A Joke Gone Wrong

Christmas came and passed us all. I was in a sombre mood so it didn’t affect me much. But it seemed to have a rather unusual effect on my sister. Initially,  she threw herself in the festive cheer of the season and baked cakes, stirred up some delightful fudge, and then also lost several pounds pounding away on the milk cream dough.  So far so good.

A few days later, she lost her cool because I joked about her putting on weight. It was a simple harmless joke. It did border on being a little risqué, but I contained it well within the limits of decent humour. Yet, she frowned, told me to get lost, and talk like that at a certain relative’s place – a relative quite known for such ‘rubbish’.

The moment she castigated me for that, I had no idea how to react. There I was all smiles and animated about what I was telling her. And there she was icy and as sharp as a knife in her word choice. I did not let go of my smile – I remember – as I turned back from her room to the hall, but I do remember I fell silent rather too suddenly for my own comfort.  I sat on a chair and looked out of the window at no object in particular.

More than being insulted, I was surprised, really. Yes, surprised. I wasn’t feeling humiliated at all. That I no longer let myself experience. But yes, I was surprised.

She called the joke vulgar. It was about how she had put on weight on her behind. And yet, she saw no vulgarity in poking fun at my weak stomach and the number of times I hung out in the loo.  That apparently was all in good taste, but my joke about her hips reeked of garbage.

Well, I was quiet for a while till I could contain my anger. Anger – when in me – boils to a volcanic temperature and tries to burn down everyone around.  Luckily, I don’t let it do so these days for after the burning, I and I alone have to face the brunt. Anger avoids such confrontations.

So once my anger died down, I let myself talk. And lo and behold! I wasn’t talking, I realized I was quarreling. I told her in no uncertain terms I did not see what she found vulgar in what I said just as she was blissfully unaware that her taunts about my hangouts in the loo could be vulgar.

Well, needless to say, she refused to accept that. But of course, she did not say so. Instead, she put on her face of disagreement and yelled, “Fine! I will not joke about it then! Happy?”

I merely shut up.

No point in arguing, really, when the crime had already been committed.

Quarrels, Fights, Angst, Etc.

I feel useless, really. At work, there’s not much to do other than think about how useless I am. At home, I get into fights at the drop of a hat. Yesterday, I fought rather violently in the verbal sense of the term with Mother Dearest and Father Dearest. Mother accused me of not doing much in the house and that blew my cool. I yelled at her saying she had no idea how difficult it was to travel to Andheri and back and be humiliated everyday with the kind of talk I have to bear during lunchtime.

Father of course avoids confrontation. So, he began to make noises to get us to end the quarrel. I lashed out at him in the bargain. I reminded him and Mother of the times he would come home and raise his voice just because his boss had yelled at him. That time, I said, no one said anything to him.

“Everyone says they’re frustrated here,” I said, my decibel-limit rising with each syllable, “Fact of the matter is I am the most frustrated man in this house!” And I slammed the door of my bedroom shut.

Off the Block

Some people can be really irritating. Take this acquaintance of mine for example. I had gotten to know him a few months ago – a time when I had just broken up with the boyfriend. We got along well – this acquaintance and I – and we did talk a lot about stuff quite intrinsic to the affair I was in. I satisfied his curiosity about my ‘relationship’ with the boyfriend and he kept asking more.

Well, I did not have a problem answering his questions. But it began to dawn on me that I was forever in the dock so to say. The times I had a question for him, he never ever gave  me a reply that was direct. Instead, his replies roamed all around the words he knew in English and then decided to choose the ones that made his answers rather vague.

Initially, it wasn’t much of a hassle to me. I let it pass. But this morning, while we were talking, he asked me about life and what do I expect of it. I unwound and told him the truth about my opinion of life. I also dug into the recesses of my mind and bared many of my thoughts that I otherwise would not have shared with anyone.

You must understand that I did all that and more all because I trusted the guy. I felt he understood me and I was at ease talking about it all.

However, a few days ago, a bolt of thunder and lightning struck that understanding of mine.

It so happened that I had logged onto Facebook and there he was. Needless to say, we began chatting. One bit led to the other and soon we were discussing my life and thoughts as if I had laid it all out for a barnyard sale.

After I had finished selling myself, I asked him about his plans. Well, he hesitated and then told me he was going through a crisis. His study plans interfered with his career aspersions because what he was studying was not what he wanted to make a career in.

I told him that he needs to then decide and eliminate what he thought wasn’t meant for him. He said yes, he would but there are other compulsions as well.

So, I – like a gentle benevolent fool – asked what were those compulsions? Perhaps he can share them with me.

To that came an answer that put a bee sting to shame! He said: “Oh I don’t think you will understand me. It’s best we don’t discuss it. Let’s talk something else.” All this after I had laid my life bare in front of him.

The heat of the irritation that this guy caused in me swept my anger into a frenzy. I was livid with rage. How can he even come to think that I cannot understand him when he did not even let me show my understanding of him?

It was a hot volcanic rage that ran through my fingers the moment I saw his answer. But I did have the presence of mind to not let my fingers go berserk in anger. I merely typed: “I see. Okay”

“Don’t feel bad.” He typed in reply.

“Oh no, I am not feeling bad. Okay listen: I think I have to log off. I’ll catch you sometime soon, okay?”

“Okay, and I am sorry if I have caused you any hurt.” Well, if you know you have, saying this doesn’t lessen the damage. But I didn’t say that to him. Instead, I logged off and promptly blocked him in my chat list.

The Episode about The Rent

My head aches as I write this. It’s the second time I have let it ache this much – all because of a chore known quite commonly as househunting.

You see we decided to stay on rent because we cannot afford the scandalously ridiculous prices in Mumbai. Now that we have, we realized that renting out a place is not easy and free of worry either. The landlord – or if you are unfortunate, the landlady – calls up some four months prior to the end of the lease and wants to know whether you will renew it. If you say no, a stream of prospective tenants starts to disrupt your privacy – all because: “Well, I have to make provisions you know after you leave!”

My landlady went through the exact same cycle with us and once she got wind of the fact that we won’t renew our contract, she began to send people to look at the flat. She now wanted to sell it off as well.

The other day, one such prospective tenant – or buyer – arrived with the broker sometime around 6 in the evening. Mother was all alone and so refused. So, the landlady sent her son to plead.

Mother was adamant though nervous: “I will not allow. I am all alone and I cannot risk that.” And she banged the door on their faces.

What followed was a rather caustic altercation between Sister Dearest and the landlady. The landlady insisted she will send people anytime and Sister Dearest insisted that that is not what she will tolerate.

The landlady then slipped into story-weaving mode and accused Father Dearest of telling buyers that the house wasn’t good because we (my family) fought a lot! Actually, what Father said was that the loafers in the adjacent compound drink and make a lot of noise.

Sister Dearest lost her cool and asked her to mind her business! And the conversation came to a cold end.

The next day she called and was rather sweet in tone. Obviously, she wanted something so Sister Dearest got all caustic and high-handed.

“Yes what is it you want?”

“Oh I am bringing a party to see the flat – sometime around 6 to 8.”

“Okay.”

“See the faster I sell the flat, the better for you. No one will come and disturb you all.”

“Yes,”Sister Dearest said as she let her tongue grow icicles, “but that doesn’t mean you come anytime! Don’t we have some right to privacy? You just cannot come anytime.”

“Oh but where am I coming anytime. I told you I’ll send them only between 6 to 8 in the evening.”

“Hello? It’s not as if you have booked a slot! We are paying you more than what is the usual rate here. We are not staying here free! Weekends is fine but weekdays don’t even dare!”

“Oh but where I’m saying you are staying free here?  I’m not saying anything like that.”

“And just so you know, we are private people. And we guard our privacy deftly.”

The landlady had no reply to that. So, she let silence do the talking and a minute later, began talking about notices.

“It’s not that I am telling you to go you know. After all, unless I give you a notice, how can you leave?”

“As a matter of fact,”Sister Dearest snapped, the ice in her tone very obvious,”we too can serve you a notice and leave.”

“Oh yes yes, that’s also true.” And again, the landlady fell silent. Finally, since she knew she is fighting a losing battle, she repeated that she will be sending people to see the house on Saturday between 6 to 8 pm and then hung up.

Mother lost her cool: “How can she? How dare she? We need to move out as fast as we can.”

“But Mother,” I said, “It’ll best if she serves us a notice. After all, she has the deposit with her.”

“She can do nothing.”

“Yes but she can delay returning it back. Don’t you see that?”

“Well let’s buy a house now. Enough is enough. I am fed up of staying like this!”

So this Saturday, Father and Sister went to see a flat somewhere in Chembur. The flat was on the first floor, furnished, and painted well. The floor of its bedroom was so close to the building pump, anyone could stand on the pump and help themselves into bedroom balcony. And that cancelled out every other good feature the flat had to offer.

“So we continue here then?” I asked as they finished telling us about the apartment.

“Yes, we’ll see what to do when the notice arrives.”

“But you cannot wait till the notice arrives!” countered Mother, “We have to find something before that!”

Sister Dearest did not reply immediately. Instead, she spent some time taking off her shoes, crossed her legs and said: “Mother, there is a difference between renting and working. Rent agreements need to be finalized in 15 days once you decide on the flat. This is not the same as looking for jobs and then saying no to one of the two offers at hand! And besides, flats are available aplenty here. So just chill.”

Mother did make the noises we expected her to. She ‘tshawed tshawed’ the idea, complained that we were taking things lightly and then walked into the kitchen.

Well, so ended that episode. And we still await the notice.

Really! Staying on rent with family is always as electrifying as ever.

Segregating Ways

I told Mother Dearest I want to leave the city and go to a small town. She looked up at me and after a moment continued to bargain. I continued to tell her how displeased I am with the way things are right now and how I think I am entitled to a little happiness.

A full five minutes later, as we walked down the lane that led to our apartment, she said: “I know you are unhappy and you are free to go wherever you choose to. But just remember starting all over in a new place is difficult. I am just telling you. There’s a lot you will have to take care of – laundry, cooking etc.”

“Really Mother,” I said, quite irritated,”I am not the only one who will be shifting all alone to a new town. People have done that before and I am sure they did have teething problems to face as well. But they managed and so will I.”
“Oh I am just telling you. Later you should not say you weren’t warned and then get all disillusioned and come back.”

“Come back!” I repeated in an exasperated tone,”Who is thinking of coming back? Seriously, Mother, you cannot expect me to come back to all I do come back to these days.”

Things at home are a volcano of sorts. We decided to buy a house, but Father will have none of it. He refuses to back that decision monetarily and so, our plans to live in a space that is truly our own have not yet taken flight.

Yes, when I said we took a decision, I meant Mother, Sister, and I. Father never is a part of our decisions for his plans are always tangential to ours. We want to shift to the Central Suburbs, but he insists on going house-hunting on the Western line – more specifically in and around Kandivli and Borivli. The reason being his relatives reside there.

So, he – and his relatives – have this plan in which we stay close to their place and end up being their servants! Mother will cook for them, take care of them, and Sister and I will be their punching bags. Now we will never let that happen and Father has gotten to know how abnormally stubborn we are on that. So, he finds relief in acting all frustrated about the fact that his family doesn’t listen to him. Truth be told, he never considers us to be his family. He may have been a father and a husband and may have carried out his duties, but when it comes to trusting our word over theirs, it’s always they – his sisters and their progeny – that win.

As a result, Father and us are never ever at peace. He finds the silliest of reasons to pick a quarrel with us and we do the same.

Now the thing is I am tired of it all. I realized not so very long ago that all this quarrelling and snapping and sneering is leading me and my family nowhere. I am all the more depressed after every bout of such a war and I have not the heart to stand all this bitterness anymore. So I decided I had better pack my bags and go find my own happiness.

After all, I am 30 now and I am entitled to a little happiness you know. I cannot always be unhappy when I know of way to smile. It’s just that I ignore those ways for they involve me separating my path from that of my family.

I was thinking about all this that day when I told Mother I wanted to leave. And I think she understands. For after I had that conversation with her, she hasn’t ever bothered to tell me to reconsider.

I think Salvation is quite close. Probably, it’s standing outside my door!

Useless – All of them!

Last minute! All last minute. They want it formatted and reviewed at the last minute! My Director of Operations is an ass. And so is my Executive Director. Infact, the ED is a bigger ass than the DO. He should have at least told the DO he cannot get all of it done by tomorrow afternoon!

But no, he instead makes puppy faces at me and gets me to do the job!

May he and the DO rot on the way to hell!

About anger, boredom, irritation, etc.

My stomach growls as I write this and I am at a loss to understand why I am writing anyway. But write I will for I must…

I was rather irritated by my colleagues today. Their incessant joking triggered a bout of irritation in me and since I could contain it no longer, I just let it take its course…

It all began with them teasing me about a woman who reports to me. She’s married and well, I am gay. But of course, they do not know the latter. And they try their best to link me with her! Scandalous as it sounds, I let it pass: partly because I did not mind it but mostly because I thought the joking and the teasing would die a natural death…

But no, it didn’t. On the contrary, it worsened: The other day, as we were standing near the company gate, they passed several acrid comments as the woman in question passed by and she was within a earshot distance from us.

I told them there and then that they had better stop for it was getting loud, crass and rather annoying. But no, they would not.

So today, as we stood near the company gate after lunch, I was in no mood to tolerate any of that rubbish. The moment it made its presence felt, I walked away.

Evidently, they were all shocked at my behaviour. But there was little I could do for my behaviour had a mind of its own then. Eventually, by tea time, I had cooled down and went with them all for tea.

They too had thrown all remembrance of the ‘joke’ out of their heads and we indulged in mundane dull conversation.