Murphy and Me

At the onset, I will clarify a few things: One. I am definitely writing this piece out of utter boredom Two. I am not writing this piece to do any greater good to any soul i know or not know of and as always Three. The only other alternative is to refresh on Fourier transforms- if I have to get on the imaginary plane, might as well get on it for this.

Not wanting to spend another evening in searching youtube for "Funny clips" or watching an arbit Friends episode, I decide against the humanity to go out and get some fresh air. (Translates to my mom's "come with me to XX and XY's daughter's wedding reception"). Murphy is my constant companion these days. We start out together.

Enter the hall. I start to count the minutes to find out how long it takes to bump into another soul i know. Nothing yet. We go inside and I carefully avoid the kids playing outside. The phobia with kids started because somehow I got projected as this model scapegoat who is referred with advices of "andha akka maari padi" (study like that akka)...Once a kid asked me "What have you become after growing old?" My answer was somewhere between " I dont know" to "Did you have the samosa"? <> I carefully find my way in.

Actually i dont know what is classified as 'inside' in a wedding hall.To me, after the slippers, its pretty much the same everywhere. Just chairs to park dashes on.So I start to find some parking spot that is not too close to any old paati who seems yet to understand the mystery of my left open hairdo or any baby booming tax paying maama who enquires about the much wondered future plan of life - which, i guess, basically translates to some spot alone. But yes, thatz like asking story in a Vijay's movie. Never the wish gets granted.

The count actually reached upto 15 here and I was pretty happy. But that was the precise moment that Murphy chose to hold my hand and whisper "Honey, you are not alone!" . Arrival of Padma maami (of course, the names are changed). She is the reputed matchmaker for the entire South of chennai. She comes in with an escalated screech of some greeting and drags me across some chairs to some place (Basically it was all a blur because of the speed involved). Stop .I see this dude standing in front of me. Clean shaven, blue shirt, white dhothi and a big strip across the forehead that read "I am a NRI" . I am half way between exasperation and boredom thereby missing out the intros. At this juncture, i have to tell about a South Indian mathematical marvel called a half saree . Never can anyone attempt to understand the trignometry behind the design. Its too complex for an engineering graduate. The essence is that the design rarely holds up without the support from atleast 12 columns called safety pins. This is the conversation between us:

Dude : So i hear you are trying for MS abroad.Do you have any specific univs in mind? (geography concern i suppose)
Me : (Shit i guess column no:7 on the left side is slowly tilting off)..yes ..some....no....not really (it makes a lot of sense this way !)
Dude : Hmm(Certainly having got the general idea)...So, you watch Friends? (alwayz the ice breaker)
Me : (Now seriously needing to adjust the trignometric structure)..Friends?What is that?? (sure shot way out)
Dude : Its a ...
Me : (Cutting in) I guess we are late for food..Catch you around sometime..

Dashing the way toward the dining hall, I then desperately try to locate my long lost mom in the crowd.Half dragging her and half dragging the dress, we get into the dining hall. This is actually the best part of the ordeal. As long as its not a buffet punishment ( Here it works in direct proportion- the more you carry , the more you can eat.....much like doing manual labor for food), anything should be fine. I convince my mom for some nondescript seats and we settle down. Everything looks like a fine progression till paparazzi comes in. I seriously wonder as to who invented this concept of taking footage of people eating meals in a dining hall.Its like asking " seriously?you are enjoying THIS food?God, we need some proof!" I sense the danger approaching and try to look everywhere but at the camera. I then remember that the safe way out is to look down, but 20 seconds is the maximum time any human can stare at the food before eating it.The video dude is still there. I remember that another intelligent solution is to have an animated conversation with the person next to you about today's weather or the petrol price. I appreciate my acumen and turn to my mother, only to find out that she was already smiling big and posing for the camera!. Now I am lost. I accept the unconditional surrender and look pleadingly at the video guy's face. He seemed to smirk before moving along the row.

By now, I look like a zombie long lost in the tyranny of time. I scream/beg my mom to come out and we locate the car (again avoiding any souls of nature and kin). I vent my fusion on the clutch and slam out as fast as I can. We reach home. After scourning at my dad, who silently phrased " You should have enjoyed this" in his sarcastic smile, I dash up to my room upstairs and fell on the bed. It then strikes me " wait a sec! the bag is still heavy!"I open and extract the mass responsible. It was neatly wrapped in a gift paper and had a card that read "With best wishes from Raghuraman and Family"!
Oops! I contemplate just for a second about going downstairs to accept my felony but then quickly decide against it .Well, its not everyday that you get a surprise gift. And after all the tyranny of the day, I definitely deserve it. I open the package and found a big 11x14 inches frame that read "Happy married life! " Well what can I say ? Murphy seems to be my constant companion these days!