Dancing To The Wrong Tunes

Life is tough, when thy hair is rough... Another long, boring week in school and the weekend begged for salvation. I needed to get out of the house and do something. With consecutive days of staying back in school to make up for the Physics I never knew, or sitting in a gloomy house with 8 other fellow sufferers in what they like to call Chemistry tuition, I was on the verge of insanity. Wasn't my week horrible enough? Didn't I recieve enough of textual torture to last me an eternity? Obviously (according to the folks), I hadn't.
Fighting with the folks has never been an easy task. Convincing them is a tougher ordeal. And this Saturday had two things in stock. A jam session with the band, and the singer of the band's birthday party. The folks have always humoured me with the array of excuses they've given me for various things.

5 best reasons why I'm not allowed to go for football tournaments:

• We'd have to buy new football studs, and in any case I'd outgrow them.
• You're in the 12th standard.
• You'll miss school (or tuition) which would result in an academic demise.
• Do you even play football?
• Ok. So you play football. But you're gonna be a sub anyway.

5 best reasons why I'm not allowed to go for a party:

• It's too far away from home. (Yea. It's my fault now, that we decided to live on the outskirts of the bloody city!)
• You're in the 12th standard.
  
• You won't be able to wake up for morning mass the next day.
• You've gone for too many parties. (Umm.. I think I've counted 1 this year...)
• I've never heard of this person who's having the party.
  

5 best reasons why I shouldn't be playing bass in the band:

• We don't have a bass guitar. We have an electric guitar. Play that.
• You're in the 12th standard.
  
• Band practice? You'll be wasting valuable time for your studies!
  
• Since when did you play any instruments? We all know your brother is the only one in the family who's musically inclined.
• Go study.

Well, as you can see... I live quite the pathetic life. And yesterday, it just got worse. After fighting for quite a long time, I got permission enough to permit me to jam for 3 hours. Atleast that went ok. The last thing I'd want to happen is for me to be the victim of a stray drum-stick or guitar... And it seems more inevitable with each passing day. I mean, it's bad enough having to borrow a bass guitar and an amplifier everytime I need to practice. But then not coming for practice at all is just blasphemy. sigh
The folks promised me a bass guitar after I finish my twelfth. I'll burn the bloody thing when they give it to me. I swear I will.
Anyway, so after all this jing-bang happened, I needed permission for the party at night. From previous knowledge, I knew there was a Sobha Garnet (my apartment) Building Party that was to happen at the same time. Double whammy. Upon enquiring if I could go (not to the bloody building party, but the normal one), I was told to shut my mouth.
"You've already had enough fun today!"
So. That was my fate. To sit in Sarjapur. In the Sobha Garnet Club House. Eat some paneer which had solidified a bit too much. Get stung by mosquitoes. Play a game of housie amongst over-excited teeny-boppers (and their over-excited parents). sigh again
While my friends were probably dancing to the likes of some artist (in English), I sat there listening to and watching those same teeny-boppers jumping around, baloon laden, to smash Hindi hits like Where's the party Tonight? and Rock & Roll Soniye.
Fuck.