Arranged

I fear the day, 5-7 years or so away, when I come home from work

...to a family of Singhs, happily sitting on the sofa. Prodigal son (IT technician you see) between his prune-skinned grandmother with tufts of white hair, and his overweight father with a beard that required two glances to confirm that it was actually a beard (resembled furry road kill).

I'd blink in confusion and turn to my mother, glaring.

She'd grin, explaining "This is the nice family I told you about, here to see you - remember?"

I'd continue to glare as she cheerily lied through her teeth.

And before I know it, I'd be dragged away, given a scarf to cover my hair and shoved back into the room juggling Indian sweets and a tray of chai (made by the budding daughter in law to be of course).

I'm proud of my culture and heritage - don't get me wrong, but certain aspects of tradition irritate me beyond measure.