Guess who’s back!
Ten days seems like a long time to be away from my blog. Here I am, after a week of amoeba taking up residence in my digestive system. But all is well, and we move on to more interesting topics such as how I welcomed my twenty sixth year of existence with (very) frequent visits to the bathroom and a stomach ache that refused to go away.
When I was younger, I was plagued by many confusions, the chief of which was the disorientation arising from the discovery that ‘abscond’ was in fact an English word and not a Tamil word. I was shocked. Why wasn’t I told? The other problem (if it can be called that) was the manner in which one’s age is mentioned, what with the concepts of ‘running age’ and ‘completed age’, and the birthday cake that says happy 13th birthday – but if you were thirteen years old on that day, wouldn’t it be your fourteenth birthday including the day you were born? Really, it can all be mildly overwhelming!
Of course, all this talk of birthdays brings me to my favourite subject, and if you’ve been around for a while, you will know where this is leading. Yes, it is my fixation with my family’s fixation to get me married. I have been meaning to dissect the variations I detect in the reactions that I encounter. Earlier, there would be anxiety and some aggression. This has now been replaced by sympathy of a most peculiar sort. ‘She is still unmarried/ refusing to talk to boys/ something must be seriously wrong/ poor thing, who knows what trials the family is going through’. Society has decided that it is not sufficient if someone like me is constantly harassed with questions, now we must be told we are to be pitied and/or looked upon as failures.
Can’t wait for the next birthday!