Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Grouchy and hungover


Since I slept only after six in the morning and was at work, bleary-eyed and beery-fied, by 11:30, I suppose I could very well have left it at that, but then there's more where that came from. So, here goes my Gripe of the Day:

The very same evening that you decide to snip off your talons, AND drink a gallon of beer at a pre-wedding party, why is it that the naara (cord holdin' it all together!) of your salwaar will always-always somehow manage to tie you hopelessly up in knots at the exact same (inopportune) time that you have finally found a moment to unshackle yourself from the mind-numbing, yawn-inducing stories of leech-type relatives/acquaintances and hit the loo? Why, pray? Why?

Head-on collision with one embarrasingly damp salwaar avoided successfully, and that too just in the nick o' time, you will hear a sonorous "Ah, there you are!" just as you make a beeline for the safe confines of that dark li'l corner where similarly beseiged co-sufferers have taken refuge and are discreetly waving at you to make a dash for cover. Alas! The three-inch heels have ensured you are a head taller than even most of the men in the room, AND you gave up hunching along with your braces in the 9th grade. Would I coulda done the same with civility....

So while I'm having a whale of a time (sans replenished beer mug in hand), listening to yet another story about how Master bada shetaan hai! Bunty is such a wholesome, delightful little moppet, since he can dance to "Haai Pappi", chant the Gayatri Mantra and look up women's skirts with quite the same aplomb, I've reconciled myself to my fate and am now thinking this:

Why doesn't India have anyone in the government who even remotely looks like David Miliband?

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