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I love confronting people. There is always a need in me to voice out my opinions. I may be right or wrong, but I need to say it aloud. Sometimes, I get into trouble for being this vociferous. But, that’s how I’ve been from time immemorial. However, this argumentative gene seems to be fading away. Not always, but sometimes. I don’t know if should be happy or sad. Sample these..

We see a school bus and get talking about how many different types of schools have sprung up. The school bus has the name appended with Grammar School.

Uncle – Look at the spelling of Grammar on the bus. Such people who don’t even know the right spelling of Grammar run schools.

I am standing there, reading and re-reading the words wondering what is wrong with the spelling. It is fine. I wanted to tell him he is wrong. But, I just smile and let it go.

*****

We our entering our apartment and see our names on the name board outside. My dad’s name is my surname and my husband’s dad’s name is his surname.

Aunty – So, you haven’t changed your name after marriage?

Me – No. It’s Β just too very complicated. BTW, what do I make for dinner for you?

End of argument. Considered won!

******

It is evening and we are ideally supposed to light a diya and pray. Which, is a non-practice in our ‘work/play/cook is worship’ household.

Aunty – So, have you lit the diya?

Me – No aunty. You can do that and pray, if you’d wish to.

Aunty – So, in your mom’s place too, you don’t have this practice?

Me – Not really. They are pretty staunch religious people. Somehow, we (as in me and my brother) chose a different path for us. BTW, can you teach me to make proper phulkas, aunty? I somehow don’t seem to get it right!

End of discussion. No confrontation. Win-Win!

*****

Aunty – We haven’t watched the Mahabharat in two days. But you know, there are a lot of discrepancies in the way this Mahabharat has been programmed. Like, where Arjun.. Oh wait.. I’m sure you will not know what Mahabharat is all about. Let it go.

I had to use all my effort to not burst out into my specialised sarcastic laughter.

Signs of growing old. Or, perhaps signs of growing up?!

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