Nice Malayalee Girls Like Me

My Uncle Pepe is a triumph of hope over experience.

He calls to wish Julie for her birthday. And gets me on the phone instead (Julie being engaged in performing her ablutions at this time). So he compliments me on my ahem, professional MC performance at Eve's wedding. I thank him of course, in the usual Malaysian self deprecating manner: "Nolar Uncle, so-so oni, nothing greatlar and that's the first and last time anyway..." and he says, no, no, you should consider doing it more often, you were very good, and your partner was very good, etc, etc, etc...."

He evinces a distinct interest in my "partner", Mary Zack. So I tell him a bit about her. Then he asks how old she is. I wonder where this is going. After all, I can hear his wife, my aunt, in the background. Surely, my venerable uncle is not thinking of having an affair at his advanced age.

"She's 50 this year, Unc."

"You're bluffing. She cannot be more than 30."

"Aiyo Uncle, I'm sure she would be flattered but she's 50lar." (Mary wouldn't mind because she is like me. We neither of us don't bother to hide our ages).

I hear my aunt break into peals of laughter in the background. She pulls the phone away from Uncle.

"Jenny? Your uncle was thinking of matching her with Santosh. Nice Malayalee girl, tall and pretty and all. He thought it would be a nice fit."

Santosh is my cousin. A kid of 32. The only one of his siblings who is as yet unpaired. His eldest brother is engaged to an Italian. His second brother, married to a Tamil. And his only sister going out with a German. All nice people but, as my aunt points out, not one of us.

"Your uncle wants a daughter-in-law who can make putu."

Note: I am Malayalee. Pukka. And I can't make putu to save my life. Or aviyal (I don't think I spelled that right which just goes to show) for that matter.

Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I was the loudmouth who had to announce to all and sundry at my cousin's wedding that we (Jenn, Eve and Mary) were the infamous 3K Production, 3K being both Tiga Keling and Three Keralites. Keralites being Malayalees. Malayalees being the partners of choice for other Malayalees. At least where their parents are concerned.

My aunt stays on the phone and asks me (very nicely of course) to put out feelers for Santosh. A nice Malayalee girl. From Malaysia, not India (because if she's from India she cannot work for a few years while they try and sort out her papers and Santosh doesn't want a stay-at-home wife). I laugh and rhubarb non-committally because I don't approve of arranged marriages and don't even attend them as a matter of principle.

Uncle Pepe doesn't stop there. "So Jenny, when is your big day?"

"Um, never Uncle."

"Don't talk like that...is there anyone now?"

"Nope. No one."

"Never mind. It can happen in a second. I pray every day for your big day." (I ask you, with four children of his own, how does he have the time to busybody with his nephews and nieces?)

And that's not all. Apparently I will get together with a nice Malayalee boy. And have nice Malayalee children. And why stop there? I will also probably array myself in silk sarees and make putu and aviyal for adoring in-laws.

As I said, hope over experience. Truly.

I need a drink.