‘You are cordially invited to the Reunion of the 1980 batch’ read the glossy invite. I went into shock. How did they manage to track me down? I frantically my brains trying to figure out where I had goofed up and got caught by the ghosts from my past. It wasn’t that I had something to hide, but heck, trying to justify your present state of mundane Puneri life to those globe trotting ‘Ivy League’ classmates wasn’t something that made me want to jump up and dance with joy!
‘But dahling, never mind those fancy, schmancy writing skills, you need to do something about your dress size!’ natty Nita twittered loudly in my memory, plonking her picture perfect derriere on a chair after acing an All India exam, winning the gold medal and effortlessly grabbing the hottest guy in school. I broke out in a cold sweat. There was no way that I was going to land up at the reunion looking like an enlarged image of my school days with a nonexistent career that boasted more of diaper duties than corporate deals. I needed a serious sabotage strategy if I were to survive the evening. There was only one way out of this. I would have to dig up dirt on everyone!
I sat down to google track every possible person I could remember from my past. The loyal lungoti yaars who shared everything from spankings to sandwiches; The nasty chosen ones who starred and shone in my dimwitted face all the time; The childhood sweetheart who never knew of my pudgy existence; The bathroom bullies who made sure I learnt bladder control when slammed against the wall and the class geeks who no one ever dared hang out with.
I burnt the midnight oil digging deep, uncovering the tiniest scoop and scandal that took place. By the time the reunion day dawned, I had a full dossier on almost everyone. And boy was I ready to spill the beans on anyone who dared inquire about my BMI and bank balance!
But time changes everything and alas!
My moment of revenge went out of the window the minute natty Nita waddled over, looking larger than Battlestar Galactica.
‘What happened to you?’ I squeaked, stunned by the number of double chins and saddlebags that lurched around the woman.
‘Nothing dahling, just got married to a Ruia and then sab kuch chot gaiya’ she twittered, flashing a dazzling rock and piling her plate with yet another pastry. I couldn’t help grinning. One down, few more to go… I sucked in my stomach and tottered over to the sweetheart for a heart to heart, only to have my jaw drop to the floor! His glorious, thick, curly hair that made the girls go ga ga, had simply gone with the wind! KAPUT! Not a single, silky strand remained, just a shiny, bald pate. Serves you right for ignoring my valentine’s card and not asking me to the Prom…’ I giggled, thrilled at the comical turn of events as the chosen ones fell to the roadside and the lowly lot sparkled.
That evening, middle-aged classmates dumped their degrees, diamonds and desperations slipping back into their school uniforms to re-live a lost childhood. Thank heavens for reunions! It is really, truly sweet revenge!!
DNA Sunday Funny Bone 12th April 2009