Cutting Chai with Lakshmi Ganapathy is a monthly series of bite-sized interviews with prominent South Asians showcasing their career and personality and celebrating their South Asian Australian identity.
To celebrate Indian Link’s 30th anniversary, Lakshmi spoke with AUNTY JI, Indian Link’s resident agony aunt who isn’t afraid to speak her mind, an enigma whose identity remains a great unsolved mystery…
Lakshmi Ganapathy: Indian Link’s just turned 30! What’s the secret to aging well?
Aunty Ji: See, there are some delicious secrets to aging that have served me beautifully; I
was preternaturally wise and so I came up these philosophies before all my doodh ke
daant (baby teeth) fell out.
My first secret is that it’s crucial you develop your eccentricities when you’re
young. This way, as you get older, no one is any wiser about any decline in your mental or physical state, and your decrepitude is known only to you. I found myself a fashionable walking stick from Harrods in London when I was 32 years old and I walked around with it, sometimes using it for punctuating my sentences (I said no!) or for threatening dogs on my daily walks. Now, when I lean on my stick during walks, no one knows it’s because I’ve started dangling my foot in the grave! I also pretended not to remember people or details in my 20s, and I decided I wasn’t going to wait till I was in my 60s before I started giving mufth jawabs (free advice) to people. So now, no one knows how old I am, because I have ‘always been like this’.
The second way of aging well is to reflect the age of the people around you. So, if
you are with bachche log (kids), specially the below 5s, talk to them like you are
one of them. With people in their 30s, talk about stuff of interest to them. The only exception here is with teenagers. Never ever try to mimic their language – but double down on your put downs and caustic observations – they will definitely respect you for it.
Lakshmi Ganapathy: Rumour has it Indian Link doesn’t really have an Auntyji, and that it’s just Pawan Luthra doing a high-pitched voice. Care to comment?
Aunty Ji: Arre kalankini (sinner), you have known me to be a wise person, who understands human beings, and who has so much wisdom, flair and grace. I also have style and sophistication, and when I walk into a room, I command it just by breathing the air. And don’t get me started on my intelligence. Log (people) know I have a brain the size of a small planet. Though my little gulabo (rose), if Pawan was indeed Auntyji, don’t you think he would have demonstrated all of those qualities by now?
Kaminee – kyu mujhe gaali de rahi ho? (Villain – why are you abusing me?)
Lakshmi Ganapathy: You love giving advice to others, regardless of whether it’s solicited. But what’s the best bit of advice you’ve received?
Aunty Ji: You know, from the moment I was born, my own Auntyji told me I was a very
thoughtful child and was always doing the right thing. I would sit there in my pram and look at people and take a measure of them. I was an old soul. Maybe for that reason, no one ever bothered to give me any advice?
One time when I was 5 years old and sitting at the table drawing my family, the neighbour’s wife’s uncle’s sister came visiting. She looked at my drawing and said I was being generous with the proportions of my mother, whom I had drawn as a slender lady (I was 5, remember). Legend has it that I put down my pencils, flared my nostrils with indignation, turned my huge cow eyes to this chugli (backbiter) in human form, looked at her up and down and solemnly declared: “You mean, I should draw her as generous as the portions on your plate at dinner?” That busybody never darkened our doors again.
So no, no one has given me advice in decades. Who gives an oracle advice? No
one. Because the well of inspiration and wisdom springs eternal in yours truly, my
little chameli (flower).
Lakshmi Ganapathy: Your identity is a tightly guarded secret, just like that of a certain street artist… Auntyji, are you also Banksy?
Aunty Ji: Okay, bewakoofs (idiots) everywhere, listen up. I will say this only once. I have no comment to make.
Lakshmi Ganapathy: What’s something that you’re currently listening to/reading/playing/watching?
Aunty Ji: Yesterday I sat in the park and watched people walking their kuttas (dogs). I like
the way the smaller dogs like spaniels and pomeranians have such a misguided sense of self, they always want to have a go at the big dogs like German shepherds or greyhounds. It’s as though these small dogs need to get street cred, and the only way to do so is to pick a panga (fight) with the big kuttas.
My peace is usually punctuated by a bhau here and wau there – and before you know it – here a bhau, there a wau, everywhere a bhauwau! Of course, the losers are always the owners. Insha Allah in their next life, these dog owners come back as big dogs, who must constantly hold back on their reflexive need to chomp down hard on these teeny tiny little kuttas who are only there as decoration. As for what I am playing? Arre yaara, hum life ki game khel rahe hai (my dear, I am playing the game of life). For a muqqadar ka sikander (king of fate) like me, I am winning big.
Lakshmi Ganapathy: What’s a word that you like in a South Asian language, and what does it mean?
Aunty Ji: Ek word se kaam nahi chaltha (one word won’t do), so I’ll give you my favourite [Hindi] words – kalmouhi (shameful woman), bewakoof (idiot), kalankini (sinner), dayan (witch), Iblis (devil), gulab jamun and nirlaj (shameless). My favourite pastime is to try to use all
these words within three sentences into every conversation.
Lakshmi Ganapathy: And finally…Soan Papdi or Papdi Chaat?
Aunty Ji: Arre zaalima (hey tormentor), why you giving me two choices only? You know duniya aisi nahi chalti (life doesn’t work that way). This means I will take both Soan Papdi and Papdi Chaat. I want to live life like a bhediya (wolf) – this means only one thing is not enough for
me. I will take dono (both), okay?
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