Nerve Endings Firing Away

This Saturday, I was invited to a friend’s housewarming party. Actually it was a townhouse warming party but what the heck it is a piece of real-estate you own in upscale suburbia. She came to Atlanta three years back and is nicely settled with an IT job; happily married to a guy who is in business school — living the American dream. It is interesting how Indian couples have moved away from the traditional lifestyle of man works while woman manages their home. Their family, hailing from the Hindi heartland is as traditional and conservative as it can get but I don’t see any discontent. Her parents have no qualms about their son-in-law studying while their daughter works. I just wonder if it would still be the same if they lived in India. Anyways, they seemed to be doing well now and did go through some tough times; some of which I was witness to. The house was packed with a motley collection of friends, some with family and others with no intentions of having a family in the near future. The antics of the children either amused you or just frayed your nerves. We departed from our usual gift of a houseplant and splurged on a fancy crystal jug at Crate and Barrel. But we needn’t have bothered, as the couple still had our bamboo plant from last year and were half-expecting a long-lost twin to complete the set.

We were given the mandatory “Tour de Ghar”, complete with a view of the humungous walk-in wardrobe that almost all new house owners love showing off. Owning your own property has a sense of charm that no rented apartment can ever give you. Everyone broke off into small groups making small talk and exchanging pleasantries with strangers that you might never meet again. But then such small talk is courteous at social gatherings and even mildly amusing when I have to explain what exactly public policy is. I bet my professors will burst out laughing if they hear me explain it to the layman. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was announced and there was literally a mad scramble after a brief hesitation. We realized how our stomachs were unaccustomed to oily food when the fried puris gave everyone a queasy feeling as soon as we reached home. I wish I had stuck to pulao instead.

The party broke up as soon as everyone was done with the food. Gladly it wasn’t just us practicing the art of KPK (khao-peeo-khisko). Everyone left as quickly as they had arrived. The house seemed pretty warm by the time we left, so I guess the hosts were happy.