Top lies my parents told me growing up


Indian parents are great liars.

I wouldn’t blame them though they had to have kids at an age where they should have been lying to their parents about getting drunk, so they had to lie to somebody and us (my brother and me), their sweet unassuming children became an easy target.

Growing up, my parents told me some really absurd things that I continued to believe to be true until I took my first puff of the stuff that makes you question everything. That’s when I realised you cannot trust two things, the government and Indian parents’ logic.

Here are some (in)valuable pieces of advice/warning/convenient lies told to me when I was a babe (not the hot kind that I am right now).

Overturned shoes will cause a nuclear war

Whenever any of my parents sees a shoe that is lying upside down they suffer from fit of anxiety/madness/delirium, they believe that a shoe lying upside down creates fights in the house, which may be true because this one time I refused to get up and straighten up the shoe and my parents fought with me real bad!

Meanwhile I think one of our (really sick) great great great great grand forefather(mother), who had a serious obsessive compulsive disorder, must be feeling really proud at the resounding success of his or her lie.

Well played OCD suffering grandpa

The salt and scissors ground touching ritual

This one is just a really mean stereotyping of one type of mineral and domestic equipment as fight-causing and evil.

As per my parents, a bottle of salt or a pair of scissors should never be passed to another person directly, there is this whole ritual where you put the bottle or scissors on a flat platform and then the other person says a quick prayer (okay this part may not be true), only then he or she can pick it up. This is because if you directly pass the salt or scissors to another person, it creates a rift between you and the other person.

Lately, I have been seeing too many happy (disgusting) photos of my crush and his girlfriend online (runs off to find scissors).

As soon as he hands her the scissors.

Don’t laugh too much or you will have to cry later

And all I have to say is thank god my parents are not incharge of PR for The Comedy Store.

Dear Diary, sometimes I laugh too much and then I feel crying.

We never spoke to our elders this way

I don’t believe this is true at all, if it was my grandparents would definitely be more generous with their gifts. Although, let’s assume what they are saying is true, then not questioning what they have been taught by their parents, is the primary reason for my parents believing all of this bullshit which in turn they force me to believe.

You should have asked why mom!

I am a direct passer of Salt, fuck yeah!

You are older, you have to understand

This is not only illogical but extremely discriminatory and the start of the kind of neglect that creates, really fucked up, pill taking adults. I am the older between my brother and me and whenever he did something highly stupid (and dangerous) when we were young, like sticking a chewing gum to my hair or creating abstract paintings on my homework, my mother would actually hold me back, give me a tight laafo (slap) and take the knife from my hand and tell me that I wasn’t allowed to stab my brother to death; I am older, I had to understand. Unfair? You bet.

Shake your leg and your mother will die

Shaking leg is a nervous habit, why would you tell somebody who already has a nervous habit that his or her mother is going to die?

You are not allowed to cut your hair on Saturdays

This one actually makes sense. I’ll tell you why, I have extreme bad luck with haircuts, no matter who cuts my hair (even if Paul Mitchell himself came to my house and give me a makeover), I usually don’t (cannot) step out of the house for about a week after the haircut because

a) I am depressed;

b) its cut too short thereby exposing all my face and arm fat or the flicks make me look like a deranged psychopath who has just escaped from the facility;

I wish there was a product that makes my hair look like ten days have passed since the hair cut, on the day of the haircut, but there isn’t. So it only makes sense that I don’t cut my hair on Saturdays, which happens to be the only day (night) where I am forced to venture out in the big bad world (strictly under peer pressure).

Me, on the day I get a haircut

My deceitful childhood has turned me into a disbelieving cynical adult. So if you ever feel like my words are too harsh and my nature too bad, blame it on my parents.

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