Sarla, my wife's sometimes best friend, rang up to say we simply had to watch the biggest makeover in television history.
Now I know a thing or two about makeovers. When my son steps out of the home to be with his friends, he employs all manner of things to make his hair stand up in little clumps, wears his jeans really low, and adopts a walk that looks like he is limping because his toe is hurting.
It always embarrasses me what his friends will think of him. But they resemble each other anyway.
The moment he is back home, I insist he brushes his hair back and removes the cycle chain, or something resembling it, which he sports around his neck.
"Why would they want to show someone turn into an ugly monster on television?" I asked Sarla.
"You don't know anything," she retorted over the phone.
"Jassi's getting a full makeover. And everyone's going to be watching it on television tonight."
"What's Jassi?" I asked her in some bewilderment.
"Who's Jassi?" corrected Sarla.
"I don't know," I complained, "but I thought you did."
"Jassi," explained my wife, snatching the phone from me, "is a character on television who is not very beautiful, but is now getting a makeover that will make her very beautiful."
"Oh," I nodded understanding, "you mean it's a reality show?"
"No, no," said Sarla, who had heard the exchange and was now shouting over the mouthpiece, "it is all very complicated, but all you need to know is that she's a pretty actress who has been wearing braces and spectacles and a
bad wig for two years, but will now take them off so everyone can see how beautiful she really is."
"Has she been impersonating somebody?" I asked. "Of course not," said my wife, "her role requires her to be simple without being beautiful. She becomes beautiful to avenge the man she loves, but who has betrayed her."
"Everyone does," she retorted, "it is television's worst kept secret."
I had little time to think of all this at work, though I was coaxed by a colleague not to miss the show at night.
I promised I would tune in. But Sarla had decided I needed educating anyway and came over to make sure I wouldn't miss the show.
"I am sure they will begin with her hair," she said, blowing out smoke rings as she waited for the soap to begin.
"Why, is she going out for a party?" I asked. I knew that every time we went out for one, my wife would rush to the beauty parlour to have her hair ironed, which seemed to me a strange thing to do.
Besides, the last time she was having her hair pressed, someone had sneaked into her car and pinched the music system, so I didn't have too many happy memories of hairy makeovers.
Before Sarla could reply, the serial began. There was a moment of suspense, and then a girl in large spectacles and braces walked on and the camera froze on her.
"She's so-o-o beautiful!" sighed Sarla.
"Who?" I asked.
"Jassi, of course," she shouted back.
"You mean the specky?" I asked in bewilderment.
"Just you wait," shouted Sarla, "till she removes her braces, then her glasses, and gets into some glamorous clothes. That's when you will realise that the ugly duckling is actually a swan."
And so, till the transformation is complete, I guess I will be watching, too, to see whether Jassi warrants all the excitement of television's most eagerly awaited makeover.
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