Statutory Warning: This almost never ends well
Going out with the Them is a rare event. Usually, it is always a dinner thing and Them is very fond of eating (at least 2/3rds is). So here we are, in the car, driven (as usual) by T1. I’m (also, as usual) sitting next to the driver while T2 and T3 are at the back. Now this arrangement, although unusual, is probably the safest. T1 and T2 can barely stand each other and T3 doesn’t even try. So that leaves us with moi.
We successfully cover the first 100 metres without accident or incessant, vulgar screaming at other motorists. But that’s about as lucky as I was going to get. No sooner do we reach the end of the next 100 metres (where I usually have a little internal celebration) we managed to rub a rickshaw driver the wrong way. Besides having caused considerable damage to the front side of the car, we also had a wonderful exchange of roadside abuses between T1 and the Rickshaw driver. There was also scope for mild physical violence, which got prematurely terminated by the presence of a traffic cop. It is necessary to specify here that the rickshaw-wala presumed, given T1’s demeanour, that he too was a driver and hence took the liberty of placing his hand on T1’s shirt. This entire drama would have landed either both or either party at either a hospital or police station, but the involvement of the cop reduced our chances greatly.
Even as we moved on, T1 made serious attempts to follow the rickshaw to continue the fight in a place where no cop could interrupt the thrashing in store for T1. However, since the rickshaw took a turn that was out of the way, T1 had to postpone his plans. All through this, T2 had launched into her own monologue (that we have now grown so accustomed to that it isn’t much more than just ambient noise) that continued for the better part of the rest of the journey.
On reaching the said restaurant (which was less than 5 minutes from there) me, T2 and T3 quietly walked in. By now, after repeated attempts at behaving like one, we have really started treating T1 like a driver. Not that he minds.
This posh, full-of-pretence and bad food restaurant at least had one thing we wanted- silence. We all sat quietly till T1 came and joined us. T3, for the first time in the evening opened her mouth and said (much to my surprise) that I must order the menu for tonight! Oh- ho! This much respect I have not been trained to handle. But duly respecting her, I started suggesting dishes, which were soon enough rejected and ultimately T3 ordered what she wanted.
T2 made feeble attempts at conversation, which all failed miserably. The four of us sat at a table at stared blankly at the surroundings. The restaurant was mostly empty, giving us barely any scope to look at other people. A good 10 minutes passed in this awkward silence. Then a few families came in and that gave T2 and T3 something to talk about for a while. T1, in the meantime behaved as though we were doing him a favour by feeding him.
The rest of dinner was, to say the least, excruciatingly painful. I said as little as possible and made human verbal contact only in monosyllables. T3 worked extra hard to ensure that I had an even more miserable time. This also, is the usual. It starts with ‘why are you wearing this?’, ‘have you combed your hair?’,‘don’t eat it like that!’ and so on…All of these were duly ignored. After 20 years, its not even conscious. I have developed Pavlovian reflexes.
So by the time dinner concluded (twenty minutes over eternity) I have exhausted and had a headache that was enough to make me explode and repeat the same offences uttered earlier in the evening by T1 and the rickshaw driver.
Note to self: Next time, carry the iPod!
