DEAR DADDY SERIOUS

Nobody is more serious than a young girl’s father. A little girl has the ability to transform a free-bird of a boy into an extremely serious and careful man. My father is as serious as serious can be. 

Recession never hits an Indian father who is busy hoarding money for his daughter’s future wedding. If I were to tell you a round about figure, I have so much gold right now decked up for my wedding that I can even afford a sex change surgery. Ok, bad example.

Around five minutes back I got a call from my father. A certain guy from Australia saw my matrimonial profile in one of the gazillion match-fixing sites I am enlisted in and was desperately interested. With equal desperation he wanted to have our Kundlis matched. Never knew that “May I have your number please” has been replaced by “May I have your Kundli please”. My father sadly told me how his family rejected me because of the Jupiter that is sitting on my eighth house and a certain Mr.Shani who was playing hide and seek inside my Horoscope. He cracked the news of the rejection expecting a painful cry from my side, while I was lost in the feat of trying to figure out how Jupiter can be in my eighth house when I still live with my parents. I cannot even afford to live on rent, forget being able to afford eight houses.

But it is not always I that gets rejected. My father loves rejecting and selecting men according to their educational qualification, salary range, ancestral origin, current living city, height, weight, girth etc. It is exactly like the time when he was researching to buy his second car. 1200 cc engine only, Honda brand, Moon silver colour, power steering, petrol only, air bag and many such specifications. The only difference was that now he was trying to buy a son-in-law with in-built specifications that matched his taste. The process of rejecting and getting rejected is a never ending process.

I do not understand this seriousness behind this whole ‘get your daughter married before she hits quarter century’ thing. Gone are those days when people of the two opposite genders could converse with each other only through incoherent tensed mewls. I for sure am a very demanding person and I make sure my demands are met. Every girl is worth that. Ok for the sake of equality, men are worth it too.

My father is the best person on earth and I am the type of girl who replies to every girl who say’s “My Daddy Strongest” by “Sorry but I heard he lost the trophy to my dad”. But I must accept that this whole marriage fiasco has been seriously draining the life out of him.

So Dear Dad, it is time you took a deep breath and let things take their own course.  You raised me well, taught me to never go for something lesser than perfect and to always put across my opinions if I strongly believed in them. So here is my opinion. CHILL. Know that these rejections do not matter. I can find my own pet. Know that this gold hoarding will not do me any good. If anything, take a trip with Mom to Peru. I know you always wanted to go there. Know that watching the calendar dates pass by and marking my age will only make you grey faster. I did notice that your monthly visit to the local barber to get your hair dyed has doubled.

Know that you can still be that free bird you were before I was born. Know all this, because behind that seriously serious man, is a boy who used to do stand up comedy back in college.

This post is written for Indiblogger Cadbury Five Star contest - Condition Serious Hai.

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YOUR HONOUR, CONDITION SERIOUS HAI !!!

The number of times I have slept off in an open courtroom is not something I can openly disclose. Especially considering the fact that it was just 3 months back that I was christened a lawyer, it is impressive how I have not yet been ousted for contempt of court.

Every day, I wriggle into my coat, tie the inverted ‘peace’ signed plastic collar around my neck, wear my lawyer’s gown and make my way to the courthouse. I then move into the room where my client’s case would be heard, and the fact that my client is missing in action, amuses me. I sit on the last bench of the court room with dozens of lawyers, nonchalantly going through their case papers, teaching their clients what to speak on oath like a parent preparing a kid for a school entrance interview. I am transported to the land of black and white cinema, with white shirt inside black gowns floating around, the white painted walls and the wooden floors darkened by the shadows of the lawyer robes, forlorn faces, destitute faces, but minus the Bollywood background song to break this monotony. I fall asleep.

The hammer becomes my alarm bell and I am forced to stand up as the Judge enters, which by the way gives me a moment to stretch my way out of slumber. This is when you notice how we are greatly influenced by the Chinese courtesy, as all the lawyers young, old and antique bend forward to look at their boots as a mark of respect to the judge. The judge ignores us all without a smile, sits down and the court session begins.

My case is called and I startle back to reality. I just came here to adjourn a case which my senior said is a piece of cake. I bow, call the judge various names (in honour that is), sneer and successfully get the adjournment. I turn back to the lawyer’s desk placed right behind me to sign on a document before submitting it to the court.

Suddenly the entire court room goes “HAWWWWW!!!” but I continue to sign the document enjoying the symphony in their tone. That is when another lawyer half my height and twice my weight nudges me and introduces to me the eleventh commandment.

 ‘Thou shalt never show thy ass to the Judge’.

I stood straight and in a manner that only a contortionist can, signed the document and walked away mutely as the entire court looked at the ‘SINNER’ me.

Why cannot I show my ass to the judge? Especially when it has layers of cloth covering it and a Dracula gown hiding the curve like a curtain. Why take an ass so seriously? I was just signing a document not giving a strip show.  In Logon ki Condition Serious Hai!

How I want to Look Like

How I Look Like

I wonder what this court house will look like with a little bit of color or a Saturday ‘WEAR-WHATEVER-YOU-WANT-MAN’ day. It is not like I murdered somebody, my client did (NOT). So why cannot I go to court in pink and purple and let him mourn in black and white.  I wonder how it would feel if I could show my ass to the judge while signing the document and not have to walk away from the podium like a rejected devotee leaving the temple or like a video on rewind. I wonder how breezy it would be to walk around the court in simple suits like in the west, than have to drag myself wearing a black                                                       ‘SAUNA’

Never knew that Justice can only be rendered wearing black and white. Maybe it is because lies can only be told in black or white. I wonder all this as I doze off awaiting my next case hearing.

Lawyers ki Condition Serious hai. Cadbury 5 Star, inject us all!!

          This post is written for Indiblogger Cadbury Five Star contest - Condition Serious Hai.

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