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Within 5 minutes of an appointment at a parlour in Mumbai the attending Lady has ascertained (in very direct questions) the following: so batao ji aap kahan se aaye hain? Aap kya kartein hain? Aapke Mr. kya karte hain? Aap kahan rehte hain/ kis type ka ghar hai? Aapke kitney bacche hain? Sirf ek kyon?
Now that I have answered all of these truthfully to the best of her knowledge (and I do use such occasions to create a lovely fantasy life - Monaco, Owner of a restaurant chain, CEO of a Swiss watch company, 15 room mansion, 1 {ok I let the truth out here} and because we are too busy and rich and don't want our children to fight over our wealth), my eyebrows are under attack.
And as I sit there teary eyed with pain she moves in with the killer questions, for which I have no answer: aapka beta bhi aapke tareh chubby hai kya? Waise aap itne chubby kyon hai?
15 minutes of my life I will never get back. But eyebrows threaded to match my glamourous (fake) persona and a new parlour pal with something to talk about.
I'm back.
I almost wet myself reading the "chubby" questions! This does take me back to my life in Mumbai, which was every person's business to mind. I miss that sometimes. Only sometimes, though!
ReplyDeleteAnd I am sure she meant it as a compliment, this being India and all :)
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