Of nosy relatives and over eating

It’s a hot day in Hyderabad and I’m back home from college for a ten day long break before I join work. It’s really hot and I’m dreading the idea of having to pack for a trip to my aunt’s place in Vizag.

Relatives, that’s one word that unnerves me. They are somehow an integral part of your life without actually fitting in your life, more like an appendix. You never really need them, but then one fine day you realize that they’ve become a pain.

Ok, maybe that’s a little too harsh. Maybe its because I don’t really do small talk, I find these annual visits to the home town as pleasant as having a discussion with the Pope about gay rights–futile and frustrating.

If the inquisition on your personal life(which includes questions like, what do you mean you aren’t ready for marriage? or remarks like, you’ve lost your hair very hard to get you married!) isn’t enough, what is with the piles of food they expect you to finish? It’s like they expect you to go into hibernation for which developing a thick layer of fat in the next 24 hours is extremely important.

I know they think I’m a kid, but I think I know when I’m not hungry. So yeah, I’m going to Vizag for two days of interrogation and death by gluttony. Where are you guys off to?

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