The Day After Yesterday

What does it mean? It means no newspapers. That’s right. Nothing. Zip. Nada. ET, The Hindu, Eenadu or The Daily Mail. It’s the worst nightmare to be stranded on a Sunday without the morning paper(s). Those papers would have normally kept this family of four busy for at least 3-4 hours. But alas! We might have to look at other avenues for entertainment.

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What happened? Diwali happened, that’s what happened. Thankfully this is one of those festivals where the puja is at a minimum. Deepavali in Chennai is a feast for the eyes and ears…or maybe not. But it was definitely more fun. Festivals are supposed to be occasions of joy, celebrations and thanks. When I was still officially a kid, it meant all that and more (school holiday for example). Now all it means to me is yet another opportunity for tempers to flare, tensions to run high and moms to get exasperated. As far as I’m concerned, Indian festivals have way too many rules, at least in my house.

Every festival now my mother tells me that I’ve got to learn the rules. After all, this is part of the ‘Things a married woman has to know ’ book (I’d like to kill the guy who wrote that one). All part of growing up she says. She only forgets one thing.

I’m never growing up.

P.S: Apparently, buying & eating ice cream on a festival day is a strict no-no (although we did). Yet another item on my ‘Things I don’t know’ list. Who makes these rules anyway?

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One Step Up

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Part Of Being Sane Is Being A Little Crazy

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