I was almost staring at myself in disbelief on the morning of my first exam. The first year after a long gap when my parents didn't announce a plan for their 'vacation' and my doom. Cut to the day of my last exam, they dropped the bomb that they're moving out of the city for 5 days starting the next morning. 

This is the moment of jitters and butterflies. I am absolutely healthy and perfectly fine with the idea of not travelling anywhere- things which I can't afford now, I shall indulge in at some point in my life. What brings me terrible discomfort is that the painful recurring events that go by each year my parents are out of the town leaving their complex domesticated life on me to live on- a la their style. 

In the last six-seven years, a pattern has emerged. Of things that always happen when my folks are away. What's disturbing is that, this pattern is now making me so uncomfortable that I don't look forward to living by myself because each year, this period is marked with various tragedies. The intensity of which, is too high for me to bear alone and the idea to this only limits down to that period when my folks are away.

It always begins on an enthusiastic note- from my side. There's always some sort of get-together. A party, sleepover, three course lunch or something. I cook, I host drunk women/men. The momentary enjoyment settles down when I get a call from annoying neighbour- Donald Duck and family. This is a seriously disturbing recurrence. Mrs. Donald Duck in her squeaky voice asks for my mother/grandfather/anyone else who seems more responsible than yours truly. After her initial hesitation she shares the dilemma. There is seepage in their apartment. The house is overflowing with water. Could I do something? No. Okay. Coudl I get her the number of the mason/plumber/sewage guy who constructed the house (no shit, precise words last night)? This call and two more when I am getting mutton to cook the second time in the cooker for dum biryani. 

By the time party's over and the guests are home, I am as tired as a woman, twice pregnant in two years in a row. The alcohol is rubbed off. Reality check beckons- the dogs are peeing everywhere, we've ran out of milk, the chair in my room looks like a chairdrobe etc. The basic domestication issues  that were over looked while I was busy celebrating. Once, I begin tackling those, my grandfather gets ill. Illness' encompass from dental falsies breaking down to being so sick due to something inexplicable that he had to be admitted to ICU and even high sugar levels. I am almost that tired of running a household that I can't even remember what happened the last few times.  All this while, battling tantrums of hormones induced teenaged monster or what they refer to as my sibling must be monitored. Is she watching excessive uncensored television? Is she doing some shady business with her boyfriend(s)? Is she doing her homework? Why is she planning to survive on Maggi and Ice cream and why would be think that the electricity is free for us? 

This time it was the dental fixtures bit. Immediate plan of action included changing the menu from Rogan Josh and Laccha Parantha to Khichdi.

Yes, undeniably, I have to give it to my mother for running the household and keeping it all together for all of us. This whole order of life here, has almost come a full circle as now I hear something from my parents that they're probably heading home tomorrow. Initiation of my vacation was so gorgeous that I would rather swap doing masters twice over. However, I've come to believe that there are a few people in the world who exist only to make life comfortable for others. You act as a buffer when others aim for something and accomplish a goal. I've served as that buffer for far too long. In the professional matters as well as my private life, this is a disturbing thing that is describing my life. Giving an analogy would be like a movie. While my parents/sibling/friends would be enjoying the fruits of a well produced movie and living it up at the Oscars, I'd most likely to be sitting at home, watching recorded version of Oscars and worked as a spot boy, danced in the background of the lead actor and made storyboard. Anything that was crucial but almost too elementary for the entity to do themselves. There is always their time and never my time. This phenomena was described by a friend, as the part from Macbeth, "fair is foul and foul is fair." I digress but I am completely sick and over done with this behaviour from everyone. You work your ass off for something and yet you don't get it. You see the slacker infront of you, enjoying that very thing that you started. It's just a classic case of how Illtutmish started the construction of Qutub Minar yet it is acknowledged to have been completed and constructed by Qutub-ud-din Aibak (side note: I hate that bastard for this precise reason). 

What I would like to point out is, this fear of living alone doesn't necessarily mean, I don't want to live alone. I want to live by myself  and fend just myself. It's hard explaining this selfish construct but this comes from the chain of living on my own and fending for a bunch of people and unexpected tragedies that only occur when there's no one around me to take care of them and I am running around like helpless chicken to manage everything for others. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I didn't complete my dinner because I had a massive argument with my sibling, I look like a slob and I am pms-ing. Hence I deserve some licklolly, chips and diet coke. Fuck the pregnant pot belly that I carry everywhere and the joblessness and the heat.