Episode 220 : The wedding invite - Part II

I wasn't joking when I told my colleague why I had to go home that weekend.

The clamouring had already begun.

The first sign was a testimonial on Orkut that awaited my approval. One line decided its fate.

"And an open challenge for your friends, anyone who can take a pic of yours where you smile like a normal human being will get a super gift! (A great looking Bullet - Thunderbird, absolutely free free free)"

I wondered if Mama Hyde was aware how much a brand new Thunderbird costs these days. But then, what is one lakh when compared to "eternal marital bliss"?

On enquiring, I got to know it was Edwina's work. Apparently the two were combing through my Orkut photos (and my list of friends that has a sizable girl count) to find a photo showing me looking nice and smiling (they know how tough it is for me!) that could be useful in their girl-googling mission.

They couldn't find a single photo because I hadn't uploaded any. And I thought the policy of not uploading them, in spite of repeated requests from friends, was turned out to be a smart one.

If there was ever a time that I dreaded going home, it was this. Never before, not even after getting my report card after every major exam in school did I have this feeling of helpless cluelessness. My travel plans for the next 12 months were in serious jeopardy.

I took off towards Madras after work on Friday. After spending a few fun-filled hours with some friends at a dhaba a hundred kilometres from Madras, I reached home at an early 4.30am.

I knew I did not have to call Mama Hyde to open the door. Phoebus howling in happiness did it for me.

I slept for a few hours, snuggled happily between the parents while joking how it took 27 years to reclaim the spot that belonged to me for three years before Edwina came along!

The no-confidence motion began right after breakfast. A two-pronged attack with arguments ranging from 'We want a photo' to 'It is our duty as parents to see that you are settled'.

The next day, Edwina added her two bits over the phone.

As if that was not enough, Noah's father happened to call home. He mentioned something about wild boars getting mature when their horns begin to grow.

To which I cheekily replied my horns have not begun growing.

It is only going to get tougher.

My respite lies in the two months of extra time that I have asked.

This year is not going to end peacefully for me.