The Lesbian Earthquake

What has always fascinated me about foreigners fascinated by Indian culture is the sheer positivity and interest with which they talk about Indian weddings. Don't get me wrong, Indian weddings are like no other. The intricate rituals, the vibrant colors, the gorgeous decorations, the fattening food, the oceans of people....it's beautiful. 

However, everyone has a limit, especially if you're not really social like me. I'm lowkey terrified of large crowds, so Indian weddings aren't suitable for me. Attending a wedding once in a while is fine, but with time, things can get pretty exhausting. Unlike Western weddings, Indian weddings go on for DAYS. They're really long, and that's sugarcoating it. They may seem like fun to outsiders, but if you're an intense Indian introvert like me, oh boy.

The most draining part of a wedding is introducing yourself to all the people attending the event. Most of them know who you are. Meanwhile, you don't even know they existed. "Oh, you're all grown up! I held you in my arms when you were a little baby. Do you remember me?" Uh-huh.... 

My father makes it his mission to show me off to absolutely everyone in the venue - extended family, close friends, distant relatives, old people, youngsters, random people who had probably sneaked into the wedding, and even the street dogs. 

In 2012 or 2013, my mother's younger brother got married. It was a long, tiring event even though I was just attending. Luckily, things went pretty well, if we exclude the time my uncle and his wife fought on the most important day of their wedding.

My uncle's wife, AKA my aunt, was very sweet. She gave all the kids some gifts a day after the celebrations had wrapped up. My brother got a toy car while I got an informative physical geography book, AKA a book about the Earth's climate, geological processes, landforms, water bodies, natural disasters, and so on.

The book was pretty good, and I took it with me home. One day, while I sat on the sofa and read the section about natural calamities with much concentration, my father decided to test me. He asked me to hand him the book so that he could ask me a few questions to check if I was really reading the content.

I was prepared to answer any question related to the book he was gonna shoot at me. After flipping over a few pages, he opened his mouth and asked, "Where did the devastating earthquake of 1755 happen?"

I, with all the confidence in the world, blurted, "Lesbian!" 

My mom, who was in her own world, suddenly looked at me with shock. My father was utterly confused as well. After a few millenniums seconds of awkward silence, my mom asked me where I had learned the word. I, realizing that I had messed up big time, said something along the lines of mispronouncing Lisbon and pretended that I didn't know what 'that word' meant. 

My parents then told me to be careful and not use such words casually. Looking back, this incident cracks me up. In fact, I learned the word "lesbian," from a friend after she had accused my best friend and me of being lesbians, which made absolutely no sense whatsoever since we're males.

Anyway, come to think of it, the words, 'Lesbian earthquake' have a nice little ring to them, no? Actual earthquakes kinda scare me, but I'd be all in for a lesbian earthquake, and I don't even know what that's supposed to look like.

Lesbian, my favorite European city.