It is that time of the year and I am pissed off. It’s the last week of the year and like every last week of every year that has gone by during my existence, I hate this last week too. My parents are the reason. This week to me is known as ‘CALENDAR & DIARY WEEK’.
My Father works in SBI which is known for its most dreary and dead edition of New Year diaries and calendars. My mother with her Income tax department follows that league religiously too. My childhood memories are frightening to the extent of making my brain numb. The last week of every Year brings with it new editions of diaries and calendars, which my parents tediously distribute to everyone we know and do not know. I was forced to carry a Diary accompanied with a calendar to my school, so that I could gift it to my teacher, courtesy the bank. Next day, another set of diary and calendar, courtesy Income tax department. My friends stopped visiting me at my place during this time because my parents would not even spare them of the agony. This is the worst week of the year and it has become a ritual.
My family accompanied me back to Kerala for a week this time. The luggage seemed enormous for a one week stay but why should I question? I was rejoicing over the fact that atleast this year they won’t be parcelling me Bank Diaries or sending it through some distant relatives. But you know my fate is a bitch and my joy was short lived. The following conversation was the reason.
Me- Papa, we got to do some minor shopping. Need things like detergent, soap, shampoo, lotion, talc, Oil and stuff. I do not want to go alone to shop because then you will call me and ask me why and where I spent so much money. So buy it for me before you leave this state.
Papa- Ok Mole. Just make a list of all the things you need and we shall go buy them all.
Me- Oh just the basic needs and some not so basic ones. You know me na. Oh Papa, new semester starting and so I need a new notepad to jot down the notes.
Papa- Not to worry Mole! You don’t worry about the notepad. I bought sufficient diaries from the bank and it is in the luggage. You can take it to college. Also take some for your friends. Your professors would like it too.
Me- Papa! I hate that diary. It is so boring and who thought of putting the Map of India showing all the branches of your bank, on the cover page? It sucks!!
Papa- Don’t talk to me in that tone ever again! Also why are so concerned with how it looks when your basic need is to write down the notes?
Me- But Papa!
Papa- Mole! The Case is dismissed!
Now I am just waiting for my mother to do the same with me because I am sure she will. If not for scribbling down the notes, then for revision purpose. As if I even revise! Gah!! Indian parents are pure torture sometimes. But the worst part is that my father has 10 more years left to retire and my mother has almost 16 yrs. So fuck my life. I cannot wait for them to retire!
Btw anyone who wants an SBI or Income Tax diary and calendar, just ask me before I throw the bunch as far as I can into the Arabian Sea.
P.S- I am back to my den after being at home for 2 mths! No hurray for that because here too I was forced to join a gym. My parents will leave tomorrow. Yesterday we bought some gold for my marriage which will happen probably after 3 to 4 yrs. Being a Malayalee girl has its downfall. Also in Kerala, you might find a much larger crowd in a gold shop than in a fish market.
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