Of Facials, supermarkets and the clown

The first time I heard the word "facial" was in 8th standard. It was my cousin's wedding and all of us had gone to Hassan, a town near Bangalore. I can tell you the exact distance if you want, but unfortunately this post is neither about that, nor am I interested. Anyway, it was my cousin's wedding and he (yes, he) was forced by all the aunty-party that had gathered, to get a facial so that firstly, his face will glow like Gold or diamond, depending on the influential power of the parlour aunty and how mental the impending wedding had made him, and secondly, it will become soft like a baby's bum. So, off he went, with full excitement, for his first facial and probably his last.

One hour passed. Another went by.

We were waiting in the hall, hoping that our averagely average cousin will turn into Shahrukh Khan miraculously. Then another hour passed, and he came. Nothing had happened. Nothing.

We enquired, "Eno, heng hodyo hange bandidya" (What dude! However you went, same way you came back).

He told us that the parlour aunty told him that it would take three days for the glow to be seen.

For all the people who are wondering why my cousin went to an aunty's parlour. let me clarify that the aunty was our family friend and now that I think about it, I can call her a pioneer in the field of unisex salons in small Karnataka towns. My cousin was her first customer, a pioneer in his own way.

Three days passed, the wedding finished, it was too hot to care, and no one remembered about the facial or the glow.

As we say in this side of the country, "Dhod Topi", can be roughly translated into "Big hat", which means she ripped him off royally. I'll use it in a sentence for you.

Ramesh went to that new mall to buy shoes, Macha, He paid 500 bucks for some dabba shirt, Dhod Topi Hakskonda. (Big Hat, they put on his head)

The origin of the phrase can be traced back to the advent of clowns of Gemini Circus in Bangalore. They wore big hats. And inspired the future generations with an indispensable name. Even now, I know a person who gets Dhod Topi on her head every time she heads out. Guess who? It is yours truly. The biggest hat that can ever be, can be easily put on my small head. And I'll gladly shell out how much ever you ask me, and in fact more if you smile a few times and say good things about me.

I realised this horrible fact when I went out to buy clothes long long ago, may be five years ago. It was a new shop in my neighbourhood and I walked in to see if there's anything nice. The stuff was ordinary, but the prices, over the bloody top. But Alas! The shop was run by an insanely cute fellow, and I ended up paying double for clothes so weird that I haven't worn them till date. I swear one of the shirts was torn the day I got them home.

Dhod Topi!

I thought it was a  one time thing and it'll never happen again. Then, you know what happened? Around the same time, supermarkets started popping up in every road. They just killed me. I had to go in, the colours, the food, the flyers describing all the amazing stuff inside, they just beckoned to me. Every time I passed a supermarket, my mind would go,

Paanch rupai ka maggi lao, paanch rupai ka maggi khao subah shaam do pahar me khao maggi maggi maggi, Pepsi, yeh dil maange more, thandoorusti ka raksha karti hai lifebouy, lifebuoy he jahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan

Thats it. I'd stop my bike, go in and go crazy.

"Hmmm, maggi..No let me try Top Ramen this time, there's a new flavour. No, but I want maggi..Okay let me take both"

"Who wants lifebouy? I'll buy dove"

This would go on for hours and hours together. This addiction is still going strong.

The feeling of taking your own trolley, picking up your favorite things from the millions of brands available, reading the labels, and comparing things for hours together, the way my hand trembles when I pick up a new product, coming back home with a big cover, ripping up all junk and the food tasting session that ensues..Aaah.. How can I give it up?

I don't even cook, but I want every cake mix there, I still force my mom to buy all new products and cook something exciting. She is selectively deaf, so unfortunately she keeps us selectively starved.

But the craziest I have gone is when I went clothes shopping in Bombay. By the end of one day, I looked like a Dhobi carrying the whole neighbourhood's entire week load. Super Dhobi, I was!

The clothes seemed all cool and funky there, but when I came back and showed it off to my family, they started rofl-ing.

All I could think of was the clown and his big hat.

And this time, I literally looked like him and got ripped off. A first. Maybe I'm a pioneer too.

Somebody, please remove this hat and put it on their head. I'm done with it.