The Train Station Gossip
I was waiting for my train at a station in London. I am Indian but born and raised in the UK. I speak fluent Hindi and Punjabi.
Two aunties were sitting next to me. They were clearly from India, visiting their son or something. They started talking in Hindi, loud enough for everyone to hear.
One of them said, Look at that girl with the red bag. So thin. She must be starving herself. In our time, we ate properly.
The other one laughed and said, And that hair. So messy. She thinks she looks modern but she looks like she just woke up.
They kept going. Commenting on every girl that walked past. Their clothes. Their weight. Their makeup. Judging everyone.
Then they looked at me. I was wearing ripped jeans and a hoodie.
One said, And this boy. Sitting here like he owns the place. No respect. In our village, boys dressed properly. His mother must be so ashamed.
I just sat there. Silent. Smiling inside.
Then the train came. We all stood up. As I walked past them, I turned and said in perfect Hindi, Aunty ji, meri maa ko meri jeans pasand hain. Aur woh bhi kehti hain ke apni beti ko thoda aaram karne dein.
Translation: Aunty, my mother likes my jeans. And she also says you should let your daughter rest a bit.
Their faces went red. One of them grabbed the other's arm and whispered, Oh god, he understood everything.
I just smiled, gave a little nod, and got on the train.
Didnt look back. But I could feel their eyes on me the whole time.