Clearly, some of you were good little boys and girls in your youth. That means that you are conditioned to associate the words “uncle”/ “auntie” and the vernacular with respect. You can’t help it. If this was just Plain Jane, the 50 year old down the street, you might be polite and pleasant, but if somebody who calls herself Bunty Auntie starts speaking to you in your mother tongue, you snap to like a pointer.
This account comes from Sleepy’s blog “Watching the Sun” but I’ll bet you have your own auntie experiences:
One morning, while back, it was 4am and I had been asleep for fifteen minutes. I was woken up by a phone call and I was a little, I don’t know, pissed off?Me: (barely making sense through all that incredibly righteous indignation) Hello?!
Her: Hello Beta, this is Shabnam aunty!
I usually tend to wake up very quickly when someone calls herself aunty and speaks in Hindi/Punjabi/any language my twisted little psyche associates with authority. Seriously, wouldn’t you? For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out whether I knew Shabnam aunty, but I wasn’t too surprised, my mom often makes friends who call me at random times to you know, chat. [Link]
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p>Now me, I would have just hung up. Uncle, Auntie, I don’t care. Don’t call me at 4AM unless you’re blood of some sort, a close personal friend, or an early morning booty call [the last was added after Jeet reminded me of such things 
]. But an auntie I’ve never heard of? Clearly, Sleepy is made up of sugar and spice and everything nice and I am not because she continued the conversation:
Me: Um Hi?
Her: How are you Beta?
Me: Good aunty, how are you?
Her: I’m fine beta, give the phone to mummy now.
Me: ????????? Um, aunty, mom’s at home, not here.
Her: hahahahhahahah, so cute.
Me: (o.k., seriously, wtf?! and I start talking in Hindi as well, cuz you know, maybe she’ll believe me) She’s at home, do you want her number?
Her: Enough now beta, give the phone to mummy. (All stern like, velvet glove/iron fist stuff, which ya know, doesn’t sit well with me, ever)
Me: Mummy isn’t here.
Her: Are you making fun of Shabnam Aunty Beta? That’s not very nice. (o.k., this is what she said, Beta, aap Shabnam aunty ka mazaak uda rahein hain? Bilkul theek baat nahin hai. It was like she was flirting with me )
So yeah, we went for a few more rounds and then I hung up. ON. AN. AUNTY. [Link]
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p>The next morning, of course, Sleepy felt remorseful:
I don’t know, probably shouldn’t have hung up on her because what likely happened is that she called the right number and chewed out right number’s children for being cheeky, obnoxious heathens. And then had the kid’s mom chew them out, and the dad, and the grandma etc. etc. And then they probably got chewed out for bringing shame on the family cuz Shabnam aunty’s very fond of gossip… [Link]
Personally, I don’t get it. Maybe it was my particular family upbringing, maybe it’s because I’m a boy, maybe it’s because I’m just too much of a coconut. I understand what Sleepy is saying, and while I think of myself as being reasonably nice, the title “uncle” or “auntie” just doesn’t cut any ice with me. Will I be going to a hell that I don’t believe in, populated solely by aunties bent on making me miserable? How many of you salivate automatically when this particular bell rings?
if the phone rings at 4am, it better be a booty call
i’m guilty of salivating when i hear the term auntie/uncle… i was once called by an uncle at 6am while on vacation in ooty (yes india) by some random uncle who tracked me down in order for me to give his son advice on taking the SAT’s 10 years ago…
what the hell do i look like? the princeton review?
that happened again a few times 5am calls when i was back in amrika from aunties and uncles who heeded advice for their dear beta’s…and their academic future/s?
i forbid my parents to freely give out my digits afterwards.
‘beta you should help everyone’…’yeah mom, i need my sleep and my sanity and don’t want to be hoarded by crazy parents like the father in spellbound.’
um. okay. i told them in that case, i’d change number and wouldn’t give it to them 🙂 case closed.
I’m generally VERY polite and formal when dealing with uncles/aunties. I just can’t help it.
That doesn’t mean I’m formal when dealing with mamas/masis/chachas/buas, etc. With them I’m respectful but relaxed, and joke around a lot, etc. By uncle/aunty I’m specifically referring to non-related elders, parents of friends, etc.
Uncles/Aunties are on their own special pedestal in my world. Even if they’re annoying as hell, I would feel extremely guilty if I thought I disrespected them.
Although in my family, you don’t really cross a certain line with even a cousin or sibling if they are significantly older than you. But that’s less in my generation (and looking to the future, some of my cousin’s kids don’t seem to have much respect for anybody); also my dad’s family is much more into this formality and respect thing than my mom’s family, although both sides have it.
🙂 I must be really thankful for having no relatives, distant or close, in this country. The friends who call me at 4 AM, well, more power to them.
i had an interesting experience the other day. thought i would share. there is an oblique reference to this post – just some things that are ingrained and probably no one can learn or un-learn after a certain age.
i was at the neighborhood grocer last night, rooting in a bin for firm onions. this old lady (well, in her 40’s maybe) was a few feet away. she tipped over a little mound of red potatoes. they were quire firm and rolled all over. Some to near where I was standing. I was still rooting around like a pig after fungus when she came over to pick up this potato near my foot. i pulled away, bent down and up in a flash with said potato. she seemed surprised and i thought about my reaction for a while. i suppose it was just the thought of an ‘older’ person touching my feet that went agaisnt the grain. part of being desi i guess. some of you (amitabh?) may relate to this.
I had a distantly related Aunty I had never seen or met before in my life introduced to me at a family function. She nodded her head and stared at me briefly and and then asked me (without saying hello) in front of a load of my relatives, ‘How old are you? Why arent you married yet?’
Dont get me wrong, a little teasing from an Aunty you know is fine. But I don’t know how I managed to hold my tongue and not tell her to f**k off. I suppose the fact that we were at a religious event and I my mother was standing next to me. Some of them are bloody awful. I’m not joking, some of them are real interfering devil women.
I’m with Bidismokers philosophy in #7. When it’s someone my parents don’t know I decide who is “uncle” & “auntie” worthy. If they decide to use the title for themselves I usually laugh. I’m too old to be pulling the “come here and tell auntie your problem” shit. And single women like me draw aunties like moths. Don’t even get me started on the uncles!
Incidentally after absolutely loving the peace and quite of my new home I just moved into I unfortunately learned that I share my bedroom wall with a “auntie’s” bedroom wall. Joy!!
I’ve been there all of 10 minutes and she’s already managed to piss me off. She somehow thinks because I’m desi and single she can knock on my door any ridiculous hours to chat! Fuck that. I’m not home.
I have no shame not opening the door while being home knowing she’s knocking. Not getting in that habit. The last time I ran into her she tried the “Oh it’s nice that you live next door now, remember your auntie is right next door, think of me as your mom.” NOT!
i suppose it was just the thought of an ‘older’ person touching my feet that went agaisnt the grain. part of being desi i guess. some of you (amitabh?) may relate to this.
Dont be so Hindu-centric in your desi view 😉
Ah – Red Snapper is female, I see 🙂 I never knew …
I do have my own auntie/uncle story, but it has to do with somebody my grandfather’s age. I was at an Indian grocery store a few years ago when I saw an old man buying a handful of bulbs of garlic. When it looked like he didn’t have enough money, and was about to reduce his (fairly small) purchase, I slipped the cashier a dollar to cover the shortfall. He never thanked me, and I never wanted him to.
However, in this case the man was my grandfather’s age, poor and black. My grandfather had died years before, but I still missed him something fierce. I was more than happy to pay an extra dollar, almost as an offering to his memory (although that’s not a Sikh custom). It hurt to see somebody that age so poor.
Still, that’s a very different situation. Uncles and Aunties are (usually) wealthy, middle-aged, and brown. It’s not that they are unable to take care of their lives and need some help, it’s that they’re nosing into yours, or want something from you. Am I supposed to feel submissive to every brown stranger who calls themselves “uncle” or “auntie” ?
i take it you’ve never spent time in india? there’s much to know little tiddi (grasshopper).
So, what we really want to know is … do you have to pound on the wall at night to tell them to keep it down? Are you unable to sleep because of the thumping of the bed frame against the wall and the creaking of the bed springs?
I gotta say, knowing that Auntie is on the other side of the wall would certainly dampen my ardor. I suggest not mentioning it to any young swains.
Dude I never hear her, auntie lives with a son I’ve never seen, there is no uncle! And everytime I roll over in bed I have a feeling she’s on the other side with her ear to my wall. My friends came over the other day and were causing a ruckus and banging my bed against the wall to see if they could get a reaction out of her! She wasn’t home. sigh
Oh yeah you bet are you kidding me though everyone I mention that to seems to get a naughty look on their face. I don’t blame them. They don’t freaking live there!!
Hairy-d;
Since when did women in their 40s become “old ladies”.
Wow.
Hm…I wonder if said auntie was actually a telemarketer. My sister gets lots of desi aunty-type telemarketers in NYC and says they are the most persistent people who will not shut up even when she informs them she’s on the national Do Not Call list.
Your sister must be super nice because I just say hold on and hang up! 🙂 I don’t have a land line and it eliminates a massive number of calls other people seem to get.
my mistake… i should have said “older person”. no offense intended.
Do you realize uncles and aunties have their own uncles and aunties? It’s kind of the familial equivalent of a business rule – everyone has a boss.
Y’all have inspired me. Since I’m largely entertainment-deprived out here on the West Coast, I’m going to conduct a survey, and put on my bestest FOB accent and call all my friends at 4am, introducing myself as “Raj Uncle,” and making inane queries to get advice for my poor beta, Buntu, who will never get into med school without some to worry over him and help him make a perfect score on the SATs, even though Buntu is four years old.
I expect this will be highly enlightening.
I also expect shortly to have even fewer friends than I do currently.
These days, you never know, Beta.
I LOVE that shirt! I have it, and I’m going to buy another one for a friend!
God god, don’t get Red Snapper started. He’s got a Pavlovian response alright.
(Not that there’s anything wrong with that…)
hairy_d:
Ennis:
I not only “salivate” or become “submissive”, I freak out when I’m forced into culturally dissonant behavior. I work at a hippie joint where the workers sometimes don’t even come in with shoes on (read: really laid back, egalitarian environment). Sometimes, we have to page each other using an intercom. Well, our accountant is a desi uncle who I have a casual, but always respectful relationship with, and I hate, HATE paging him because I would have to address him personally (remember, hippie store, everybody equal, no corporate formalities, etc). It would just be too weird to get on a loud intercom and say, “Pradip Uncle, can you come to the front please? Pradip Uncle, to the front, thank you,” in front of all the workers and customers [of varying ages]. Anyway, I use only his first name on the intercom, but it makes me uncomfortable the whole day I’m there with him.
I know that if my parents were there they would smack my arm and make me apologize for not using the “Uncle” honorific. “Beta, I don’t care vat those goras do. Ve are Yndian so he is Uncle to you!”
As for the feet touching thing, that’s more an age/hierarchy thing, but it still applies because aunty-/uncledom is basically nothing more than an age/hierarchy thing. I would have done the same thing you did. My older friend is aware of my sensitivity to what one does with the feet (touching, pointing at sacred things, stepping on books etc) and he likes to freak me out by sneaking up on me, prostrating, and touching my feet with both his hands and head. I instantly jerk back and then flap around like a fish out of water for a few seconds because it’s just soooo weird to have that done to me, esp since I’m just a snotnosed 21-year-old.
“I would have done the same thing you did.”
By “you” I meant hairy_d.
do you feel the same way when you get a pedicure from an elder lady?
It would feel weird for the first instance– you know, intuitive response. I don’t usually get pedicures, but when I do, I go to where I know there will be younger workers. If it had to be an older woman, I would just try to imagine her as an aunty applying henna on my feet, which doesn’t register in my book as “wrong”. The henna application is a deliberate and controlled exchange, and no one looses their status doing it.
Taz emailed me this a while back. I just thought I’d remind everyone that aunties aren’t all bad. Especially if you are on the wrong side of 30 and they are one of those hot young aunties who are just a few years older than you. 🙂
Abhi, you fail to give Manju his due credit. He linked to that shirt just a few comments before yours.
If folks keep forcing me to defend Manju’s rights(!), I might have to defect over to the brother’s side.
Damn. I guess I didn’t pay attention to my own advice.
No! Abhi, pay attention, bro.
i know this was directed to shruti but just to offer a manly perspective…
firstly, it is my temperament – i do not like lording it – even when getting shoes shined at those airport thingies – i would rather sit elsewhere and let the guy work on them solo – rather than sit on a throne like seat and have someone work my feet.
just to make the distinction – there was one occasion whn i had severe cramps after a race and this older person massaged my calves and thighs – didnt have any qualms then – i suspect because the purpose was therapeutic.
My mom is a physician who treats cancer, and she often works with a group of three Pakistani medical oncologists…they are all about 20 years younger than her, and you can see their discomfort at having to call her by her first name in the hospital. In social settings they all call her ‘ba ji’. I love this aspect of our culture…for that matter, there is this Gujarati lady who runs a convenience store near where I work, and she always says ‘Hi Amitabh’ whenever I walk in…I don’t want to call her by her first name, yet she’s only 10-15 years older than me so aunty doesn’t sound right, so I end up not calling her anything, I just say hello.
agreed. on the whole i cherish this experience. the first time i realized i was an older person when i called this family newly from india. the wife answered the phone and said, “bhaiyya. aap kaisey hain” (brother, how are you).. i swear i teared up then and there. it’s a level of tenderness i’m just not used to.
i work with these folks in india. part of some interaction… this accountant asked me for some invoice and said, “dear mr. ___, please be so kind as to etc etc”. I wrote back. “Hey M_, please dont be so formal. i would really like it if you’d call me ___”. No response. Anyway, i shoot over the invoice. The guy writes back the next day, “dear mr. ___ , thank you for your prompt response… etc”. i’ve tried telling him the same another time but it’s like he’s ignoring me and now i’ve given up.
but think about it. i can see all these jobs being outsourced. who would you rather have working the phones? i know i’d prefer someone in india for whom this is a career than some gum chewing thug who’s just collecting burger money. that being said, the new brunswick call centers are pretty good.
Indian/Pakistani exchange students always call me Bhabi and I love it. Though, I wouldn’t hate if some kid calls me with my first name but please no Aunty for me.
sounds like the indian version of dustin’s hoffman’s THE GRADUATE, of course in your case it would be;
“aunty shabnam, are you trying to seduce me”
GOD! that sounded so wrong.
😉
There’s a reason why I e-mailed it to Abhi. Fetish, maybe? I’m not saying, but I’m just sayin’….
If an AILF fetish means you find Tabu hot, then count me in. Although, the “A” could mean Amma as well as Aunty. For myself, wearing the shirt, I like to think of it as Aunty, because I’m looking forward to being an AILF regardless of whether or not I have kids 😉
C’mon aboard Kobayashi. We Republicans have always known how to have a good time, and some of use could use your help when it comes to sweettalkin’ the
ladies,men, boys.(We’ll leave the “sweettalkin’ the AILF’s” to Abhi and the Dems; I mean, that’s really sick.)
i’m 100% with you, bro. i’ve had aunties calling me at 4am touting their amway websites. i’m not kidding.
i’m 100% with you, bro. i’ve had aunties calling me at 4am touting their amway websites. i’m not kidding.
Ok I had this aunty call and try to sell me some long distance plan. She kept pestering me for ten minutes. All along, I was telling her that I don’t use that much anyway. Finally I told her No, I don’t want to switch carriers! She switched to Hindi and said “Mujhe to pehle hi pata tha. I am wasting my time”.
I mean WTF lady you are disturbing at 9 pm on a Friday night and now you’re going to scold me for not buying the shit you’re peddling.
Couple of weeks back on a friday nite, I make a quick pit stop at this CVS to buy a pack of Trojans, go to the front desk and there is this Aunty there, and for some inexplicable reason I felt really really embarassed, like I was doing something sinful or shameful. I was a wreck, shuffling back and forth; the primal part of my brain screaming flight and my more evolved part telling me its too late and that its an offense.
She just smiled and reached out for the pack scanned it and said 5.39. There was a twinkle in her eyes as if she knew I was uncomfortable and thought it was funny. I gave her my Amex, took it back, signed the reciept and left. I dont think I will ever go back to that pharmacy again. This is one of those incidents that are seared into your memory though they have no real significance at all. I need a shrink.
Yeah. Next time use cash – don’t you know she could read your name on the Amex Card, and then you’re in real trouble?
Beige Sage…Next time ask her if she has a daughter.
Ennis my son,
It sounds like there’ll be some requisite time in purgatory. But redemption is nigh, for he who forgiveth and is reconciled unto The Sarihadeen shall receive his reward in the Kingdom to come.
part of speech: n.
pron.: ‘sa-ree-ha-deen defn: a global network of middle aged women of subcontinental extraction committed to carrying out marriage focused jihad on nubile brown youths see also: Auntienet
For the most part, I embrace The Auntiehood. I even love being called Auntie so long as the child involved is less than 5 yrs old. But there are many breeds of Auntie. There are AILFs and there are other moderate Auntie types and then there is The Sarihadeen. Until such time as the progressive Aunties are able to unite against their militaristic counterparts, I see no end to the daily acts of terror against innocent (or rather, not-so-innocent) desi singletons.
However, one of the best lines for combatting The Sarihadeen came to me from an Uncle who said, “Everyone should get married. There’s more to life than happiness.” But I keep that play in reserve and brandish it only when I sense that “Don’t You Want To Have The Babies?” Auntie is setting up for a pass to “So You Want to Die Alone?” Auntie.
At this point things usually get ugly – pallus flying, sambar splattering – and then it’s every macaca for herself.
Made-in-brownland desis are immune to the powers of Uncles and Aunties! Maybe because they are the Uncles and Aunties. Muahahahaha!
I probably don’t salivate as much as I should, but I am obliging. However, it is SEVERELY stressful when North Indian aunties start talking to little ol’ South Indian me in Hindi. Smiling and nodding; it’s worked so far.
Well luckily aunties don’t call my home at weird hours. But often when they call they don’t mention their name and demand to ask who I am.sigh But on the whole the aunties(my mother’s friends) are ok, because they’re mostly significantly younger than my mother. Although my best friend went through the marriage talk routine, I don’t get any of that because they probably know what I’m like anyway. :p
Another thing that occured to me – if I’m in a taxi cab in NYC with a date, I never make out or do any kind of PDA if the driver is an elderly desi, especially if it’s an elderly sardar. With non-desi drivers I couldn’t care less (I’m talking PDA with my date, not the driver, just to be clear).