Thank You Aunty!

“Ouch!! That hurts… Am I that old! Do I really look like an Aunty! “ Well that’s the reaction of a very normal woman, surviving on the wrong side of twenty five, already dealing with the mid life crisis. Comes a stage in everyone’s life, when you are, irrespective of your age or profile, addressed as an Uncle or an Aunt. Sounds sophisticated and relatively adult! But on a very serious note, it purely cuts the heart when you hear that on yourself.

Remember the notoriety of adolescence, when we deliberately called out such names to pass comments or laugh out loud. Well! It now strikes back, albeit turning tables. Honestly, those were milder days. People were sensible enough to accept and adore whatever the phase was. To that generation, which I slyly address as “The Sandwiched Generation”, was kind enough to overlook such tantrums and move on bigger issues of life.

Haphazardly, ours "The Secondhand Generation” is never too keen about adjustments. We call them compromises, as if we were Neil Armstrong, and they came in our way to the Moon. So we like to move in random directions clueless and dud. We borrowed our concepts from the whole sale market of the west, when they were sold as rags. Our idea was to buy the rags and become the riches. Sardonically, we ended up disguising in the misery like the albatross hung on the neck.

Meanwhile, in the process of dwelling we gave birth to “The Top Gear Generation”. They never took us seriously. We were unproductive, uncreative and unsuccessful parasitic, starlet manque. Coming off age, they were easily too harsh to address us as uncles and aunties. Irrespective of the respect they held in their eyes. Being the posers, we took it way too seriously to drape ourselves in tighter clothes and plastic surgeries. Yet, life throws its light in a funny way. Even if you look sensuous in that age, they call you a “Hot Aunty”.

Conclusion reminds me of the sayings by “The Heavy Metal Generation” , the forefathers, their principles and notions, rock steady and commanding. They demanded respect even without the slightest grey on the head. So here’s my dues to those, before I bid adieu, “Thank You Aunty” !