The Snob…Something After That

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The start of the story is on the link given, i have just given it an ending which made me feel better about the characters- (

“Do you want to go to the parlor you like so much? We can have tea with cupcakes of your choice” John said to mask how truly wretched he felt. Grace peeked from underneath her hat and shyly answered, “I would like that.”

As they sat in the parlor, drinking tea and talking about everything but what had happened some hours ago, Grace clutched his hand and looked deeply in his eyes. With a quivering voice she requested, “John let’s agree never to disagree. It does a thing to my nerves. I realize the argument brought us closer than we were before, but I wish we wouldn’t talk like that to each other. It is very unpleasant.”

Taken in by her speech and soulful eyes, John ardently replied, “I wish I had never been so stupid Grace. I swear on my life that I shall never lash out on you again. I feel ashamed and wretched to have been so unpleasant to you when the fault was all in my head.”

Seeing him troubled Grace felt that she should comfort him and tell him that everything would be fine. But she knew not of the matter that troubled him so.

“Oh Grace, how do I even begin to tell you what I have done. It is unspeakable and it horrifies me to have done something so bad. You see, I belong to a plain and simple family. My father and mother wear shabby clothes that have been worn for too long. They do not possess the fine qualities your parents do. I love them just s much as every son loves his parents, but there is no denying that they could use some mannerisms. I know I sound like a snob and that makes me feel even worse. I love them fiercely and would never want them to change in any way. But today, when I saw my father in the same room as you, I panicked, I felt constricted. I did not know if you would want to meet him. And it made me feel agitated to not know what to do and I cannot afford to lose you.”

Grace had turned from happy to somber. Almost violently, she withdrew her hand and looked the other side. “How could you think of something that awful? I have wanted to meet your parents ever since you met mine! If you would never give me a chance to meet them, how ever will I know if I like them or not! I would never leave you John. I care for you, passionately. But this behavior of yours makes me question my decision to spend time with you!”

“Oh Grace please forgive me! I wish you would meet them right now! Please do not be disappointed in me! I shall do as you please. Do you want to meet my parents? We could do that.”

Startled at how odd this day had been, but thrilled to know that she would finally meet his parents, Grace agreed to accompany him to his house where he knew his family would be right now.

The house of the Harcourts was a quaint one. Although the paint seemed to be chipped from certain places and it was clear that the house needed some repairing, Grace thought it had a certain charm to it. Grace marveled at the fact that John had never before asked her to come here and in a way she was glad that John had embarrassed himself since now she got to meet his parents.

The door creaked open as they entered the house. They heard a voice along with some hustle and bustle.

“John? Is that you dearie? Be an angel and fetch me some needles from the top shelf in the cabinet!”

John apologetically looked towards Grace, only to find her silently laughing. He nervously smiled, still wondering if she had been put off by anything yet.

“John! Why haven’t…..” the voice trailed off as an old woman stood before them, slightly surprised. Her grey dress seemed faded and loose strands escaped her bun. “Why hello! Come in dear. Do introduce yourself to me. I am John’s mother you see.

James! James, look who’s here!”

John’s heartbeat quickened, he felt his face starting to flush and he couldn’t meet his father’s eyes as he descended the stairs. As he chanced a sight of him, he saw that his father was regarding him with cool blue eyes and a grave expression. He could not imagine the hurt he had caused him. After all, to be ignored by one’s own son when you are so proud of him, is nothing short of humiliation of the highest level.

“Hello sir, I am Grace. It is a pleasure to meet you” Grace said cheerily, trying to diffuse the stuffy atmosphere that had been created when his father had come in the room. James looked at Grace, and his eyes seemed to melt into a softer tone. He kindly looked at her, and said “it is nice to meet you too. You look lovely dear. Lovely indeed.”

And that is how they got to talking- Grace, his mother, and his father. They talked, they laughed, and they ate together until it was time for her to go. It was clear that she liked them as much as they liked her. As John watched them talk to each other in happy spirits, he would later go to his father and beg his forgiveness, and although what he did was heartbreaking for his father, he would try to forgive him.




I had been pulling my hair a while ago. I was thinking about how I was letting my life go down the drain. I do not feel like I have done anything in a year. And it frustrates me. It makes me feel useless and unworthy of anything. It makes me feel selfish and ugly and everything that could make me pull my hair. My father had just dismissed the idea of journalism. I know he will come around to accepting the idea, but he believes I can do better than that. So I was reassessing the ideas I have built in my head. And I questioned everything I have been doing for the past year.


I know that I am not the person who wants to do “hard-hitting” journalism, nor am I a person who believes in spending half of her life buried under files or computers or wasting away coped in a cabin where I have to sit all the time. I think of travelling all around the world. I want to feel the warmth of the sun in Greece, with water as blue as sky, and sky bluer than itself. I want to walk in the streets of Paris; I want to see the snow fall in the busy city of new York; I want to watch buildings go by as I lie in the boats in Italy; I want to fall in love with a beautiful man- inside out, tall, with a sharp nose, high cheekbones, beautiful deep soulful blue eyes, ruffled black hair, and an accent that could make my insides melt, just like Gone With The Wind promises Rhett Butler to every woman; I want to help poor children, bring them to my home, teach them all good things so that they never stray from the path of good, so that they can become as successful as the privileged ones and be happy; I want to feel the fine sand slipping away from under my feet when waves retreat to the vast sea as I watch the sun setting in . I want myself to remain happy forever, so that I see no pain and feel no pain.

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And then my thoughts come back from my private paradise, letting me know that I study in college, that I never bother trying to earn so my account remains to a shameful balance of Rs.900, that I will have to work really hard and remain grounded to be able to do all of the above things. But then again, I cannot stop myself from picturing those beautiful bright small white houses built alongside the blue sea, dull lights spilling onto the silent gray streets, white snow covering everything but the barren brown trees of the playground, the beautiful sculpted image of a man, the happy faces of the children, because as much as it hurts to come back to reality and fill me with longing, it makes me aware of the fact that all of these things could happen to me if I worked hard enough. All of it makes me happy and protects me from the harsh biting reality that yawns before me, baring its ugly sharp teeth. So I dream, dream, and dream, and a smile plays on my lips as I think of it all over again until sleep lulls me and takes me into her arms.


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