The Candidness of Cousins

The other night my Aditya mama came over. He's 65 plus in age, with a bad leg, a booming voice, and a unique sense of humor. Descendant from the Marathas and boasting of copious amounts of royal blood, he carries with him a regal air and a bluntness akin to a butter knife.

He's very fond of his cousin sisters - my mother and my two aunts. He was especially delighted to see my Raju maasi since she comes over from Mozambique only once a year and is thus, a rare commodity. This delight gradually turned to concern as she tried to encourage him to venture further and further into the social networking world via Facebook.

"But I don't remember half the people adding me," he protested. "Some sardar from school added me. I don't even remember him. Bloody 40 years ago it was. How many people from your friend list do you remember?"

"Well, I don't actually know all the people in my friend list personally," confessed Raju maasi. "I play all these games you know, like Castle Age, where you add people so that they can join your army and help you win battles."

She went on in this vein for some time as Aditya mama listened with narrowed eyes and keen interest. When she was done he leaned back in his chair for a moment of reflection.

"My god, you're off your rocker," he declared. "Participating in wars and all that. Doing battle shattle at your age."

Having thus pronounced his cousin fit for commitment to an asylum, he proceeded to deftly change the subject to some story of the Dalai lama he had heard at an Embassy dinner. "Buddhists do not believe in killing," he said. "So in Tibet, they used to stuff criminals into the skin of a yak and leave it in the sun to dry and shrink until.." He made a grotesque squelching sound and settled comfortably in his chair with smug satisfaction as we digested this rather morbid tale.

"So life is like that you see," he sighed turning to Raju maasi. "But you're completely nuts anyway so how does it matter to you."

Ah, brotherly love. Such a wonderful thing.