Mrs Goody Two Shoes XVI

Charity begins at home for sure

It is easy to gather a few people, organise a show and label it a charity event

The phone rang. I am tired of its insistent rings. I keep changing the ringtone, but it takes me only two days to get bored of the tune. Earlier, I used to set my favourite songs as the alert for incoming calls. I had hoped that those melodies would help me keep my calm when the mobile rang, endlessly. Unfortunately, I had to quickly change my strategy since I began losing my special tunes to boredom, irritation even -- that happens when you get a minimum of three dozen calls, and that, on a lean day. Then I began choosing those popular but not-so-interesting songs. That way, I had nothing to lose, and had a huge variety to choose from; I needed at least twenty a month. And when any kind of phone sound began irking me and driving me up the wall, I tried putting it on the vibrator-silent mode. So that the phone began doing an angry "Gnnnn gnnnn gnnn..." and I jumped every time at the sudden growl.
Well, so I don't have a particularly amicable relationship with my cellphone at present. That afternoon, as I struggled with my writing and edition and messed up life, stuck the iPod in my ears to block phone sounds and the gnawing thoughts in my brain, glued as I was at my office desk, the phone rang. My instant reaction, "Nooooooo... Don't you get it? I don't want to talk!" Reluctantly, I looked at it. 'Society Secy' it flashed. Damn. Now what's wrong? "Hello?" (I wonder why I still have the question mark tone in my voice when I know who's on the other side. Maybe years of good ol' landline handling.)
"Beta, you have to do one thing."
I am always being ordered. No "please", "can you", "thank you" for me. "Yes Mr Nair, what do I HAVE to do?" He did not notice the edge and sarcasm there. Sigh.
"Yes. My wife is having a charity at the society. Please take an article." It took me 15 precious minutes to explain I can't suddenly take an article on a random (I did not use the word) event by random people. In the end I agreed on two things -- I will take a listing and I will be present at the charity. Not just present. Take part in it.
I had not really paid attention to the details. The D-day came and I saw a few stray cats and dogs chained (stringed really) to the gate. Latika auntie's charity for street animals. I looked at the poor, scrawny creatures. They looked more tortured here than on the roads. My assignment: Cook "good" (auntie emphasised on it) food for the animals. I don't have much faith in my culinary skills, but I guessed the animals wouldn't really mind.
The highlight of the event was a fashion show. There was a donation box to extract money from innocent people who were being forced to watch aunties trailing down the ramp. The money was supposed to go to the strays. At the end came Latika auntie, in a heavily embroidered sari and four-inch heels. As she gloated on "successful charity by kind souls" (meaning her), and I wanted to throw up on her face, plonk broke the ramp, and down went Latika. There were some shouts, lots of confusion and stifled giggles. I looked at the donation box. There was only one way that this charity collection was going for sure -- Latika auntie's personal doctor's expenses.