A letter to all the aunties in my colony, and all the others spying on teenagers like me.
Hey you! Oh wait, should I say Namaste so as to not hurt your “Indian culture” feelings? Ah whatever, you never really liked me anyways. After all, I wear skirts too small for your eyes to digest, I roam with too many boys, so much that you can’t count (cue, aunty faints in horror) and I come home so late, that you’ve had to leave your peaceful sleep to see me pass through.
Firstly, I’m sorry to have cause you the inconvenience.
Secondly, I didn’t know I appointed you to keep track of my daily routine! You do your work so diligently without expecting payment I’m impressed!
But you know what? I can’t continue to disturb your naps anymore, since I love sleep (cue aunty saying “I saw her sleeping on a boy’s shoulder in the train” cue another aunty “OH MY GOD. These girls, no character”) so here’s the deal. I’ll give you a letter saying thanks and much more:
What do I start with? Let’s go with my dressing sense, or my lack of clothes as you call it.
As per the United Nations ( It’s an International organization just FYI, yes even Modi recognizes it ) The right to adequate clothing, or the right to clothing, is recognized as a human right, so yes I’ll continue to wear that short skirt, or the off shoulder top ( I’m sorry your pupil will burst someday with all that wild eyes staring)
“you’re bra is showing” (or such subtle actions to show to adjust the strap that even men start adjusting their vests) Well, I have breasts (“not big ones” an aunty/observer replies) and these breasts needed unconditional support (just like your household that you’re ignoring to spy on me) and if I don’t happen to wear a bra, they’ll just keep wobbling, which I don’t mind but you do. So I wear bra, and guess what disaster strikes next? My bra straps shows! Well, hopefully you got my brand, since yours is clearly not doing you any favors.
“How tight are your clothes?” Um, figure hugging clothes, yeah that’s what they’re called. You don’t like it you say? Because they’re too tight? Oh darling auntyji, you’re my inspiration for wearing tight clothes. After all, how you manage to wrap in that little sari and not breathe is really noteworthy. Look at the pot calling the kettle black!
“How many boys you roam with”
Aunty, dear dear aunty you should be grateful to me! ( cue what a shameless girl. She’s cracking jokes). No seriously, I mean the amount of boys you’ve surveyed would be enough to pick one for your daughter who you obviously would marry off to anyone who’s rich enough!
Besides it’s so nice to find you helpful ladies when we (me and the “boy”) were lost. You’re so good with directions ( I hope you can give your life some), but maybe that’s just an effect of how much you roamed while spying
Also, you might think that every guy I roam with is my boyfriend. Well, I’m sorry to have disappointed you, but I don’t have the capacity or energy, neither am I as charming and funny as you are (I mean, come on!)
“You have gained so much weight!”
OH MY GOSH! You’re eyesight itself should win a noble prize! How would I have noticed my weight gain without you telling me? I mean I see myself in the mirror, and I can feel my weight and it’s my body essentially but nah, screw science; without your generous self, ever ready to help me, I wouldn’t have noticed the weight gain
Also, what matters is being fit not thin. Obviously I was kidding. I mean, what’s better than being a bag of bones with a layer of skin as thin as narrow as your thinking and fit into any dress? That’s the dream!
“Behave like a girl”
On asking why, you told me that was called manners, well why not tell your son who sits with legs wide enough to have truck pass through? Oh no, no it’s just for ladies, after all it’s how you sit or how you walk that matters, not how you are as a person. Psssh. That’s just your “western” nonsense.