cooking is all Mrs. S can think about she started to advise her daughter to grow up and help her in the kitchen. And then she turned at me and said "it's about time you learn this too".
My smile disappeared but I regained my composure, quickly fake-laughed and said "I live alone, who do you think does my cooking?"
And all of a sudden it hit Mrs. S that I actually have grown up. Of course it takes a genius to look at me and figure out that I am not 10 years old.
My mother always asked me why I don't like visiting people. The truth is as much as I would love to, I cannot deal with the drama, the questions and the presumptions.
Who doesn't love being treated like pre-teen or teased about their weight by a cranky old man? I have to be crazy to ignore their existence, right?
I respect Mr and Mrs. S for their staid Andamani-ness and all the lovely social work they do but I like to keep a distance. Maybe I am too sensitive or too blunt or both. I really have no valid excuse.
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| Beach at Ross Island |
Very interesting! :) I like it! :) Happy holidays! :)
ReplyDeletelol!!! i loved ur description of the average Andamani wooden house.. :p :P :p
ReplyDeletewow! girl...you cook on ur own?? dats gr8.... trust me.... a lottt of gals (includin me) cant....
Thank u Sagittarian
ReplyDelete@Jalpari yea i always loved to cook...so i don't mind cooking 3 times a day...
Ha! and yea Andamani house..most of the wooden ones are kind of same.
Ruhi, one of the best things about no longer being a teenager is that each year it becomes easier and easier to choose the people with whom you associate. I imagine that the pressure to spend time with people like Mr. and Mrs.S will become less and less -- as you create your own social world to a greater and greater extent.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post!
i have older folks like this in my life, who are ten years behind in their outlook of others, especially family. it's weird, the barrier that arises between generations. i have seen it happening in myself. we almost don't know what to say to those of a much younger generation. we forget to ask about their lives and presume to know. dealing with mr. and mrs. s is a challenge that never stops in this world, least that's my experience.
ReplyDelete@Jon I agree..it becomes easier to choose your niche and have freedom over your social life more once you "grow-up" officially. Till then we can be sheep and just be 'meh'.
ReplyDelete@Ed One thing I know is what Mr and Mrs S are to me...i am the same to a kid few years younger to me...i ask about the wrong things and i am sure that kid hates me for it.
Jon is right about having the freedom to choose your social circle with time but there will always be someone who just doesn't fit but they are there anyway.