The Usually Accepted

 Without shifting my gaze my email, I politely typed the words good morning to the flashing IM window. The person on the other end plainly disappears. This is all we talk. All we have spoken for the last 20 days, everyday.

So, this fellow addressed me as a “cupcake”. What am I? My hands wanted to grab and hit his head, but I smiled and responded about his question on a university course. I know my hair is a mess but just don’t assume its icing.

She thinks it is okay to call me ‘munchkin’. I mean, I know I am a midget, but munchkin?

The word comedy means professional (or personal) entertainment consisting of jokes; satire intended to make an audience laugh.  I wanted the floor below to open up and swallow me when she commented she did a comedy show at the airport forgetting to take her passport along .We both knew her forgetfulness resulted in no laughter and if at all entertainment, it would have been to the ground staff.

Then, I pray why are these usually accepted?

For years now, I have managed to convince myself the problem lies with me. If a good chunk of the world can live and accept it, why can’t I?

The need to make conversations and small talk is over rated. It would be a wonderful Englishman idea to start a conversation with the weather, and move on to a beer. However in today’s internet twined extremely complicated life, the weather lives on a webpage and the beer is non-existent.  And the highest point of itch, is when no one cares how the weather is. The good morning, if not repeated would have gone unnoticed.

Calling a loved one as dear is a warm and nice feeling. Or, you can be like me and use dear for sarcasm/friendliness (only with girls I know well. I have done the mistake of dear’ing a boy only to hear a rattle of his feelings a week later. So, no more). But I fail to understand since when dear replaced dude in a conversation. The most annoying part is when someone in a group ( FB or forum) addresses only women as dear. I almost want to scream my name out and ask the mister to call me so. If you want to call me, by all means use my name. That’s the only reason it is for.

Call me cynical, I have no answers for this but I now realize the problem does not lie entirely with me. I still have to live with my gross over-expectations for a sensible conversation. At least, a sensible salutation. Until then, let's just be friends with emoticons and smileys.

Humans of Tirupathi

All trips back home involve temples.  Hell, even if I lived in Kanchipuram ( which has some 1100 temples on its own) and visited Chennai, amma would ask me to visit the local amman koil. We are like that, only.  But visiting the Big Lord is something else. It is a celebration in my family and the last time I visited was before I moved to Singapore.

So, this time around we had some extra time and decided to do some shopping. We shop everywhere. Tirupathi has some seriously pretty bangle shops which can stand competition to Hyderabad. Oh yea, same state. Anyway, after buying over 6 dozens of bangles which I don’t know when I will wear – we were hunting to buy pickles. Of course, like any good family mine packs pickles for me and sometimes they get over excited when I casually ask for Andhra avakkai.

The brother walks to a store near Tirupathi Railway Station. It is a small eatery resplendent with a frying pan of pooris, a huge menu board listing over 50 dosais etc.  This is the interaction between thambi and the store keeper.  The storeowner didn’t know English or tamil and the brother only know biryani and avakkai in telugu.

Thambi – Annaee, pickle iruka?

Storekeeper – Eh? No tamil..telugu ..teluguu..

Thambi – No telugu.have pickle?avakkai pickle undhi ?

Storekeeper – Ah, avakkkai..go straight..anga bhimas hotel...

Thambi – ya ya..came that way..

Storekeeper – anga..police station.near by there is supermarket..there you buy Priya Avakkai Pickle. Very good. I buy that.

Thambi – *what* Priya oorugai?!

Storekeeper – ama, Chennai manufacturing..very good very good.

Now, my brother is very frustrated and explained quickly in tamil how we are indeed from Chennai and didn’t come all the way to buy packed pickles.

The storekeeper nods empathetically ( frustratingly) and asks – Oh..loose’a?

Thambi – ama da, naa loose dhan da :D

We had a laughter riot at it. It will be remembered every time we visit tirupathi! Ya, our family is like that.