Picture this: You’re a single woman in your early forties who
has taken a liking to a handsome twenty-something guy who lives in your apartment building. Hey, if it works for Demi, why not you? So you gather the courage and leave a box of samosas at his door, with a note that says, “Just made a batch and thought you might like a few.”
An hour later, there’s a knock at your door. He’s standing there in shorts and a tank top, looking as studly as ever. “The samosas were great,” he says. “Thank you for thinking of me, Aunty.”
Well, that scenario probably never happened to Shobha Tharoor Srinivasan, but she’s nevertheless peeved about being called “aunty” by people she barely knows, as she states in this month’s Khabar (her piece originally appeared in India Currents, linked below).
Today, the title “aunty†is so overused and misused that it has lost its position and meaning. Indian-American children are taught that every adult female is a potential aunty; many carry this presumption to the conclusion that any adult female older than them can be an aunty. I’m not referring to school children here, but to those I see as adults, the lipsticked and bearded variety, who ought to know better. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a problem with terms like ammayi, or cheriamma, or edathi, all specific Malayalam words that acknowledge individuals who are close family members and deserve rightful respect in the family’s pecking order. There are equivalent terms in every Indian language: terms like maami, mausi, and didi that all validate close family connections. But amongst English-speaking Indian Americans, the frequent use of “aunty†or “uncle†is more often an example of lazy speech, or a desire to bump the individual in question into the category of doddering older-other, than it is a thoughtful moniker of respect. Therein lies the problem. [Link]
citizens, permanent residents or H-1B holders, could go to India and have their pick of a bride. They were considered good catches, the type of fish you don’t throw back in the lake. Not anymore, apparently, according to
Miss World contest in 1994, bringing glory to India and paving the way for three lesser beauties to win the same title.
marriage, but my parents insist that I have a love marriage. They don’t want me to end up like them. “A love marriage may not last, but at least you will be happy for a short time,” my father said. “With an arranged marriage, you may be unhappy forever.”
also be gaining a reputation for producing a lot of doctoring. The fake-document industry appears to be flourishing like never before, which makes you wonder how many of those doctors have doctorates that were doctored. Not many, I believe, but every now and then, a fraudulent doctor is busted, perhaps after giving a patient reason to doubt his medical knowledge.
whereabouts of the
Obama’s past has turned up a diary that his
Night’s Children.â€