Wack-o-mother

My friend's parents don't like her drinking whiskey with masala dosa, especially in India. Not even wine or martini.

It took her only days to let loose after reaching the US, making up for years of alcohol deprival. Barhops every week, hip hop party invites walked in like junkmail. She partly got it from her father, a drinker who thought whiskey was a 'macho' drink.

For R's her ma, alcohol was a no no. She is a traditional South Indian woman, a homestead. Actually, what is a traditional South Indian woman?

Thinking R would enjoy a glass, I landed up at her place in New York with a vino bottle. She buzzed me in, and everything was gung ho, until lo and behold, I ran straight into her parents sitting in the living room, right by the door (R 'forgot' to tell me her parents were visiting.)

So there I was, wine bottle in hand, gazing at her parents, wondering what to do next. I could hide or call do something lame like call the vino a disinfectant or a special cooking product.

Their eyes fell on the wine first and then my face, alarmed.

As weird as it felt, I presented the wine to the parents. "Welcome, Aunty and Uncle. It is nice to see you."

R's parents, astonished, perhaps were wondering why I didn't give them an agarbatti instead of wine. R looked at me too, wondering just what the hell I was doing.

Her father gladly accepted the bottle, placed it on the table and said "beta (son), where is this store? Let's get some whiskey!"

Mother angrily shouted at her husband "What you always looking for whiskey whiskey. He has just come, let him rest." Her sneer glance turned from her husband to me.

"What is your name beta?"

I introduced myself. "I am R's friend, just came to visit you." So I was now visiting her parents; the pint plans with R vanished instantly.

The wine situation under control, I hunkered down and joined them to watch this disco woman crossing fingers across her eyes while performing some ill-advised PT stunt. Soon, R joined us too. Not many options now. Sit at home, because her mom wouldn't allow her daughter to be out late at night. Like it is in India.

For an hour we saw more strange PT moves and rated Hindi movie trailers Ebert N Roper-style.

R's mom hated that, being a sensitive TV watcher. To get rid of us, she turned into one of those evil TV mamas and gave us permission to head out for "ice cream."

"And don't bring back whiskey," to which mama's hubby whimpered.

Finally, jackets on, R & I headed out for a pint.

(Let me strongly recommend people: Alcohol is damaging to both the health and spirit. Please avoid it.)