Homebody Fights with Mum

So my mum and I had a fight today over a dream she had.

I woke up early in the morning and checked facebook only to discover that 28 out of the 33 notifications I had were ‘likes’ by people and students and the other 4 were Castleville requests. I felt the void of communication; like I was alone in the center of a social vortex where everyone else was busy while I sat in the boring calm of an exciting hurricane. I felt left behind.

Amidst the haze of despair, I saw my mother walk into the living room – she had just woken up. And I noticed the aura of anger and resentment almost immediately. It’s like I have some intuitive radar for it – she doesn’t have to say or do anything, she doesn’t even have to look angry but I know, through my rage-dar, that I’m in deep, deep trouble.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

 ‘Something must be. You’re upset.’

‘I didn’t say I’m upset.’

‘You didn’t have to.’

‘Don’t put words in my mouth.’

‘Okay FINE! Sheesh.’

Silence. I reflect on how my mum and I are very like most married couples. This dynamic we have isn’t just restricted to matrimony. And you ask why I’m phobic about marriage.

‘I had a dream…’ she begins.

‘Mmhmm…’

‘I had a dream in which you came to me and told me that you were gay. And I threw you out of the house.’

I shall not tell her that I have been of late, having impure thoughts about Dorothy Parker who said things like ‘brevity is the soul of lingerie’ and other fabulously bitchy things. Besides, it’s perfectly normal to be attracted to intelligence. But I’m squarely heterosexual, despite falling in love with dead female poets by reading about them on brainy quote.

‘Well, that wasn’t very nice of you,’ I retort.

‘Kia matlab hai?’

‘I’m your daughter. You can’t kick me out.’

‘It’s my house. I can do whatever I want.’

‘A parent who kicks her offspring out on the street in a temper is a failed parent.’

‘A child who betrays her mother by sinning against God is a failed offspring.’

‘If I’ve sinned against God, why don’t you let Him kick me out of heaven. Aap kahaan say Allah kee advocate ban gayee hain.’

‘I’m your mother and I forbid you from being gay.’

‘Ma, you can’t forbid me from being gay. It isn’t something I can control.’

‘Allah killed the entire nation of Lot for being gay!’

‘Allah condemned them for being hedonistic and inhospitable. Everything would have been fine if they were discreet about things.’

‘Where have I gone wrong that my own daughter talks in this way about such shameful things?’

‘I didn’t start it, you did! And I can be gay if I want to. Which I don’t. In any case, kicking me out of the house wouldn’t stop me from being gay. I’d just move in with my lover!’

‘You need to get married.’

‘I agree.’

Silence.

‘Ma, you know you’re being ridiculous.’

‘I’m trying to save your soul, that’s what I’m doing!’

‘But I'm NOT gay. Do you remember how you were angry at Abu because you dreamt he was having an affair?’

‘I did no such thing.’

‘Well, you did do such a thing. And then you refused to speak to him for a week and the poor man didn’t know what to do. I refuse to be emotionally blackmailed by your nightmares!’

‘Nightmares are an omen for the future!’

‘No. They’re the result of having too much sweet and sour chicken last night.’

‘I’ll not talk to you until you can talk to me respectfully!’

‘Maaa!’

‘I can’t hear you.’

So I’m getting my share of silent treatment, first for being gay and then for being disrespectful. Or perhaps because being gay is being disrespectful to my mum, in her eyes. Oh well. I’ll get her some Di-gas and she’ll be fine.