India, Feb. 16 -- When I was a child, I held a belief that felt completely logical: If someone was my parents' friend, they were automatically an 'uncle' or 'aunt.' My mother, perhaps anticipating the social landmines ahead, disagreed. She trained us to stick to the formal 'sir' or 'madam.' But childhood confidence is stronger than any parental instruction. One day, we ran into my mother's friend on the road. I beamed and greeted her, "Namaste, aunty!" The woman looked mortified, and my mother's face flushed with an embarrassment so deep you'd think I had hurled a personal insult. It was my first lesson in social dynamics: A simple greeting can serve as a rude reminder of ticking clocks. I vowed never to repeat the mistake. Life, however, has a wicked sense of humour. Years later, as a Class 9 student, I attended a friend's birthday party with my elder brother. Attired in a party salwar-suit, I was aiming for elegance. Apparently, I succeeded too well. A waiter carrying a pizza tray smiled at me and said, "Aunty, we will start the party in 10 minutes." Excuse me? I instinctively looked behind me for the aunty. There was no one. It was me. I was the aunty. My appetite vanished. Some people can ruin your entire day just by calling you 'aunty' or 'uncle' before you are even old enough to vote. All it takes is a slightly formal outfit for society to gleefully promote you to middle age. I considered correcting him, but instead, I stood there in a daze. My brother, naturally, found the live comedy hilarious. But the universe is fair. As we stepped out later, a teenaged beggar looked straight at my brother and pleaded, "Uncle, kuch khaane ko de do!" The colour drained from my brother's face. The score was settled, and I was thoroughly entertained. This 'aging sport' isn't always accidental; sometimes, it's tactical. I recall a former neighbour whom I always addressed as 'madam', on my mother's instructions. This woman, younger than my mother and a parent to three school-goers, seemed to derive a primal joy from the uncle-aunty hierarchy. She trained her children to address my college-going brother as 'Uncle'. Every "Hello, Uncle!" from her kids was followed by her triumphant smile. I would feel offended on behalf of my brother because of the lack of decency on her part. It brings me to a peculiar national mystery: Why the obsession with assigning random family titles to strangers? Why must we emotionally adopt every passerby? Why is it so difficult to simply say 'sir' or 'madam'? These are perfectly functional, neutral, and harmless words. They do not assume age, marital status, or the number of children one has. They are polite, clear, and-most importantly-they do not force anyone into a mid-life crisis prematurely. If we teach the next generation to use formal addresses for unfamiliar adults, we might save them from the trauma of unsolicited family titles. It is my sincere wish: Let's keep the 'uncles' in the family tree and out of the pizza line....