L’affaires, Americans and Desis

Someone has given me a rap for this section. “Enough of humanising. Why don’t you write about world affairs?”

Okay, so I dedicate this first 'world affairs' portion to my X-ray-ted ‘rapper’.

Elton John and his long-time partner David Furnish are getting married

It is going to be a big circus. Lots of money will be spent. In a society where gay couples are pretty okay, I don’t see the need to legitimise such relationships. It isn’t a question of whether being gay is normal or not; it just isn’t the norm. The whole idea of homosexuality gains currency due to it being outside the realm of any stratification.

We need ‘other’ voices in every sphere. Here, the gays are being co-opted into the mainstream. But will they really be? Don’t these celebrity gay couples realise that it is only their fame that protects them? A fashion designer in Goa married his French partner and the Indian media went gaga over it. Will the society divas who were blessing the couple have the same standards if, say, their maid or driver turned out to be gay?

I doubt it.

Tom Cruise gets Katie Holmes pregnant

Yes, I used this term. This is the classic insecure male. Constantly badgered for his sexuality, he finds a much younger woman who is perhaps in awe of him, proposes to her on the Eiffel Tower, makes a public spectacle of their romance, and decides that he has got one besotted woman by his side. All he has to do is declare, “She is an extraordinary woman.” One report states, “Later he grabbed a TV camera with both hands, stepped in front to assure a good close-up of his grin and said, ‘Do you see the smile on my face?’.”

I have never seen a picture of Tom Cruise where he is not smiling.

What bothers me is his proselytising. He believes in the Church of Scientology. She, too, is supposedly contemplating conversion.

Then I hear that he plans to see Katie as a stay-at-home mom. Is it her decision? We will never know. He does most of the talking, grabbing (usually microphones), grinning, preening.

Victoria Beckham is afraid of husband David’s infidelity

Instead of hitting him where it hurts or telling him to go take a walk and do what he does best – kick balls – she confronts the women. She abuses them. She humiliates them. Her latest target is the 50-year-old Spanish TV actress, Ana Obregon. Victoria is reported to have told her: "Why would he be interested in an old lady like you? Leave my husband alone."

Lady, if you are so confident that he won’t be interested in her, then why ask her to leave him alone?

I truly feel sorry for these women who go around declaring they are not doormats. If you are not, then you don’t have to announce it. You ought to be so comfortable in your skin that you do not have to carry a placard. Honestly.

Well, enough of world affairs.

* * *

It was perhaps the longest time I have been away from home. I am not qualified to talk about the diaspora (some of our columnists are doing a fine job of it), but I do not understand why people from S. Asia go to the US and continue to live there.

What really angers me are those who benefit from a fairly cheap and decent education in their country of origin and then they ‘lutao’ it all in a place where they will always be judged by the colour of their skin.

A visit to a desi store shows that these guys can innovate. They have readymade rotis, readymade parathas, dal, kofta curry…masalas, even something called ‘Fatafat’, which is too literal a name to give any tablet for indigestion.

At the cash counter, I was handed a fairness cream. “Gift,” I was told. With mock anger (and silly self-righteousness, I admit), I asked him, “Why are you encouraging this trend? Why does everyone have to be fair?”

He got all defensive, “No, no, nothing like that. This is free sample only.” And then he extended his arm and said, “I know. Look I am dark.”

Despite having travelled overseas quite extensively, I find some American aspects truly hard to digest.

You enter a restaurant and just when you are half-way through the humongous portions, or merely pausing for breath or to contemplate your fingernails, you will hear a rather chirpy voice asking you, “Are you done?” When your eyes meet his or hers, there will be another salvo, “You still workin’ on it?”

Done? Working on it? It makes you feel like a glutton. I am surprised they don’t tell you, “Righto, enjoy masticating!”

Jaahils! This is food. This is ‘peit puja’. Only we understand the sheer devotion towards a culinary experience. Mind you, I am not talking about some fast-food joint. These were proper places.

At one the girl waiting tables wore her cap backwards. It was a sushi bar, for god’s sake.

At a restaurant in the posh Los Gatos, there is a cocktail named Tsunami Relief…Malibu Rum, hypnotiq, pineapple juice. Talk of insensitivity.

A ‘tall’ coffee is a small one. Why? Nobody knows.

If someone asks you, “So, how you doin today?” you just cannot respond with a tepid, “Fine thanks.” You have to sound like you have returned from a massage parlour…”Grrreeeaaatt…”

And then there is the other exclamation, more like punctuations.

“Hi there. What can I do fer ya?”

“I need a …”

“Un huh..”

“The names of a few home delivery places…

“Un-huh…”

“So, do you have them?”

“Un huh, jussamoment... Un huh, heyou-ah”

Names are rattled off.

“Thanks…”

“Un huh…”

“I’ll call them now…”

“Aaan haanh!”

Finally. All those multiple Os did reach a climax.

Then comes cleanliness. Okay, they have disposable toilet covers for the seats to save your butt, but everyone throws toilet paper on the floor. As for the desis, I refuse to believe they get a high throwing out garbage. And I wonder if they would speak with the same friendliness to the jamaadars in their home country as they do with janitors there.

PS: Come back home. I will get your favourite film star to sign a ‘lota’ for you. Promise.

ChowKuote I am saying it: Enough is enough. Grow up. We have our standards and we will follow them.