When the crazy go for walks

Today my dad encouraged forced us to go on a walk with my two aunties (Tai, Phuppo Number 3) and my two cousins. I was sitting comfortably in my nighties and had absolutely no desire to go and get sweaty at all. However, my dad was persistent (read: he yelled a lot) and made us go practically threw us out of the house. Us meaning me and Sisters Number 1 to 3.

I went in my nighties, my black jubba, white shawl and my dad’s slippers.

I have, actually, been on these crazy long walks with my aunties before. The first time we went, my aunties wore their shalwar kameez with trainers underneath. Absolutely mortifying. My Phuppo walked with her arms swinging by her side as if she was about to take off flying, and half way into the journey she started singing. O_o Bizarre, I know.

I think it was the third time that we went when my mum collapsed. She was too tired and just gave up and sat on the ground. It was hilarious. My aunties started joking that my dad would tell all his mates that his wife needed a truck to come pick her up because she couldn’t handle walking (my dad is a loony like that).

We stopped going after my mum’s embarrassing debacle, simply because she couldn’t do it (which was a shame since I kinda missed my aunty singing).

However, today we had just had to go. (My dad wants us to become healthy and my mum wants us to be skinny so other people will admire us.)

On today’s walk we all grouped up in pairs, some walking ahead of others and some five miles behind. Cousin F and I were at the front, and had a nice whinge about our fathers and how bored to tears we both were in these very lame holidays. She invited me over to her house tomorrow to make pizza (yay!) and just generally hang out (and possibly whine some more. Oh, the joy ).

On the way back home, Sister Number 3 and Cousin M started running to catch up to us, and since we didn’t wanna walk with them, we started running too. The silly women would not let up and kept on running behind us. Cousin F and I were getting breathless, and Cousin F raged, “FAT BITCHES!” I could not stop laughing, it was so hilarious. =D

After a while though, they stopped running and we arrived home, only to be greeted by an amused daddy who informed us that mum had gone and we were locked out. Fantastic. Not. (And, for some reason, my dad finds situations like this quite funny. He is just sadistic.)

We sat outside on our doorstep for a while, catching our breath, fighting with Sister Number 2 (we do this often. ‘Tis fun) and teasing Sister Number 3 because she didn’t know that oil and water don’t mix.

Suddenly, Sister Number 3 had the absolutely ingenious idea to climb through a half open window, grab the key that was inside and let us all in. Us being us, we thought this was a great idea and encouraged her to break and enter into our own home. Minus the break, of course. So Sister Number 2 took off her shoes, stood on the sill and struggled for a few minutes to get in. (We could not be bothered to help her.)

Now my dad, who had by this point sauntered off to the top off the street to talk to some random Pakistani dude, saw what we were doing and yelled, “Oi!” Feeling rebellious, Sister Number 1 got up, laughed, and said, “Come on Sister Number 3! I’ll help ya!” So she pushed her legs up and Sister Number 3 managed to get half a leg into the window.

Then she started screaming.

“Argh, argh, argh!” She was stuck, and we found this hysterical. We laughed and laughed and laughed, while she screamed her head off with part of a leg stuck in a window. We were doubled over with laughter, it was as if the circus had come to town and was putting on a show especially for us! (And any random neighbour who happened to stick their head out the door to see what all the noise was about.)

My daddy looked at us from his spot on the top of the street, and carried on chatting to the dude.

Eventually, after much shrieking, merriment and glee, the (slightly brave and very stupid) Sister Number 3 eventually got her whole body through the window. She grabbed the key, opened the door and let us in.

Then we gorged ourselves on white rice and lentil curry (that’s daal chawal for us desis) and watched The Mentalist.

Happy days.

Love,
Falak