Rumbling over matters of no importance

I have issues with sleeping of late. I read when there is something to read; brood when there is nothing.When brooding tires I long for the dawn to break and when it finally does I want to sleep!
It bugs me that many young people bigger than me call me 'uncle'. It seems to happen only on Goa's streets. In Tamil Nadu no one calls me uncle. I am used to being called Charu by one and all including Mir, my son. To be 'Uncled' unnerves me. For one thing I am not anyone's uncle. My brothers have children but I am not in touch with them, so whatever they refer to me as does not matter.
To be uncled right in my face pisses me off. I wonder whether it is my gray goatee that is the cause. There must be something to stop people from calling me uncle. Cultural revolution? May be.
I tried dealing with it one to one. A boy bumped into me and said "sorry uncle". I turned and yelled at him. His friend, who was with him said, "Woh sorry bola nah uncle!" I glared at him too. I knew at once that my problem was not going to be solved one to one.
But that is not what I am losing sleep over. I am agitated because I am in Goa. I have a peculiar thing with Goa. It is my home state but I am not at home here. I used to be once, but not anymore and that is because I am struggling with "crossing the boundaries of affection" as some very deadly Kali would have it.
The need to cross boundaries of affection comes after you have understood that mere affection does not pay bills. To be professional one must severe affection or if calling it that is too discomforting, call it modern-sounding something else. This need is, I feel, rather strategic. It is a self marketing strategy. Be cool. Professional. Unemotional and not naive.
I am sure that works. It may even be a very pragmatic solution in a megalopolis.
It may also be a pro-west attitude to living in modern times. It may have something to do with consumerism which is fast becoming the order of the day in fast growing powerful Asian nations.
I look at the many from affluent societies who, having realized that  man is sucked up in the vortex of that sort of mill-rush, flock to India. Most of them respond to the 'Indian smile', something they admit they have lost in the west. Now that smile happens because of affection. There is nothing calculated in there, no strategies. It is open, warm and human.
So whether logs drift or bodies shrink, we must bear the weight of affection, for without that man is a goner.