Of Aunties

Dear intelligent readers, oh, did I offend anybody?  Dolly Bindra? Anyway, I write this because I know aunties are an integral part of our fucked up culture and epitomise hypocrisy. It’ll be unfair to their community if we just ignore their huge bodies, pink lip colours and golden dupattas, I mean, don’t be so mean you, gaiz. An aunty is an evitable end to a girl’s existence, I mean, come to think of it, from the moment you realise you are a girl, you’re abjectly stereotyped, “oh, a woman? Can’t drive, I bet.” “Look, a woman, lets tell her shameless husband-wife jokes and how wives harass their husbands”, it’s funny? Ya? Maybe in 5BC, get over it already, you jerk.  “Woman? Oh, I can never understand them, they’re like the open books with white pages, there’s so much to them and nothing at all” fuck you man, cut the crap, there’s nothing so effing deep about women, they’re normal human beings. Finding hard to digest it? Take your time. Normal. Human. Beings. Yes. “When girls mean x, they mean y”, for the records, I mean “ok” when I say “ok”.  Then there are those mind numbing, suicidal 5 days every month when every girl wants to smack any and everybody in the range of 50 miles, there’s this fucking paroxysm of harmones, messing every part of her, do not, DO NOT mess with a woman for those 5 days, she’ll be like a naked wire, ready to burn you down alive. And do not tell me to calm the fuck down, I’ll cut you in two halves and show you what bleeding means. Yeah. So coming back, we, girls grow up with all of this shit and one day, despite being normal all our lives, we give in to society and their definition of a woman. Illogical, irrational and turn into hairy obese orange aunties. That, my friends, is an inevitable end.  I do not generalize as a rule, there are types, let’s see what all. Types of aunties.

Beta kaamwali aayi? Dude, what century are you living in? Even, Draupadi would know kaamwali aayi ya nahi. I mean, use the goddamn phone. The phone. The telephone. Yeah, the same device that you use to suck the life outta your husband and leak breaking news from a neighbour’s house to another. Call her. I have no fucking clue, kaamwali aayi ya nahi. Ok?

Pehchaana? Hum tab mile the jab tum apni maa ke pet mei thi “Oh, yeah, totally. I remember, we hit it off so well then, how  are you doing?” Seriously? Do you hear yourself talk? You might need a shrink, if you do.  Are you the fucking Prime Minister  the hot guy from the daily soap that I’ll bother to remember you? I don’t remember shit that happened yesterday. Also, you might wanna change your questions maybe? They’re all clichéd. Also, you must know, there is no obligation for a  small talk whatsoever, I’m totally cool if there’s nothing worth talking about. Are we on the same page?

Kitni badi hogayi ho Yah, I noticed that recently too, cool no? I mean I’m totally defying all the laws of nature. How on earth am I growing up?  Must be gods, I’m telling you.

Result aaya?  Then there are aunties who’ll only see you when they want spice in their lives. So, should I cook up a spicy story for you so you can direct speech it to Mrs Sharma or would you do it yourself? I’m sure you can.

The orange aunty She’s my favourite, I mean you can die of too much bling but if you can survive that, nothing like it. She’s an entertainment package, you’ll see her wrapped in orange something, with maroon lipstick and golden heels matched with a golden sequenced bag. She’s hell bent on defying her age. Her clothes can be used to teach optics to kids, you know refraction etcetera.

The obese, hairy aunty If you can manage to get her to wax, our mother earth can get rid of 200 pounds, if you know what I mean.  They’re the innocuous kinds, most often than not, they do not suck the life outta you.

Beta shaadi karlo Oh yeah? Your concern overwhelms me, seriously it does, I kid you not. But you know what? Mind. Your. Own. Fucking. Business.

Beta ghar aaya karo There! You said it, thank you for making my life miserable. Now my mother will be after my life to make me visit you. I mean stop pretending that you care about my existence, you just wana gossip with my mom while I sit there, hopelessly staring at the fan, trying to calculate the rotations per minute, because that’s more interesting than why-Mrs Sharma-didn’t-come-for-the-evening-stroll. Lets just ignore each others’existance? Shall we? Till the time of course I become one of you. Sigh.

That’s about it I think, can’t think of any more.  I’m sure there are more varieties. Of all shapes, sizes and colors. Let me know if you come across one.

Disclaimer: This post does not refer to any specific person, dead or living.