That’s right, folks. I did not say “My grandma is quite a gangster”, or, “My grandma is kinda like a gangster”, and I definitely did not say, “My grandma is a bit of a gangster”
Oh no, what I specifically mentioned was “My grandma is HELLA gangster”
The very use of the adverb “hella” is to make you guys realize what a thug she is.
Ok, so when you first look at her, she’s all cute and smiley, with that round face and chubby cheeks, her soft flowy white locks, and that smile that screams RAINBOWS AND PUPPIES! and which could possibly cure the common cold. She’s got the “cute old Indian lady” on LOCKDOWN. And the purity that radiates out of her when she talks to people, like she’s genuinely happy to meet them, and the gentle chiding of my friends when they leave home without eating a mouthful of her delicacies. You might think this is a prelude of me mentioning that it’s all an act, but NO. It isn’t an act. She really is my sweet fluffy little angel.
With a side of SASS and BADASSERY!
Firstly, she downs beer like it’s lemonade on a hot summer’s day! I’m not talking about those Bacardi Breezers that has, like, 0.005% or whatever, of alcohol. I’m talking genuine BEER. Tuborg, Carlsberg, Heineken, etc., she loves them all. And she forces me to take a few sips, and despite mentioning that I’m more of a Vodka person, she snorts in my face. I bet she’d be quite at home in an Irish bar, probably annoying everyone with “German beer is better”, and the likes.
So, this one time, we had guests over for dinner, and she gets a call from my dad saying that he would be reaching home quite late, since he’s stuck at Frosty’s. Frosty’s is a local supermarket in our neighbourhood. So, this adorable old lady misheard “Frosty’s” and what she yells at me, in front of all our guests, is “Your dad’s going to be late, he’s still at the prostitute” Struggling to maintain my facial decorum, I remind her that there are people at home, to which she replies, quite loudly, “So what if your dad wants to have fun?”
Another note-worthy situation was when we had gone to buy carrots from this tiny stall at the farmer’s market and the shopkeeper gives us these stunted ones, saying “I know it’s small…”, but my grandma cuts him off, looking him in the eye and says “Just like your balls”
Mind you, most of these conversations don’t even take place in English. It’s all in our mother-tongue, and in our local language, which makes these a 100000 times funnier.
This lady literally blackmailed me, emotionally, into eating. Just before I was off with some of my friends, she stuffs my mouth with food, saying, “Eat. It’s not like you have a boyfriend to take you out all the time anyway” and she wiped off the imaginary tear from my eye.
Makes it crystal clear that she’s the Indian embodiment of Grandmother Fa from Mulan.
So, that’s my super grandma ya’ll. Oh no, she isn’t dead or anything. I just wanted to share her awesomeness on here, to you guys.
I know this isn’t like one of my regular posts, but it’s been a while since I posted something personal, and funny, since it’s been all about rants and philosophical stuff.