When crypto meets Kaka: Explaining Bitcoin to my Gujarati uncle

“Beta, this Bitcon… it is like tulsi plant, no?”

I choked on my chai. “Tulsi, Kaka?”

“Yes, very precious. But nobody knows why exactly. And everyone insists you must have one.”

Welcome to a Sunday morning in Suburban Ahmedabad, where I, a crypto-curious millennial, attempted to explain Bitcoin to my seventy-five-year-old Gujarati uncle who still thinks UPI is witchcraft and that Paytm might secretly be a Punjabi boy.

Let’s rewind.

The ice breaker

It all started after lunch. Kaka, who had just polished off his third helping of undhiyu, leaned back in his chair and said, “You work in computers, na? Then explain this Bitcoin thing. My friend’s son is investing. He made 40 lakhs last year. In American dollars!”

I knew this was a trap. Kaka doesn’t even trust online train bookings. He still goes to the railway station personally to “confirm” his IRCTC ticket. But I couldn’t back down.

So I began, gently.

“Bitcoin is like digital gold, Kaka.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Digital? Like WhatsApp forward?”

“No, no. It’s money that lives on the internet. There’s no paper, no coins. But people agree it has value because it’s limited in quantity, like gold. There will only ever be 21 million bitcoins.”

“Hmm,” he said, sipping chai. “So it is rare. Like that dry fruitkaju katliduring Diwali.”

Exactly, Kaka. Except kaju katli doesn’t crash 40% overnight.

Enter blockchain, because why not?

He leaned forward. “But who is controlling this Bitcoin? RBI?”

“No, no. That’s the beauty of it. Nobody controls it. It runs on something called the blockchain. It’s like a public ledger—like your society maintenance register, but online and visible to everyone.”

Kaka paused. “So can anyone see what I’m buying?”

“Well, sort of. The transactions are public, but names aren’t attached. Like instead of ‘Rameshbhai bought crypto,’ it’ll say ‘wallet X sent 0.5 BTC to wallet Y.’”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Like when we write ‘Miscellaneous expenses’ in the family budget.”

3. NFTs and the art of confusion

Kaka was warming up now. “Okay, but what is this NFT? My neighbour’s daughter sold one for 2 lakh rupees. It was just a monkey photo.”

Ah, the monkeys. My old foes.

“NFTs are like digital certificates of ownership, Kaka. Suppose you draw a sketch and I want to prove I own the original. The NFT is like a receipt saying ‘I, Chintu, own this artwork,’ even if others can see it or copy it.”

“But what is the use if everyone can see it?”

“Bragging rights.”

Kaka looked at me like I had just told him onions cost ₹500 a kilo.

4. Kaka’s investment strategy

He pondered deeply, then said, “So you’re telling me, people are buying invisible money, using invisible networks, to buy invisible art?”

“Basically… yes.”

He got up, went to the cabinet, and returned with a small tiffin of thepla.

“Beta,” he said with a grin, “I don’t understand any of this. But if I give you ₹10,000, can you make it ₹40,000 in six months?”

“Kaka! It doesn’t work like that—”

“And if I lose it all?”

“Then… it’s a long-term investment.”

“Just like LIC!” he declared, triumphantly.

5. The grand finale

As I packed up to leave, Kaka handed me a slip of paper.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“My wallet address. I want to buy one Bitcon.”

I laughed. “You’ll need about ₹50 lakh for one.”

He frowned. “Okay, then buy me half.”

This is where I left the house and re-evaluated my life choices.

Moral of the story

Explaining crypto to your Gujarati uncle is like explaining Tinder to your grandmother. You can try, but it will end in confusion, food, and probably a cash investment you didn’t ask for.

But somewhere between the sarcasm and the soan papdi, you realise: maybe Kaka is right. Maybe the crypto world is a bit like a Gujarati wedding — crowded, chaotic, full of noise, and you’re not entirely sure what’s happening…

…but everyone is convinced that it’s worth being a part of.

Disclaimer: No theplas were harmed in the making of this article. Bitcoin prices may vary. So might Kaka’s moods.