Three guys are talking and looking at stuff at a mall. One of them is trying to buy a gift for his mother. The other two are helping him decide what to pick.
ARUN: Will you two stop staring at that girl and do something useful?
MANJIT: Will you look at that douche bag? How the hell do girls fall for these idiots?
IMRAN: Dude, if you are gay, just tell us? We won’t judge. I mean, there is a perfectly hot girl over there and all you can see is her lapdog?
MANJIT: Screw you!
ARUN: C’mon you guys! Help me! They all look the same to me. Why do women need to carry these stupid bags anyway? I mean, it cannot be only for makeup items. The other day I saw a girl about this tall (pointed to his waist), and she was carrying a bag bigger than a 6-year old kid. If all she was carrying was makeup, then I honestly pray that her boyfriend doesn’t see her in the morning.
MANJIT: That makes me wonder actually. There is a very good possibility that I might end up with an arranged marriage. What if my parents fall for the advertisement and when I open the package, there is a completely different product?
IMRAN: Oh, don’t worry. In your case, it would be the opposite. Your parents will paint such a Pandit Gangadhar image of you before the wedding that when she finally learns the truth about your kaminapanti, she will elope with the milkman.
(Ducks Manjit’s punch and turns to Arun)
Right, so what were you thinking bringing us along to buy ladies bags? We have as much experience with these things as Mr. Douche Bag over there has with books.
ARUN: I just didn’t want to be embarrassed alone. Anyway, what do you think of this one? (Shows a green leather purse)
MANJIT: Nah, too small.
IMRAN: He is right. Considering our experience in ladies accessories, it would be better if we stick to what we know.
ARUN: What, geometry?
MANJIT: Well, yeah. Your mom is not going to like any bag you choose. Therefore, the best you can do is get her something that can at least hold some money.
ARUN: Dude, she is my mom. She will like anything I buy.
MANJIT: That is exactly the point. Only because you, her son, are buying the bag.
ARUN: All right, let’s ditch the bag idea. How about saris?
IMRAN: I think I saw the sari section over there, but we have to walk past the lingerie section. You two go along. I don’t want to look any creepier than I’m feeling right now.
(They go to the sari section, dragging Imran physically)
ARUN: All right, so what do you know about saris?
MANJIT: Uh, they are long?
ARUN: Would you cut it out with the dimensions, already? Sheesh! What do you think, Imran?
IMRAN: I think…if that chick over there at the counter had more hair on her upper lip, she could have participated in that moustache competition, My Hair Lady.
ARUN: Oh My God! You two are such useless pieces of shit!
MANJIT: Woah, woah! Chill dude! Cut out the profanity. Aunties will start judging us.
IMRAN: (Under his breath) As if they aren’t already. Three jobless youths loitering around the lingerie section.
ARUN: All right, let’s go and check some sari designs then. Let me know if you find anything interesting.
(After checking out a few saris, they pull out one of them)
ARUN: Okay, so why is there no tag on this one? How do I know whether it’s silk or not?
MANJIT: You are supposed to know that from the touch. You see there are various kinds of silks that are used for making saris, like the Benarasi sari.
ARUN: What else?
MANJIT: How would I know?
IMRAN: Do you even know anything of substance?
MANJIT: I know more than you.
IMRAN: Yeah? Like what?
MANJIT: Like the fact that the tent-like thing over there is called a maxi or nightie. Or that, those tight suffocating pants that the mannequin is wearing are called leggings.
IMRAN: Okay, Versace, we know what a maxi is and what leggings are.
ARUN: Hey, that makes me think about one thing. Why do some aunties greet their guests wearing maxis? I mean they will put a dupatta over their heads, but forget that they are wearing nightclothes.
IMRAN: Oh, man, I know. I hate that too. It’s like, “Oh, hey kids, would you like some cookies? And by the way, don’t I look great in my balloon gown?”
ARUN: Exactly! And they will say it while baring their wrestler arms as if to say, “So why aren’t you eating my cookies?”
IMRAN: I know! By the way, have you noticed that when they are flexing their muscles, they shout something back to their husbands with a voice of death, and again turn back to you in a sing-songy voice and go, “Ooh, teehee!” I mean what in the world is that. Is that supposed to pacify my fears or something?
MANJIT: Whoa, whoa, my mom does that! How dare you mock her?
IMRAN: Oops, sorry dude. No offence to your mom. She is different you know. I was just talking about other aunties. (Exchanges sheepish looks with Arun)
(Sensing trouble, Arun takes the initiative)
ARUN: Okay this is not working. I don’t have any clue whatsoever about saris. For instance, this one time my mother complained to my dad that some particular design on her sari was making her look old. I checked the design and there were these straight lines kind of things printed on the fabric. I spent the next few hours looking up the relationship between straight lines and old age. I never found the exact connection; although I did discover that ladies pump shoes actually do not have tiny gear pumps installed in them; and that women blurt like ten times more words than men in one day, which is the alleged source of their power of nagging. Anyway, forget about saris. Let’s go for something a bit more vanilla, you know.
MANJIT: Thank god! If you had listened to me the first time, we would be feasting on tandoori chicken by now.
IMRAN: Oh please! Getting his mother an Adidas cap? Really? How do you not fall over while walking?
ARUN: Guys, guys, cut it out, okay. Look over there, hot girl at 2 o’clock. Wanna go over and say hi?
BOTH IN UNISON: Yeah…right!
ARUN: Your choice. In that case, let’s go and look for something less unique. I’m thinking an expensive pen will do.
IMRAN: Of course, it will do. Soon we will be accompanying you on grocery shopping trips looking for adha kilo piyaz and do kilo atta while referring to a slip handwritten with Sheaffer ink.
MANJIT: You can give her a scarf.
IMRAN: Tum chup raho yaar. Tumse nahi ho payega. What the hell will she do with a scarf in July?
MANJIT: Okay, Einstein, why don’t you suggest something, rather than pathetically attempting to sharpen your sarcasm on us?
ARUN: Yeah. What do you suggest, Imran?
IMRAN: It’s quite simple really. Just give her a hug.
MANJIT: Can we go and eat now?