I hate Albums

Albums…no.. albums. Yeah, albums. I hate albums. Especially if they do not belong to me.

I hate them so much, that I have even stopped visiting my friends and relatives. Here is what happened when I last visited a friend’s place. (name kept confidential to prevent the person’s identity)

It all started because Prachi (Lets say), my friend wanted to take a whole lifetime to get dressed for dinner. I being the punctual person, reached bang on time to discover she had just gone to take a bath. After she slammed the bathroom door shut, I turned towards the Femina magazine lying around and buried myself deep into it. I still cannot fathom what made her mother to think that I was bored. She walked up to me, with something that seemed like a pillow from a far.

“You have not seen Viren’s marriage photographs have you?”

Viren was Prachi’s brother (or sister? Can never tell). I hated him. One he wasn’t that cool that he thought himself to be, and two he hated me coz he thought I was the reason behind his sister’s low grades.

Even before I could lie that I had seen it before, and liked it, she was beside me on the couch. She was excited and understandably so. Viren was her only son and his marriage was probably her biggest single achievement in life. But why the &^%$ did she think I would be interested, I would never know.

“Nice couple, heyn?” She asked.

“Yeah. They look so happy at the moment. Poor Chap! Doesn’t know what’s in store for him,” I said. I got a cold stare, but the torture went one.

Pointing to a picture of a man and woman who looked like they were straight out of X-Files, she said: “That is his in-laws. Nice people. They even bought me a saree.”

“Wow. Great.”

“Ho… you should see the color of the saree. It is amazing. You don’t get these colors south of Baroda. Will show you the saree next time, I washed it in the morning and it might be wet.”

I let out a sigh. It was a close shave.

“Or would you want to come to the terrace?”

“No aunty, that is fine. Prachi has anyways come out,” I blurted out in sheer desperation. She was my ticket to freedom, and I was going to use her as a human shield wherever necessary.

By now, Prachi had come out. She saw me looking thro’ the album, and shouted at the top of her voice: “Mama, show her the one where I am wearing the pink lehanga. Ohh…Deeps that’s a killer.”

I tell you, it’s a sin to be punctual in this era