Tag: relationships

Malamojism: Cringe Emojis

Ms Malamoji

“ I love the range of emojis we have at our disposal!” I said beaming at the children, as I texted one of my friends for an evening walk, sipped a cup of tea and impressively ignored what they were watching on the television.

🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃🌿🍀🍂🍃

The daughter peered into the phone, and had a closed off expression that reminded me of geese trying not to laugh.

“Mother! How long have you been using that emoji while inviting people for walks?” she asked. This time, it was unmistakable. The dam of laughter waiting to burst.

“I use it all the time. Such a pretty one it is for windy evening walks, no?” I said admiring the little emoji in question. Leaves being whipped up by the winds. 🍃

“Ummm…yeah! Luckily, you text other … ummm … Aunties with this I guess!” she said.

“Well! Why not? I put different emojis for different things!” I said, though I could feel the prickling sensation that meant I was going to have the carpet not gently removed but swiveled out from under my feet.

“Nothing! Just the emoji you just used – *pause for dramatic effect* – means – well, you know, come while we whirl and twirl, you know, up there?” she said, raising her eyebrows, holding in a laugh, and shaking with it, all at the same time. She was giving me what authors call ‘meaningful looks’. It was honestly impressive. They should have an emoji for that.  I looked like a pile of leaves twirling in the wind myself – confused.

She waited for me to catch on, and when I didn’t, said, “Mother! That emoji means you want to get *high* – not with alcohol but marijuana!”

I gasped.

“NO! How could that be?! How come no one ever told me before then?! I love that emoji and use it all the time!”

“Like I said – your friends are all … goodies!” (delivery with laughter)

I felt like Ms Malamoji.

( Ms Malaprop – you have my sympathies. Malapropism is the use of a slightly similar sounding word with an entirely different meaning, usually having a comedic effect. It is attributed to Ms Malaprop – a character in a 18th century play who used this and made the audience laugh. (Ex: Miss Pringle often does this in Miss Read’s Fairacre series) )

Skibbidi Toilet

“Ugh! This is like that skibbidi toilet thing all over again!”  I said to the son later as I recounted it.

“Ugh! Amma – Keep with the times. Skibidi toilet is so 2023! It’s honestly cringe if you say that now!”

Author commentary: Where are we writers to go if phrases become ‘cringe’ in a matter of months? Sigh.

Also, for my friends who don’t know what Skibbidi Toilet means: here it is. It is a web-series where humanoids have a war with singing human-headed toilets.

🙄 I know. (That is the rolling eyes emoji – I think)

It was all the rage among the simple minded laugh-sters in our midst – two years ago.

Appa, My Friend

Appa

Mine was an arranged marriage. The first people I met from the husband’s side of the family were his parents. The one who drew us all in with his quiet charm, shy smiles, simplicity and overall, just by being his authentic self was Appa. He knew how to make an uncomfortable situation comfortable. He must’ve sensed a girl with modern thinking not liking this ‘arranged marriage girl seeing thing’. So, he made it simple by removing the formality from the process: Let’s just chat like we are old friends.

Any new bride going in to a large, loud, slightly overwhelming family knows what it takes to make that first meal or that first cup of tea in an alien kitchen alone. She is intensely aware that all tongues out there are waiting to judge the taste of it, the consistency of it, the heat, and sugar, and the judgements are harsh and swift depending on the existing political climate between the folks in the room.  She also knows that her efficiency, charm, competency all hang on the hinge, even if one is an educated professional girl who should not set store by these things. Appa did the thing he does best. He followed me into the kitchen – quietly removing himself from the larger family, and giving a shy smile. He had come to help.

He gave me the necessary ingredients, a hint or two or how they like the water-milk proportion by making a small joke about it, and then as quietly as he had come, he left.He did not hover giving directions. Then, a few minutes later, as I was flailing around looking for the glasses, he was back again. He took the cups that everyone liked, quietly strained the tea, and left again.  I don’t think anyone noticed the head of the family nip out to the kitchen to help his daughter-in-law.

When the tea was served and everyone smiled happily, he gave me one of his trademark encouraging smiles, and that set the tone for our relationship: Appa was always there for me. He and I were going to be best friends, and I knew it then. He had your back, he was always, firmly in your corner.

Long before corporates came up with terms like inclusivity – Appa showed us how it is done. It is done by making people comfortable.

IMG_3183

Raju Thaatha

When children were born, he was there for them. He was there for us. Any grandchild who has had the privilege of being held by Raju Thaatha has been blessed by the cosmos multiple times over.  He would come to meet me every evening at the railway station with my baby in his hands so I could see her as soon as I came out of the train. Decades later, many fellow commuters have asked me how the baby and her loving grandfather are doing.

Fussing children, overactive children, rambunctious children, shy children, they all felt comfortable in Raju Thaatha’s hands. He could put children to sleep, get them to eat, and he never, ever in all the years I knew him raised his voice with them. They all behaved like perfect lambs because they loved him.

“You need Power only when you want to do something harmful; otherwise
Love is enough to get everything done.”

– Charlie Chaplin

That was Appa – he was not a powerful man, he was a loving man, and that was his greatest power. He loved you, wholly, and simply. We all wanted to do things for him, we all wanted him to be happy because he was such a pure, loving soul.

raju_thaatha

He never took sides in any conflict, but always knew who was aching and soothed everyone just by being him. When anyone was ill, Appa with that keen sense of empathy, knew when a fruit would be welcome, or when a glass of water was required. But he didn’t use words like empathy. He just did things for others – without show, without expectation, and with great competence.

Days after they left, after every visit, I would miss Appa. For he was the one who helped me the most. He was the one who helped me in the kitchen. He was the one who’d cut fruits and lay them on the table because he knew I liked fruit. He was the one who would know when to take a fussy infant from my aching arms. He was the one who went for quiet walks with me.

He was my friend.

When I spoke of my father-in-law like this, many folks were surprised that an Indian man of his generation was like this. But he was – he was supportive of everyone – through and through. He did not tell any of us how to behave, or what to do, he showed us. He would light up when I said “Good Morning Appa!” in the mornings, or when I said a tired ‘Hello Appa’ in the evenings. “Hello Saumya.” “Good morning ma!” , “Yenna ma?” (What is it ma?) – his quiet, friendly voice that surely guided us through life is ringing in my ears as I make the last journey to see his mortal remains.

It hurts me beyond measure to write of him in the past, his sort of love in the lingering type: like the sun, always shining, always nourishing. We are enormously blessed to have had him in our lives.

Thank you Appa – May you always be happy!