Foul Play

 

 A few months back, my uncle Hosappan told me that I look like Al Pacino. I should not have waited for the rest, ‘…do you remember that scene in Godfather when his face is all puffed up after the cop punches him?’

Others have got it worse. At her wedding reception, my cousin Mini reminded Hosappan of Dustin Hoffmann in Tootsie. That time, he did not even elaborate whether she resembled the actor in drag or as he was. Mini being the good sort took it lightly, at least then. The next morning she wanted to skewer Hosappan over hot coal, slowly. He had complimented her new husband, ‘You look like Woody Allen.’ How can any guy who looks like that thespian, without being him, put in a passable performance on the first night or any later?

My earliest recollection dates back to my seventh birthday. He told my parents that I looked adorable, ‘…exactly like that kid Damien in Omen.’ Many years later, I saw that movie and realized why my parents had ‘gifted’ me a separate bedroom on the night of that birthday, quite far from the others.

Yesterday, friends and relatives gathered to celebrate Hosappan’s birthday. Everyone came well-prepared with a barb. And, he was ready with his repartee, winning more than he lost.

He came up to me and challenged, ‘Well…?’

I said, ‘You don’t remind me of anyone…’

He smiled. I think I got that punch below his belt.