In the two years since our wedding day, my husband has maintained his role as my counsellor, chef, doctor, philosopher, guide and storyteller. But before you serenade me with all your “awws”, I have to admit, this tendency to be more parent and less of a partner is a bit of a problem.

Your mean aunt or nasty neighbour suffer from a dreaded condition. It is called Phuppoism. It is characterised by an ability to constantly find yourself in a place where you have no business to be – such as the lives of others.

Every Eid begins with Amma waking you up early to help her in the kitchen. Abba refuses to give you Eidi as you are an “independent adult”. The rest of the day is spent watching Eid transmissions on TV and eating mutton pilaf, instead of the chicken biryani you asked Amma to prepare.

While my Amma tried to get me to love reading, I developed a passion for being seen with books. On Instagram, I found such people in hordes, posing with coffee mugs, colourful markers, blank notepads, and expensive gadgets with captions like, “A book is to heart what poop is to pee.”