Am I in an open relationship, I wonder. The wife left yesterday to Bang-kok (is that the right spelling? Or maybe it’s the atrocious grammar!) and I am beginning to think that I may be missing something here. (As you can probably tell, I am home alone and bored out of my wits).
L has got a hair transplant. Why someone with a harem and a house full of kids wants to grow his hair again is beyond me. I mean, all the reasons that caused his hair to fall out still exist around him, so I don’t see much point in growing it again. I have one question though. L was totally bald to begin with; where then did he get the hair to transplant from? This may be low thinking but I’m not touching his curly head ever again. But then again, this may make it a lot easier to get him by the short and curlies.
Geetha is running the Pondicherry marathon and we decide to scout out the place in L’s new BMW. It’s a nice ride but why wouldn’t it be – it costs upwards of 80L (that’s USD160K). We get lost. There is a man standing beside the road with his back to us and we stop to ask directions. L rolls down his window and calls out loudly “Thambi!”. (For those who are not familiar with Tamil, Thambi means younger brother and is used to address kids. “Kiddo” would be an apt English translation). The man turns around and smiles – with his wizened face and snow white beard he looks like he could be a hundred. It is extremely disrespectful to call such an elderly person “Thambi” and L is immediately apologetic. The rest of us can’t stop laughing.
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