Our Date

I was to tell you about the time I took my mother on a date and also that I had watched a “quite famous” film that did not appeal to me one bit. I did not write about either. It would be an awesomeness to say “I was busy” but I won’t lie. I was just lazy..

So today I decided to wake up early. Be disciplined and do the hard work of picking up the pen and turning the pages of my diary to scribble a bit. Instead, I picked up the phone and called a number which should have been memorized by now but phonebooks are making it so very unnecessary and impersonal. Instead of using the morning to scribble, I spent half an hour on phone trying to keep awake and stick to the plan. That, did not work. Polluting my lungs, did not work either. So I came up with ingenuity! Chilled water on a chilly winter morning poured down the esophagus totally works. But let’s go back to where I started. The Date.

Like any other boring and usual date off to a cinema we went. Fate offered choices among 2012 and Kapoor-Kaif mind numbing Prem Kahani. In queue set to pay to watch America save the world from yet another would-be/should-be/could-be doomsday (which IndiaTV got all orgasmic about), I ended up purchasing tickets for the Santoshi flick (Yet Again!!!) for my Rishi-Neetu product enthusiast mother. Nope. This piece is not going to be about what happens when Bollywood makes movies for the entertainment of 30 year old bed-wetters. This is about making mum happy.

There was time for the movie to start grinding our brains so I walked her to a nearby coffee place which did not qualify as a dhaba of char rupai wali chai. My My! Never do that to people who belong to a time period of 10 paisa lunch! No matter how pampered they feel, no matter how happy you make them, they will still be jumping out of their skins sipping costly tea. An hour there was quite a nightmare and she managed to get me uncomfortable. My hangout spot had suddenly become a vicious showoff straight from the heart of capitalism. And that followed me out of the coffee parlor into the movie hall. The supposedly economical jumbo Pepsi with jumbo popcorn tub, which is such an essential to watch a movie with jumbo Kat-Kaif, had made me ‘such a spend thrift’.

Dad must have been lucky to take mum on dates. She had no demands. But I take credits for her best-time-out ever. The one rupee – a day college girl revisited her as she narrated stories of her parents calling her the Richy-Rich of the house. Generations not only go old, they get poor too! Or rather young is always rich.


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