Mrs Goody Two Shoes XXV

Not the sunny side up

I will remember this eclipse for sure. For all the wrong reasons

This has to be about the eclipse. There is no other way it can be. And by this time, I am so done with the whole 'the-longest-one-in-the-millennium' line that all the excitement by scientific communities and the fawning over the sun by laymen is irking me to no end. Switch on the television and you hear the same droning sound on every news channel, "We are getting you live pictures from... And we have a special guest from some scientific organisation... Do not see the eclipse with your naked eyes..."
You try to take an auto to office and eclipse intrudes again, "Madam, 15 rupees extra." You ask, your eyes having already popped out of their sockets, "Why?" "Sun eclipse madam." And you scream, "WHAT??" I mean, what bizarre kind of excuse is that? The driver acted as if he was a martyr doing me a favour, risking the danger of the eclipse to take me to office. I kept thinking, he should be the one thanking me since I was the only passenger he would have got with the streets nearly empty. Eclipse, of course.
In the morning, when I just was not prepared to get out of bed, there was a knock on my door. My 50-year-old neighbour's 80-year-old father-in-law had a plate of flowers, incense and sweets. He walked in coolly, after having shoved a sweet into my yet unbrushed mouth.
"You cannot eat anything after this till 3 o' clock. I will empty your fridge because after the eclipse you must cook fresh food and have that." My senses were still not awake and I could not figure out what was happening. He took the incense around all our rooms, driving whatever he though was impure or evil away.
In between, he looked at my book shelves, ran a finger on them, looked at the spot of dust on his fingertip, and gave me an equally dirty look. He went to the guest room, saw the clothes heaped on the bed, got scandalised by my lingerie peeking out from underneath and shot a disgusted expression at me. This is MY house. "I LIKE living like this," my brain screamed. My lips said nothing.
Then, all of a sudden, he ordered in a solemn voice, like he was passing on a family secret to me. "Go and have a bath. Before Rahu swallows the sun." (Rahu indeed!) Then looking at my nearly bare legs (I was wearing shorts), he muttered, "Modern. Bah! No sense of tradition." He turned, "Just go!" Eclipse, of course.
I still don't have any idea why I was actually listening to him, but by the time I had showered, he had cleared my fridge of the food I had planned to eat before leaving for office. I had once tried to pop some biscuits but Jalal auntie spotted me through the window and shouted at me. "You have no respect for elders and tradition. Has your mother not taught you this much? Stop eating!" Tradition? Respect? My mother? What's the connection? Eclipse, of course.
I rushed to office, angry and hungry. So hungry that I was eager for the office idli and coffee. I ran up. A poster screamed at my face in bold letters. 'CANTEEN IS CLOSED FOR ECLPISE. WILL OPEN AT 4 PM.' How could I expect anything otherwise? It was out to eat me. What? Eclipse, of course.