Visit Us. And Eat Too.

I hate socializing. I hate meeting family friends. I dont hate them, but its the visits that i hate. I hate replying to their very stupid questions in an alright?-is-your-hunger-quenched-now? manner. I hate it all.

Every time I go home, I have to attend at least one of those very stupid social gatherings or the friendly visit-us-and-eat-too things at various family friends’ before my parents are convinced beyond doubt that I get extremely bored -just sitting there-. Here’s what happens:

When we’re still at our place, ready to leave, I give it a shot. One last shot. I try.

“Mom, I’ll get bored. Please! Let me stay here. I’ll eat something.”

“No. They were asking about you. They are very eager to meet you.”

I acquiesce unhappily. I don’t know a single family having a guy-kid of my age. Even a chick of my age would do. But no! Kids having jobs or kids studying basic polynomials. Where’s the –between- gone? So I know that I would have no one to talk, with remote normalcy, with. It so happens that if the friends of my family haven’t seen or met me for more than half a year, they ask me this:

“Arrey! Look at you. You’ve grown so big! The last time I met you, you were (gesticulating with their hands, suspending the palms at knee-level) this small.”

Fuck! I was that small when I three. But they don’t get that. Somehow, I was just two feet high before six months. We enter their house. We sit on those sofas. We drink the served water. The uncle tries to show that he WAS looking forward to meet me. Like this:

“So, holidays, huh?”

“(I don the best smile ever.) Yeah!”

“When are you going back?”

“Blah (blah’s the date.).”

“Hm. (turning to my dad.) The stock market has gone insane! Hasn’t it?”

This is what I was brought along with, for. This is usually the intensity of their eagerness. Did they just want to know when my college reopened? For the remaining of the –very exciting- visit, I do nothing but watch TV along with the still-polynomial-learning kid who finds really horrible jokes funny. And then there’s the cell. I message a few. Hi!-Wassups. No replies.

This goes on. I feel jaded. And it’s only after we come back that my mom agrees with me. And I get to avoid the next social visit that’s there. Barring the food, everything sucks. But as the vacation bells toll again (next time), the reality hits me with such lacerating ferocity that it becomes difficult to keep my cool. The QED is there no more. I realize I’ll have to attend several visits again to prove it to my parents that I –get bored- there.

The friends of my Dad and Mom might probably have concluded that since half a year has gone by since they last saw me; I might not be a three year old anymore. And so it becomes utterly important for them to meet me. Very eager they become.