Aunt — Indian

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 settles back, suddenly businesslike.)

(She points a finger, but it’s trembling.) indian aunt

(She picks up her chai again, voice dropping low.)

So you want to be a painter? A poet? You want to love that boy from the other caste? You want to quit your safe bank job and open a dabba service? Don’t ask your parents first. Ask me. Because I will tell you the truth: The world will crush you if you let it. But you know what crushes faster? Regret. Don’t end up like me, humming songs while chopping onions

Now finish this chai. It’s getting cold. And next Sunday, bring that boy over. I’ll make gulab jamun . If he doesn’t like them, he’s useless – throw him out. Theek hai?

(She softens, just a little.)

(She leans in, eyes glittering.)