Pressure Cookers are Sexist. So I stay single.

Post-millenials – the crowd born in and after 2000 – just don’t get it.

The urban post-millenial has seceded from India and settled – with visa and Pringles – in Utopia. About five days ago, one of them and I were talking about something and the topic turned to marriage gifts. 

“What!  Tell me again, like how many pressure cookers did you get as wedding gifts?”

I repeated my answer with anticipation, because the next question would be, “But, like, why?” Post-millenials use ‘like’ about 2124 times a day.  If they don’t like someone, they get confused and say, “I like don’t like you.”

She didn’t ask the question, instead running her fingers through the patch of purple in her hair.  The purple was one of the patches in her hair and VIBGYOR was well represented, but with post-millenials you don't ask questions that go, "Like, why have you coloured your hair purple?" because she will then get all offended at having her choice questioned and say, "like, it's kinda like cool", which of course leaves you wondering if grey is even better. 

"I think it’s like sexist to gift pressure cookers,” she said as if I was now entitled to lifelong gratuity and monthly freedom fighter pension for having endured that phase of struggle.

Seeing my raised eyebrows (in case you didn't know, raising eyebrows in the most diligent part of my exercise routine), she continued, “Your parents’ generation – that’s like my grandparents – all thought and like still think that a woman’s role is in the kitchen.”

Now, you must never ever argue with post-millenials if you want them to think, “I like like you.”  I shut up of course and changed the topic. 

The reason we were gifted fourteen and a half pressure cookers at our wedding was not because the gifters saw my wife as a talking kitchenette.  It’s because their kids had got married before us and they had seventeen pressure cookers to gift away.  For three years after, we gifted pressure cookers with touching generosity and indiscriminate sexism, even to a new born baby (who, we hope, never heard about it, because he’s writing the civil service exams now).

Post-millenials, you see, just like don’t get it.