Exam Diaries 3

[Yesterday]
My windows are vibrating with the dhikchik dhikchik coming from the fucking club right in front of my house. Due to some colonial hangover that our country has (shouldn't the army of all things be over this shit?) May is supposed to be the season of socializing or something. There's a May Queen ball (yes, Ball, I've been to one of these things, it's not a ball, they have a DJ and all the wives and adolescent girls get fancy dresses made and spend hours at the beauty parlour so they can be May Queen and then their kids gloat for a month) or a raindance happening there. Its where all the fauji kids who play tennis and badminton on the court together now decide to unleash their hormones once the DJ console and sprinklers are assembled. Adidas shorts are traded in for cotton dresses bought from BP (BP kicks muthafuckin ass, btw). A May Queen is chosen from among the young coquettes. The club next door is only having the raindance, it appears, but there is a May Queen thing in other clubs today. They've been playing dhikchik songs that are all indiscernible from each other since 5pm. Even now, there's no one on the dance floor except 4 little kids who are violently shakin' it for all it's worth like they were on "Boogie Woogie".

I'm listening to My Bloody Valentine and trying to drown out the bass but it's not working, it's in my skull now. The sight of some of the paunchy unclejis that have joined in and are maroing thumkas somehow distracts me from the terrifyingly emotionless Nico-esque tone of Bilinda Butcher and the tense, seconds before stepping off the edge distorted guitar tones of No More Sorry. I can't concentrate so I'm watching them for a bit. DJ (bro DJ not the raindance DJ) has arrived in our city again. Maybe we could all go on the chatt and throw rocks at the raindancers? I don't see the point of strobe lights and sprinklers when it's been raining today and there's still lightening in the sky.
Muahahaha. Now it's actually raining so the DJ had to be packed off, but the sprinklers are still on. And I thought I had just shut them out with the power of my concentration. But considering I'm on gmail drafts writing this right now, I think my power of concentration ain't that good. Ok, sorry, back to Balkan crisis.

Phirse shuru ho gaye! BHENCHOD BT! How am I ever going to be able to finish the First World War if there's fucking dard e disco happening next door? Ek toh this paper is constantly depressing me and making me lose all hope for humanity because ultimately we all hate each other and want to kill each other and either we're oppressed and when we get unoppressed we fuck someone elses world up.


Ultimate irony. Raindance shut down due to rain.


Dev, DJ and A (ref. Dev's 'trance cousin') came to rescue me with a joint at 2 am. The weather is awesome and there's turqouise blue lightening. And some bros next door are having a party. Now my little bhand-ies have left and I will be all alone and stone cold sober for the next 10 days (unless Ma gives me half of her Weekend beers like she promised ('meri seva karne ke liye') with 3 exams to give. Without Dev and my constant hyperconnectedness, it's going to be worse. (Abhi na jao chodh kar, bro)
I can't believe I haven't even finished 1 topic and I couldn't be fucking bothered and I have to go to some stupid baby's naamkaran tomorrow. We don't need more kids with bad noses and teeth and good Math skills (I don't possess Trip math skillz).

[Today]
Getting back from the fucking namkaran. I always feel a wave of awkwardness envelope me when I step into a congregation of Trips. I feel like an alien. There's all these old Kumaoni women singing and I'm a bua (fucking bua bro, way to make me feel like an old lady) and my cousin who has a kid my age (I'm her masi apparently) who I see like, once a year just shoved this baby in my hands and I hate babies. I'm uncomfortable around babies and pregnant women generally, plus I'm really scared of holding small and fragile human beings so I just hand it back like it was a suspicious parcel. And I feel bad for the kid because he looks a bit stoned and has to deal with people making baby noises and faces and banging dholaks and manjiras around him. Then there are my uncles who corner me and ask
'Kaise ho beta. College kaisa hai?'
'Ji theek hoon, exams chal rahe hain'
'Acha, ab toh tumhe history mein sab kuch ata hoga. Iske baad kya plan'
'Ji jnu mein apply kiya hai abhi, dekhte hain'
'Uske baad?'
'Pata nahi'
*awkward silence while I slink away*
My mother rolls her eyes very obviously at an uncle notsosecretly disliked by the whole family and I latch on to her and get away.
Those of you who know me know that I am very obvious when I'm uncomfortable. I radiate my discomfort or anger till people themselves back away. Hence at these things it's very simple. The Trips know that I am some sort of alien child. I am the humanities studying, short haired, taller than most of them, polite but quite 'thodi sosal kam hai, usse khulne mein time lagta hai' kid. The youngest sibling who takes after the other side of her family. I think they have a mixture of apprehension and genuine warmth so it's like 'ok she is family even though she looks like she just had to make a speech in front of the whole school in her underwear, so I should make small talk' + 'heh, let's go needle the artsy kid, she thinks she's so much better than us' (that's the younger ones, the engineers and MBAs). Ok, so maybe this is making the Trips come off as bad folks, let's put it this way... There are 2 types of Kumaonis (illustrated by the 2 lines of my family) - the crazy ones and the conservative ones. The conservative ones are like uncles and aunties of any other region. The crazy ones are more rangeela. On the surface, seemingly normal uncles and aunties with a taste for the theatrical. The drunks, depressives, manics, eccentrics, shayars, faujis, gentlemen of leisure, dabanggs, the Meena Kumaris, Amitabh Bacchans (original angry young man, not dirty old man version) and Sanjay Dutts (think: Vaastav) These are the people I talk about when I'm high, btw. Some of you are more than familiar with them.
In these seas of unfamiliar blood relatives my mother is my lifeboat. It's fascinating to see her hold court at these things. They love her because they know that even though they know she's different she's a nautanki. Her eyes light up in that way and she makes people laugh and chats with everyone (while making sarcastic asides to me occasionally) and is nice to them all. So I cling to her like always in the circle of women who resemble me and listen to the ladies talk of slip discs, broken hips, wobbly knees, troublesome domestic help, prozac/aplrax, Baba Ramdev, the perinneal search for bahus/damaads, their kids who live abroad 'jahan pe koi milega bhi nahi', so and so's husband who used to be 'famous' in Nainital, Mucchi chachi who is related to x through Saroj bua and y through Janki mami (all Kumaonis are related. Madness stems in part from endogamy for the past few millenia). When it's time to go I do the rounds of touching people's feet, saying polite 'haan haan zaroor milne aoongi' and am handed an envelope.
(Outside)
Ma: Kachu? (What is it?)
Me: Double chan (1000 bucks)
Ma: *wide eyes and looks into her own envelope*
Now it's 430pm and there's hilly weather and I'm on the swing with Hitler's rise to power in front of me to do and I wish I were going to the hills with my friends instead.