I’ll See You at Happy Hours, Mum and Dad


I’ll See You at Happy Hours, Mum and Dad

Illustration: Akshita Monga/Arré


n a happy post-Diwali haze, probably caused by my glass of white wine, I sat surveying my family with a sense of satisfaction. Bua poured herself one, and took her place next to father, also with a drink. The conversation was light and jovial. Father dear was cracking some top-quality not-dad jokes, and everybody was laughing their guts out.

Everyone, that is, except visiting Chachaji. At that moment, everything had seemed right with the world, but Chachaji was judging me heavily for breezily sipping the contents of my glass. Because, as my mother berated me later that night, “Ladkiyaan sabke saaamne aise nahi peeti!”