We, the fake.

The week starts out badly. Sadly actually. BanNy walks in after a late dinner to find Pa on his musallah in sajdah. He expresses his unfounded concern, albeit very gently, about his only daughters increasing fakeness. He says she no longer sees the people she should be seeing around her. That she's getting sucked in more and more in the waterbed that is yuppiedom. A funny pink and blue cloud clutches at her rib cage before she scoffs. Yuppie, Pa? Me? Smirk Smirk. Like that's what I write about. Like I fed close to 50 street kids this Ramazan near the Delton wala roundabout with my own hard-earned money (and my equally bored friends she scoffs not.) He smiles sadly and backs off. A deep yearning arises like smoke does from grills used to make tikkas at the French beach that he'd scream and bring her back to her senses; senses flown far far away into the sky like Mary Poppins did much to their chagrin in the blissful, 'unfake' days. Amma smiles and tells her to go to bed or she'll miss her 8:30 class in the morning.

"Hae baji! Itnee pyaree lagree ho!" A faintly patronizing satisfied smile covers the lower region of banNy's face. Its lovely really how these maids manage to flatter you without the nakhraaz that others normally employ. Sarahmaasi has been her maid for 12 years and wouldn't bull. So the 2 hours in front of the mirror to get that careless 'I'm-so-not-bothered-with-looks' look paid off. BanNy is now the epitome of sophistication. She offers to drop Sarahmaasi at the bus stop on her way to lunch. Her face brightens at this act of utter generosity and she says she'll be two minutes. In the car she chatters on and on about her brand new grandson to which banNy listens with interest as she fixes her white chicken dupatta. Conversationally, mention of her youngest and only unmarried daughter Nasima comes up. BanNy sees a fascinating change take over her maasi's features. From delight at the 20-minute walk saved in the sun, her features grow small as awareness of the eternal unfairness that is part and parcel of the special deal that is , takes over. Nasima you see has Polio; Sarahmaasi was unable to get her shots when she was a kid because she had to have the roof redone as the other daughters were growing old and had to be framed properly. BanNy reminds herself to clean the bursting cupboard with wrought iron legs and send some bangles for that quiet young girl who is her age. BanNy, eccentric little thing, collects bangles of all shapes and colors, but never wears any. Too girlish. Bye Bye Sarah Maasi.

Lunch with friends at D