At a recent family function, it dawned on me how biological ties can not be stretched to ones will. In other words, it's remarkable just how much I haven't got in common with people in my family.
Note I said people in my family, and not my family as a whole. That should save me a few headaches.
There I sat, making pleasantries with men from my family, and it was exactly that. Pleasant. So pleasant in fact, that my face started to ache. Then, as the hours rolled by, I realised my toes had gone to sleep through all their curling. Then I started to look around, and the faces all mirrored mine. Why are we all here? Sat next to one another because of some implausible human reaction to shared blood. The conversation amongst the older men was especially numb, and as the kids compared phones and Bejeweled scores, I began running through similar moments in my family history.
And I struggled. Struggled to find one instance where a topic arose where there was fervent dialogue from all sides. Oh no, wait - there was that time we all discussed if the fish was better at my cousins wedding or my uncles. Boy, people still carry scars from that one. The thing that broke my boredom was one of cousins husbands squirming in his seat, as he proceeded to hide the fact he was so pissed that his eyebrows were dancing.
And that's what happens. If people who have nothing in common except for birth rights are forced to spend a day together, they slowly fall apart. This is especially true for middle-aged British Asians. Alcohol, a common enemy or inane Bhangra music is where we can come together.
Like Tim suggests in
The Office, we share the same floor space with people at work more than our own friends. So when we meet someone at work that we genuinely connect with, it means that little bit more. And that's Tim from The Office saying that.
The same can be said for the floor space we share with family.
Maybe it is just me. Maybe I am a snob that can't relate to common truths amongst my family. Topics like weddings, cars, naive football knowledge (my favourite) and my cousin brother looking like a monkey only hold my attention as much as a Black Eyed Peas record.
When all is said and done, blood is dense. The kind of density that is unfortunate but unavoidable in my family. I fear the day I have to pick my friends over family, but I know one thing - my friends will understand my reasoning whatever the outcome. My wedding should be a hoot. Can't wait to see my families faces as we mosh out to Rage on the dance floor, and I can revel in my true self for once at a family function.
Let it be known, I have actually tried to exert my own view and preferences on family members, only to be addressed with vacant looks, shaking heads or blatant changes of subject. I mean, try discussing the politics that invoked a television series like Big Brother, and you get responses like "That Makosi's just acting up to the cameras" or "Shilpa deserves that degree after all she went through". Wow. Once, I did point out that 'acting up to the cameras' was sort of a prerequisite for those people, and I was looked on like a snobbish prick who's just burped up a shit sandwich. Plus, I'd never felt more 'white' in my life - but that's another blog post altogether.
Now, before my family read this post and deliver endless vendettas and sulks my way, I just want to bastardise Henry David Thoreau;
"Rather than love, than money, than fame, than family, give me truth."
I think I might just tattoo that on my left arm in time for my wedding.
