Today is Grey

I had a dream last night that my parents, my brother and I went on a road trip of some kind. We stopped by some dhabaesque place, tubelit in the evening, eating a thali (I'd never eat a thali at a dhaba, fyi - only tandoori roti, kaali daalish stuff) and my father walked out for some work outside. I followed him out and saw him at a paan dokan buying either paan or cigarettes. My father doesn't smoke or chew paan, so it was a little weird seeing him there. But I thought I saw something akin to a cigarette in his hands. So I took one out myself and lit up in front of him. But when I went closer, it wasn't a cigarette at all, but one of those Charlie Chaplin cigarette candy thingies. And here I am, in front of my father, smoking away to glory. So he's like, "Wtf! You're smoking?" and I'm like, "Yeah, I thought you were smoking", and he's shocked, devastated even, but I keep smoking, because I don't know what else to do. And then I say, making matters worse, "Look, I smoke okay? Just one a day. Maybe two. Maximum three. And those two months I was in Cal, I barely smoked" - and of course, he's still in shock - and I'm almost done with the smoke, but still not stubbing it. Then I finally do, and he puts his arm around me and says, "Look, I'm not stupid. You lived in hostel, went to college - you get exposed to all kinds of things - but this is terrible for you. This is not how we brought you up". And I'm just glad he's talking to me, so I'm still a little arrogant. We go in, and I sit next to my mother and she scrunches up her nose and says "You smoked or what? Smelling of cigarettes...". By now, I have nothing to lose, because my father knows, and I'm like "Yeah, yeah, I smoked. I do smoke, so get over it already". And my parents are suddenly looking at me like I'm another person altogether, and I feel like I'm no longer their daughter and my brother is just shaking his head in disappointment.

So yeah. Some road trip.

I'm pretty sure though, this is how the turn of events would be in real life as well, were it to happen. Maybe I'd get a whack on the head, additionally and be called something akin to "paka", which is a delicious little Bengali word with no appropriate translation. Over-ripe? Ahead of oneself? Meh.

December 6th, is my convocation. It's not in America or UK, it's not snowing, and none of my parents or family members will be there, but I will get a hat and a robe and a lame ass degree. So yay. I'm in love with the underdog myth, which is an indirect way of saying I'm in love with myself, but oh well - it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it.