Show me the money

Ever since I got into a B-school I’ve been the poster child for academics in my family. The relatively new attention was nice till every distant cousin started calling up to get CAT advice. Though I make no bones about the fact that a 93.2 percentile was a very average score, just enough to get me through to MICA, it seemed like a big deal to my parents since the last time I scored in the 90s was back in the 7^th grade.

But it does bring with it some perks. Like during the time relatives turn up to wish you when you graduate. My favorites are the ones who are particularly generous with the wallet, due to their inability to make slick conversations.

One such is a family friend who comes every time without fail and not only shoves a big fat money-filled envelope in my hand but also atleast 2 bags of goodies. (Goodies include chips, juices, pizzas etc.) AND she doesn’t even take a seat!

Hello beta. Congratulations! Bohut naam roshan kiya mummy-papa ka. (Yadi yada, conveys her wishes to my mom in Kashmiri) Yeh lo (money packet), mujhe samajh nahi aaya kya loon tere liye, kuch khareed lena khud hi. Chalo main nikalti hoon (some excuses in Kashmiri) Aate rehna, aur zara mere nalayak bete mein kuch akal daal de.

5 mins. Flat. And all I have to do is counsel their kids. Those are the ones dreams are made of.

Then there are some.

Aunty – Hello beta. Arre wah, kya baat hai! (Kisses on the forehead*) Doctor sahib, ab to yeh shaadi ke liye tayyar hai.

(everyone nods in agreement followed by gentle murmuring)

Uncle – Well done, well done! (Handshake)

I wait.

I wait some more.

I still feel the pressure of the handshake on my palm.

Is that it, a handshake? No “beta yeh rakh lo.” ”No uncle!” “Nahi beta na mat karo.” “Magar uncle aapka aashirvad ki kafi hai” squabbles? But I love those phony 10-second one act plays!

Is that all I get for a half an hour conversation I have to bear about how they think I should settle abroad after marriage and how all girls say they don’t want to get married but then in the end they not only do they even tag along with their husbands everywhere he goes?

Like, SERIOUSLY? I’m broke. Can you solve my today's worry first?

FYI my “market value” has gone up. Some fret it will become difficult for them to find me a suitable match. I’m not surprised - Kashmiri men and intelligence don’t really go together. If you know one, you know who to call. That’s right, your psychiatrist.

If you haven’t wished me yet I accept cash and cheques worth Rs. 500 or more. Then we’ll forget about the psych remark.

*In our tradition, we don’t touch feet. We believe in spreading germs by getting wet kissed on the forehead by our elders. Uggghhh.