Every function. Without fail. There is a designated aunty, and her opening move is not "how are you," not "you've grown so tall," not even my actual name. It's the salary. Straight to the number. No warm-up.
The priorities in this ecosystem are refreshingly transparent, I'll give her that. Why waste time on pleasantries when you can go directly to the financial audit?
So I've developed a countermeasure. I quote a figure about 20% below the real one. Deliberate deflation. Because here's what happens if you give the honest number: the aunty's eyes do a little calculation, and suddenly you've been silently upgraded to "marriage material," and now you're being assessed, cross-referenced against her friend's daughter, and mentally slotted into a matrimonial spreadsheet before you've even finished your samosa.
The lowball keeps me safely under the radar. Not poor enough to pity, not rich enough to hunt. A comfortable, unremarkable number that makes her nod and move on to the next target.
She still doesn't know my name. That's fine. She knows my (fake) CTC, and in her world, that's the more important credential anyway.