The Cusp of Bhaiya and Uncle

I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle. There’s no black or white here, it’s clearly a shade of grey. To give you a fair idea, if the title of this post was a game of Hangman and I knew the first two letters of the second word were C and U, I would still wait for “cusp” to hit me than settle for the word that rhymes with hunt. It doesn’t take away from the fact that I still find the C word funny. There’s a moral dilemma. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I realize how male pattern baldness has come into my life like sleep; slowly at first and then all of a sudden. But I still think that it would be cool if I could rock a Mohawk. I continue to spend a while preening myself in the mirror, but the time allocated to checking out the side body profile to identify signs of a paunch is steadily increasing. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I dress up in perfect fit suits, not because Barney Stinson rocked that style in my favorite sitcom from a few years ago and Ted Mosby is a perennial moron, but because looking sharp appeals more to me than wearing a football jersey. However, the dilemma of whether I am mature enough to sport the lapel widths of Harvey Specter, or if Mike Ross’ slim tie would suit my age better is still a legit thing in my head. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

Reading The Economic Times has become part of my daily routine. I no longer force myself through the ordeal in the hope of performing better at the next job interview, but because the bulls and the bears seem more interesting than the birds and the bees. To the true fan of John Green, though, the connection with The Fault in our Stars in the preceding para, will clearly disclose my love for young adult fiction. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I’m no longer taking exams, attending classes nor doing other things that students ought to. Instead, I work at an office ten hours a day, six days a week, knowing well enough that I’m an earning member of the family. But if you ask me, I’m not really, in the known sense of the word, “settled”. There’s money enough to afford frequent Khan Market lunches with friends, but not enough to support a family of four. I still believe in Hum Do Humaare Do. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

There have been times when kids on the road call me uncle, and I’m all like: “Uncle hoga tera baap!” But I can’t get myself to say that out loud to the lad. I’m mostly confused whether to address someone in his late thirties as uncle or bhaiya. And there are times when I unintentionally address those below the age of ten as “bete”. That is hitting the foot on the axe. I translate Hindi idioms to English for subtle humor. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle.

I realize I’m not complaining about being on the cusp, but about slowly slipping to the other side. I could blame my desk job for it or the fact that ageing shows some physical signs. I still keep faith in the adage that men are like wine, and I move on. After all, the only one blessed to be called bhaiya for life is the beloved gol-gappe wala. On the other hand, he gets unlimited supply of gol-gappas. I think it’s a fair trade off. I’m on the cusp of bhaiya and uncle, and happily so.

Image Source: downloadzing.blogspot.com