He moved out of the way as soon as I honked, only to go and curl up on the middle of the street again as soon as I passed him. Dogs do strange things in the middle of the night.
I just got back from another 3 A.M. meal. Still can’t believe I’d promised that I’d have early dinners with minimal carbs. Driving around in the middle of the night, scavenging for food is far more satisfactory back home in India than it is in college. This isn’t just because I go to school in Pittsburgh, which is a city meant for no one under the age of 40, but rather because of the ridiculously greasy and inexplicably delicious food you get at Dhaba’s around the country. God bless chicken shawarmas.
This is how I’ve spent a majority of my days at home – gorging down on every tender piece of meat I can lay my hands on (other than the elusive Cheeseburger; we worship them here), spending time with my fellow entitledtwentysomething’s and keeping the meat off me at the country club. And Fifa. Nothing is ever complete without Fifa. However, every week, there’s been at least a couple of instances where debauchery and alcoholism have fuelled very entertaining nights.
If you’ve read the earlier post, you’ve probably guessed that this is the pretty glass which I’m about to shatter momentarily. Before that, just take a second to thank EA for Fifa.
Multiple members of my family are in critical shape right now, battling with whatever they have left to stay alive. Sometimes I’m not even sure why. When I look at my aunt, stricken with severe Parkinson’s and Schizophrenia, all I see is pain. Through her eyes, you still see that sweet old lady who’d remember to get her nephew a chocolate bar after school every day, but physically all that’s visible is a shaky existence. She forgot who I was a couple of days back, and that hurt. While this has been going on for a while, my mom’s sister-in-law on the other hand, just recently fell severely ill. She had a four hour surgery yesterday, which involved removing major chunks of both the smaller and larger intestines and is now on life-support and isn’t taking to that very well. Everyone at home is baffled at the sheer intensity with which every other member of my family is also being affected, either through the depressive family gene acting up or the terrible health records catching up. I spoke to my closest friends about this, including my mother and my sister, and no one has a definitive answer as to how one is supposed to deal with the knowledge of inevitable loss.
These make me ask myself whether emotional attachment is a good thing, let alone be a healthy part of human life. I know I’m young and probably don’t have the maturity to claim to know anything about being ripped out of love, but it sure as hell feels like I am. When my girlfriend at the time and I broke up after dating throughout high school, it made me realize that excessive attachment is very dangerous, and should be tread upon carefully. There are very few relationships which can be unconditional. Love, sadly, is not one of them. Family, however, is. So whether it be a good thing or a disastrous route to self destruction, I love that our family is so tightly knit, that it brings tears to a score of people every time a cough is excessively loud. While I encourage you to pray with the rest of my family, if you’d rather join agnostic me in reading through some medical journals regarding Parkinson’s, you’re more than welcome to do so.
Shattered glass or not, there’s always enough glue if you look hard enough.
The chicken shawarma isn’t sitting too pretty right now. It was probably the “Make it extra spicy please” which screwed me over. Brotip : No matter how much of a badass you think you are, go easy on the spices in India.
I leave home tomorrow, en route to a marriage in Spain, followed by vagabonding around Europe before heading to study some Macroeconomic theory at LSE for the summer. It should be an interesting few weeks, hopefully filled with the occasional instances of debauchery and alcoholism to drive up the entertainment quotient. Maybe throw in some adultery.
Next time a dog chases your car (they do that in India frequently), as suggested by my friend in Delhi, stop the car immediately and watch them get epicly befuddled. Guaranteed amusement.