Ok.. so right now as of this moment I’m sitting on the train on my way home from an enjoyable but long week at work.
Sometimes. .. not all the time… but sometimes we brown folk experience the cringiest moments at the most inopportune times.
A matter of minutes ago my peaceful train journey home (in the quiet carriage) was interrupted by a punjabi aunty on matchmaking duty. Granted - that shit works and there are times when all ethnics of my generation will at least consider utilising this method of spouse sourcing, but the crude nature of this Aunty’s phone conversation has been grating on me since it started.
(Translated): “don’t worry” she said, “I’ll find you a girlfriend. How is work? I’ll find you a nice punjabi girl, a beautiful girl. I have my cousin’s baby shower coming up soon, I’ll find you someone there.”
Then the phone switched hands from the boy to, I’m assuming the boy’s mother.
Auntyji continued: “don’t worry I’ll convince him to change his ways. I’ll show him Indian girls are much better than white girls. He’ll change his habbits…just you wait.”
See what I mean by cringe?
Forgive me for what I’m about to say, but the image that came to my mind at that moment was one of a greasy, horny freshie -(If you’re a Jus Reign fan you’ll understand… Rupan Bal does an incredible impression of exactly that) who’d spent the last year of his student visa chasing after Russian girls. No doubt the cure for such an affliction is to marry the nearest Punjabi virgin as soon as possible.
Why is it Punjabi women do this to each other? To ourselves? Why do we suddenly treat girls of the next generation as if they’re inanimate remedies for male problems?
Or maybe he was genuinely in love? Maybe he truly wanted this woman in his life, but would she have been able to handle a crazy Punjabi household? Who knows..