So. You think I don’t see. You think because I am Auntie – because I feed you samosa and ask about your marriage, your job, your weight – that I am just background noise. Hmmph.
Let me tell you something, beta . I have survived three joint family weddings, one property dispute, and a pressure cooker explosion that took out the entire kitchen ceiling. You think your little “life crisis” scares me?
Don’t end up like me, humming songs while chopping onions. Make a mess. Break a rule. Come home crying. I will heat you leftover roti and call you an idiot with love. But for God’s sake, live .
(She picks up her chai again, voice dropping low.)
I was twenty-two. I had dreams too. Not of America or an MBA – I wanted to be a singer. On the radio. Can you imagine? Your Auntie, with her bun and her back pain, singing love songs for the whole of Delhi? But life happens. Parents say, “ Shaadi karlo .” Husband says, “ Adjust karo .” Children say, “ Mummy, paratha banao .” And one day, you wake up and your voice is only used for scolding the maid and calling the electrician.
(She settles back, suddenly businesslike.)
So when I ask you, “When will you get married?” – it is not because I want to trap you. It is because I know the world is hard, and a good partner is a shield. When I say, “Eat more, you are looking like a stick” – it is not about beauty. It is because I have seen girls faint in the office lift from not eating. And when I gossip about the Sharma girl who “ran away with her trainer” – I am not judging her. I am jealous . She had the guts I never did.