It was a perfect January morning till the madly chiming doorbell woke one up. After no interaction with one's elderly neighbour Mishraji for a fair bit, there he was, standing at my door, in his pyjama-kurta and looking very angry. One opened the door and waited.
For a minute Mishraji just stood glaring, then pointing a finger at one's nose said, "You lied. You are NOT a journalist, I know WHAT you are." Having just woken up - that too rudely - one mumbled something about showing him the appointment letter and immediately wished one had kept shut.
"I don't care what your appointment letter says madame. How is that you work for a TV company and I have never seen you on TV?" Mishraji demanded. One pointed out that one worked for the Internet company owned by the TV channel and not...
"STOP lying madame!" Mishraji growled, clearly in no mood for even logical interruptions. "I know exactly WHAT you write on the Internet." That statement removed all vestiges of sleep and one was wide awake....
Read further 'What Goes My Father?': Sex is against the Indian culture
Read earlier parts to the Mishra Family Drama:
Chapter 1: But I love Sam, Papaji!
Chapter 2: Meet love's Enemy No. 1
Chapter 3: Have you enjoyed sex?
Chapter 4: Meri Christmas ya teri...?
Chapter 5: Catrina K's secret and Salma Hayek
January 15, 2008
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