KEEP KAAM WALI BAI

The traditional concept of family needs to be redefined. Earlier to constitute a family all that was generally required was a male, a female and the fruits of their loins. But with the advent of time a new non- blood related member has found her way into this closely bound unit and that is a ‘KAAM WALI BAI’. 

  

Recently I discovered the sine qua non which determines the true maturity of a woman. When your casual talks with your girls shifts from the customary ‘Who is the bitch we all hate?’ to ‘Did your Bai come today?’ it is then that you realize that maturity or reality has finally dawned upon you. This is the age of the Bai, and your domestic life is handicapped without her.

We worship our Bai and we do not ever mess with our Bai. The rules of traditional employment are happily forgotten because her happiness is of our utmost concern. The Golden words ‘Mein Aaa Gayi Didi’ is all it takes to brighten up your day because it is she who keeps the balance of your house and her one uncalled holiday is a gazillion times worse than third degree torture in jail.

We had found Utopia a few months back, having found the perfect maid who was stupid enough to charge less. My ears had their own private tantric orgasm everytime they heard the sound of her footsteps entering our house. It was a beauty how she made sure the broomstick touched every inch of the room and the mop licked the entire house clean. The utensils smelled of Prill and smiled at me with satisfaction. She was the domestic Goddess and I her devotee. But Utopian existence is too good to be true and she left us to return back to her Tamil land. My Switzerland turned into dusty Iraq.

Two days of her absence, and my grandmother was lamenting by being on bed and praying for a miracle. My mother had gone bonkers and was now blaming me for being the useless bone who will be divorced by my future husband for not knowing a thing or two about house cleaning. My father started going to office early to escape the boiling temperature at home and came only late in the evening. My brother shut himself in the room. The loss was unbearable.

I began circling my colony asking every random person I spotted if they knew a good maid whom I could possibly hire. Now Indian families are very possessive about their Bai’s because sharing your Bai results in her being tired and coming to your place late and not cleaning your house well. You cannot even scold her for it lest she deserts you. So even when they had a maid evidently cleaning their front porch, people lied to me about the non availability of a Bai. Traitors and Barbaric brutes!!!

Yesterday the balance was restored, when our neighbours vacated their house and generously offered the services of their maid to us.  It was the best goodbye gift ever!

The smell of Prill has returned and the sound of broom as it sparkles up my house is back to tingle my auditory senses. I have presented the best groomed broomsticks available in the market at her service and the buckets are filled with water beforehand to make it easy for her to mop. So what if she charges a few hundred bucks more and so what if she orders me to make her tea everyday before she leaves. Isn’t it normal? Please tell me it is.

Diamonds might be a girl’s bestfriend, but if you truly love a woman, gift her a good maid. She would reward you generously for that, if you know what I mean!!

P.S- I have the most boring family ever. We visit the same restaurant everytime we feel like dining out and we order the same stupid Butter Chicken, Nan and Veg Jalfrezi every single time. Yesterday I admitted in a raised voice to my father about the spiceless existence we have. This resulted in him rolling up his sleeve and promising me a different restaurant and different meal yesterday night. He took us to Indian Coffee House and we all had Masaladosa. Sigh!!!

Image Courtesy- keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk

The Great Indian Pooping!!!

India will always be a developing country. The civility of our countrymen will force it to remain that way. We just cannot let go of our animal like tendencies and make way to something less grotesque. 

So I understand that we derived the idea of shitting and peeing anywhere and everywhere from our ancestors the Chimpanzees or conceptually the early Man. But while the rest of the world evolved into people with stance and etiquette, we stuck like glue to our age old barbaric living. We continued blessing the land with our faeces and piddle undisturbed, in every land or nook left unattended and unused. Our citizens, be it man or woman, do not believe in false modesty by shying away from the concept of pooping together while the rest of the world passes them unperturbed.

I have spent 14 yrs of my life seeing the buttocks of a considerate number of slum dwellers as the bus dropped me to school every morning and if in case I got too busy to notice the defecating ceremony, I could still catch a glimpse or two through the windows of my classroom. All this became possible due to the large ground facing the slums and located right in front of my school, which the thoughtful government kept free for conducting small sports activities. Every morning, the slum dwellers, irrespective of their gender, age or butt cheek size, march towards the ground with a mug of water, unload the previous days load and frolic back with a smile of satisfaction on their face. On the same ground every year in the month of October, thousands of people including me stand to joyfully celebrate the bursting away of Ravana. To prep up of the land for the Dussehra celebrations, the munificent municipal corporation comes with truckload of sand to carpet the land fully pasted with human poop. The land becomes a fresh open toilet for the slum dwellers from the next day onwards. 

Soon the less barbaric lot of the city, wrote and pestered the local government to build public toilets on that land for the satisfaction of both the excreting slum dweller and the forced to watch plebeians. Hence, a line of toilets were built upon the area which was poop coated every day. But they say it right, ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks’. While some the residents started using the newly built toilets, majority continued to practice their age old tradition by sitting right outside the toilet and defecating, sometimes accompanied by domestic animals. The dog and the master pooped together and that my friend is the equality we were unceasingly searching for. 

The human mind is hard to decipher and the act of those who had a toilet to use but were persistent on passing stool on an open land, is still being researched upon. Even a notice was pasted on the walls of the toilet that not even a penny is charged for using the toilet, made brick by brick only for the slum dwellers.

The reason for ignoring the amenities could be many. May be it is the joy of a taking a dump in the company of your family and friends. Maybe it’s their preferred way to discuss the current affairs of the world. Maybe it’s their chance of meeting new people. Maybe it’s the view. Like I said, the human mind is hard to decipher.

Image Courtesy- stockpicturesforeveryone.com

YOURS FAITHFULLY, A BROWN PERSON....

Dear Rest of the World,

I am enraged yet amazed by your imprudence. The variety of stereotypes you hold against my brown face is laudable, considering the fact that you absentmindedly pigeonholed us without attesting the credibility of the same. 

I am a proud Indian woman, who according to credible sources, doesn’t smell of curry, isn’t hairy, does not live to get hitched with some random guy her parents find and procreate a minimum of 3 kids with him. I can also read and write English, which even a bozo would have realised by now. 

Please do not categorize people according to the level of body odour, solely based on their nationality. We stink as much as you do and we are aware of the usage of deodorant as much as you are. Our homes might smell of curry, but we don’t, unless obviously if we are covered with it.  If you believe in categorizing people based on what they eat the most, then the Koreans would smell of Garlic, the Italians of Pasta or Pizza. Inside India, the Bengalis would smell of fish, Keralites of coconut, punjabis of Butter Chicken and the people of Tamil Nadu might end up smelling of let's say Masala Dosa. Regardless of their nationality, people around the globe will stink, if proper hygiene is not taken care of. 

We are a hairy bunch of people I agree, but that does not send across a message that ours is a land of unibrows, unshaved armpits, chest carpets and bushy legs. Unless offcourse, if we stop running to the salon twice a month or prohibit ourselves from using waxing stripes or hair removing cream, then the case might be a bit different. Our hairiness depends on our lifestyle. While some don’t find it socially awkward to hang like monkeys inside the local transport bus, flaunting their inch long armpit fur, others cover it up or wax it off. Again, we are not the ones who complain, for we don’t believe in looking like chickens with their feathers plucked off. We are happy the way we are. The Armenians support us!

Woman in our land have the same anatomy like the women in yours. We are not merely a child producing machine. Yes, a considerable amount of marriages that happen in here are arranged by the parents, but that does not mean that we do not have a say in the matter. It is not like we meet a man today and stretch our neck to him the very next day. If you are talking about getting married to a total stranger or someone you don’t know too well, let me introduce you to the fact that you can never fully know a person in a matter of a few years anyway. What do you have to say about the massive divorce rate in your country? Yes, we do have people who have more than 3 children, but I believe the same situation is there in your country. Atleast, we do not have a never ending line of teen moms. God Bless us!

I understand our English accent is not our forte, but we have an accent which can be understood globally. Our vocal chords don’t send across lines, which a common man wouldn’t understand. I know you find the Jamaican or Italian accent cool and rather sexy, but I know that your brain blinks when it comes to deciphering what they actually meant. 

If in case, you have any stigma attached to us, enlighten me as to why you spend bundles of green papers at tanning salons or act dead on the beach? Leave the job of being Indian, to the Indians. Our Bollywood movies might be filled with songs starring dancing actors, but you shouldn’t be the one complaining especially when you love the ‘GLEE’ series.

It’s high time you quit labelling us as dwelling from the land of snake charmers or as illiterate, poor and corrupt people. OK, we might be corrupt, but didn’t you hear that we are working on it? Ours might be a crowded, heavily overpopulated and sometimes suffocating country but through all of that, the system still works and it works pretty damn well! 

Faithfully,

Just another Brown person.

P.S- This blog turns 1 yr old Today!! I cannot thank you enough for being a reader!

Image Courtesy- ribbu.com

INDIA FLYING

There used to be a time when we used to label the people who have travelled by air even ones as ‘RICH’. There used to be a time when going by flight somewhere would invite lines like ‘Wo toh bade insaan ho gaye hain. Plane shane mein savari karte hain’. Travelling by an airplane used to be a dream and something everyone used as a mark of status and sometimes even as a means to show off. 

Now the system has changed. People of all money groups can be seen in the economy class of flights and I am not mocking anyone when I say this, but the art of showing off has reached a whole new level. I was coming back home from Kerala and I had to take two flights to reach home since there are no direct flights to Bhopal. My parents don’t fancy me travelling alone till Bhopal by train since the journey is 2 days long. Airports are safer according to them and there are lesser chances of me being raped and robbed on air. Also I get to be home in four hours. 

So about the showing off part I was mentioning earlier. I was flabbergasted by the way some people change their whole personality the moment they enter an airport and even the way they behave after taking a one hour journey by a frigging plane. Some of the qualities are even inbuilt in us Indians. The following are my observations-

FASHION MALFUNCTION- I could spot so many aunties who were wearing skin kissing glittery tops with slacks or tights and heels which clearly are not meant for their legs. When you look at them, you know that they have spent their entire life in Saree with ghajra on their head. You can also find Men wearing Goggles which clearly looks like a free item on buying HORLICKS. Their whole outlook is a mixture of village India and fake city look. 

ACCENT TRAGEDY- Sudden outburst of wrong and unwanted English is what I came across in the flight. A lady who sat beside me asked me something which I took minutes to clearly understand. She said “Snakes money why no free free? Bhaisa said free free. Take me 50 rupeej for COCK”. I begged her to talk in Hindi and she attested me as being an ILLITERATE DUMB BITCH. She flashed her Tobacco stained teeth as she said ‘Snacks ke liye paise kyun? Mere Bhaisa ne kaha ki free hoga. COCA COLA ke liye 50 rupeej manga’.

EXTRA BAGGAGE- This is what we are famous for. We just cannot travel light be it for even just 5 days. Especially if you are taking a flight from Kerala, you can even find people taking cartons of JACKFRUIT and COCONUTS to their place of destination. The hand baggage includes Airbags, backpacks, plastic bags with things like ‘RAJU LADIES TAILOR/ PRIYA PANTIES AND BRAZIER/ KAKKA DA DHABA’ written on it.

LOOTING ATTITUDE- Now offcourse you are paying for your flight ticket which sometimes includes food. I have noticed some fellow Indians taking things like MINT, MILK POWDER, KETCHUP, PICKLE POUCH, JAM, and BUTTER that they receive and keeping it in their bags for future purposes. I have nothing against this section of the crowd because even I can be included in them. What cracks me up if when I find people even hiding forks, spoons, JET AIRWAYS Magazines and even Safety tip Pamphlets. They use these as souvenirs’, something which shows that they have traveled by air and acts as an evidence.

We Indians are a funny lot. We have a joker hiding inside us and we can crack people up without even trying. But we are proud of ourselves too. Aren’t we? 

P.S- I hate my stupid gym instructor! Sala! Today he took me to this room and started throwing giant balls at me (balls as in the B for BALL one you dirty swine!). I was asked to run around and place them back in the rack. He did this for frigging 10 mins. What am I 12? Also he did not let me have water. A TOPNOTCH ASSHOLE!

P.P.S- Not one of the posts I am proud of, but I had to update this space somehow. Already somebody unfollowed me. SIGH!

P.P.P.S- An image which portrays my sorry state of life very aptly.

   

 Image Coutesy- whiteindianhousewife.com (Image 1)

WE NO SPEAK AMERICANO

 This blog has nothing to do with this famous track by Yolanda be Cool. Read on if you are still interested. Indians are being hypnotized by the West. Everyone wants to speak English (perfect or not doesn’t matter) and everyone wants to go abroad. Some want to go abroad because of the money and some want to go abroad because they dream about the idea of being called a NON RESIDENTIAL INDIAN. “It sounds so cool na?” says my Aunt.

So the PAKKA DESI babu packs his PETIS and gets on the flight with the great Indian Dream. The women folks of the family are weeping; the garlands adorn his neck, the tilaks are poked onto his forehead. Ones the flight goes, the drama stops. Now the mother has something to flaunt and boast around. “Mera beta London gaya hai” is her new topic leaving the “Meri nayee benarasi saree dekho” topic behind.

Four years have passed and its time the BETA gets back home and shows his firangi face to his Indian family. The flight lands and there is another session of drama including the weeping, the tilaks, the garlands. The OPENING OF SUITCASE ceremony starts as soon as he reaches home. Versace perfumes, Hersheys kisses, Snickers, Gucci bag and other brands are introduced into the minds of the young in the family. Now you start talking to the firangi Indian. He looks at you with the London bridge shining in his eyes. He left India as a Pakka Hindi speaking Indian and comes back speaking English with an accent.

Four years cannot change so much. How can he say that he forgot Hindi in four years? How can he say that his accent comes naturally to him? He speaks his mother tongue like a foreigner in just Four Godforsaken years.

Now the  top five changes you see in him -

1)      He cannot take the spicy Indian food anymore- He fans his tongue with his hands and he goes red. He says the ALOO PARATHA is too spicy for him. Mind it! He used to crave it once.

2)      Bragging- He brags how good London is and how clean the place really is. Everywhere he looks, he has something to compare to the Videshi life. “In London they drive only big cars. Big means BADA. There are no Maruti 800 there. You understand?” All you can do is nod and call him a fool inside your head.

3)      He cannot take the climate- He needs Goggles, sunscreen, and other complimentary products to even cross the road and visit the next home. He wants Air Conditioner as his bodyguard wherever he goes. “Ye kya Garam Pani? Fridge ka pani do”. “How do you guys survive here?” he asks. Well I smile at him and think “Just like you used to four years back”

4)      Brand conscious- “What!!! You have not heard of TOMMY HILFIGER watches!!!! Tum toh TITAN se khush raho”. He asks me if i like LOUIS VUITTON bag and he pronounces it as LUIS VITTTON. Poser!!!!

5)      He wants to click photos everywhere-  From the drawing room to the bathroom, from the mother to the beggar sitting outside the home, from the Dhoodhwala to the Padosan ki Beti. He clicks everything!!!!

The list could continue but something has to end! The PAKKA HINDI BETA has been kicked out by the new FIRANGI INDIAN BETA!

IT HAPPENS ONLY IN INDIA

As seen inside an ATM. Couldn't stop myself from clicking it while withdrawing the Money. :P

THE TWEEZER

There are so many moments in your life which you treasure. Some you sadly drag along as you move and some you happily remember. Then there are some memories which where painful then, but when you look back at it, its not tormenting anymore but actually make you laugh.

But I have one such incident which still gives me a “PAIN ON MY ANKLE” (literally). You remember the teenage days, where you just want them to let you out and give you the grown up treatment which you think you deserve.

So this happened around five years back. It’s been 2 yrs since I bid adieu to my teeny years. After stepping out of my school I was feeling grown up and mature (it’s a whole different topic if I really was. Even now it’s my 12 yr old brother who is more matured than me). I wanted to take my two-wheeler for a long distance trip, chalked out by the girls. I pouted, made some puppy faces, gave some dimpled smiles and some cute words and my dad fell for it. Mom yet again blamed dad for falling for it. I took the Activa, put on the gloves, summer coat ( mommy doesn’t want tan to touch me you see ) helmet and started on with the journey. Two other friends driving just behind me. Back in those days all you want to do is prove to your dad that you’re an adult now. So for the first time in my life I drove below 40 km/hr and was enjoying the city passing behind me. Suddenly this monkey of a person decides to take a left turn and without any indicator he just took the turn and crashed into me. I tried my level best to avoid the scene.

He crashed, I fell, and I dint feel any pain. The only pain that I felt was in my head. The anger bubbling within. The thought of how to tell my parents that I had an accident. They would never believe it when I say that it wasn’t my fault. I pulled my leg out from under the vehicle and marched towards him and started screaming at him from under my helmet. I was looking like an astronaut. My friends just gawked at me. The rear view mirror was broken and I wanted it mended. The police came and I wanted no scene, so I grabbed some money from that monkey to repair my Activa and fled from the spot. Again I started driving the beaten up bike. The wind was cooling me down but something warm was flowing down my ankle. I was hurt and suddenly it started burning. We stopped at the petrol station and I looked at my ankle. While I had pulled out my leg from under my bike to go and scream at the guy I had hurt myself. There was a deep cut and no skin left on the side of my right ankle. I washed my leg and I laughed because it pained (I laugh when it’s paining and people are around). All I was thinking about was repairing the bike. We again drove and finally got the active back in position.

We dropped the trip and headed back home. The news was given to my mom who started looking all over my body for bruises with award winning words coming from her mouth. Dad was silent. My brother least bothered went to look for scratches on the bike. Granny went to make Ayurvedic coffee for me. So much drama !!

Now I am a girl who hates injections and I did not find a need for tetanus. I am the most stubborn girl you would ever come across. I bandaged myself and continued to be myself. After about four days I felt an itchy and tingly feeling inside my bandage. I decide to open it up. After all it was just a deep scratch. The vision was just AMAZING. The wound was looking bigger and a white scum like thing was on it. I freaked out and passed the freaking out to mom who further freaked dad out too. All the freaking out came back to me in terms of words of mouth. We visited the doctor and he told me that I need to be operated. So I gave him a smile and a “fuck off” stare and limped out. Doctor number two said it just needs cleaning and fresh bandage and some medicine to go with it. I was happy with the option and went back home.

Ten days passed and I got twice cleaned and bandaged. Now I was sure that the next time I go I be back to the pavilion. So I am all happy and limp back to the doctor for the last time as he promised me. I sit on the hospital bed and mommy the sweetest stands beside me and my brother the smartass stands outside the door. The nurse opens the bandage and takes a good look at it and smiles at me. He tells me that I am recovering well. I am all smiling and happy baby. I look at mom and wink and turn my glance back at the doctor. And this was the moment I froze to my seat!!

I see him moving towards my wound with the tweezers. I inch back and demand an explanation. The nurse tells me that he needs to scrap the white scum like skin out of my wound because it’s infectious. I stare at him and my tongue goes dry and I want to pee. My mother looks sad but tells me that I have to allow them do their work. I give in and close my eyes. How painful can it be? Not that much. It’s just some dead skin. I will laugh if it pains and I be fine.

OUCHHHHHH..it hurts. I open my eyes and I wince. I pull my hair, I curse the bastard of a nurse. ‘’You swine!!!! Get away’’. To help me where some popular hindi insults. “Saalaaaaa maar dale ga kya be…abe gadheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee”. I bite my lips and tears roll down. I scream at him “Gadheee doctor ko bula…saaale ulluuuuu.. mooooooooooooooooooom”. I look at mom and she is actually laughing at me. I scream at her to which she replies “If you where me looking at the way you are cursing the poor guy, you would laugh”. Lovely!!!! I look for some pity in the eyes of my brother and I see him dragging my driver near the door to see the performance I am giving. They all look amused!!!

Bloody fucking hell! The world is full of mean people!

Finally the ordeal is over and I am bandaged again. The doctor comes and smiles at me and I gift him a cold stare and a biiiiiiiiiig “DHANYAVAAD JEE”. I took an oath never to see his face ever again. Later on my way back mommy the ‘not so sweet anymore’ buys me ice-cream and holds my hand. I ask her again why she laughed, to which she answered

“All this is nothing when compared to the pain I got while delivering you. You would know when you go through it”

What an answer!!!!

CAUGHT ON CAMERA

Location-Delhi
Photographer-ME :D
 

                           

                    I don't mind living in a man's world as long as I can be a woman in it.

 

The Flower Market at its very best for DIWALI

On the way to India Gate.....The Balloon Man!

 

To his dog, every man is Napoleon. There is no faith which has never yet been broken, except that of a truly faithful dog.  ~Konrad Lorenz

The Stalls in and around RED FORT...

                          There's nothing like good food, good wine, and a bad girl. 
                                                              The kebabs!!!

Pani Poori...Needs no more explanation!!!

Red Fort and the Yawning Sun...

If there exists no God, It is necessary to Invent him.

You watch my back....and i watch yours!!