A Letter to Kaminey Aunty

Dear Kaminey Aunty

Greetings to you.

My friends and I could not help noticing your presence in the theater. You were seated just a row ahead. You weren't conspicuous because of your black top. You weren't blocking the screen too. In fact, I must compliment you outright that your skull was reasonably sized. It's the brain it ensconced that bothered me through the movie.

I get it. You found the S to F jokes to be quite humourous. In the initial few minutes of the movie, when Charlie cracked the Fortcut and chota Fortcut joke the first time, you guffawed and really took off with your reactions. We could have ignored you. But we failed to do so the first and the ensuing 20 times.

I admire your impartial sense of humour. It did not matter to you whether Charlie called Shortcut as Fortcut, or Cellphone as Fellphone. You laughed loudly and proceeded to paraphrase the joke to your neighbouring friend with similar gusto every single time. On some later day, I might reopen this chapter to ponder over your friend's personality. Why was he enduring you all this time? Maybe you are his 'best' friend from college and he has gotten used to your foibles. Or you are his friend's girlfriend and he is obliged to be nice to you. Frankly, in that case I should begin suspecting your boyfriend's curious choice in women. But let us not deviate from the subject for now.

"Arre...he said Fortcut. A ha ha.."

By the time the twin brother Guddu releaved his stammering disability, the rest of us, and by rest I mean all 600 people in the theater, had accepted the speech impediments as a part of the storyline. You however took forever to digest that. I suspect permanent indigestion. There is a movie scene at a petrol pump where Guddu courageously overcomes his shyness and opens up his little nugget of childhood insecurity. It was understated and poignant. You however found a fresh repository of humour and giggled then too.

"Oh my god this is so funny."

When the movie ended and we all got up to exit the hall, I felt momentarily that we shouldn't have judged you based on such small peculiarities. After all, God has gifted all of us a unique sense of humour. If all flowers in a garden were just roses, would they have been as pretty? The diversity in our behaviour and our attitude towards others is what makes the world so special. I felt warmed by the revelation. I had almost forgiven you for your sins. That's when you and your chubby friend stuck your hands into the projector light and began making horse and duck shadows on the movie screen, giggling loudly at the short burst of attention the audience began paying to you. Had I been six years old, or had you been six years old or retarded, I'd have clapped my hands in delight or support respectively. But this time I didn't. It all came back to me - the experience from the first frame of the movie to the last grotesque display of social inadequacy.

You really distracted me through the movie. I had looked sorward to a relishing Vishal Bharadwaj experience. But you ruined it sor me. Aunty, sinally at the end os this whole experience I have developed a lisp too. I hope you can sigure it out.

Suck you.
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