Indian: Aunt !!install!!

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 leans in, eyes glittering.)

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. indian aunt

(She points a finger, but it’s trembling.) Don’t end up like me, humming songs while chopping onions

I know you look at me and see only the ghar ki izzat – the house’s honor. The one who clicks her tongue at your ripped jeans. But do you know what I see when I look at you? I see a child who forgot that I was once you. Come home crying

(She softens, just a little.)

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.