Family Matters

What does it mean when people ask if someone comes from a "good" family? It's a really common Indianism and I've heard all kinds of people (even my folks) use it. I got thinking about it today and figured that I really don't know what it means. What makes a family good? Money? When a girl marries into an affluent family, you hear older people comment on what a good alliance she's made. So are poor families not good families? Perhaps if they were highly educated, they'd be good. What else makes a family not good? The more obvious not good things would be if the family business were of a dubious nature; or if they had wild raucous parties all night, every night, and disturbed the peace! I don't know...

Can I conclude that law-abiding families, leading a comfortable life, capable of hospitality, and conversing in grammatically correct sentences at the right volume in public, are good?

And families that pick fights at random, are stingy hosts, speak street lingo, and think money means culture are bad?

What, me giggle?

I had my follow-up appointment with the dentist (not the bald one) yesterday so he could stick some blue goop in my mouth and make a mould for my new tooth. This visit was slightly bloody, but not anywhere close to how much I bled when I got my nosering (shall I put it back on?). I'm not sure if anyone knows what I'm talking about, but sometimes, when you nick your tongue or something, it's painful, but it feels kinda good...anyone felt that? No? Oof what straight and narrow lives you all lead!

OK so the doc makes the mould, and because he's ground the dead tooth to a millimeter, there's a nice little window there. To cover the gap, he fashions a temporary tooth out of that white stuff they do cosmetic fillings with, and starts a conversation:

Please note, my part is in italics cos I'm thinking the words. Like I said, is difficult to talk when your mouth is full of metal and cotton.

Doc: "I'm doing this because the gap will look funny."

Runa: How considerate.

Doc: This will also look funny, but less funny than the gap.

Runa: Oh? Funny how? Dracula funny? Good dog Lassie funny? Famous bong buck teeth funny?

Doc: It's arbitrarily done. Not the perfect size or shape. Or even colour. But it's only for a week.

Runa: What?? What have you stuck up there? A die (like in dice, you nutcases!)

Doc: And remember not to chew anything hard on that side - this is really flimsy material.

Runa: Whatttt? I can't even eat? For a whole week?

Well ok then. I only had plans with family this weekend and I guess it's ok for them not see my pearly whites at their best. But oh my goodness, I completely forgot all about my die till we had some folks over for a formal tea on Sunday. Not friends, just a couple we have some business with. And as is customary for me, I laughed heartily at everything, and even threw my head back once. And then I went OH SHIT! From then on, I only leaned forward and went tee hee whenever anything funny was said. I cannot tell you what a difficult 2 hours it was. I cannot, cannot imagine not being able to laugh out loud and free. I've been asked which sense I'd miss most if I lost it, and I always said sight; but laughsense comes as a very very close second!

Ok so should I bring the nosering back on?

Handsome is as Handsome Does

I went to the dentist for the first time when I was in my 20s. And since I have decent teeth, I never really needed to go too often. So all was well till one of my fillings fell out after 5 years of loyal service. Being true to myself, I focused on the hardships around finding a good dentist in Bangalore (forget about the one that's 2 min from work - that's too easy) instead of preventing what ensued....

During a wonderful meal on my last trip to Cal, a corner of my poor unfilled tooth fell out onto my plate, leaving in its place a lovely gaping hole. That was 3 months ago. After a lot of persuasion from my sister, I dragged myself to her dentist; and only after she told me how good looking he was. Well anyway, I went and of course he tells me that I need a root canal. Yawn - what a surprise! But he was so considerate that he filled up two other teeth and relieved me of a couple of days' pay. By the way, I misunderstood. It's not this guy that's good looking; it's his partner - the one who does the root canals. So all was not lost...I still had something to look forward to.

On the fateful day, I rise early and eat a full meal like a condemned man. Who knows when I'll ever be able to eat again. Got to my appointment on time, looking for a hunk in a white coat. I see someone in a white coat alright, but he had a surgical mask on, so I couldn't tell if my sister was right. I waited with bated breath for the mask to come off. He says hi through it! Then he realized it's rude, so he pulls it off and introduces himself. And no. He's not handsome. Not at all. I'm like "Now wait a minute. It's bad enough I need to do a root canal; to top that you're not what they said you were! I've been had!!"

With a sigh I lay down in that godawful chair. The doc did have a good chairside manner though. Asked if I needed a cushion (I said yes), asked if I wanted the radio on (No, I don't like to be distracted when I am stressing), said it wouldn't hurt at all after the first tiny prick of the needle (Yeah right!). So he squirts the anaesthetic out of the syringe and inserts it in my gum. Hurt like 0.5 on 10. So that was OK. Then he says that's the worst of the pain. I narrow my eyes in response - it's difficult to voice suspicion when your mouth is full of metal and cotton. But he was right.

Gradually I noticed how much better looking he was getting. With each painless prod his features (behind his mask) got sharper and more Grecian. With each "Rinse your mouth please" his bald head started to look sophisticated rather than ...well...bald. By the end of that one-sitting root canal that "went beautifully" he was the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on.

I still think so. I have felt nary a twinge and it's been two days! This guy was unbelievably great! I never thought there could be such a thing as a painless root canal. Doesn't this prove that beauty lies in a strong anaesthetic?!

Note: I'm sure you want to know why I have a picture of a pot of biryani - that's what made my tooth fall out!

The Ladder Poll

I learned something interesting today. I was remarking to a colleague how someone in the same organization has increasingly been passing their work on to others, and my colleague said that's how you know this guy's rising up the ranks. So I put 2 and 2 together and figured that the reason I am where I am is because I do my own work, and then some.
So the logical thing for me to do right now would be to shirk and/or delegate.
To agree, type Yes and sms to xxxx.
Airtel subscribers, pay my June bill.

Edge of Heaven

So from the wedding we were at we decide to go off for a safari just like that. It's a normal thing to do right after weddings when you should actually be sleeping off the huge lunch in the comfort of an air-conditioned luxury suite. 9 of us in 2 Mahindras bumped along the hilly terrain in the hope of seeing a wild elephant or two, a herd of spotted deer, or if we're really lucky, a panther. Kilometer after nauseating kilometer we journey, seeing nothing wilder than a monkey, lunch rising dangerously my mouth with every passing minute. I wished the ride would come to an end and we'd turn back, knowing that my motion sickness would only get worse, and I'd be embarrassingly sick in front of everyone. We kept asking the driver how much farther before we come to the end of the agreed distance, and he'd say something unintelligible to even the Malayalam-speaking people in our group. Finally he rounds a corner and stops at the very edge of heaven. It was this huge lake, its surface smooth and mirror-like, reflecting the fading light of dusk. How breathtakingly beautiful. Motion sickness banished from my mind, I drank in the magic of the surroundings, knowing that my camera would capture not even a fraction of its true form.

Memories of Paradise

Went to Kerala for a wedding and took an extra day to revive childhood memories of Fort Cochin (now Kochi) where my sister and I grew up. We went to our old house, school, the club that we used to go to everyday, and even the general store famous for its cocktail sausages!

Everything was much smaller than I remembered: the streets, the houses, the school - but all the memories came flooding back gigantic in their intensity. I remembered my way around the little town that has now become almost a mini Goa, minus the swimming. All the beautiful old houses have been converted to Home Stays or restaurants, the small restaurant that served the most awesome biryani has now become a tacky little inn. Most of the shops are owned by Kashmiris who have literally travelled across the length of the country to make a business for themselves.

It was heartening and saddening at the same time - I can't explain how I felt at recognizing all the old stuff peeping out from between the new. It was a hugely emotional experience - being there after 23 years - and I don't think I can go too long without returning to peel back the cheery cafe signboards to reveal the real Cochin of my childhood.

Quick Refill

One spoon of bournvita and three spoons of whiskey.
What an idea, Sir ji !!

Ooh my eyes light up - life has meaning again.

A Glass Half Empty

It's official. Bournvita is addictive. I've been trying to give it up and let me tell you it's traumatic!

What I've drunk almost every night for the last two years is a delightfully comforting concoction of half a glass of cold slim milk (I'm as health conscious as the next person) and four heaped teaspoons of Bournvita. Well three in the milk, and one in the mouth for a more direct approach.

Some of the amazing benefits of my little night-time indulgence:

• Peace


• Fulfillment


• Contentment


• Utter joy

BUT NO MORE!

It's been three whole days - 72 hours - since I last partook of this heavenly potion. Each evening brings with it a heavy cloud of depression because I know at the end of it will not stand a shining glass of rich liquid beckoning me with its sweetness.

Alas. Good things don't last.