If we were having coffee right now…I’d tell you that I’m stretched to my limit and stretching me any further would break me into two. This of course will make mom and wifey very happy, because they’ll get their own halves to keep and smother with their love and affection. And yet, I foresee problems if the two halves weren’t exactly equal. The calipers and rulers are ready, I suppose, hidden behind their backs.
If we were having coffee right now…I’d tell you that my cousin has made an earth-shattering announcement. She’s going to marry a South-Indian boy.
Maami Ji (My mom’s sister-in-law) called us up last night and told us about it in hushed tones. “You know something. Honey ik South Indian munde de chakkar mein phanns gayi.” (“Honey has fallen prey to a South Indian Boy.”)
You may have surmised it already, but I’d like to clarify, especially for my international readers, This particular Honey is my mom’s younger sister’s daughter, and Honey is proper-type Punjabi name for girls. So Maami ji wasn’t talking about her hubby dearest, who is straight as a ruler and has never fallen for any boy, South Indian or otherwise, ever.
If we were having coffee right now…Mom would brush me aside, even get me to leave the room, and tell you how she knew all along that Honey was a rotten egg.
“It had to happen one day ji! Sone-sone Punjabi mundyan noo chhadd ke…” (“Instead of choosing a handsome Punjabi boy…”) They say the boy is an IT engineer, working in Navedda (The Punjabi pronunciation of Noida – a place near Delhi), and he earns 3 Lakh Rupees a month!”
Then she would throw an accusatory glance wifey’s way and continue, “Honey met him in college. You know something, this is why these girls and boys go to college!”
But if we were having coffee right now…I won’t leave you alone at the mercy of a Punjabi Mom, so I’d saunter back right in, and pull a wicker-chair to reclaim the conversation.
“Mom, he doesn’t work in Navedda, he works in Nevada, which is America – and he earns $5K per month. Honey has chosen well.”
Mom would then give me her stern “shut up” look (similar to the new “dislike button” in Facebook) – she doesn’t realize that the look doesn’t work anymore. So I’d continue. “If they love each other…”
You’d see steam rising, not from our coffee cups but from mom’s head. She isn’t used to listening – anything from anyone.
“Puttar! Don’t you mouth off to me. I was just trying to be nice to your guest. That is all!”
If we were having coffee right now…
– Our coffee would’ve gone cold and you’d have excused yourself.
– Mom would have huffed and puffed out of the room.
– Wifey would’ve pulled a long face and disappeared into the kitchen.
And I’d have been sitting alone, wondering what the heck went wrong!
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