Our subconscious mind can be very perceptive at times. On some days - from the moment you wake up - you somehow get this feeling that this just isn’t going to be your day. Well, this Valentine's day happened to be one such day. You wake up to find your toothpaste tube mutilated, twisted and squeezed beyond recognition. You feel a little sad for it, and don’t wanna put it through any more torture. So, you drop it off in the trash can, and head for the nearby grocery store to get a new one. Needless to say, the store is out of stock; not a single tube of paste left.
So, you get to begin your day with a fist full of “Dabur-laal danthmanjan” (for first timers, it tastes really weird). Well, if this wasn’t a sign enough about the things to follow, your cell-phone charger stops working.
But, as they say, the show must go on, and so must the day. So, you take your soap-dish with 3 soaps (one half used ‘RIN’ bar, one fully used ‘Pears’ bar and one brand new ‘Dove’ bar) and head to the bathroom (a PG bathroom which happens to have two pots, one western and the other Indian, facing each other). On any normal day, you would come out fresh after having undergone the ritual of a nice hot shower. But, it is when you trip while entering the bathroom, causing the ‘Dove’ bar to fall into the western loo and the ‘Pears’ bar to fall into the Indian loo, that you realise that you are left with the semi-used ‘Rin’ bar to have your bath with; it is then that you know for sure that it isn’t one of your days.
You perform a simple no-soap face wash, and then look up into the mirror. You admire your french beard for a while (maintaining one is no mean feat), and it is then that you notice that there is some glittering thing on your head, in your image. You think it's some shiny glitter material, and move your hand across your hair to remove it. To your absolute and utter dismay, it’s a white hair. Yes! a white hair - the first of its kind that reared its ugly head, on your head. You resist the temptation to pluck it (after all, don't they say: pull out one white hair, and ten will come up in it's place) and just wonder how worse the day can get. Then, you head to a friend’s place. You send him an SMS letting him know that you’re waiting for him outside his house. A few kids playing street cricket close to his house grab your attention, and you start watching the match with some interest. It is then that something happens, which completely rocks you off your balance.
A kid hits the ball in your direction. It comes and stops right in front of you. Another kid - the fielder - comes near you, and yells “Uncle, ball please”. It is then that lightning strikes, reality dawns. Uncle???
It wasn’t long ago when you used to call people "Uncle". "Maybe it is the french beard?" you think, "...or perhaps the formal dress?", "...it could be that single strand of white hair." You take a brief de-tour down the memory lane. 10 years rewind, back in class 8, when the cricket matches in the street outside your house were the talk of the neighbourhood. It was you who used to address people as "uncle" and "aunty", whenever the ball fell in their backyards. Then you’d started using the terms ‘bhaiyya’ and ‘behen ji’ which were a little less harsh, and a bit more welcome by all and sundry. The question that pricks you the most is how was it that you fell from 'caller' side (the guy who used to call others 'uncles') to the 'callee' side (read: the guy who began to be called an uncle) in such a short span of time.
Reminds you of the character of 'Pooja' from the TV sitcom "Hum Paanch" which used to be aired on Zee TV in the late 90's. Everyone on the show would call her 'Pooja aunty' (she's in her early twenties in the show) to which she'd get mighty offended and depressed. Her stereotypical response would be : "Aunty math kaho naaaaaaaaaa....." (Don't call me Aunty). You picture yourself in her position, reflecting how sad it would be to go around asking kids not call you an uncle. Go to every kid who has ever called you an uncle and say 'Uncle math kaho naa.....' You then actually wonder whether drowning yourself in a fistful of water would be a better option than to say those utterly ego-destroying words.
You come back to the not-so-pleasant present; a present where you've been branded as the 'uncle of the day'. Being in your early twenties is a big pain in itself. But now that you are an 'uncle' you can’t throw that devil-may-care 'cool-dude' attitude, and those teenager tantrums, and get away with them. You can’t play street games like 'seven stones' and 'gilly danda' without getting stared at by everyone in the colony. You can’t play snooker for long hours because your software job has already wrecked havoc with your backbone. By this time, you are aware of the fact that you no longer can be called a kid or an innocent child to cover up for all your blunders. You also become aware of the fact that your dream of being the biggest and the 'deadliest' programmer in the world and owning Microsoft by the age of 30 is not going to come true. The term 'girlfriend' doesn’t mean someone who'll smile at every joke of yours, ask for your help in her record-writing work, and who comes with you to a movie when you ask her to bunk classes. You realize that you got to be prepared for heavy words like : 'commitment', 'dedication', and heavier phrases like: 'Tell me why you like me', 'If you love me, prove it'.
Amidst all this chaos, if you get the 'young uncle' brand label all of a sudden, your already disturbed disturbances get so much more disturbed that no matter what happens henceforth, they can’t be disturbed anymore. There's just one small consolation that you're yet to be called 'grandpa'. Your friend, who has a bit more of white hair than a usual 22 year old, comes out of his house to greet you. Again, a kid who is batting hits the ball close where we are standing. Another fielder kid comes close, and says 'Thaatha, ball ivvu'(Grandpa, ball please). He gets furious, takes the kid aside, and tells him - "Hey...call me 'bhaiyya' or even 'uncle' if you want to. Please don’t call me 'Thaatha', please".
You burst out laughing, right in the middle of the road, and then overhear some kid saying, “Hey, just look how that uncle is laughing.”
We are the ‘young uncles’, we are here to stay, and we are going to rock the world.
This article has been put up on http://themag.in , do chk it out.
