Pontifications on Auntification

Ok… I have swept this topic under the carpet for long enough now… it is time I outed it. Friends, sisters, countrywomen…it is time to protest against a grave injustice being done to us. I am talking about that serious threat to the well being of urban Indian women– the menace of ‘Auntification’.

Consider the scenario. You are a woman some years above 30 (let's leave that part vague). You consider yourself fairly presentable, and a pretty good amount of attentiveness comes your way. You are used to jaws dropping when you reveal that you have kids, and the same dropping 2 inches further when you reveal your age. And then the bubble bursts – some full grown adult goes and calls you ‘Aunty’…   

And at once, you know- your time is near. Even before you can spell 'AUNTYJI', all that attentiveness and jaw-dropping will be gone. Soon, you would firmly be sent on your way with a one-way ticket to Auntyland.

I clearly remember the first time someone called me 'Aunty'. It was a neighbour of ours in Munirka. I was all of 23 and just married. Well, having been brought up in Delhi with colourful Punj neighbours, I felt like retorting, “%%$$##@, Aunty kisko bola be? Tu hoga Aunty. Teri behen Aunty. Tera poora khandan Aunty...!!!"

But then, that is not authentic Auntification. At 23, if a 30-year-old oddball decides to call you 'Aunty' just because you happen to be married, you can afford to laugh it off. I am talking SERIOUS Auntification here.

Of course, we are prepared for the final slaughter from early on – we have a kid when in our late twenties or early thirties, and the kid’s friends start calling us ‘Aunty’. So, by the time we reach the forties and serious-midlife-crisis time, we are kind of numbed to the 'A' word. But still, the initial stages of true Auntification – when full grown adults, not just kids, start calling  us ‘Aunty’, is hard on us – really hard..

Well, it’s an age-old problem (pun unintended), as you would say. But I say, why only us? Can you imagine being called ‘Aunty’ - not only by young adults in the neighbourhood, but also by casual acquaintances, the plumber, the watchman, and even strangers on a train - if you happen to be living in the US, or Japan, or the UK? Even if you are classic Aunty material, you would just be 'Suchi' to most people, without that abominable ‘A’ word to remind you all the time that you are getting on… and deepening your midlife crisis. X-(

Thankfully, rural India is as yet untouched by the Aunty Affliction. There, 6 to 60-year-olds call you ‘Didi’ rather endearingly. In villages that are close to a town it is sometimes ‘Madam’ (which is distasteful, but one can shrug it off). Strangely, when a 60-year old village woman calls me ‘Didi’, I don’t mind it at ALL- rather, it induces quite a pleasant sense of camaraderie. On the other hand, when an urban adult calls me ‘Aunty’, I feel quite, quite keen to strangle him/her with my bare hands…

And so, we fight back. With all we have got. Trying to delay the onset of Auntification, we slather on age-defying creams. We run on treadmills as if for dear life. We join programmes that promise to vibrate all the wobbly we-are-your-mortal-enemy chunks of flesh off our body. We worry more about our peeping grey roots than we do about a nuclear holocaust. We look up (for newer and more outlandish ideas of preservation)  to well-preserved idols like Demi Moore - who regularly botox  and detox (using leeches, apparently) - remaining gorgeous, naturally… (Pun very much intended.)

Really, is this all not getting a bit too stressful and demanding?

So I say, it is high time, ladies… let us rise as one against the rampant Auntification of our society… let us revolt... start a movement!

What is that - a meeting of the movement to discuss strategy - next week, you say? Sure thing, suits me just fine - gives me just enough time to get my root touch-up and anti-aging facial... I'll go call up the parlour RIGHTAWAY...

(This write-up was inspired by Seema Goswami's article in HT Brunch) http://www.hindustantimes.com/Brunch/Brunch-Stories/Who-are-you-calling-Aunty/Article1-830289.aspx

Delhi... Lost and Found

Recently, I made a trip to Delhi, to visit Ma. I mostly stayed indoors, catching up on all the family gossip with Ma, and of course, clearing the hundreds of spam sms’s flooding her phone inbox...:-/ http://womaninterrupted-merablog.blogspot.com/2011/02/mother-of-all-technologies.html

But even the limited time I spent out on the streets of Delhi gave me something to think about. In many ways, I started rediscovering the city I grew up in...

Delhi dehleez

On the August Kranti from Mumbai to Delhi, my immediate neighbours in the compartment were 4 men (not traveling together). They started conversing  as soon as the train started. They spoke in a coarse tongue, and their conversation consisted solely of business deals and money talk. “Haan haan, woh do lakh maang raha hai toh kal hi pahuncha de na usey paise!” sort of thing. The only time they deviated from the topic of ‘making money’ was when a couple of them waxed eloquent about the greatness of Delhi and rued the fact they had to travel to Mumbai so often for business.

Come night. One of the men clambered on to the top berth, and almost immediately, started snoring. Actually, to call it simply ‘snoring’ is an insult - the sound was roughly equivalent to 5 trains ramming simultaneously into a mountain, and then letting out a loud, anguished whistle. In the morning, one of the other men, tongue firmly in cheek, asked him, “Achchhi neend aayi?” “Haan ji, mujhe toh bahut badhiya neend aayi”, he replied. The first man shot back, “Aur aapki badhiya neend ne hum sab ko poori raat jagaye rakha!”

I could not help smiling! Simple. Direct. Unpretentious. Two years ago I would have been judgemental. But now, I found myself wondering which is better - artlessness and unsophistication, or the pretentious world where you go ‘Hey…lovely to see you!’ and ‘muah muah’ even at your worst enemies at a party…

‘Apne shahar ki toh baat hi alag hai…Dilli toh dilwalon ki’, one of them quipped, as the train chugged into Delhi.

Delhi Belle

I don’t know what made me travel by a DTC bus that day. And I definitely don’t remember when I last rode on one – definitely not in the last 15 years.

I was to visit a friend in far-flung Sarita Vihar, and I had every intention of using the universally applauded Delhi Metro. But at the last minute I changed my mind, and hopped into an AC bus on route 724…can’t think of any good reason for doing it, except the corny: ‘It was fate’. It probably was – I was destined to meet someone.

Inside the bus, I looked around for a ‘safe’ seat – having grown up in Delhi and being well aware of the noxious ‘paws’ lurking around in DTC buses. My eyes zeroed in on an empty seat next to a demure looking, smartly turned out young woman in her 20’s, and I went and sat down there.

Next, I started looking around for the conductor. A man strode purposefully towards us from the front of the bus. He came right up to where we sat and held out his hand to the young lady sitting next to me. The lady dug into her large bag. Ok, here he is, thought I, and rummaged into my bag to locate my wallet. Pulling out the cash, I turned towards the man to collect my ticket – and got a HUGE surprise.

It was the well-dressed woman next to me who was handing over the ticket – she was the conductor of bus #724!!! And even as I sat there - blushing inwardly for my presumptuousness and marveling at the whole idea of a woman conductor in a DTC bus, she hollered, in a strict school-principalish voice, “Haan bhaiya! Aage wale aa kar apne apne ticket le lo!”

I was completely fascinated, and spent the rest of my journey chatting with her. Most of what I heard was a pleasant surprise. Hired after the Commonwealth Games, these women came looking for the security of a government job – the coveted ‘sarkari naukri’. This particular lady had left a ‘desk job’ with a private company for this. Women conductors are put on day shifts, ending by 4 or so, for safety. But still, she was looking forward to being promoted to a desk job soon.

Crossing all limits of inquisitiveness, I asked her whether the crowd in AC buses behaved any better than in the others. Not really, she replied - in fact they misbehaved with more confidence!

A man came up to me (mistaking me for the conductor) and asked for a ticket… I could not decide whether to feel pleased or insulted – and ended up feeling bemused. But overall, it would be a rather adventurous job, I surmised…

Did she like this job? I asked, pushing the boundaries of politeness again. She gave me one withering look – “Would you?” Well, that put me firmly in my place!

Lost and Found

But still, the whole idea was a big and bold step forward for Delhi, I thought. And somehow, after a long, long time I started liking Delhi again during this trip…

Of course, the ubiquitous traffic snares are still very much in place, and your ears get tired trying to beep out all the ma-behn gaalis being bandied about, and no Delhi public place is quite complete without a few men standing around scratching their balls with supreme abandon…

But still, on looking inside myself, I could no longer find the active dislike for the city that I had developed some years ago.

And that brings me to the inevitable - the ‘Mumbai vs Delhi’ bit…

I have lived in Mumbai for over 5 years now. It is supremely impersonal. Everyone is immersed in themselves - nobody gives a damn for anyone else… so much so, that sometimes you start wondering if you really exist! So maybe that is why I found Delhi a welcome change – where people at least notice you, even if it is to drive too close to the pavement you are walking on - to splash muddy water from a puddle on to you (on purpose, naturally). Or lean out of their vehicle at a traffic signal to stare at you as if you were the last specimen of a female homo-sapien left on earth…

Delhi is the city of my birth... the place where I grew up, went to school and college, started my career, got married. But somewhere down the line I had distanced myself from it. It was a good place to go shopping and have fun times with friends, but that was it.

But this time, I started feeling reconnected to the city again. Of course, the DTC experience and all had something to do with it. But I think a lot of it was also due to a meeting with my school-friend Gautami. Time melted away as we spoke of the days gone by, giggled at juvenile jokes, and shared the most heartfelt joys and sorrows.

As I put on my red-and-black shoes to go out, she said ‘Oye, 40 saal ki ho gayi hai - sharam nahi aati laal jootey pehente huey!’ And then suddenly realised she was carrying a large red purse - and we both went into fits of laughter...Nobody could have guessed we were meeting after so many years – yes, it had taken us 22 long years to ‘find’ each other again.

And it was the same with Delhi. And I plan to keep in touch – with the people and places that matter. I guess, there comes a time in your life when you need to ‘Get back to where you once belonged’…