Independent India will be 60 years old this year.... As a child, I used to watch the tricolor unfurl on a bright August morning. People hugged, shook hands, wished each other and walked back home - to a hot piping cup of tea and snacks. They watched TV, read the newspapers - blamed the media for printing "masala", quarreled with their wives, chided their children and lazed around on the only holiday in August.
It was routine. It was normal. I was innocent.
Today I am a grown up. I am no longer impeccant. I am responsible or atleast held so. Today it is strange. I tread the forlorn streets in a foreign land through the arcade of shops in the middle of the night and wonder. I was born free unlike the very few who live to tell the tales of struggle, colonialism and exploitation.
I brood.
Would I live up to the expectations of society, family and more importantly my own? Can I survive this crest and the inevitable troughs in the offing? Would I take the country forward in whatever small way I can? The answer is a resounding - I DONT KNOW. Unfortunately yes, I dont know.
I resort to singing "Jana Gana Mana" and living a day at a time.
~ Dead Pep
For the "Other" Indepence Day, read Independence Day
Monday, February 12, 2007
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Birds of the same feather........
My mom once told me "When a household quarrel reaches the outside world, it (the world) just watches and mocks". It sounded like a fortune cookie, but it did make some sense in a way I could not comprehend then. Today I do.
I was on an unusual trip this weekend, the details of which I shall conceal for reasons not even known to me. Lets say there was a discussion, some italian food, Buca di Beppo and quite a few mortals with various concentrations of melanin. What I will share though, is a series of simple conversations that left me imploding and introspecting.
....................
................
..........
Me: Are you on an H1?
The Shitty-zen: Nah, Emma Citizen.
...................
............
.....
Me: So have you visited India recently.
The Shitty-zen: Nah, I don have the time man.I dont see any need to.
Me: (Good riddance )So how long have you been here (in the US)
The Shitty-zen: Since 6 years!(with almost an exult)
Me: Hmm...(What a joker)
.................
............
......
The Homegrown: I 'ave ne'er been ta India. Is 'ear tis very polluted.
The question was posed at me but still the shitty-zen felt an irrestible and uncontrollable itch that he had to scratch....
The Shitty-zen: Yeah Maan! You have no idea. I was there like a few years back and like I was riding like on the bike like; and by the way - there are so many bikes which are like these small pocket size motorcycles, which the Indians use for like everything.
...at this point, the shitty-zen forgets what he was talking....
So, what was I saying?
The Homegrown: Abat India n its pollution.
Me: Ahem!
The Shitty-zen:Oh,Yeah, I was saying that it was so crowded and polluted that after a 20 mile ride I almost had to take a bath for 30 minutes to wash that dirt off my face. This guy over here is from there (pointing at me). He will be able to tell you better.
Me: (Fuming and restraining my right hand with my left one so that I dont "accidentaly" punch the shitty-zen) There are 250 million vehicles in the US and 60 million in India. A quarter of the worlds greenhouse gases are generated here. You take a guess what is more polluted. I dont think it needs complex mathematics to figure that out.
Shitty seemed constipated and Homegrown's eyeballs were yo-yoing between my and shitty's face. The discussion continued with one awkward pause after another. Time and again slanderous remarks were made and I had to sum it all up with facts and figures. Then I recalled what my mom had said and shut my mouth wondering whether the homegrown saw us both as Indians or as Lunatics.
I was sure of one thing though, no matter how much Shitty claimed to be Shitty, the color of his skin told the story. He could have anglcized his name, circumcized his thing, put up a gay-ish accent but he was still what he was born - an Indian first then the rest. Shitty tried to, as thousand others do, to be a Roman when in Rome. I agree that it is tough to be an Indian and even tougher to stand apart when there are a billion competing with or against you. But what I do know is that you dont need to desecrate India to carve a niche for yourself. Hypocrisy was at its paramount heights this day and I was torn between protecting my motherland from being maligned and at the same time letting an internal fight get out.
The next day, I decided to observe Shitty a bit. There were many desis around flocking together, sharing their wise cracks and so did the homegrowns. But Shitty was different. He was the conspicuous abberation among the homegrowns - evident by his pathetic accent and his absolute lack of common sense. He tried to mingle but hey failed to acknowledge him. He tried to talk but nothing made sense. Homegrowns contined in their own pattern, discussing things from the superbowl to Condolezza Fried Rice. Shitty failed to comply and sucked on a Gatorade like a leech. It was a pathetic sight and for any mortal with any self-respect it could be embarassing enough to jump off a cliff without a suicide note.
All I could hear was that random mention of "Indians","Crowd","America","Beautiful" and I was left bitter to the core. I decided to let Shitty alone in his misery before he took me down too.
If the rest of the world believes that "Birds of the same feather flock together" it may be true for all other birds. Indian birds of the same feather.. shit on each other.
I was on an unusual trip this weekend, the details of which I shall conceal for reasons not even known to me. Lets say there was a discussion, some italian food, Buca di Beppo and quite a few mortals with various concentrations of melanin. What I will share though, is a series of simple conversations that left me imploding and introspecting.
....................
................
..........
Me: Are you on an H1?
The Shitty-zen: Nah, Emma Citizen.
...................
............
.....
Me: So have you visited India recently.
The Shitty-zen: Nah, I don have the time man.I dont see any need to.
Me: (Good riddance )So how long have you been here (in the US)
The Shitty-zen: Since 6 years!(with almost an exult)
Me: Hmm...(What a joker)
.................
............
......
The Homegrown: I 'ave ne'er been ta India. Is 'ear tis very polluted.
The question was posed at me but still the shitty-zen felt an irrestible and uncontrollable itch that he had to scratch....
The Shitty-zen: Yeah Maan! You have no idea. I was there like a few years back and like I was riding like on the bike like; and by the way - there are so many bikes which are like these small pocket size motorcycles, which the Indians use for like everything.
...at this point, the shitty-zen forgets what he was talking....
So, what was I saying?
The Homegrown: Abat India n its pollution.
Me: Ahem!
The Shitty-zen:Oh,Yeah, I was saying that it was so crowded and polluted that after a 20 mile ride I almost had to take a bath for 30 minutes to wash that dirt off my face. This guy over here is from there (pointing at me). He will be able to tell you better.
Me: (Fuming and restraining my right hand with my left one so that I dont "accidentaly" punch the shitty-zen) There are 250 million vehicles in the US and 60 million in India. A quarter of the worlds greenhouse gases are generated here. You take a guess what is more polluted. I dont think it needs complex mathematics to figure that out.
Shitty seemed constipated and Homegrown's eyeballs were yo-yoing between my and shitty's face. The discussion continued with one awkward pause after another. Time and again slanderous remarks were made and I had to sum it all up with facts and figures. Then I recalled what my mom had said and shut my mouth wondering whether the homegrown saw us both as Indians or as Lunatics.
I was sure of one thing though, no matter how much Shitty claimed to be Shitty, the color of his skin told the story. He could have anglcized his name, circumcized his thing, put up a gay-ish accent but he was still what he was born - an Indian first then the rest. Shitty tried to, as thousand others do, to be a Roman when in Rome. I agree that it is tough to be an Indian and even tougher to stand apart when there are a billion competing with or against you. But what I do know is that you dont need to desecrate India to carve a niche for yourself. Hypocrisy was at its paramount heights this day and I was torn between protecting my motherland from being maligned and at the same time letting an internal fight get out.
The next day, I decided to observe Shitty a bit. There were many desis around flocking together, sharing their wise cracks and so did the homegrowns. But Shitty was different. He was the conspicuous abberation among the homegrowns - evident by his pathetic accent and his absolute lack of common sense. He tried to mingle but hey failed to acknowledge him. He tried to talk but nothing made sense. Homegrowns contined in their own pattern, discussing things from the superbowl to Condolezza Fried Rice. Shitty failed to comply and sucked on a Gatorade like a leech. It was a pathetic sight and for any mortal with any self-respect it could be embarassing enough to jump off a cliff without a suicide note.
All I could hear was that random mention of "Indians","Crowd","America","Beautiful" and I was left bitter to the core. I decided to let Shitty alone in his misery before he took me down too.
If the rest of the world believes that "Birds of the same feather flock together" it may be true for all other birds. Indian birds of the same feather.. shit on each other.
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