weeknotes - 4
• There's this aunty at the bus stop whom we always see. Caroline and I call her Stalker Aunty because, well… she’s a bit creepy. She once asked Caroline if we were Christian. Caroline said yes, and Aunty went, “I knew it from the way you dress.” I don’t know what that even means, but honestly? I’ll take the compliment. At least someone thinks our outfits have some sort of aesthetic identity.
Then she asked if we were working. That one hurt. Either we look old or just tall, and neither option is flattering. She’s basically Grandma 2.0: talks to everyone at the bus stop, complains about the weather, complains about the bus, complains about literally anything just to keep a conversation alive.
• Meanwhile every adult who ever lived with us spent years calling us “worthless.” And then our parents acted confused about why we never socialized or took part in college activities. Spoiler: no money, no support, and a home that always felt dim, even when the lights were on. It’s strange how adults poison a house and then act shocked when the kids grow up coughing. My mom used to call us “the depressed sisters.” As if that wasn’t literally caused by her and the joyful circus we grew up in.
Anyway. One time some relatives came over. I opened the door and had zero idea who they were. But if you’re a Mallu, you know that weird built-in radar where you look at someone and instantly go, “Yep. Mallu.” That’s exactly what happened.
They came in, introduced themselves, and explained how we were connected through Dad’s side. Apparently they even visited us when we were kids. We all ended up talking, and honestly it felt nice. Cat and I barely meet cousins because:
They’re in their twenties or thirties living actual adult lives.
All of them live abroad doing the Whole Successful Human Package.
One uncle instantly became our favorite. The man had sarcasm flowing through his veins. Near the end, they were trying to take family pics but they couldn’t manage an angle where everyone fit because they were all so tiny compared to us. I offered to take a selfie and they went, “Ayy we have selfie expert and all.” Honestly adorable.
• Mom used to show us photos of family reunions from her side. I once asked why she never joined and she said, “Everyone there is earning, working, living happily. If I go, they’ll ask what I’m doing and I’ll have nothing to say. I’ll just be an embarrassment.” She’s a housewife, and she had tried working before, but my father had his whole “women belong in the kitchen” philosophy. It’s one of the many reasons he lost points in my mental rating system. It sucks seeing her life stuck like that. I hope I get somewhere one day so she never has to feel ashamed again.
• There was this tiny wholesome moment in college. I was leaving the library, saw my IT teacher walking ahead, and immediately looked down because eye contact with teachers in the wild is terrifying. But when we got closer I looked up, we made eye contact, and she raised her eyebrows twice like “hey hey.” It was stupidly sweet. That’s the second time a teacher has acknowledged my existence outside class. The first was my sociology teacher. I’m collecting these moments like Pokémon at this point.