Embarrassing is an Understatement when you have Pink eye in a Wedding

Whenever my skin comes to know that there is a holiday trip planned and there will be some photo clicking, it gets super excited and becomes a ‘chaand ka tukda’ with surface similar to moon surface complete with highlands and lowlands. But this doesn’t demoralize me anymore, I will still be cursing and using the F word. Why? Not because I have learnt the art of Photoshop editing but because I have seen worse. It is like god wants to put a ‘kala tikka’ on my face to keep me safe from all the bad eye J

By worse, I mean they are like worst-nightmare-come-true experience. So we went to attend a wedding, from my husband’s side. You know how marriages are more like Fashion show where all attendees are participants and here models and designers never forget a fashion faux pas committed. So we just landed and my eyes started to get a little itchy and watery. I tried to ignore for the first couple of hours, thinking the over usage of shampoo, might have caused the irritation. But later, after a brief nap, my eyes refused to open and that’s when it dawned on all the relatives more than on me, that I might have eye conjunctivitis or red eye. So went to see a local doctor in a new city, dressed in my latest saree and matching new chandelier earrings. While was patiently waiting for the doctor and touching up on my lipstick, others co-patients were wondering I was there to marry the doctor or was going to ask for directions. The doctor confirmed to my horror and suggested wearing Dark colored goggles.

In his lifetime Mr husband for the first time bought me a pair of goggles without even my asking for it. Bit oversized, which according to him was on purpose so that no one had slightest clue whats under there. Like no one will notice when I dance in front of the dulha and wear it at night with my Zari sarree and adjust it while holding on to my designer clutch bag. So the next day at breakfast, everyone was sympathetic, and laughing with mouth covered and only when I turned away from them. Afternoon, everyone was in splits and rolling on the floor. And evening, Aunties were asking me if I am a recent foreign returned. I just wanted to go home, take away my goggles and sleep. There are so many relatives I will forever haunt in their dreams with my pair of glasses and zari saree.

There is another incident that has forever dented my memory. I was a lecturer in a undergrad science college, once upon a time. I was fresh out of college and teaching college kids, so pretty obvious, nobody gave my lectures a damn. But for me it was more of an ego boost as every otherday someone, either at the Teacher's Parking lot or Library or Canteen would stop me, saying Only for Teacher and I would say "I might look underage but am a Lecturer here", just like Santoor Saindal Soap Ad. So one day, while delivering a lecture, a peon came in and said that my father had come to meet me and was waiting in the Teachers Room. I got really worried, because until now my family had never visited me in college, so must be an emergency. I practically ran down to the Teachers room, huffing and puffing, and there my father was standing with a flask in one hand and a box in another. He said in front of all professors, associate professors, and other fellow lecturers, that I had forgot to have MILK in the morning. My father had challenged me, that if I went out without having breakfast, I should face the consequence. And there he was holding Bournvita Milk in one hand and Cookies in the box. I am grateful, it all ended with a good laugh in the Teachers room for a few days, and didn’t leak out among the students. See the Glass is half full not Half Empty. 

Another time, when I was giving interviews again for a job change, I was kind of practicing the geeky look, bushy eyebrows and bird's nest hair. It dawned on me on the same as my big interview that I have to look presentable. So I went for a threading just on my way to the interview, to make it easier for the interviewer to concentrate on my answers instead of wondering whether I am girl or a boy with all the facial hair. And 15 min later, the next thing I am wondering about is whether to beg the interviewer to reschedule or to buy a burqa? My face had red spots all over as the beautician (the name is so ironic), was a newbie and given I have delicate skin, the inexperienced hands did their magic. Guess what, I cleared the test, because the interviewer felt really bad, that poor thing is in dire need of job and came to interview even when had chicken pox. 

There are so many more such incidents and even more embarrassing ones that I can’t even share here. A pimple or two don’t stain my image any more or atleast that’s what I want my mind to believe and keep repeating to myself.