famished for meaning

Gasp!! I sat there in shock. And as the gravity of what had just happened became clearer, the shock turned to grief. The gasps turned into wailing. It couldn’t be. Life was not supposed to be this way. How could Amitabh get killed. He was ‘Muqaddar ka Sikandar’. He was the hero. Heroes don’t die. They always win. What would become of the world now that the savior lay dead. I would never get to meet him now. I was inconsolable. I was still in grieving next day in class 1C. During recess a cheeky bastard said Amitabh was just an actor and he was a fake. I kicked his ass. Sorry, Abdul Kareem Ice Cream (It was funny then). That incident earned a call to mom.

She concocted this whole story about Amitabh faking his death to trick the badies. This made some sense. But I needed solid proof. Mom had lied about the tooth fairy last year. That friday dad grabbed another pirated bollywood movie. Sure enough there was super cop. Talking smack and kicking ass. The world was going to be okay afterall. Faith was restored. Mom wasn’t such a big liar. For weeks after that I would sing ‘Rotay hoay aate hein sab’ while riding my bicycle to and from school. I would stand on the pedals, Hands off handles, Doing lazy Ss, the works. Good Times.

But dont let that story leave you with an impression of life bollywooded. Movies were a special occasion. To be enjoyed by the whole family. Once a month, maybe. And they were sources of material for the obligatory entertainment routines. We weren’t allowed in the drawing room with guests. Lest we embarrass our parents with our manners and gluttony. But at a certain point during the evening we would be entered to perform our tableau and earn our treats before being sent of to bed. I had a repertoire of numbers down pat. A good entertainer keeps his material fresh and is always ready for an encore. I specially liked doing “Aega Shehri Babu, tum dil pe rakho qabu”. Another favourite was “Jaanoo meri Jaan, Mein tere Qurbaan” and I would cheekily subsitute Pakistan for Hindustan in the next line to even greater applause.

Somehow, we managed to remain cute and not be the “prepubescent little dorks”, that rocky mentioned in her comments a couple of posts ago. We even grew up to be abnormally honest, sincere, even innocent. In later years, we saw a lot more movies and TV, even stuff we wish we hadn’t seen. We were raised by our parents though, and that seems to have been the dominating factor. I really believe children mirror the adults around, not just in words and actions but also in attitudes.

(guest post courtesy of the artist formerly known as alibhai)

i have relatives visiting from out of town - ones i haven’t seen for at least a decade. they feel alien to all of us, with differences in accents, thought, language and behavior. they are my parents guests so we’re all being quite nice…but being “forced” to be nice, once you return from a tiring day at work, when you’d much rather flop down in front of your TV and pop in a good film, while enjoying mum’s cooking, sucks. putting on an act, even while at home, sucks even more!

it’s been interesting though…

we all sit together in the lounge, (not) watching TV. the other day, “the practice” came on - the story revolved around a rape case. while my brother, father and i watched with interest, i could see that the cousins were quite embarrassed by the content. while not exactly explicit, they did mention SEX (oooh!) and showed a couple of kissing scenes (double ooooh!).

we weren’t really bothered because by now, we’re desensitized…and to be honest, i would have assumed that they (the aliens) would have been as well, given that they are exposed to the same programs and channels back home. i guess they have ‘parental control’ on…

it made me wonder though: is it a very ‘desi’ thing to be embarrassed by lovemaking scenes or sex on TV, around family? is it a religious thing? or is it just instinctive, regardless of where you’re from or where you’ve been brought up, to feel a twinge of discomfort or perhaps just heightened awareness, that the characters on TV are making out, when mom & dad are around?

is it like the whole ’smoking in front of your elders / parents’ thing? in fact, is THAT a desi thing or is it just one of those weird things that almost every one just feels uncomfortable doing because it is still slightly taboo? my parents know i smoke and are quite okay with it (or rather, they have given up on me) but i wouldn’t have the balls to light one up, while sitting in FRONT of them.

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i have decided that while i appreciate indian cinema (yes, screw you, i DO…in fact, i often go watch the dumb song and dance films - it’s my secret ‘fun’ thing to do!), i would never ever let my children (if i ever have any) grow up watching it. i don’t think there is anything that gets on my nerves more than a child knowing names of hindi films, actors or singing those songs. i will kill my child if i hear the brat hum an indian tune. it just doesn’t seem ‘right’, in fact it appears downright gross - they seem like ‘little adults’ (or monsters) then.

plus, i’ve seen what happens to kids who watch too many indian films. i was friends with one of them - she’s a lunatic! she truly used to think that shah rukh khan (leading bollywood actor) would rescue her. i used to watch, incredulous, as she turned every conversation with a boy into a ‘filmi’ thing (she would analyze and discuss a boys flippant remark like “hey, nice nail color” to death until she was convinced that he had just said ‘i love you’ in bollywood language). i could honestly picture her dancing around trees in the rain, in a white sari, on her dates!

*shudder*

and the boys! worse, much worse! you can spot one who grew up watching lots of crappy, b-grade indian shit when they come up to you with a line like “mujhse dosti karoge”? or “will you make beautiful friendship with me?” (hell no, motherfucker!) and expect the route of stalking, staring, whistling, singing cheap songs as they pass you in the office hall or sending anonymous e-mails to lead to everlasting love!!

never. ever. let. your. brat. watch. a. hindi. film.

trust me.

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so i know i haven’t written for ten days. and i’ve come back with the crap above! i know you hate me but trust me, with the aliens, insane work load and the boyfriend, i have NO time left over for what often feels like a frivolous activity.

that is all.

p.s: random stupid thought of the day: i wish humans could purr. sometimes, words aren’t good enough to express the pleasure one feels when someone plays with your hair…they ruin or over-intellectualize (??!) the moment.

i am going to head home now and practice purring.

…it’s better than mingling with the aliens.

so i went to watch an act yesterday at a stupid club. they’re called the funjabi’s - a play on the word ‘punjabi’ which refers to people that hail from the north of india (or pakiland). like most things in life, the act pissed me off. some bits were funny, sure…it was the white guy that just made me so mad that i wanted to lunge across and bitch slap him into oblivion. actually wait, it wasn’t him, it was the audience.

he wasn’t the LEAST bit funny. his stand up routine consisted of coming on stage, saying something stupid, then singing a hindi song (to the absolute amazement and delight of the desis) and when that didn’t work, he’d shout ‘bhenchod’ and the audience just about wet themselves - ‘OH MY GOD, it’s a gora speaking OUR language’ hai, hai, what a moment!! then he went on to sing a truly stupid song to the tune of a classic hindi song about how his shoes are from japan, his watch is gucci, his shirt is from armani, his cap is russian but HE is an ‘english hindustani’ at heart.

all the desis felt validated - a gora who wants to be a desi??? it is a bloody miracle, i tell you!!

they went wild and cheered and clapped.

i was MAD - really, really mad.

i wanted to get up and tell them, “you fucking fools, you paid 75 dirhams to see some gora make chutias out of you by ruining our songs and saying ‘bhenchod’? would you be so entertained if i got up on stage and said bhenchod? NO! because you are idiots - you are easily entertained by anyone of a different color using your language because you are still suffering from the colonial hangover - you aren’t over the british raj - you are out to prove a point. does a gora get entertained when you speak in english? NO, they EXPECT you to speak in english.”

my ex-boss looked like a gora, although he is an arab - years of american schooling and university also gave him an american accent. he was fascinated by india, bollywood, the culture, and he wanted to become a desi. he still does. but he also laughed at how easy it was for him to become the centre of attention at a desi party…all he really had to do was bust out some of the hindi (especially all the bad words that i taught him) and drop the names of a few actresses and all the desis would be in fits - once again, ‘hai, hai, what a moment - dekha?? now THEY want to be like US!”.

indian papers report all the time that hollywood is now copying their films. their stars have managed to get bit parts in a jackie chan film (as the exotic indian princess) - they are no longer being portrayed as doctors and pharmacists. they LOVE going on about how the west is now aping the east…

don’t they realize that by giving so much importance to anything/everything western, they are obviously still worshipping the gori chamri (white skin)? i hate how everything boils down to language, region, caste, race, color…i hate how every desi writer out there capitalizes on his desiness by constantly talking about stereotypes, most of which don’t even exist anymore. i hate how the theme of the show last night revolved around the token gora and arranged marriages - the fact that there wasn’t a SINGLE couple in the club that had had an arranged marriage said SO much (they kept on trying to find someone, but everyone who was married had had a love marriage).

the club was full of the city’s poshest, most educated crowd (half of them were the usual u.k. desis, since this act hails from the u.k.). i guess that’s why i am even more shocked that they couldn’t see past the lame, cheap attempt at humor. the script was silly, one wouldn’t walk out of there retaining even a single line or moment (and off the top of my head, i can recall quite a few classic bill hicks, eddie izzard or jack handey lines) and the skits were pathetic.

honestly, the “comedians” were let off easy - they sat up one night, decided that they’d put their gora friend on stage, make him sing an indian song and cuss a bit, and the desis would laugh a lot because they immediately felt better about themselves.

the funjabi’s really had the last laugh.