Tag Archives: Maa

Fun days, suspicious mums, Arbit chuntering

17 Jan

I don’t know what’s gotten into her off late, but the mother always wants to know “who are these friends” that I’m hanging around with now and then. And giving that I’m expanding, though slowly, my circle of gay friends, coming up with fake names is so trying!

Speaking of which, life is decent. I got converted into a permanent employee (albeit on probation) at work, from a trainee. And got a jazzy new phone that the co. recently released!

The weekends have been kinda eventful. All of last-to-last week was Tanuja week, and was tremendous fun! The weekend before that, I went for a most divine dimsum-lunch with a fag-friend, and today, I spent literally the entire day travelling the streets of old Bangalore with 2 very cool and very fun fag-friends, who I HOPE will be coming over to my place next weekend for more fun-gay-friend-company.

Last night, I had the strangest dream. The sister had apparently hired (or something to that extent) someone to take away all the “accessories” that I wear (which in reality is just a silver, custom-designed thing given to me by Hagatha, because I liked the design so much… which the sister hated, of course) in an effort to straighten me out. Clearly, the person she hired, in this dream, was sort of extreme, because I recall explicitly cursing her, and telling her I never wanted to see her, or speak to her again. This dream was moments before I woke up, because I recall my sleep being broken by the sound of her arguing on the phone with my dad. As I lay there in those hazy moments one experiences being woken up prematurely, I wondered if I really did hate her so much, or it was just in the dream.
Clearly, she shouldn’t be introduced to the gang of folks I had the briefest cup of coffee with last evening. A friend that I made recently was in town, and I went to meet him. He said he had some 2 friends with him, which turned out to be five. That’s five very stereotypical young gay boys, with more coming and going, sitting in a public cafe (reputed to be a gay hangout on Sundays) wearing loud clothing and bitching in a rather typical fashion about others’ fashion sense and all things young-and-gay. Boy was I uncomfortable, though occasionally amused. I’ve not been so self-conscious in a public setting with a gay person in this long.
I was too uncomfortable sitting there, that I left within 30 minutes. As my friend was seeing me off, I encountered 2 college juniors (one of whom I would’ve never recognized had I not seen him with the other) and wasn’t I thankful that I wasn’t sitting AT the table when they saw me!
So I had my gay-rista (pun on Barista) experience that I’d been so curious about, and that too from the front-seat. And I think I’m quite done with that, TYVM.

And it becomes worse, and worse…

30 Sep

So the sister revealed another tiny detail of her conversation with Mom before I came out to her… When she expressed to Mom that she had “concerns” about me, and Mom said “What? The gay tendencies?”
Turns out that Mom subsequently asked her, “Is he active?” hopefully not in the sexual sense, but in a manner of actively interacting with the community. To make it worse, the sister just responded with a “I’m sorry, I can’t discuss this with you”!

Though Mom and Dad don’t actively discuss everything in their lives, I’m sure they discuss their kids. So it MIGHT have been shared with Dad. And incidentally, Dad’s coming to visit us for a whole WEEK next week… which means that

a) I have to get SOME action before he gets in and

b) I’m probably going to have to try and avoid some uncomfortable questions. Or be honest with him. What with the night-shifts, it’ll be just the two of us during the afternoons…


“Mommy, make me a biatch!”

26 Jun

So the mom hired a domestic help a little under two weeks ago, was frustrated for the entire 2 weeks (what with him using more groceries than 3 of us put together, and answering back to almost everything) and let him off after lunch today with practically no notice, and a few days’ extra pay. When I asked her why she wasn’t following the 2-week-notice period system, she reminded me that it doesn’t exist in Indian households. And that we’re in as much of a position to let these folks off minus notice as they are to ditch us and go off to their villages (with lesser notice).

I don’t know where she garners the courage to fire someone. I cannot imagine doing so myself! As this was transpiring, I turned to dad and said “WHY did you have to be so nice”, and subsequently told mom, “Mom, please teach me how to be a bitch!”
Tragically, this isn’t one of those things you can acquire with so much ease.

So now it’s into the kitchen for most of my stay here ūüė¶ Which would’ve made me SOO happy if it wasn’t insanely hot!

Meanwhile, it’s been a century since I got to look at my blog for more than a few minutes at a time, so I cleaned up the blogroll a bit today. Tragically, most of the links I had to remove were to blogs that were deleted (not a natural death, but deliberately deleted) were gay blogs. What’s WRONG with you, fellow faggots???

Is there a reader whose blog I’ve missed out? Please do let me know… Oh, and if there are any awesome-ness blogs (like Meira’s, for instance) or erotic ones (like Jack’s or Marvin’s) that I’m missing out on, drop a link…


My Mommie Best-est!

14 May

So mom’s been in town for nearly 2 weeks now! Relations are just so much better when one is spending lesser time together… one can talk about pretty much anything!

For instance, one evening, mom, sister, aunt and I were sitting with beer (which, mind, mom drinks more in quantity and frequency than I do) and discussing instances of relatives drinking to the extent of throwing up! And boy do stories come tumbling out… Another aunt’s… dad’s… mine and my sister’s!!! (Both thanks to her)… And we’re at that stage of life when we can just laugh it off… or mom can make a small face, but not care too much.

Then again, there were discussions of smoking… during which I openly admit that I do smoke occasionally (though in truth, I’m quite regular)… And mom says that it’s okay as long as I never buy my own cigarettes, at which point I have to admit that I very much do so (though I omit details of how frequently)… And then we talked about grooming (read, waxing) and about i-pills and what not.

And this evening, when I was doing the dishes, mom remarks on how I could get a job washing dishes if the IT industry ever crashed… and I say that I’d much sooner enter prostitution. And the mom and the aunt just laughed.

So I don’t have a conventional mum. She doesn’t work anymore, she doesn’t cook (except nowadays to give the aunt company, unless any of her soaps are on), she doesn’t do housework. She’s nearly 50, still wears skirts (albeit knee-length) and dresses and quite enjoys boasting about how many people are astounded that her kids are as old as they are, or the influence she wields on people left, right and centre “through sweet-talk, and her charm”…

But that’s my mum, and I would never trade her anyone else in the world…

except of course a very identical but wealthier version of her.

Not a daddy’s clone after all…

2 Jan

We had two of Mom’s cousin sisters over for lunch today. Incidentally, these were cousins she grew up with till way into their college years, so they all knew each other inside out.

As often happens, they started recollecting incidents from their younger days, and discussing them. So as I sat there spectating, I got to know a little more about my mother than I did, traces of her character that I occasionally find in me but cannot in my father.

“Every morning when we had to go to college,” my aunt was telling me, “your mother would wait for the car to pull in, go and stand next to the door and refuse to budge until someone came forth and opened it for her.”

I knew mom was quite used to being the Princess but this was more than I could handle!

“Oh yes, she was completely used to having people run around her, following her every order. It’s another thing the entire household used to call her Indira Gandhi.” And indeed, to this day she will extract countless favors from people who will oblige without the smallest sound, and she does it so naturally.

Non of it was too surprising since Mom had told me long ago how when they used to have to pay their fees in college once a year, she would never ever stand in queue, and seemingly was never expected to.

That was rather hysterical, and answered a lot of questions because I too have this gigantic ego of my own, that I’m forced to keep in check because, well, I don’t have an identity to justify it and as in her case, neither does my father. But whenever someone is even the slightest bit rude to me, I flare up on the inside and start imagining the day when I’ll have the capacity to blast him and cause sufficient threat to his employment, owing to the power and possession I fantasize having. Naturally, my father’s genes in me will never allow me to cause significant discomfort to the victim of my ego, however tainted his own character may be, but I would certainly enjoy having that extent of of influence.

What I’m learning with time is that yes, I do have a bit of my mother in me. Though she had to lose the ego and arrogance when she was married into a household as simple as ours, and pretty much have to earn whatever comforts for herself, I hope to be a self-made man, and restore a little bit of the glory that she lost and once again restore her to queen of her own world.

Mummy got some ‘Mo

24 Dec

So there’s this guy in the society we’re living in, who mom’ s totally obsessed with. He’s in early 40’s, divorced for the past 10 years, been single ever since, socialises all the time, spreads all the gossip doing the rounds, whines when he’s losing at cards, lives alone except for occasional visits from his Mom, and has a nasal twang to his voice.

Do I need to put it in bolder words?

And what’s more, Mom fusses over him more than he does over her! None of my Mother’s male friends and following have ever received this sort of attention from her! Last night, she almost picked up the last (and only) piece of dessert from the dinner table (while we had a guest over) after he had customarily declined it the first time, and cling-wrapped it, dialed her ‘mo and told him she was sending him his midnight snack. He was asleep when she called, and she held on to the phone till he had woken up to

I cannot tell Mom though, that her new-found affliction is not quite as she conceives him to be, since she’ll think me to be the lunatic. So I’ll just keep myself content by telling everyone else instead.

I’m inclined to believe that he’s not the only ‘mo in my radar. The day before at the gym, which is merely floors beneath me, I was happily pulling my (light) weights when the only other fellow who seems to use that gym… short, a little stocky but quite muscular, seemed to think that in spite of my presence there, it was his private gym. Hence, as he was lying on the bench and doing crunches (?!?!) he considered it alright to pull his shirt up to the neck, and caressing his torso over and over and over again, to my extreme disgust. No, he’s not attractive nor unattractive, but no way on earth am I going to be in any way attracted to such a being.

So I started moving around a bit. Had a friend over for lunch some days ago, and then met up with a fellow for Avatar at CP, yesterday. It was completely friendly, though. Doesn’t help that he’s younger and nerdier than I am.
Afterward, I said goodbye to him and joined some school friends who were coming out after 3 hours at Castle 9, sloshed at 5 in the evening. Thankfully, I didn’t let the situation embarrass me. How often does a guy get to hold together (or whatever equivalent of it) at 5 in the evening in the Inner Circle?!

I think it’s almost time to tell Alika, the homophobic hag, who makes it a point to, as often as she can, tell me that she’s over her aversion. I have no reason not to tell her, and yet don’t feel the need to. We were riding to CP and back, and I gave her one thousand reasons to be convinced about me. When I was describing mom’s new friend to her, she kept asking “Are you describing yourself?” and couldn’t stop raving about this new book I’m reading that is just oh-so-fantastic and, (un?)fortunately chic-lit. What stops me from telling Alika is that I’d be telling her entire inner circle of friends, without wanting to. No, she cannot keep a secret. But then, why not, I ask…

Parents & Academic Interest

23 Aug

My tests finally got over yesterday. My sister is visiting home after a long time, so I thought I’d ring in. Mom called back a little later…

Mom: What were you doing?

Me: Oh nothing, time to relax a bit.

Mom: Tests are over?

Me: Yes… for the time being.

Mom: When are the next ones?

Me: In a month… as always…

Mom: So soon??

Me: Yes, I have monthly tests… as I’ve been having for the past 3 years…

Mom: I see… When do you have holidays?

Me: In December, mom.

Mom: No no, I’m talking about the Diwali break.

Me: We’re never given a Diwali break…

Mom: No holidays at all?

Me: No, just the one day. We’ve never gotten a Diwali break.

Mom: Oh, ok.

I suppose the most that she knows about me and my academic life here is the name of my university and the course I’m studying. And (I hope) the year I’m studying in. She’s never deprived of opportunities to show her knowledge off. Just as a few weeks ago, when I had entered the lab and she rang up…

Me: I’ll talk to you later, I’m in lab…

Mom: You’re having a test?

Me: No… I’m in the lab…

Mom: Doesn’t that mean you’re having a test?

Me: No, it means I’m in the lab… Laboratory… I have lab 3 times, every week…

Mom: Oh, really? Achha…

Me: Yes… since first year…

Mom: Ok…

There was a time I used to be annoyed with their lack of interest in our lives. Now, I’ve gotten so used to it, it irritates me when they make a half-hearted effort to show any.

For instance, she’s recently had a chat with a family friend, who has sent both his sons for studies to the US, and she told me frantically to start studying for “an exam called GRE” so that I could apply abroad.
I had already discussed GRE with her last semester, but obviously she wouldn’t remember it. ¬†After which I discussed the options I had before me, once I finished college, though I doubt she’d have any recollection. And then I decided to take up a job and work a while, straight out of college… but she has a chat one day, with a family friend, and calls me up because apparently, she’s suddenly come to a decision on what I should do, post college.

I reminded her of the complications in funding a foreign education for someone who would have to make elaborate arrangements to buy me a return ticket to Brazil. To which she told me to shut up and not get too big for my boots. “Bachhe ho, bachhe raho.” Needless to say, I wanted to smash my cellphone on the wall.

After that she said, “Don’t think about funding. Just get a seat in a college first. Do your part. Then we’ll see from our end.”

If nothing else, this chat has inspired me to work harder to find avenues to get out of that house and get rid of my dependency on them, one way or another. There’s nothing more I can ask for, in the coming months, than financial independence, and the knowledge that I’m not reliant on them for anything.

Thoughts that make you *Shudder*

12 Aug

I hop into the car with Mom and Dad, and we go off for a film. All the while, I’m wishing I had a huge, furry dog to give me company in the back.
We’re early for the film, so we stop at my uncle’s to see him. I step off the car, and notice that we’re in possibly a colony as posh as Beverly Hills. Then I look down and I’m wearing those white, fluffy bathroom slippers that they provide ¬†in hotel rooms, which are carrying excessive mud stains.
I start screaming at my folks that they never told me we were dropping in at such a neighbourhood, and that there was NO way I could move around in those slippers!

Ironically, an aunt lives there, and I’m hoping I can borrow some footwear, ANY footwear from her home. I enter to discover that my cousin has bought yet another dog. For some reason, this one talks . In a strong punjabi accent!

We fast forward to home. My contacts lenses are getting extremely uncomfortable, and I take them out, only to discover that one of them has stretched about 3 inches either side. It confuses me as it was the normal size when I popped it on. I remove the other as well. They’re both dry, and they’ve become extremely hard! I can’t even bend them!

I run to mom to show them to her. Secretly, I’m pleased that it’s time to change them, and I can get coloured ones already. She tells me I’ve not been taking good care of them, that I used them too long and so on and so forth.

I realize that my face is feeling slightly awkward. I come back to my room, and realize that my mouth is getting all stuffy and swollen. I can’t close it! Some teeth are sticking out, in the front! I go screaming back to Mom. She says “Ufff, don’t disturb me.” I whine a little more, in extreme panic mode, and she drops her work and consents to taking me to a doctor. I’m looking (rather, feeling) absolutely hideous at the moment. I’ve never had allergic reactions before.

We step out, head towards the car. Dad’s standing there with some friends, including an ex-neighbour. Mom starts socializing with them. I’ve covered my mouth with my hand, and darent’ lower it or try and talk to them. I whisper to Mom to “make my apologies to them”. She doesn’t utter a thing!

Meanwhile, one of them says hullo to me, and cannot imagine why I’m not responding. I’m furious at mom for not telling them of my condition, and for just standing there!

That’s enough trauma for me! I force myself awake, and end the bloody afternoon nap right there…

And now I’m wondering why exactly I could remember the excruiciating details still!

If you love me…

17 Jul

… and if you’re rich…

then hop down to Ambience Mall in Gurgaon, enter French Connection. On the left wall, you’ll find a bunch of white and black Tee’s hanging on display. I don’t know if I can call them Tee’s. More like designer tops. They have a deep V-shaped neckline with about 7-10 buttons. Pick one up for me and courier it please! Mom wouldn’t let me buy one. She said, in her exact words, “Oh please, that’s so gay!”

Okay, I’m kidding. I don’t really want anyone to buy it for me. But buy it for yourself, if you’re (a man) in good shape. (Otherwise, get in shape, and THEN buy it.)

So I spent 2 hours in office, running around to get my completion certificate. My Project Head gave me very suitable feedback. (“Needs to show more technical inquisitiveness.”) The HR chick was very sweet. (“Stay in Touch!”)

Then I joined Mum at the mall, who’d been walking around, waiting for me… bored & hungry.

When I got there, she said “Do you need to buy anything?” which ticked me off immediately.¬†Then she said, “Let’s head downstairs… you can stop at a shop or two, on the way, in case you want anything.”
There’s only so much one can ignore one’s own kid when he’s reading out his shopping requirements. And there’s only so much lack of interest that one can show, when he’s trying to shop and NEEDS a companion’s involvement. There’s only so much one can complain about not having any variety around, in a shopping mall that boasts of over 1 k.m. of shopping.
She crossed all those limits.

Eventually, I gave up and we left without picking up anything. Yes, I indeed desire to perform futile exercises on my second last day in Delhi.

As we were nearing home, I thought I’d seek compensation in terms of ¬†picking up some Proteins that I could use when I’m back in college and gymming again. As we neared the market, she drove staright home, saying she was too tired. (From all the shopping that we did, apparently.)

I’m meeting Vikram (was that it?) for Harry Potter tonight. Told him I’d dine at home, and meet him directly for the film… spend some quality time with my Mum and Dad.
Now I think I’ll dine with him, as well. Mum won’t distract herself from the TV to pay any attention to me (unless I’m bleeding profusely or something) and Dad and I always end up fighting anyway.

My Very Own Step-Mom Moment

11 Jul

So we were in one of our regular arguments, yesterday and suddenly Maa absolutely shocked me when, in a very non-chalant tone, she admitted…

“Well, I didn’t have any problem accepting you as my own child, when I got married to your father.”

There were several reasons why I thought that was peculiar.

  1. So she didn’t have any trouble accepting me as her own child, which implied that I was an offspring from my father’s earlier marriage. But there was no mention of her coming to terms with accepting my elder sister as her own child. Implying that my elder sister was her own child, meaning that my folks had her well before they got married and well before my dad and his earlier wife conceived me. Which would make my dad a pretty rotten man.
  2. She qouted my biological mother’s name as “Sukhan Lata” or something like that. As far as I know him, my dad would never marry a woman who was called “Sukhan Lata” (in the late 20th century) and I too would refuse to be born to a woman by that name.
  3. After the sensational proclamation, she went on to say something about being so accepting that she went on to have a third child with him, and avoided having a fourth out of financial considerations. Now in my 21 years of survival, I haven’t known a second sibling. So any talk of avoiding bearing a fourth child (for whatever reason) in the absence of a third would mean that either both my parents were mathematically impaired or that I was in some very ludicrous dream.

I decided it was the latter so I began attempting to break out of that environment into a more realistic one. I wasn’t successful, so I resigned myself to the fact that my beloved mother was a step mother, that I was born out of wed-lock and that I had a second sibling that I cannot see, and a fourth wasn’t born because of the invisible third.

Soon enough though, I did awake and was thankful to realise none of it was true. Phew!