Being invisible.....Like Blogadda said... Mr. India is a cult movie... The ability to be only seen under red glass, being invisible on demand.. being able to hear everything and not be seen or be known....aaah if I had the power!
This is an entry to my "Being Invisible" contest in Blogadda... Here is the Pringoo product which catches my fancy
You know the setting... The "guy's" family has come to visit to see the "prospective" girl. They come with watchful, judgmental and affectionate eyes. The girl's family is all on their toes. The best cutlery is out, the yummiest food has been made, the cushions have been fluffed ten times before their arrival, and the front yard has been mopped one more time. The cousins peek through the window to "check out" the prospective groom and report to the girl waiting inside.
The girl, who has a zillion things going through her mind, has the awkwardness of the set up being on the forefront.
Then the knock on the door comes, the mom/cousin/aunt has come to say, come on out, they want to meet you. Be good and hey. Smile, keep the eyes lowered and say a prayer.
The girl darts eyes of sheer frustration and anger and giddiness.. But does what she is told. She enters.. She does the namaste to all, adjusting her duppatta just again. Keeping the eyes lowered as directed. Smiling and oh yes, really wanting to actually see the guy for whom all this fuss has been created. She sees him with the side glances, the kid cousins, her reporters lied, he is not all greek goddish, but actually stout with a freaking moustache... Oh..she tells herself.. Ok fine, looks are not all... lets calm down.
She sheepishly answers the "questions" of interviewing parents. She looks at her father, all calm; she can feel the concern under his breath. She looks at her mother and rest of the family making it all pristine perfect. Everyone is talking about everything possible including the weather....what the hell.. Weather when you decide my future. The boy is grinning cheek to cheek and staring at her...and damn it she has to have her eyes lowered... And then the ceremonious "cough" comes. The cough signaling that the "boy" and her go for a customary fifteen minute walk, a pre-set date- to figure if it’s a perfect fit for the rest of their lives. All she is thinking, is that seriously Samosa crumbs on his moustache.. she hides her giggles.
She goes, walks across the room. The watching family assesses.. every freaking thing. She gives the "exasperated" look to the mother. Why are you torturing me? I am not ready. Mother has the look "It's time" the look she has had ever since the girl graduated. Damn. The customary walk is done. The goodbyes are done. The families say, we will discuss. The girl breathes her sigh of relief, tells her parents, I need to go rest.
She goes to her room, presses the button on the "gadget" hidden below her choodi's. She is now invisible. No one knows. She sneaks in the boy’s car. No one knows. She sits, and listens. She listens to the detailed analytical report of the guy's aunt. Of how the samosa's were fried in oil and not Ghee. She listens to the sisters comments that the shoes gave her the height, she is not as tall. She listens to the father's worry of the girl being over qualified for his son. She listens to the mother of the "boy" being worried about the girl's speech or not knowing which vegetable needs no water to cook. How will she feed her son? She listens, laughs, wonders and continues on. The kid cousin whom she gave the candy has only praises to sing for her... She laughs at the gullibility of kids. She wonders why the boy has not spoken. At last the boy speaks... she listens intently.. looks beyond the moustache and hears him. He is direct.. says, the girl is nice, simple, well read. Who cares if the samosa's were not perfect, or there was a stain on the coffee table. Who really cares, if she had chocolate stuck in her upper tooth. The girl is a person first... and not an object you can check out.
The parents throw their hands in the air" This new generation". But he continues.. and she listens, though the crumbs on the moustache are annoying her. Is that laddu crumb or just samosa. Anyways...He says; fifteen minutes are not enough to make a lifelong decision. The families won’t permit a courtship to figure things out. He says.. its unfair to him and to the girl. He says, with what he saw, he likes her. But he will not objectify any other person another time. He asks the driver to take the next turn. They come to a stop below a tall building. He gets out, makes a quick cell phone. A really neat, hunky minus moustache guy comes out. He holds his hand, and says: He is my object of affection.
The parents once more throw their hands up in the air.
At this point, the girl really really wants to disappear.. One more time.
Note: The story above is a figment of my imagination. There is no resemblance to any person, living or dead. Also, this by no means is to poke any fun at a person's sexual orientation. Purely fictional and purely entertaining.
Updated to add: I also have nothing against men with moustaches(except my man)! In case you were wondering.