There are certain moments in a man’s life that change him forever. The first time he gets his salary, the first time he buys a saree for his mother, his first bike, the first time a girl smiles at him, the first time a girl slaps him, and first time his wife says, “You were right.”
That last one has not happened to me yet, but I remain hopeful.
And then there is another moment, which is also critical – the first time a pretty girl calls you “uncle.”
For a 50 year old man, “uncle” is not a word. It is a sentence. A death sentence to be precise.
The first time it happened to me, I was not ready. To be honest, I doubt any man is ever ready to be called “uncle” by a pretty girl/woman.
This happened to me in Gurgaon, when I was around 45 years old. That day, I had gone to a supermarket near our house and before leaving, I had done the usual things middle-aged men do before stepping out.
I has looked at myself in the mirror, pulled in my stomach and seen the side view, adjusted my T-shirt, and checked if my hair was looking salt-and-pepper or just salt.
I even remember saying “Not bad” to myself because that’s how male confidence works – after 45 we don’t need to look good….we only need to look “not bad”.
At the supermarket, I was standing near the billing counter with one packet of curd, a dozen bananas, one bread packet, and the confidence of a man who had not yet been publicly destroyed.
That’s when she walked in. She was young, she was pretty and she was maybe 22, or 23, or 24. But on second thoughts I am not sure…because after I have turned 45, every young person looks 23 to me.
She was wearing jeans, a white top, and had those large headphones around her neck that youngsters wear to show the world they are vibing to music, or a podcast.
She was holding a basket and looking for something. For a second, I felt good….not because she was looking at me, but because I love being with young people – men or women. They make me feel younger.
But because she was a girl, when she walked towards me I straightened a little. This was automatic.
When a pretty girl walks towards a man, even if the man is married, has two children, has back pain, and has couple of unpaid EMIs waiting, his spine suddenly remembers its duty.
She came closer. I put on my best expression…something between a smile and a serious look. The kind India’s first super model Milind Soman carried on his face in Alisha Chinai’s song called ‘Made in India’.
But because of my age, this face said, “I am dangerous, not fully retired…but respectable.”
Then she said, “Uncle, can you please move a little?”
I froze.
Uncle? Who? I looked behind me.
There was nobody.
This is the first reaction of every man.
When a pretty girl says “uncle,” we immediately assume she is addressing someone else. Maybe an actual uncle of hers.
Someone who is bald, has a paunch, and wears sandals everywhere…basically someone who deserves to be called an “uncle.”
But there was nobody. Only I seem to be standing close to her….with curd, bananas, bread, and now a collapsed self-image.
She repeated, “Uncle?” Now she had said it twice.
The first “uncle” could have been an error but the second wasn’t, so I moved aside.
She picked up a chocolate from the shelf behind me and said, “Thank you, uncle.”
That was the third time she had said “uncle” that day, and with that the door of my confidence’s coffin closed, and the last ray of light vanished.
I wanted to tell her, “Beta, I am not uncle. I am just slightly experienced.”
But I was too tongue-tied. That’s when the billing counter lady said, “Sir, next.”
The counter lady sounded so sweet. I realised for the first time that “sir” sounds so respectful. If only the girl was around, I would have told her to address slightly older men like me as ‘sir’…but she had left by then.
On the drive back home, I was quiet….it wasn’t a long drive, but I didn’t play music as I usually do. I didn’t call anyone as well.
A man needs silence after a major life event. People think men don’t process emotions, but we do. We usually process them while driving, staring at traffic, and during such moments we may even pretend that the moisture in our eyes is because of the pollution on the road.
When I reached home, Rekha was in the kitchen.
She asked, “Why are you so quiet?” She can tell when something is troubling me.
I said, “Nothing.”
Now, when men say nothing, it usually means something. But unlike women, we don’t expect you to guess….but we know that sharing our deepest secrets will result in further damage….and that’s why we remain silent.
Rekha looked at me carefully. “What happened?” she asked.
I said, “A girl called me uncle.”
Rekha stopped marinating the fish and turned towards me and it was an indicator that even she thought that the matter was serious.
If a Malayali woman stops working on her fish fry midway to listen to you, your pain has value.
She asked, “Where?”
“At the supermarket,” I mumbled under my breath. That’s when I realized that we Rajans can be very sentimental about our age.
“Was she young?”
“Yes.”
“Pretty?”
I paused because in the last 20 years I have figured that such questions are usually a trap.
I said, “I didn’t notice.”
Rekha looked at me and smiled, for married women know when husbands lie.
They may not know that every year you need to fill gas in your AC for it to cool the room, but they know when you have noticed a pretty girl.
“She was pretty, wasn’t she?” Rekha insisted.
I said, “Normal.” Trying hard not to visualize that girl.
“So, normal pretty?” I could see that the cross-examination had begun.
But we Rajans are also made of stronger material, so I said: “She was young. That is all.”
Rekha laughed a massive laugh. The kind of laugh wives reserve for moments when life has punished the husband without involving them.
She said, “So finally it happened.”
“What do you mean finally?” I was indignant.
“You are 45, Rajan.”
“So what?”
“So what should she call you? Bro?”
This hurt…not because Rekha was wrong…but because she was right. A wife being right is not new, but wives must also keep in mind the timing – what to say when.
There are moments when they can be right, and then there are moments where they just need to be supportive.
—-X—-X—-
If you are a lady, you must know that we men are not scared of ageing.
In fact, George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Robert Downey Jr, Pierce Brosnan, Idris Elba, Jeff Goldblum look much more handsome now than they were as youngsters.
But we are scared of being informed about it by young women.
When your child, neighbour’s kid, the courier boy calls you uncle, it is fine. Why when the security guard who himself is around 40+ calls you uncle, you can still recover. But when a pretty girl calls you uncle, something inside you gives up.
Because till that moment, a man lives with hope. The hope that, with a black t-shirt, blue jeans, nice Asics shoes, and a good posture…in a dim light, he may still look like someone who once had potential.
When someone calls you “uncle” that hope dies.
Because when that happens, it doesn’t matter that once you had thick, black hair, that you once rode a Yamaha down the Mount Road, that once girls gave you their phone numbers and asked you to pick them up the next morning.
—-X—-X—-
After the supermarket incident, I became very conscious. The next morning, while going for my run, I wore my newer shoes, applied a little extra perfume, and combed my hair properly.
Rekha asked, “Why are you dressing up for a run?”
But I didn’t reply. Men must ignore forces that discourage you on your path to youthful recovery.
I usually walk for a kilometre before I start to run…and as I warmed up, I thought about how women use certain words to kill the hope in men.
Bhaiya, Anna (in Tamil Nadu), Uncle are just some of those words.
In North India, at least people say “bhaiya” – a word that means ‘brother’ and at least gives you some hope. Bhaiya means older, but not finished yet.
Bhaiya may still have a chance but uncle is final. Uncle has crossed the bridge….and he is never coming back.
Uncles are supposed to start every talk with ‘during our times’…they are supposed to know about mutual funds, they don’t wear ripped jeans, they don’t know where to use the word ‘vibe’, and they don’t even know that there is a ‘fire’ emoji.
In Tamil Nadu, we have another dangerous word….called ‘Anna’…which also means brother.
When a girl calls you anna, it can still be okay. Anna means elder brother…which is sad, but there is an element of dignity in it.
Many men have survived anna….and gone back home happy. But uncle is different…there is no treatment for it.
—-X—-X—-
That evening, when Rekha was busy in the kitchen I stood in front of the mirror again. I had seen myself in this mirror many times before, but today I looked different. My hair had thinned, the stomach had grown, the face had lines, my eyes were tired, and my shoulders had slightly stooped.
Maybe the girl was not wrong…maybe I had become uncle. Of course, it didn’t happen suddenly, but slowly – one EMI at a time, one school fee at a time, and one annual appraisal at a time.
On days when I am low, I barge into Rekha’s bedroom (if you don’t know, we sleep in different rooms because she loves her AC to be at 18 degrees!) and lie down next to her for some time.
I did the same and turned towards my right for support.
She said, “Don’t look at me. I have been telling you to accept your age.”
I said, “You also are the same age. Why is no one calling you aunty?”
She said, “Women mature. Men become uncle.”
I wasn’t convinced. I mumbled to no one in particular: “This is unfair. How come we men become uncles, but when it is about women they use words such as graceful, elegant, mature, radiant, etc?”
Then for more than 15 minutes, we just held hands – none of us said anything.
After what seemed like ages Rekha asked, “Still thinking about that ‘uncle’ girl?”
I said, “No.”
She said, “Liar.”
I smiled. She looked at me and said, “You know, to me you don’t look like an uncle.”
I looked at her. This was the first kind thing she had said on the topic.
Then she added, “You look like the same idiot I married.”
I will take it. At this age, romance does not always come as poetry, or a shayari. Sometimes it comes as insult with affection. And in marriage, that is enough.
I said, “So you still find me attractive?”
She looked at me and said, “Don’t push it.”
I stopped. After all, in marriage growth is knowing when to stop.
Note: The first time a pretty girl calls you uncle, something inside you dies. But if your wife still calls you idiot with love, don’t worry. You are alive where it matters.