Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

(A post born out of pure frustration)
Who says we haven't achieved anything in 10,000 plus years of existence? Society, my friends has perfected and polished, for good measure, the fine art of harasing the cr*p out of marriageable young girls.
Yes, dear friends, I am one of the hapless beings in the above category and by early next year, you will be witnessing the finale of the (very bizzare) game of Kaun Banega MeraPati.

How in the name of God did this madness begin? Lets see...
Long long ago, when the daughter of one of the first cavemen grew up, her father scanned the horizon time and again to see if any cave-boy was coming to carry her off. And when the horizon loomed large and empty as ever, a crease appeared on the father's brow. (I am NOT making this up) And thus society's first disease was born.

'Singleness', lets call it. This disturbing condition in an otherwise healthy young woman has ever since been viewed as a disease - a dangerous disease, mind you, second only to Bubonic plague. (By the by, don't you think Bubonic is too cheerful a word to be linked to this deadly disease? I mean I really like the sound of this word. Here, listen to it. Bubonic. Bubonic.)

Hmmmm.. where were we? Ah, yes, I was detailing my personal problems and you were lending me a patient ear. This big scourge of my life began with a very irresolute decision by my parents, you know. One of those resolutions you make, just to put your mind to rest. Something like "I will make better tea tomorrow." (Men, move on. I don't expect you to understand this. If you DO, though, i would be VERY interested to hear from you. Mail me. Now.)

So, to carry on with my woes, I especially find it very trying to speak to any well-wishers now. These people, who only a few years ago, were pinching my rather substantial cheeks and mouthing 'coochicoochicoo...' or some other such inanity, now convolute their faces into sympathetic expressions that the bad-news-bearing-Hindi-filmi-doctors of yore would've been proud to own.
"Tch! Tch!" they go, assuring us that they will do all they can to help, and finally conclude with "Well! Uparwale ke ghar mein der hai, lekin andher nahin." (Loosely translates to: In the house of God, there may be red-tapism , but never power-cut.)

And the tumour grew. Now, we get unsolicited postcards from utterly unfamiliar people.(When I find out who gave our address to them, someone is going to be very, very sorry for themselves)

Some of these are bewildering. There is one, in particular, about which, after three days of straining our eyes, we made the path-breaking discovery that it had been written in English. Now all we have to do is find out what it says.

The other day, a freedom fighter called us and offered to plonk me down into a 'good' household. A freedom fighter, for God's sake. FREEDOM FIGHTER. The irony's about as subtle as a ton of bricks.

Oh, the wicked wickedness of society. We can't do much about it, I guess. Sigh.

But, on the brighter side, there is humour even in THIS! Yes indeed, as we shall see in my next post: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! (Contd.)
Don't miss it!!

PS: Comment, goddamnit!