Confessions of a bride-to-be !

I am going to be a bride pretty soon. And what a kickass awesome bride I am going to be.

While most members of my fraternity must be getting their skin treatments, manicures and pedicures done and buying new dresses for the occasion or string of occasions, I am fighting off rashes and tonnes of lice in my curly crop. I have shown the door to at-least 50 of them… no exaggeration. And, yet, there are around 10 or 20 more still taking a stroll or feeding on my scalp. Believe you me, an hour everyday is spent on this killing spree. It is an occupational hazard; I work with children, of every shape and size, and children somehow have an affinity to lice… and so I must take my situation with a pinch of salt, Mediker and smile.

Almost everyday, on my way to work, I am given the ultimate holy treatment by a holy animal… our much beloved Cow… who never shies away from swatting her tail at the most crucial juncture when I am about to cross a road full of shitty potholes. That I am cured of every ailment, real or imaginary, is a belief I am beginning to develop.

I am getting a makeover in every sense of the word.

Sometimes I look myself in the mirror and squint at what I see. I look yellow, at times blue and most of all green, courtesy the abysmal parts of Delhi I visit, as part of my official regime. When I was slightly younger, Delhi used to be a ‘red-corridor’ city for me, a place I never wanted to even visit. Twisted as it is, the phrase ‘Love takes you places’ holds so true in my case.

My clothes keep sticking to me, sweat keeps pouring down my face and neck 12 to 14 hours a day; but what keeps me tick-ing (pun most intended) is a mystery that eludes me.  I have come to regard my physicality at par with a boxer’s; I know I cannot throw punches that could kill, but I am no less than Uma Thurman in ‘Kill Bill’. Oh yes, like her, my codename is ‘Bride’ to be.

While on my way home the other day, I purchased a beautiful lot of mangoes. As I climbed the stairs of the metro station smacking my lips in anticipation of the rare juicy fruit meal that awaits me, a monkey, full of vigour and confidence, came out of nowhere, leapt at my packet and snatched the mangoes from me. I wanted to give him a tough fight, but was I ready to be embarrassed any further and slapped by an animal (who happens to be my ancestor of some sort) in full public view, is a question best left unanswered. Benumbed at what had just happened, cursing God for never letting me have a zoo-free day, I walked on. But, now that I think about it, he (the monkey, that is,) could have helped me with the lice.

Such incidents on a daily basis ensure I stay grounded, that I do not dream of being carried away by a knight on a white horse… Another animal? No, thank you, please. But, yes, bride I shall still be.