My Proverbial Auntyji

Every one must have one.

The expert on assorted subjects; international teacher of Indian philosophy, Master of Yoga, Wardrobe consultant, Moral guardian, etiquette educator, social swami. All rolled in one.



She looks her part. Short and rotund, she dress in the most vibrant colours of nature. Her face is white as snow barring the big mole on her left cheek and the strategically placed big red bindi which she claims is in line with her pituitary gland.



Every time we meet, she surveys me up and down. As if she were buying the leg of a lamb. Then wistfully says, "Shus chhak gumutz!!". Roughly translated, this would mean, " You look life less !!" I dig my nails into into my flesh, smile and try to look moved; instead of hysterical.



This one time, Auntyji-the-decorator decided to give my room a makeover. Everyone has their style, she for one worships symmetry. So, she organizes everything in the room; books , CD's, toiletries in order of size...the second classification being colour and consistency. She is almost obsessed about aligning the cushions diagonally and everything must always be equidistant from each other.



I specially avoid being in her vicinity when she is venturing out in the market. For her any purchase, tomatoes and turnips to tuba's and televisions, must include a round on bang-on bargaining. Each discussion is almost as profound as a nuclear arms deal.



Cooking is her passion. Specially the 37 types of mutton. If she is serving you a helping, to refuse would be a major faux-pas, akin to blowing snot on her face. The minute you pause for a breath, Auntyji will fill your load and insist you eat more. A sluggish eating performance is seen as a personal affront.



For someone as animated, spirited and industrious as her life never stands still. Barring ofcourse her favourite daily soap, " Mother-in-laws were Daughters-in-laws too one day" is on air. This moving epic of family drama makes her shed tears to make up for the saline enough to rehydrate a dozen thirsty famine struck Ethiopians.

Auntyji loves entertaining. Worthy of mention are her singing and dancing skills. The dance moves consist a lot of head wobbles, shoulder shimmies and the best of all, the punjabi move which involves a manoeuvre akin to changing a light bulb. She sings old hindi songs with a penchant. Almost incomprehensible when screeched in her strong Kashmiri accent at a double decibel.
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Auntyji isn't outrageously funny, but has this capacity to tell endless deprecating jokes. Sometimes I think she is Lucille Ball trapped in an Indian body. She loves good food, good gossip and good controversy. Not necessarily in that order. If she were to be the last one on earth she'd probably fight the wind.

Auntyji has her tales on bravery and valour too. She actually survived a seven day stand-off at the IC-814 hijacked plane from Kathamandu to Kandahar. She claims reminiscently to have given the gun totting terrorists a lesson or two on the Gandhian philosophy of peace and non violence, that too in impeccable Kashmiri.

At times, she is too cliche'd, too melodramatic, too movie....But mostly, Auntyji is beyond definition, beyond statement. For anything you say, the opposite could be true. She defies understanding, and for once, that's okay with me.

Everyone must have one.
An Auntyji.