Demented Dysfunctional Aunts (DDA) and their equally demented behavior patterns

Today’s complaint is about the bane of any Single and ready to mingle (SRTM’s) life – a happily married aunt with kids at college, loads of free time on her hands and a do - gooder spirit that refuses to say die who shall henceforth be known as Demented Dysfunctional Aunt or DDA for short.

I’m cursed with not one, not two BUT SEVEN SPECIMENS of the aforementioned species. Blame it on the lack of birth control or on the fact that my Dad got married twice but I have SEVEN DEMENTED DYSFUNCTIONAL AUNTS to contend with.

Here’s what DDA no. 2 did recently, on a Saturday evening no less, I mean why can’t people at least respect the sanctity of weekends?

7 bloody p.m. and the cell phone rings. I stretch one perfectly toned arm out of the comfort of the blanket (Like any other person on the planet I am entitled to a lie in now and then.) The second my hand makes contact with the cool metal surface of the phone and sends a jarring note through my entire system I just know that its going to be ugly. Period. The belief is further strengthened by the unknown number, carrying like a beacon of kinship and identity THE Hometown’s STD code at the beginning, flashing on the cell’s display.

Me – Hello??????? ( Voice conveying perfectly brewed mixture of mild inquisitiveness, disgust at the unknown caller’s inability to pick a more appropriate time to call and barely concealed outrage at being disturbed by the scum of the earth, automatically tagged so without a trial as said scum has dared to wake me, on the other end of the line.)

Unknown Caller (identity yet to be established) – CA Betaaaaaaa (Indian term of endearment utilized for both genders, loosely translated replaces sweetie pie / sweetheart)!!! How are you??????? It’s meeeeeeeee!!!!!! (Hazy glimmerings of recognition start to dart around my mind, no it couldn’t be, but alas! It is, very much so! Okay, which moron gave out my new number?)

Me – C____ Auntie????? (Hazy glimmerings gradually turning into full on disco strobe lights soon to be metamorphosed into blinding fox light with enough mega wattage to light up an entire continent. Voice inflection reset to – “What a pleasant surprise!!” mode)

C____ Auntie (Henceforth known as DDA, for clarifications pass your peepers over the top of the post) – Yes Betaaaa!!!!!!! (Voice conveying unbridled amounts of love and affection for long lost prodigal nephew, scratch that, son.) How are you????? (Voice inflections bringing to mind visions of ample bosoms and ham hock arms crushing me to near oblivion, thank god fervently that she’s on the other end of a phone line.)

Me – I’m doing Grrrrrreat Auntie, How are Youuuuuuuuu??? (Well modulated voice conveying nothing except familial bonding, affection and so glaaaaaad to hear from you - ness.)

DDA – Betaaaaaa!!!!!!!

DDA – (Voice quavering with unspent emotion and unshed tears but gradually coming into its own as the conversation / monologue progresses) I was just thinking the other day that my dear little cootchie coo (that would be me folks) is all grown up (Hey!!!!!!You noticed??????????) and it’s high time that I found you a life long friend.

If my sister were alive (cue sound of nose being blown) but anyway (false enthusiasm injected successfully into the heart of the baritone) I have just the girl for Youuuuuu!!!!!!!! (Attempt at conveying genuine enthusiasm via the aforementioned baritone fails miserably at the second u.)

Half an hour spent extolling the virtues of THE GIRL – Five - five, dark, engineer, MBA in the making, unwilling to leave job or relocate to another city, can’t cook, doesn’t want to learn, slightly (emphasis on the slightly folks) overweight, and best of all, she only has ONE younger brother (One too many if you ask me) who’s not so good at studying. Everything else is A - OKAY.

It is bloody not. Soooooo NOT okay.

Me – (Voice inflections after major conflict settle on surprised.) gosh C____ Auntie, I don’t know what to say. (I bloody well do but I don’t want Grandmamma on my case for the next ten days and I also do not want this conversation to be chalked up as another stinker in the ongoing saga of CA versus well meaning family members and hung for all to see in the Small Townie hall of infamy. The Shame! The sheer horror of it all!!!!!!)

DDA - If my sister were alive (liberal dose of unconcealed emotional baggage carrying inflection with a strong dash of reminiscence thrown in for good measure) I’m sure she’d just loooooooove her (cue the violins playing the theme from Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham in perfect sync with DDA’s nose blowing.)

After well planned silence in which the violinists have played the entire piece twice and done their level best to extract a tear from my eye, my not obliging setting them back a bit, DDA says – Now where was I? (Hopefully on the way to the mental asylum but then that’s really too much to hope for.)

DDA – Ahhh! Yesssssss. (Snake like hiss with the steel like modulation conveying that the real purpose of the call is now under way.) What I want (finally we get somewhere) is that you should take the date and time of the girl’s birth and yours as well and go to some internet café and get the Horoscopes matched. You know the girl’s side is doing it as well and I want to be prepared. You never know what they might come up with. People will do anything to get out of paying a Dowry. I would have gone myself but ……… (Cue the long list of social engagements that DDA no. 2 as an active member of the community simply must attend – includes births, deaths, marriages, divorce showers, yes you read that right, fiftieth wedding anniversaries, etc. ) and Betaaaaaa, Grandmamma simply does not understand all this computer-shumputer business. You’ll do it, no Beta???? You know, if your mother were alive……..(Cue the violinists who are dispatched with a swift kick on the backside.)

Me – Sure C_____ Auntie, whatever you say. ( Must not betray incredulity, must not betray incredulity, must not……..you get the drift. I mean what the fuck is this? What next? Kindly schedule everything else from the venue to the marriage date to the Bride’s beauty parlor appointments yourself. Oh and while you’re at it you might as well lick the stamps too.)

DDA – Achha Betaa, write down the date and time and don’t feel shy. Just think that you’re doing it for a friend or something. Here it is….. (God forsaken date, God forsaken time, God forsaken place of birth. Was she born specifically to embarrass me into oblivion?)

DDA - Okay Betaaaaaa!!!!! Byeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Cue sound of shattering glass.)

Me – By………..CLICK! (Sound of call being disconnected by DDA.)

I can just see her pudgy little face beaming with self satisfaction of a job outsourced. Just to be mean I also imagine her doing high fives with DDA no. 1 and with Grandmamma as well.

I’m not incredulously angry anymore. Just sad. I Put my cell down and very slowly pull the blanket over my head. And then, without any warning surprising even myself, I begin to cry.