THE ONE WITH THE QUESTION

Every single day is an act of survival. Every single day, we get up and get going. It is only natural that sometimes we find ourselves in a tight spot(s). And what would define a “tight spot” better than an uncomfortable question! Coming to which:

 “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“How much are you earning!!?”                                                                          

 “Is that Prada!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????” (assuming, of course, that it is NOT  Prada.)

“Is he Gay??”

“ I hear your result is out???”

All of us have been there. Well, some of us for sure. But then again there are some questions that make you want to buy a shovel and dig the ground. For me, it’s the classic “Where are you from?”.

Now it’s a rather simple question, but when you spent a decade of your life studying away, spending holidays at another place, you have no clue about the place you were born, well, aren’t you screwed.

“Where are you from?”

“Shit!”

A part of me wants to kick the enquirer. Punch him in the face and yell out loud to mind his own business (not necessarily in that order). And the other part of me hopes that I will explain and he will dutifully understand:

“ Sir I was born in X, brought up in A, but then I studied in C and I spent my holidays and rest of the days in B and D, so technically I have no idea what the hell I tell you so that you get it and think that I haven’t lost it! Voila!!!”

Having said that( in my mind), I go with either of them, holding my breath, clutching my desk, my head going “oh my God, WHERE AM I FROM?” and me going “X sir, I am from X, hoping that he doesn’t feel the need to inquire further.

“Really, aaah, beeeauti-ful place….something something….blaaaaaaahhhh!!?”

“Damn you man!”

SERIOUSLY.