“Yup, I’m ready,” I say, trying to sound chipper, but nervous as fuck about what this will be like. Your AirBody guest is in the waiting area. It authenticates my identity and says “Hello, Arsalan. It whirs on automatically - it doesn’t actually whir, but I imagine that’s the microscopic sound it makes as the violet light pulses. I stand in front of the mirror as I clip the AirBody headset to the backs of my ears. But, my dreams have been odd since I started “playing host” on weekends a few months ago.īy 5:58AM I’m towel dried, clothed and somewhat fed - a cookie is breakfast to some. I feel love for the sea turtle and I lean over to kiss its rough green cheek when the snooze expires. But, there are definitely other underwater creatures floating by, greeting us along the way.
I think I might be floating through the sky. My alarm goes off at 5AM, but I snooze several times, stumbling in and out of a wildly vivid dream about riding on the back of a sea turtle. I also don’t want a review plagued with complaints of body odor and morning breath. Meena activates at 6AM and I don’t want to test AirBody’s zero-tolerance late policy. When I return, I arrange all the ingredients in alphabetical order on my otherwise bare grey marble kitchen counter and head to bed. A drive would help kill some time, so I choose the Desi grocery store. But for the Desi ghee and chanay ki daal, I either have to pay a premium at the hippie organic store downstairs or drive out to a Desi grocery store in the suburbs. Some of it, like the sweetened condensed milk, half and half, sugar and cardamom powder I can get at the regular grocery store. I tap “Yes” and begin to look through her grocery list more closely. You acknowledge that you have the ability to observe, regain control and remove your guests at any time and therefore may be complicit in any crimes committed or responsible for any damage caused by your guests. I hit accept and watch the usual legalese flash before me: Maybe she’s too ill to travel to visit family for Eid and wants to surprise them with a feast? It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten a taste of such a spread. Her only notes on the request are a list of Desi groceries and some cookware, which only reinforces the archetype. Her short wavy hijab-less hair and her relaxed smile makes her seem content with life, so maybe she’s the genuine-sweetheart type. I pull the AirBody request from Meena Khan into view in my contacts.
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The late-life hijabi, who pointedly replaces “Khuda-hafiz” with “Allah-hafiz” and “thank you, beta” with not just “jazak-allah” but the full on “jazak allahu khayran.” But which of these archetypes would find it appropriate to rent the body of a grown man halfway across the world?
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The nervous fidgeter who has spent three decades so worried that her basic thirty-year-old son won’t ever find a wife, that she forgets to teach him how to speak to women. The manipulative gossiper, who conveniently keeps details of her own children’s scandals nestled under her tongue. There’s the genuine-sweetheart proxy mother who, in between her late-night work shifts, always makes sure you and your friends have all the snacks you need. I mean, they fit into a few basic archetypes. Even when separated by vast oceans for a few generations. Amazing how all Desi aunties are basically the same.
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