Desi aversion

don’t want to know any more of them.

Screaming kids – bad parenting

எம்பிள்ள பயங்கர வாலு (my child is a brat) – bad parenting

saliva soaked hands, spitting on other people – bad parenting

crying kids to get what they want – bad parenting

suppressed development (this is becoming too common these days as the parents are soooo scared, they keep the kid arrested in their arms/laps) – bad parenting

my child eats only sweets – bad parenting

my child doesn’t eat at all – bad parenting

my child doesn’t sleep, and i need to do soooooo many things to get her/him sleep – bad parenting

my child doesn’t go to anyone – bad parenting

my child is possessive (doesn’t share toys or doesn’t like me holding other kids) – bad parenting

——

yep you guessed right. I have been to a Desi party, a child’s birthday celebration. too many kids, too many moms (with too many gold in the display. i find children wearing gold chains disgusting. men wearing gold chain – ewww.), too many “proud” moms sharing their “difficulties”. 😦 If my kid is going to be like any one of them, or if i am going to become one of those moms, i do not want children. i am fine, thank you. I like other people’s nice kids who are pleased to see “this” auntieeeee, recognise me, smile at me, come to me, repeat what I teach them, a week later their moms tell me that their kids have been doing what i taught all week …. I am the nice auntieee.. don’t call me mami, i will kill you, athai works fine.

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Dishwasher and Indian women

Prescript:

Usha said: சமையல் அறை சிங்கில் பாத்திரங்கள் எப்பொழுதும் தேய்க்க குவிந்துக் கொண்டே இருந்தன

I said: dishwasher is my best friend!

Usha said: டிஷ் வாஷர், ரிப்பேராகி ஒருவருஷம் ஆச்சு. ஆமாம் எல்லாத்தையும் தேச்சி அதில் போடணும், அதுக்கு கையிலேயே உடனடியாய் கழுவுவது சுலபமாய் இருக்கு.

I said: //எல்லாத்தையும் தேச்சி அதில் போடணும்//

எதுக்கு? நாங்கள் அப்படியே போடுவோம்.  🙂

Usha said: பிரேமலதா, டிஷ் வாஷ்ர் வேலை உங்க தலைவருடையதா:-))))))))))))
————————-

When Usha smiled at length in that comment,

  1. I didn’t get why she thinks it is balan who operates the dishwasher

  2. why she doesn’t want to believe that we can dump the dishes straight in

  3. what is there to be smiling at length about (even if it is balan who operates the bloody machine (don’t ask me. there is a big hallahulla about operating that bloody machine in my household) )?

  4. do men smile at length if they say “my wife works and brings salary”?

  5. i am totally surprised that do we still have to talk in these terms? is it true that we are all living in that situation stillllllllllll? Am I living a different life in a different world?

  1. Similar questions came up when there was a female-bloggers-meet in London sometime ago that most of the time they were interested in talking about mother in law issues and how we “have to” give birth to “male” child. etc.. 

  2. The question that really made me think was that “in Desi parties women stay in corner/kitchen and talk about cooking while men stay in another corner/lounge and talk about politcs/cricket”!    No, that is not true in those Desi parties I have been to, except the ones I have been to in my early days in this country. I would exclude those parties totally, as there was a generation gap there (yes, some people are older than me, I am not the only or the oldie in this world).

  1. Am I living in a different world?

  2. In our social circle, invariably it is men who clean the house. In many houses men clean the dishes, except in those houses where women complain about not-cleaning-well by the men. 🙂

  3. I am not saying that I don’t see any MCPs at all, in fact, most of them are either MCPs or still have not thought a lot about these issues, so they continue to live how their previous generations have lived. Still they do not think doing household things is any big revolutionary thing they are doing (definitely do not talk in terms of “I am helping my wife”). It is not talked about as a biggie in my circle. Mind you, many girls are not working women.

  4. I do not know much about mother in law issues, as many families here do not have one at home and I certainly do not have one in my life at all (Hope she is doing great in Trichy). Although in that bloggers-meet I tried to say in the same lines as others,  just in an attempt to join the conversation as I found myself quiet and not involved in any of those topics they have been talking about, I have not had any MIL experience myself, good or bad for that matter, with my MIL at all.

  5. “Male child” issue I observed in only one family, but I would believe it exists very much though not visibly there (I have not inlcuded elders implying that the child should be made male-child. I am only talking about the couple themselves. I totally agree that elders do create problems). But, I would think it is mostly to do with “difficulties in bringing up a girl child in these days”, meaning, “I don’t mind if my child is a boy and goes on to have sex in his life at a later time, but i don’t think I can live with a fact that my child is a girl and will have sex when she grows up and I am scared that she might eventually end up having sex”… It is not even dowry these days.

  1.   Dishwasher:

    1. We do rinse (not wash) before stacking the dishes in the dishwasher. But, that is what we always did when we washed them in the sink by ourselves. So, I do feel my dishwasher takes a quite a good load off me.

    2. We both operate dishwasher.

    3. I have observed many indians do not like dishwasher claiming that it doesn’t clean well. I totally disagree. Dishwasher cleans better than me. (and I clean better than those women who complain against dishwasher. true). Didn’t same trend prevail when pressure cooker was introduced, washing machine was introduced, mixie was introduced, why, when electrically operated (?!!!) grinder was introduced? Indian women love to stay the way they are. Newton’s first law.

  2.  Desi parties

    1. It is a welcoming trend that I see in this younger generation that they are quite open and very forward about how they have naturally changed. No feminism was needed there. (No feminism works there either).

    2. Men take pride in their “drinking” wives..  No. I am not supporting alchoholism, I am pleasantly surprised to see them having overcome a stigma, a strong one at that.

    3. men do not talk about politics or cricket in desi parties. It is always about something hilarious (how their driving skills were, how they went crazy, how they drove first, how they went wrong with maps etc. etc.) that happened.. enjoyable for everyone.

    4.  We all sit in the lounge. Most men discourage their wives cooking for their guests and order pizza (if women go to kitchen/cooking how will we “all” enjoy the get-together, is the question those men have asked whenever we nice ladies have offered to cook something quick).

    5. Yes, still some kitchen talks happen, but it is mostly to do with exchanging recipies as most girls do not know proper cooking before coming here. Men do better in that department these days, as they have lived by themselves for sometime before marriage.

I think I have missed a lot and I suspect I do not make any sense in this post. Can’t be bothered to check it now, as I have to go out to buy some bloody good shoes as it is bleeding cold here  😦

(This weekend was supposed to be a blog-free-weekend. I have stayed away from Tamil blogging at least. Well, almost.  😦  )

Don’t be nice to Desis

Warning: contains tamil script.

Day 1: 

I saw that Desi-like-looking guy walking towards me in the going-down-escalator. I panicked. I bent towards him.

“Do you know High gate (or sounding something similar)?”

“Sorry, no”. (looking at the tube map and directing him properly flashed in my head, but, there are staffs here and I should really stop being that friendly in London).

“Are you from Mauritius”?

I smiled. Ah. It is my tamil looks that is making him ask this question. May be he is trying to start a conversation. “No I am from India”.

“Which part of India?” (My guess is correct. he was looking for a reason to start a conversation. Did he have to walk against the escalator for that? how stupid. You got me scared, idiot.) I smiled.

“I am from Madras. The south. Where are you from?”

“I am from Gujarat”. (He looked more like a Punjabi or a UP guy). “Can I take you out for a drink”? (That was too fast. Do you think i am that available-looking? Sure I look tired.)

“ha. ha. errr.. no. thank you”.

“May be a coffee, what do you say?” (ah right. did you mean alcohol when you said “drink”? I thought it was coffee. And when I said no, you have concluded that I am not an alcohol drinker? And you did not think that I was saying no to you? )

“Emmm, It is flattering, I must admit, but no. thanks.”. I put my best lovely smile, no_soul_but_smile smile on my face and thought that, that should convey the message).

“why”? (what? my smile didn’t work?)

“I have to go home” (That damn smile again).

“Where do you work? here (referring to that station)”? (Hello, don’t you think this is getting too uncomfortable? Quick. how to get rid of this guy?)

“Emm, Not here, but, (what is wrong with this guy. should i stop talking? well, i don’t have to be that abrupt). ya, closeby”.. (started walking fast. that stupid smile is still on my face).

“What do you do” (I think I get you. You are one of those guys recruiting girls aren’t you. is my red tops giving such bad signals!. ughh!)

“emm, (what is the plan? why plan? let us see how it goes). I work in the council”.

“I work in Barclays bank. We lend loans to the council, yours” (nodding proudly). (Now the smile on my face has changed. It is still a smile, but, “you_poor_silly_idiot” smile).

“Yeah. Banks do that”. I nodded too.  another little smile. Walking fast.

“Listen. Shall I call you sometime?” (what! how? how are you going to know my contact details?)

“ahheeemmmmm,,, ya, why not” (Ok, bye bye smile).

“Can I have your number?” He has already taken his mobile and browsing through his address book to add my number to it! I am stunned.

“Emm, listen. I have to say I am very flattered. But, thank you very much. I have to go. OK. bye”.

“Why”? (what? Stupid. you are just not getting it, are you? You can’t recruit people by irritating them. You had a very bad training. haaaa. what should I reply? I chose to reply in a very normal way, as if I did not suspect anything at all. I just laughed sadly within myself, but..)

“Well, I am married for a starter”. Smiled as nicely as possible, considering.

“He doesn’t have to know” (Blimey!)

“I am not that kind”. (run_away_from_me_I_might_hit_you_any_minute_smile).

“If I give my phone number, will you call me?” (Bloody hell. That is what I call “confidence”. My eyes widened. I certainly have lost my smile).

haaa… “I wouldn’t”.

“why?” (This is what I call testing my patience).

“Listen. however flattering it was, I wouldn’t want your number. Get it? bye now”. (Little raised voice. that was the best I could come up with).

“OK. It was nice meeting you” (oh and hell with my manners. my hand extended automatically and shaked his hands)

and the automated “and You” from me (Oh please kill whosover got these things into my system)..

 

Day 2 Incident 1:

Very shy_looking_lost desi. “How do you how to get to…” “sorry I don’t know” just walked away.

Felt very guilty. May be this guy was not a bad guy. may be a genuine guy. he looks like very new here. he asked me only because i am a desi and he might have felt comfortable asking me. I shouldn’t have done this. The other guy was different.

 

Day 2 Incident 2:

I wanted water. Went to the shop around the corner in the underground.

“Are you from srilanka?”

“No I am from India.”

“Oh.  from which part?”

“Madras. I would like a vegetable samosa as well please”

“தமிழா” (Are you a Tamil)?.

“ஆமா. (yes)” His accent sounded Srilankan. I smiled, unsure of how to react.

“நீங்க இங்க வந்து ரெம்ப நாளாச்சா?” (Have you been living here for sometime?”

“ம்ம்ம், 10 வருஷமாச்சு. நீங்க? (It has been ten years. You?)”

“நான் போன வருசம்தான் வந்தேன். இங்க தனியா இருக்கீங்களா? என்ன பண்றீங்க? (I came just last year. Do you live alone? what you do here?)”

“I live with my husband”. (smile. the kind of smile I give when I want to say goodbye).

“எனக்கு இன்னும் கலயாணம் ஆகல. உங்களுக்கு பிள்ளைகள்லாம் இருக்கா? (I am still not married. Do you have children)”.

“இல்ல (No)”. (I am giving money and packing my commuter bag to run away from here)..

“எனக்கு கல்யாணத்துப் பார்த்துக்கிட்டிருக்காங்க. உங்களுக்குத் தெரிஞ்சவங்க  யாரவது  இருந்தா சொல்லுங்களேன் (My folks are looking for an alliance for me. Do you know anyone?)”.

(Mummy!!) “இல்ல எனக்கு யாரயும் தெரியாது. (No I don’t know anyone)” (Why on earth this fucking bag is giving me this much trouble. trying to dump everything in). 

“ஏன். பத்துவருசமா ஏன் குழந்த பெத்துக்கல (Why? why do you not have a child after ten years?”. (Mummy!!! Please someone save me here!!) 

“I have to go. Ok”. looking frieghtened.

“பத்து வருசம் கொஞ்சம் அதிகமா தெரியல உங்களுக்கு? எதும் பிரச்சினையா? ஏன் பெத்துக்காமா இருக்கீங்க? (Don’t you think ten years is little too long? is there any problem? Why are you not having child?” (I don’t beleive it!)

“Okeyyyy. Bye” (I don’t know how I did not cry).

“மறுபடியும் எப்ப வருவீங்க (When can I see you again)”? (What? ammmaaaaaaa….. run run run baby run).

 

Day 3

A woman looking something like indian. Could be spanish or Italian. Just met another similar looking (indian or Italian? kind of looking) lady in the previous train. she smiled and talked nice. Just a couple of sentences, but very friendly.

We were waiting for our train. Train arrived. I ran all over the place in the platform, selecting best coach to choose my seat. I came to a conclusion after some running and I boarded the train. What a surprise, this nice looking lady was entering just after me. We smiled at each other, what can I say, she came and sat just opposite to me. It was a four seat with a table at the middle. It was just two of us sitting opp to each other. She smiled. I smiled back.

“Oh I am so looking forward to the weekend” (I started the conversation).

“Me too. I work in the north and coming home for the weekend and….

The conversation lasted until we parted. very nice. She lives just close to where I live. She has come just last year. She is still trying to find her feet. She lives with her family, both are doctors and they have a son. I offered an invitation to my house, thinking that she might need a friend/help. She changed the subject, but continued to talk very friendly with me. I got the signal, and continued the friendly discussion. she told me all about her personal life, but chose to end the relationship there. I just chose to be a listener and smiled at her all the time and acted as if we have been friends for ever. When her stop (just one stop before mine) came, she said “bye. may be we will meet again”. I smiled again. When my stop came I rushed out of the train to get my car, go home and watch my movie Insomnia, which I had stopped half way through yesterday, as I was very tired and feeling sleepy.