Brouhaha | Shreya Parashar

Pjs are the costume of choice in this tale of party romance.


Brouhaha

Shreya Parashar

The Spooky Jelly Award


 

“Isn’t pyjama the best gift to humankind?”

You don’t have a choice but to believe. Pep talk, that’s what it is. Get in now. But how would you blend in? It’s a dress up party; everyone is in their best attire. Now don’t you get started on how girls freeze in skimpy dresses while guys get to wear suits. You like to check out guys’ derrière in suits, more than in boxers. None of it matters right now. Look at you, pyjamas, tee and bunny slippers. And braless.

Nope, you won’t start your rant on dresses and stilettos. How a girl wears a dress, two sizes smaller and then gasps for breath and dreads a fart. Corsets have resurrected, you would say.

“But pyjamas are comfy.”

Yes. Free flowing, ventilating and always available in a size bigger than what you need. Stripes, checks, animal prints, pizza slice prints and nude PJs, you have a collection that would put the Kardashians to shame. You can somersault, squat, levitate and breathe in those pairs! But, they’re still pyjamas.

“Unwaxed legs? No problem in pyja-ma land.”

Ok smarty- pants. You get a brownie. But pyjama parties are not yet universal themes. The universal truth at this moment is that you are in pyjamas, with yellow banana prints. You actually bought this phallic symbol! And your tee, does it really read- Brains Are The New Tits! Oh, did you check your titties, all perky? The air conditioning is doing its job. Fold your arms, quick. You don’t have long hair either, to cover up.

Act cool. A guy is walking towards you. He might be coming just to grab a drink. Look the other way, you don’t want any attention.

“It’s so hot here..,” he picks a drink form the table.

“Sorry, should I leave?”

You’re corny. He must be retching. Ok, he smiled. Don’t speak, don’t…

“Hi, nice tie.”

You sound desperate, not subtle.

“Hey. Fancy pick of clothes.”

“Ah this! It’s my ‘out of bed’ look.”

Nice cover up, you! Those air quotes though..

“I wonder how would you be ‘in bed’?” he winks.

“Drooling and snoring.”

You speak fluent sarcasm, don’t you? Remember, there are things to fix.

“Stay! Just a little bit longer,” he tip-toes as he hums.

Ok, you can’t dance. Stay put, arms folded.

“Please, please, please, tell me you’re going to,” he coos.

You are getting woozy, good singers do that to you. Now you will sing back, Dirty Dancing songs work, always.

“Won’t you press your sweet lips to mine…”

Congratulations! Tonight you gatecrashed a party and are saved for the night. You can get a duplicate key made tomorrow, first thing in the morning, to enter your house.

 

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