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Opened and Dissected Letter to a fellow Indian

It is sad that it took a bitter and badly written post to revive a blog which was in coma for a while. But I guess sometimes you need the right kind of emotion to bring you back from hiding. This is in response to this post. It has created frenzy all over the blogo-sphere. And well read it here if you haven’t already. And here are my responses are in red.

Dear Delhi boy,

Namaskaram from the South of India, or as you may like to believe, the countries south of the Vindhyas.

-Dear South Indian girl (since Ghetto-ising isn’t really my style, I shall refrain from calling you Madrasan),

Good evening from… well, an Indian. I usually am against being racist, because frankly I’m left with very few options, after being a part of so many cultures, and belonging to so many places having an army dad. And just to make things straight, I am part Punjabi, the rest of me I shall get to later.

I came to your city 2 years ago with a brand new job and a bucketload of expectations. My friends and family here thought I was completely insane to choose Delhi over more female conducive cities like Bangalore or even Bombay. I am very sad to report that your reputation of being an ignorant, chauvinistic oaf with the intelligence levels of an autistic 3 year old on crack precedes you and it hurts me even more to admit to this rather accurate description.

-First of all, I’m sorry about the fact that despite your desperate attempts to make Delhi-ites hate your kind, I still love South Indians. Some of my closest friends are South Indian, and even after reading your post, I still wouldn’t ‘generalise’ and look at them with suspicion, despite you completely reinforcing the unjustified stereotype against your kind. I’m sorry to report that I still haven’t lost faith in your kind despite this statement being exaggerated and downright derogatory to children with special needs.

Your reputation has travelled far and wide, to countries outside South India as well. And believe me man, it is not a pretty situation. I understand that your stone faded, ripped jeans, your V-neck cleavage showing t-shirts that reveal to the world that you have infact inherited your mother’s voluptuous shaved Punjabi bosom, are what you think maketh a man, but it does not. It only maketh for a man who gets a pity license to share his girlfriend’s bra. I write to you as a woman who has been brought up in a society free of any discrimination towards women so thanks to you, my living in Delhi is as safe as Hugh Hefner’s playmate of the year living in Jeddah.

-I understand how you feel. It is but natural that an age-old Indian fetish for breasts surfaces now and then. Quoting most psychology texts, the things we notice most in the opposite sex are the ones deficient in us. It happens. I don’t blame you at all. As for your society honey, at least I have the freedom of wearing shorts to college without being judged.

You meet me at a friend’s birthday, talk to me about nightclubs and your new SUV and when I look like I’m in desperate need of a barf bag, you think I have an attitude problem. I understand this completely. But let me remind you that I am from SOUTH INDIA and not SOUTH DELHI, so no ,I am not scrawny, I am not fair, I don’t have straight hair and my topics of conversation go beyond the Fendi I saw in last month’s Vogue.

-So Miss Southie, at least women here are allowed to nightclubs and not shoved out of them by some moral brigade trying to supposedly ‘save our culture’. Women in fact are welcomed into nightclubs with no cover charge. I do like Fendi, Gucci, or even flee market apparel, and at least I have the freedom to openly lust for them without being judged.

I am olive-skinned, have lower –back-length lustrous cascading tresses that sometimes make me look like I fell out Jim Morrison’s tour bus. Got a problem with that? Well just suck it up coz I was born into a society where a woman can whoop your Punjabi patoutie to pulp.

-So you want to be accepted for your self-degrading description of what I would have otherwise called beautiful, but cannot accept a man with a single physical flaw. Do I see hypocrisy here?

While your mother pretends to be very progressive but still cows down to the whims of her husband every single time, mine on the other hand was born into a matriarchal home where every single possession is in the rightful name of the girl child. Could you ever, my hunky handsome, cash throwing pig, imagine this kind of power in your society? So stop telling me that women are not treated like trash where you come from. Just shut up and admit to it. It’s just easier that way. And lest we forget that we’ve managed to curtail the number of rape cases despite not having a female Chief Minister. Amma ‘s body composition generates way too much heat for her get out of her AC room anyway, so don’t even bring that up.

-Congratulations for being born where you have, but I’m still not going to stoop down to your level and generalize. Both my parents are emancipated to the core. More than your society could ever imagine being. Despite my mother earning more than my dad I still live in peace and harmony and have the freedom to have a boyfriend (and for that matter even girlfriend) from anywhere in the world and openly discuss about him at the dining table.

And your English. Good Lord, what in the world is up with that? I don’t want you to ‘explain me’ anything. It’s like you need to go to primary school all over again. And call them your parents, not your ‘peerents’ or what your cooler, more happening brethren call them—‘mere mom-dad’. Like what are they? Conjoined twins? Are they joined at the hip?

-So how old are you? 5? Anyone can call their parents whatever they like till the time they’re given due respect, you have absolutely no right to point fingers at people’s existence being from an incestuous wedlock.

Your South India counterparts may not have your looks, but are way more mentally stimulating, a quality that eludes you obviously, but has been the single most sexy factor for us Southie chicks since the age of five.

-Why do you seem so apologetic about the looks you possess? Because what looks like a desperate attempt at being a ‘dark and proud people’, you come across as someone with a deeply embedded inferiority complex. Seriously, be proud of the way you are. And I mean genuinely.

I mean once again, who can blame you? You were brought up on Gurdas Mann and the heroic deeds of Devinder Singh Bhullar and the ever so fair concepts such as elections in Phugwada while we mere ‘black-colour waale’ mortals had to make do with Bharatnatyam classes, M.S Subhalakshmi and chess. Shame no?

-Just because Bharatnatyam started somewhere near where you live does not mean you’re the only ones who possess it, North India is flooded with people and institutes which teach Bharatnatyam. To top that we even have a wide variety of other dance forms to choose from. We have Kathak, Jazz, Ballet, Hip-Hop, and so on, and of course Bhangra and Gidda, which mind you need so much energy, you’d need to be the human version of the Duracell bunny to give a 10 minute performance in them. And as for chess… we just choose to lie low and channelize our energies into lesser sports like… well hello? Those are sports nonetheless, it doesn’t matter!

And yes, if by a slight chance, you do find my big dancer eyes attractive enough for you to prolong our conversations and meetings and if by an even slighter chance you fall in love with me and decide to marry me, you will have to wear a mundu and you will have to lie prostrate shirtless at the Guruvayurappan temple.

-You are a tad confused lady. Despite this whole supposedly witty and totally-not-exaggerated rant about the men of my kind, you still have hopes of marrying them? If any of the Delhi men do want to marry you, they would gladly bare it all and wear a mundu if needed.

A small price to pay for all the genuine independence I am giving up for you. And that’s the real thing, not what you see the Delhi girls at LSR and Stephen’s doing during their fake as hell protest marches coz ultimately they’re going home to a family who’re putting together money for Bobby beta’s bail coz he just ran over his girlfriend’s ex, by mistake of course.

-Woah! This is where I get vicious honey. I cannot help it if you were too busy trying your ass off to get into IIT and in the bargain did not get in and with the marks you obtained in an attempt to focus more on entrances you didn’t get accepted in some of the MOST prestigious colleges in the country where most people would give up a limb to get into. ‘Sour grapes’ is the best way I can describe this. At least the Delhi girls from LSR handle a break-up in a more dignified way than this. Oh and if not IIT you could probably try nursing school you’d blend right in (Yeah, how’s that for a stereotype? That’s how it feels).

I understand that I come from the land of ugly. I mean obviously Hema Malini, Sri Devi and Aishwarya Rai with their natural banal looks don’t even hold a candle to Priyanka Chopra after her two nose jobs and one lip reconstruction surgery. Not a chance in hell.

-Natural looks? I really pity your ignorance sweety but from a girl who is supposedly proud of her ‘South-Indian dark complexion’ it’s strange that every actress you have mentioned here is fairer than the other, not to mention the amount of tweaks and corrections their own faces have gone through. NO ONE, and I mean no one can ever look the way they do at their age without any correction at all.

But when you do come to ask for my hand, remember I am part Maharashtrian and part South Indian and NO, they are not the same thing. So please tell your family, not to drop racist bombs like “Arey woh sab toh ‘Sawth’ ke hi hote hai na?” And YOU—don’t walk up to mother in an attempt to make flattering conversation and say shit like “Aunty you don’t look like a South Indian You are so fair” In return she will verbally Texas chainsaw massacre your face so badly, your dead Dadi will haunt you the very same night, telling you how fleeing Pakistan was less traumatic. So don’t. Better still just don’t speak. Just glean and flex your muscles a little and keep smiling. Just whatever you do, don’t talk.

-Wow! You know if you just wanted to get married to a guy from Delhi so desperately, why didn’t you just say so instead of dropping subtle hints in a post where you’re simply trying to play hard to get? You could just talk to your family you know, they might just understand that you want to be with someone NON-South Indian. And of course since you invested so much of your precious time trying to crack IIT, I don’t blame you for lacking basic language skills, but let me tell you honey, there is a difference between being witty and being plain rude. Trivialising the trauma faced by people during partition is simply offensive and taking this too far. So yeah I guess it’s just better that you are not spoken to, because you’re simply not worth it.

You may not like our food, but then we don’t like you, which is worse. We may not be even that into food, but then that’s coz we have other things to do with our lives, like crack IIT or become writers, journalists, activists and do things that we are very passionate about. The South Indian woman has a voice and boy can she yell. So if you want to Sambhar ‘Chawl’ your way into my life, then you got to toe the line. Be way more aware than what your are.

-For your hatred towards food, I’d say, try spicing things up a little bit. And some sweet should do you good. At least it’ll make you a little less bitter. At least we could hope so. And as for South Indian food, there might just be more South Indian restaurants in Delhi than any other part of the country and they’re mostly located in the Punjabi dominated areas of Delhi because Punjabis love nothing more than a family of ten and some Rawa Masala Dosas.

Remember Delhi is not a country and we are not Black. If I ever hear you utter that name of that colour, I will Kalaripayattu your tongue out of your rear. Yes , that is the secret behind our awesome sex ratio. Just so you know.

-Yes Delhi isn’t a country. But it sure is more inclusive than any other part of the country and yeah, Delhi is NOT in Punjab. Please get your facts right or else it won’t be long before someone from the operation blue star lineage performs a Gatka on you (And again, that’s exactly how it feels).

For someone who is so confident of his physical abilities you really suck at luring an intelligent woman. Don’t send me text messages that say ‘happy guru purab’, you freakshow and if you want to be cute with your ever so charming (not) Punjabi advances, then don’t send texts that say “Dil laye gayee kudi Madrraaas di”! NO. It’s just not cool man.

-And again sweety, there is a difference between being witty and being plain racist. Is it that you have a problem with all occasions where normal human beings get a reason to feel happy or is this just a special case? And who are you to define what’s cool? I’m not even going to comment on that, ‘cause you’re just not worth it.

I may have have missed on a lot in this letter, but that’s ok because you’ll forget to read it and even if you do , you’ll get your cousin Jassi from Defence Callonny to translate it for you. And this letter can’t go on forever like the Punjabi male ego.

-It’s funny how you talk about ego when all you’ve done in this letter is tried way too hard to nurse your badly hurt ego.

So long my love, and here’s two steps of gidda just for you, just to show that I can be traditional and will not accidently kick your sister while doing so.
Love, hugs, kisses aka ‘muah’ (only I shall ‘muah’, you please don’t do anything coz you tend to forget that these are my lips and not a piece of Tandoori Chicken from Kakke- Da- Dhabba)

-As for the ‘muah’… do try some passionate kissing sometime. It’ll soften you up and lessen the frustration.

(Only I can call myself that. If you EVER call me by this name, I will shove so many coconuts down your system that your little saver pack versions will begin to sprout coir.)

Yours truly,

Cosmopolitan Indian citizen studying at LSR

PS: And well about the other part of my identity? The other part of me is from the ‘North East’. And we get discriminated against more than you can ever think or dream of. But we’ve risen above all the petty arguments and learnt to celebrate differences. Because at the end of the day we’re all Indian, and it does not matter where we’re geographically located within the country.

I may have toed the line here and there, but trust me, I meant no offence to anyone other than you (the writer of the post) here. Frankly if in your place a Punjabi had written similar bitter words for a South Indian, it would’ve got me equally fired up.

Stereotyping and profiling can be fun to an extent, if taken in good humour, and yeah they’re a part of life. But with all the corn and cheese aside, every Khan is not a terrorist, every South Indian is not Madrasi, every Punjabi is not Sardar (every Delhi-ite is definitely not Punjabi)… oh the list is endless.

Please learn to take a setback in life in good spirit and stop blaming an entire geographical area for what you may have been through. The last person who did that had all his (Nazi) glory in his time, but no one sees him in good light today.



















Anjaana Anjaani-Movie Review

An almost empty theatre made my expectations hit rock bottom, but I guess that made me appreciate the film a wee bit.

In some ways ‘Anjaana Anjaani’ is just another girl meets boy story, but with a difference. The difference here is the twist. And the twist happens right at the beginning.

When fate, rather several suicide attempts and a hospital ward bring them together, all hell breaks loose as they have a mutual suicide pact if at all they don’t fulfil their last wish.

Kiara (Priyanka Chopra) suffers from a perpetual and recurring (which gets irritating towards the end because it is caused by the same person) broken heart due to which she wants to end her life and Aakash (Ranbir Kapoor) loses everything including his job and home due to the stock market crash, which becomes his reason for suicide.

What follows is an interesting journey in which they try to do things they’ve always wanted to do before they die and to live life each day like it were their last. With flashbacks squeezed in here and there, narrating how they were driven to extreme measures.

In some parts it gets stretchy and monotonous, and in some you do get little bouts of laughter (some of them, unintentionally). So the pace of the film remains moderate.

The pair does make for some good chemistry, but Priyanka Chopra’s perennial drunk act and Ranbir Kapoor’s I have an attitude but I’m an ordinary nice guy conduct, would make you wonder what else could you have bought with that ticket money.

Overall the storyline is not bad, but the film is very average due to it’s unnecessary stretch and pointless extra bits, which tend to bring the pace of the movie down. Similar to the pace of the film, the songs too can receive mixed reactions.

The film is a one time watch, and beyond that one time, you’d pray for dinosaurs to return to the planet.

The story is different and unlike most Bollywood films the story is not all that bad. But like most Bollywood films, it loses the plot halfway through.

Personally, I would give it two and three quarter stars.

If you’re a die-hard fan of the two (or even one of them), it’s a must watch. But if your looking for story as well as some brain then it’s definitely a miss.

To Love who you are and be ‘Glee’-ful…

Today was the season finale of ‘Glee’, my favourite show, ever since the second season of ‘Castle’ ended (all this by Indian time).
For those of you who don’t know, Glee is about a group of school kids who belong to a school show choir and their optimistic teacher’s attempts to make them find themselves.
I’ve always loved Glee for the splendid performances and the brilliant song covers and the fact that even though I am not particularly fond of musicals, this show has something special about it that makes me love it so much.
But more than anything else it has a message. It tells you that, no matter who you are, what others think of you, or where you come from, you are an individual and are special in your own way.
Their coach, Will Schuster, did do a good job of transforming nobodies into somebodies and those who thought they were somebodies (and apparently weren’t) into someone who they really were.
It didn’t have a movie-like ending of the underdogs winning the final competition. In fact the team in question, ‘New Directions’ didn’t stand anywhere in the competition. But no matter what direction the competition took, I truly believe (and so would most of us) that it was a happy ending.
Because, at the end of the day they learnt, that no matter who wins, all that counts is the fact that they put their heart and soul into what they did and loved doing and enjoyed it. It is the journey that matters and not the destination and if the journey was great, no one needs to care about the destination.
In the end they all found the true meaning of happiness because they found friends, found love, found their strengths and weaknesses, and most of all, they found themselves, who they truly are.
The initial part of the show reminded me of my days at middle school, when I hated who I was and wished like hell that I could be special. And it took me three years thereafter to change my outlook and love who I was, because no matter who others thought me to be I knew I was special in my own unique way.
And this very idea was reinforced into me by this very show.
So all those who’ve been watching ‘Glee’ (and even those who have not), if you’ve ever felt that you wanted to be someone else, or weren’t good enough, think again.
Never be afraid to be who you are, your true self.
Because only then would you truly find ‘glee’ 🙂
The final performance by the Glee club group New Directions- Journey Medley. 🙂