Those Motherfucking Days

I was at one of those weddings. The ones which you are forced to attend because they are your family. But I wouldn’t know I couldn’t even recognize the names of the lawfully wedded couple. Ugh.. The once in which you need to smile and answer the stale question ‘Do you remember me?’ as diplomatically as you can. I felt like hiding in a corner and coming out only for the ice cream after lunch.

The actual ceremony was over and all the fat aunties was standing outside the church waiting for some kind man to give them a lift to the dining hall. The sun was blazing sweat forming on my nose and hairline. My damp back itching against the heavily embroidered silk kurta. While the aunties talked a stray hair mutinied and fell between my breast, deep inside my bra. It was ticklish. ‘would it be rude to shove my hand down my chest and pull the hair out?’ I wondered. ‘Would it start a month long gossip?’

Finally we found a car wiling to take us to food. I was squeezed next to two fat aunties in heavy kanjipuram. A thin, wiry girl with hello kitty hairband was placed on my lap. How do girls this thin grew up to be aunties fatter than santa claus I wonder.The ancient car began to move with groans and grumbles, I let out a breath held in too long. Only to stop again. The air inside the car was stinking. The mix of sweat, coconut hair oil and rotting mangoes forgotten to eat on their way to the wedding. I gave my arms it’s monthly work out rolling the window down. Fresh air rolled in and was prevented from a pain full, slow and voluntary death.

When the overstuffed car eased in to the dining hall I thought food at last. I took a huge plate full of rice and a laddels of chicken curry. I wasn’t two mouthfuls in when my tongue caught on fire. I waved my hands violently over it to stamp out the flames but water only reached with a speed slower than a slug. I gratefully took the water from a flea infested old grandfather. And poured the boiling water over my burning mouth.


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