And so they wait

They all loved her, the embodiment of selflessness.

She was always there, just a phone call away, waiting to listen — to sympathize and to make anyone feel better about themselves.

She was neither a nurse, nor a psychiatrist. She was a waitress, waiting tables for a job and pacifying people for mere satisfaction.

So many people knew the waitress, not her. She had been a waitress for three years, and it didn’t matter where she came from or what she did before that. She lived alone and never went on vacations. Some thought her an orphan, and anyway, she was too busy during weekends. She hardly had the time for anything except the ones who asked for it. They’d call her for money, to pick up an urgent present for a loved one, for advice, and to whine about love . And every time — she would listen.

And she seemed happy. She would smile and nod in acknowledgement. She would sit on the couch and give her rapt attention to anyone who needs it.

She knew of the love lives of all her neighbors, and of Mrs Nextdoor’s problems with her dog. When kid upstairs told her about the new girl in his class, she smiled, ruffling his hair.

She would come in early for work and stay until the manager closed the restaurant late in the evening. If anyone needed her, they knew where she’d be.

One fine day, she didn’t show up for work.

Her phone was dead, and no one knew her address. They waited. The needed her to listen; no one else would.

But she never came back.

Again, I’ve clubbed this week’s Writing Challenge with my usual Flash Fiction series. Let me know what you think.

Friends ended, and I don’t know what to do with my life anymore

That was my first thought. When I started watching the final season of Friends, I could feel the close coming closer. And I wasn’t thrilled.

The last couple of episodes were the hardest, and it didn’t help that they were also extremely funny. I had to literally cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing out loud; my mother was asleep nearby.

Yes, stayed up all night, watching Friends. Not just the nights, that’s how I spent my weekends and even this year’s friendship day.

And I’m not even sorry.

Because I liked it. I loved sitting alone, watching Friends, laughing my head off and scaring other people. I didn’t care, I didn’t have time to. I was too involved – and for the first time in a really long time, I was laughing heartily.

Not just the laughter, but also the thrill, the emotions. I felt myself changing as I watched the show. I started to laugh at my silliness more often. I could see the humor in awkwardness and embarrassment. And it was less painful.

I’m not one to get emotional over movies and drama, but Friends was an exception. Every passing minute of the last few episodes, there was a lump in my throat, something new weighing down heavily. When the climax neared, when all six of them left their keys to Monica’s apartment on the table – that’s when it really hit me. What am I going to do with my life now? It’s like my whole life had been leading to that moment, as if that was the driving force that kept me coming back for more – and now it was over. It was hard to accept. It was an unwelcome change.

And ever since the end, I can’t help reminiscing. The one obviously similarity favourite of the show: Joey Tribiany.

The one who doesn’t share food, makes it obvious and still is lovable.

I love Joey, but Chandler was a close contestant too. I’m a great fan of wit and sarcasm, and Chandler was the perfect embodiment of both. Plus, I could relate to his character in a lot of ways. The skepticism, cynicism, the uncertainty and most important, the fact that he didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life.

The whole show was easy to connect to. That’s probably why it was such a huge hit. But more than anything, the show made a lot of people yearn for such a life, such friends.

Everyone would’ve felt jealous of the Joey-Chandler friendship. Not to mention the special connection Joey had with Phoebe. I was surprisingly moved when Joey asked Phoebe to marry him, when he (falsely) thought she was pregnant. It wasn’t funny, it was heartfelt, and small incidents like this throughout the show showed us how deep Joey was. Not just him, Chandler too – how much he changed through the course of the show. And Rachel – from being a spoiled brat to a responsible?! mother.

Of all life lessons I took from the show, one important thing was that people can always surprise you. Even those you think are least likely to do something that moves you, they do. More times than we may anticipate.

You know what? I think I just figured what I could do now. Im going to Google for image quotes and laugh like a maniac, while others around me go berserk.

The Indian Father

Every fathers’ day, you’ll see posts on Facebook saying how great a dad is. It’s no big deal; it’s just one day. Some people don’t mind just clicking the like button and moving on.

But I do.

Every time I come across a post like that, I feel annoyed. I don’t have any foreign friends, so here’s what my Indian friends post:

The capitalized ‘K’ and the simplified ‘p’ will vary, but — you get the idea. I take one look at these posts, and I’m like, “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Is that supposed to impress your father? I know it won’t impress my father and lot others’ too — from what I’ve seen.

Here’s how a typical Indian, or rather South Indian father would react: “What do you mean ‘I will find my prince?’ Does that mean that the right to choose a good man to take care of you doesn’t rest with us anymore?” — Fathers’ diction sounds awfully funny in a blog post, but that’s how they say it. Particularly when it comes to ‘lifelong commitment.’

OK, I’m no princess, so I’ll leave the prince and king alone. Let’s talk normal daughter’s life and arguments with her father. Here’s a regular day’s conversation.

When I want to go out with my friends, I have two options:

Not tell my father, and feel guilty.
Get his permission and go happily.

Yes, I have to ask him. Even though I’m twenty, my parents are responsible for me until I get married, after which the husband will take over the position. (I know, what a whole load of crap!)

So, here’s me asking for permission.

“Pa, I want to go out with my friends.”

He’ll look up at me, real slow. Our eyes meet. He heaves a sigh, (nope. Not exaggerating) and then asks, “Do you really, absolutely, have to go? Besides, can’t you go on another day? It’s already late…”

By the time he finishes, he thinks that he’s convinced me not to go. And unless you want a big row and a lot of racket that’s bound to wake your neighbours, who will later advise you on how wrong it is to go out with friends after 5, you’d rather cancel the plan. Or just your plan; your friends will still go without you. Never mind that they lied to their parents, never mind that their parents are miraculously not like yours. You’re just not going.

It’s your life. Deal with it.

Here’s the hardest part: you can’t completely blame the fathers. Being a father of a girl isn’t easy. Not in a place like India. You have to take a lot of bullshit, and it’s hard not to conform to society.

Here, we still have a society that considers a girl child as a pain. No, they love to have a daughter. Most people even keep their girl babies nowadays; killing is slowly being forgotten. You’ll even see cases where parents hope for a girl child.

But girls are also an added responsibility. According to our society, a girl brings out the best in a father. He’ll take on responsibilities, and try to prove the differences between a father and a dad.

All these are just what the society expects of a man when he becomes a girl’s father.

The father doesn’t ask for these expectations. Neither does the daughter. But everyone expects that, because that’s what real gentlemen do. They pamper their daughters and help them in life. It starts with homework, goes on to the subject she chooses in high school, and finally ends with the person she marries. That’s how a father should act.

Society laughs at any father who lets his daughter experiment in life, or something like this: “How can you let your daughter go trekking alone with her friends? There’ll be boys, how can you be sure she’s safe?”

That’s enough for anyone to panic, and my father is a simple man. So wherever I go, he needs me to call him back once I’ve safely locked myself inside the house.

Safety is a big issue, and it isn’t just in fathers’ heads. It’s in the news as well. Girls abducted, harassed and raped randomly, throughout the country. No place is safe. Not Delhi, not Bangalore, not Chennai. If metropolitan cities are bad, then there’s no asking what’s going on in small towns and villages.

That’s why fathers are so overprotective. And it just breaches the father-daughter relationship. Any daughter will be disappointed with her father when he deprives her the freedom she deserves. Being a girl, and knowing the outside world isn’t safe enough, is just depressing.

So a father’s next best option would be to get her married off as soon as possible. As much painful as it is, fathers and society look at it as a way of ‘ridding the responsibility of taking care of a girl.’

Society to the aid. Again! “How much dowry can you afford for your daughter?”

Oh yeah, because sending a girl over to your house to serve your family is just isn’t good enough as gold.

A lot of fathers just convince themselves against the dowry argument. “It’s our tradition. Don’t think of it as dowry, think of it as a contingency plan. Your daughter can use this money when she urgently needs it.”

Poor fathers. They just give in to society’s pressures, and end up a disappointment, even to the daughters they gave up so much for.

Any non-Indian fathers out there? Tell us how life’s like for you. I’m curious.

Rate this:

Rate this:

Rate this: