Party In The Sixties
Let’s give it to my dad, the world’s youngest sexagenarian. This Saturday, my dad celebrated 60 years of energetic existance, with a party of thirty in close tow. His siblings and their extended family zeroed in on the center stage, our home back in Cochin. It was a grand gala. And I jumped in head first.
I know, I know. I know what you’re thinking…
“Hey, Hammy. Is it true that if a time machine were ever to be built, the builder can actually go back through time, give the plans to a 1930s engineer, and make time travel possible in our time?”
Whatha… Time tr.. Ok, ok. So I DIDN’T know what you were thinking. I was expecting you to think along the lines of “Hey, Hammy. With the Democles Sword of marriage being poised at you right now, isn’t it suicidal to go attend a function with thirty-odd relatives prepared to lunge at the matter?”
Well, I admit. The thought DID occur to me… I DID think of the possibility. I mean… I dreaded the possibility. Ok, dammit. I had nightmares about it after which I woke up all sweaty and screaming, praying to Gods from four different religions. Happy?
So yes, sure I thought about it. They are loving, caring relatives of mine… uncles and aunts who used to pinch my cheeks to elastic proportions back in my toddler years. There was no doubt about it. The matter would rise.
But then again, it WAS dad’s 60th birthday… And they were all family. I couldn’t just hide away forever, could I? I couldn’t just cash in my nonexistant stock, get beer supplies, and run off into the woods, living off the fat of the land and beating my chest to chat around with gorillas, could I? Nope. Not happening. How would I upload my posts on the site, then? Where would I to get connected to the internet from the woods, huh? Bet you didn’t think about that. Did you?
So I bit my lip, kept an ice cube on it to reduce the swelling – shouldn’t have bitten that hard, I guess – and waltzed into the party, chanting in my mind that “Forewarned is forearmed”. I was ready for them. I was reminded of George W Bush trying to scare suicidal martyrs with the tauntingly scary ‘Bring It On’ speech. But I still felt ready. I had prepared some excellent, though cheesy comebacks…
Q: “So, Hammy… when are you getting married?”
A: “Oh, I got married last Friday. Gave it my best shot. Didn’t quite work out. Divorce got final last night.”
Q:“Hey, Hammy… so what’s the scene like… you found someone yet?”
A:“Not yet. But I have my hopes. I check the lost and found section every day”
Q:“Hammy… Isn’t it about time you started thinking about marriage?”
A:“What? It’s only 8:40. Not time yet.”
Q:“Hammy, I’m telling you… you need to think about the future.”
A:“Oh, I have. I think a lot about the future. I see… I see… I see dark seas rising… Global floods… People dying…. Buildings falli… Wait. Maybe I’m picking up the sequel to The Day After Tomorrow. Hey!! I’m new at this stuff.”
But then again, when the actual time came, the golden words eluded me. I whimpered, scratched my head, and changed the topic with the inherent grace of a limping shrimp.
But all thngs considred, I’m glad I attended the function. Me and my bro bought a decorative musical candle, the Korg PA 50, which is a large musical keyboard, and an even larger cake.
Seriously, we didn’t quite understand how large a crowd of thirty would be. And hence we were unable to figure out exactly how much cake we would really need. You know my mind. It somehow conjured up images of violent kung fu warriors lunging at each other fighting over the cake. If I had kept that thought for another five seconds, I knew I’d face trouble… I’d have Carl Douglas’ Kung Fu Fighting song infesting my head for hours.
I wasn’t prepared to take that kind of chance. I bought the largest cake they were able to bake, which, it turned out, was the size used to feed small rebel armies. Though five out of five guests agreed that the cake was great; mondo supremo; we still ended up with over half the cake being shoved into the fridge. I know what you’re thinking –
“Hamish, if the square root of the velocity of the time traveled in space were to be equated to the linear mass of…”
? ? ? ? Ok, ok, ok. Stop it! We need to work on our communication. You and I.