Didi Aur Woh

I was flabbergasted, after last night's party. After reading my post on my very own dad, my in-laws (read: FIL, MIL, wife's brother, wife's brother's wife, Chintu, wife's sister, wife's sister's husband, Mintu & Pongy dressed up as a nurse) popped a bottle of Moët & Chandon to celebrate. Just how deviant can people be?

The mad doghouse has way too many rules. My father is driving me crazy. Rules include:

• No smoking or drinking. Apparently, its bad for his new found fancy, potted plants.
• Eat you dinner before 20:00 hours. If I don't get back from work by then, I do not get any food.
• No watching television beyond 00:00 hours. It is true, I watched the entire Spain vs France match in complete darkness and the television sound muted. I felt like an invalid.
• Take a shower at 6:00 hours. Apparently, your toxins are at their active best.

I have asked a few friends to accommodate me for a week.

The topic for today is my sister and her husband. Little about my sister and a lot about her husband.

While my sister was considering semi-retirement plans, botox and a dog for companionship, I was keeping a weekly tally of my warts & pimples. Yes, while I belong to the age of sex, drugs and rock n' roll, my sister is a direct descendent of the Ape Man.

While I was listening to The Beatles, she was grooving to Chuck Berry. I am not sure how many years seperate us. After many years of celibacy by religion, my father in a sudden spurge of pelvic thrusts produced me. That explains the age gap between us. My mum tells me, after what happened, he said, it was absolutely unintentional.

My sister did all the right things. Studied the course my father wanted her to pursue, played with barbie dolls, dressed up like a girl, did not have a boyfriend till she married one, respected all elders, helped my mum with daily chores, nerdy, etc. She was a high-school heart throb of many, by which, I mean, she caused many coronaires for all the wrong reasons.

She then went onto study at one of those B-Schools when she met her current husband. My sister lived by those love cliches. Odi Et Amo. Love is blind and so am I. My sister is a pretty woman who could easily win the Miss Beauty Pageant Contest For Naturally Pregnant Women.

None of us ever understood why she wanted to marry him, yet we had to accept it. I recall, just before she was heading to consummate her marriage, I told her, you couldn't possibly be serious about this. She was majorly offended by my remark and wouldn't speak to me for many years, not that I complained.

In an emotional letter she wrote to me, the next morning, she said, Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring. I was terribly moved.

Over the decades, I have managed to maintain an amicable relationship with my BIL. We speak four times an year, on the telephone, for his birthday, for my birthday, for their anniversary, for my anniversary. I believe, its a huge task.

• My BIL does not like any sport. People, the world over, are still trying to find a sport that he might enjoy. The easiest way to win Who Is Macho? is by simply asking him sport-related questions. At a family picnic, after several attempts to play Cricket, we decided he was best suited to be the third umpire.
• My BIL does not watch movies. The last movie he watched, chronologically speaking, could be, this is true, Stagecoach.
• My BIL does not listen to music. I have found at his place, HIStory: Past, Present and Future, Book I, Michael Jackson as the only living proof that he has listened to some music. Apparently, the CD was a gift to him from his gay cousin.
• My BIL is devoutly religious. You can spot him, slow down his car, take his hands off the wheel and eyes off the street, when he spots a shrine along the road. This makes me absolutely delirious. After that one instance, I have never braved to sit in his car.
• Talking about driving, my BIL is crazy. I think everyone who is our relative by virtue of marriage is crazy. Apparently, his driving skills or lack thereof stem from deep rooted psychological problems. It is true, his parents disallowed him from playing Need For Speed.
• My BIL is a social misnomer. The only time he shakes a leg at a party is, is to refill his glass. He usually stays close to the bar counter and very far away from the dance floor. It has been found that he possesses several left feet.
• My BIL loves cars, guns, airplanes, etc. The typical male syndrome. I recall, he was thrown out of a car exhibition once. He was found bonking the car horn. I do not think they will ever allow him into a Vintage Car Show.
• My BIL wanted to join the NDA, I am told. I asked my sis, why didn't he make it? After much deliberation, she said, he failed the fitness test. No wonder.
• My BIL loves watching National Geographic. I think its totally perverted. I have asked him several times to turn off the channel when Pongy is around. It gives her ideas.
• My BIL is absolutely clueless about cooking. He has never cooked and we are all very grateful for that. On their home computer, I found several .PDF files including How To Build A Bomb From Over The Counter Ingredients, How To Start A Forest Fire, How To Boost A Car & Easy To Use Guide: Pressure Cookers.

I hope this is good enough for me to go back home. I cannot bear another day at my dad's place. Even though, my BIL, over the years, has loved my sister immensely, I still tend to admire him from a distance.

Yours wohfully.