I now realize, after many years, that the definition of a relative is that of a person that you meet, greet and exchange small talk with during an important family occasion. It is only a handful of relatives that you actually intend on keeping in touch with and are able to reconnect with in a jiffy even eons after having met last.
Relatives do sometimes tend to get on your nerves, especially when you have to be on your best behaviour and answer all potentially embarrassing / uncomfortable questions diplomatically.
‘No Sir, just because I play bass in the college rock band doesn’t mean women flock to me and cling on to the point where I need to peel them off.’
‘Yeah, I DO realize my cousin is getting married as we speak and that she’s a year younger than I. This doesn’t automatically mean that I need to be next in line, maybe because I am happy at 26 and I’d like to do as little as possible to change it.’
‘Yes, an MBA is called a Post-Graduate Diploma in Management, its not like I’d be wanker enough to do a diploma AFTER I completed my engineering, you know.’
The worst ever statements are about setting one up for a future marriage, ‘laying the groundwork’, so to speak when one truthfully owns up to being single. Sometimes, it might be ok to lie to have a little less bio-gas sent your way regarding how I should go about shaping my life.
‘If I do wish to be setup, I’ll ask for it when I am good and ready, until which time, maybe you’d prefer it if I did my searching on my own?’
Love them or hate them, you’ve got some DNA in common. Some of my relatives, though, are among the most insane and awesome people I know. So I guess things balance each other out, at the end of the day, and all is at peace with the world.
The writer is a fellow clan-mate and B-school graduate currently up North. Enjoys traveling - alone, music, happy hours and a wonderful conversationalist. His writes frequently on the Notes section of his FB page.