In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on.

Well that’s the end of my melancholia (not really, I just felt nauseated reading my previous post) Guess I’ll just have to pull up my socks (shivers violently at the recollection of the horrible Jap fad ) ((then remembers she did it in sec school too and feels nauseated once again)) Ah… well Deepavali (festival of lights, to commemorate the triumph of light over darkness and good over evil blah blah… pukes at the CMEness) is coming in a coupla days and yours truly isn’t feeling festive at all…. In fact I couldn’t care less. (Anything only means something to you if u invest some of urself in it) I didn’t do any spring cleaning, didn’t help bake pastries and didn’t accompany my mom shopping… It’s honestly just another day.

However, come Tuesday I’m still gonna dress up in my new purple clothes (finally capitulated to Mimi’s wheedling, “You MUST wear sth new.” “OK Mimi.” “you have to wear sth grand.” “sigh… OK”) , plaster a smile on my face and grimace inwardly when each and every relative asks that oh so original question, “So how, you prepared for you’re a levels already?” We usually spend the entire day at relatives’ houses, paying respects to my two grandmothers first (Asian filial piety, rmbr kiddies?) No I’m not a hypocrite. There is a sound reason for all this pretence.

This year, my paternal grandmother’s house is my first and last pit stop. I wouldn’t have decided to go at all. Except I have this strange, portentous feeling that this might be her last. It’s sad but she’s had a good long life 82 yrs, no major illnesses, all her kids are successful, all her grankids are exemplary young adults (with the exception of yours truly) and she lived to see her first great granddaughter this year, Baby Trishti. I’m the kind of (often considered as heartless) person who believes that there’s no point crying during their funerals after shunning them in life. (Don’t get me wrong I do believe in the afterlife and the duality of Man) In fact I avoid attending funerals as much as possible. The surrealness of it all… It just throws everything into a sharp and morbid light. (Like I need more things to contemplate right now)

So yeah, this year I’m gonna get all prettied up ( an impossible thing in the best of times), hug my granny’s warm, living body, breathe in deeply her familiar and comforting sandalwood smell, receive this wonderful woman’s blessings and give her the best darn Deepavali possible. (And that is what I call a schmaltzy ending)

PS: Nausea and explicit authorial comments seem to feature prominently in this post. (aren’t the authorial asides incredibly annoying?) ((Heck, blame Eliot))