Me? I'm not a racist!!!

A couple of years back, in the year 2008, Indian cricket was threatened by a huge controversy. The Sardar from Punjab, Harbhajan Singh, was accused of racially abusing Andrew Symmonds. The situation spiraled into a major issue when Symmonds claimed that the off spinner had called him a monkey, something which he considered a racial slur. After several meetings with the officials, the issue was settled when Sachin clarified that it was not monkey but 'maa ki', an abuse to one's mother.

Indians back home were flabbergasted with the situation for two reasons. They just could not comprehend how a word like monkey be considered derogatory and racist. Once, while passing some people on the roads of New Delhi, I could not help, but hear one of them saying, '' abe hum toh hamesha ek dusre ko bandar, kutta, aur kya kya nahi bulate hai, isme kya problem hai..aur Symmonds bhi ajeeb hai, jab Sachin ne bola ki woh ek gaali thi, toh gore ko koi problem hi nahi hui..'' There was another reason for the bewilderment of the Indian janta. How dare a gora call us a racist when we ourself have faced racism for several hundred years and continue to bear the flak even now? It seemed that the victim had become the culprit.

We Indians, sorry for the generalisation, feel outraged when a racist incident occurs against our 'brothers' in a far-off land. But we never realise that, in some sense we are even more racist (towards the same brothers) than the goras who ruled us for centuries.

Let me give you some examples. Ask a guy in Delhi, what is the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of South India, and he will not even blink before saying 'garmi, madrasi, idli, sambar and dosa'. He will forget that he lives in the frying pan of our nation which burns at 45 degrees every summer, but he will not forget to connect South India with heat. Mind you, if the same question is asked to a Bangalorean about North India, it will elucidate an equally racist remark. One of my friends has been called a 'tribal who lives in the jungles of Andhra' because his place of birth is not heard by many people. Another has been laughed at, why quite simply because he hails from Bihar. I have to admit that all these remarks were always made in good humour and to the credit of my friends never taken in the wrong sense. I have handled a fair bit of 'racism' myself. It's quite expected considering I am a gujarati (having no idea of my family's 'native place'), who speaks marathi at home, lived in Bangalore, studied in Delhi and now working in Mumbai. I have been named Maddu (read as Madrasi), when I have actually been to Chennai only twice. On the other hand, I have also been called 'Dilli wala northie' and what not.

To be honest, I am guilty of laughing, poking fun at my friends, who come from different cultural and social backgrounds and propagating this racism. But, what is amazing is that we Indians do not bother so much about the racism within our own country; we will call one another names, make fun of each other's eating, dressing and speaking habits, but will turn red when some phirangi jeers at us. And at that point, you will hear a collective voice from all corners of the country saying 'teri *#@ ki'.

My First Pay Cheque

I have been working in a firm in Mumbai for about a month now. By the looks of it, I will be here for about 2 years or so, unless of course they have reasons to fire me. Well, let us hope that does not happen. I have always thought of myself as an independent person, taking my own decisions, doing whatever I feel like. But, that was restricted at times by the fact that I wasn't financially independent. It just did not feel right to blow one's parents money all the time. Now there is nothing to stop me. There is one thing; the size of my pay cheque.

A couple of days back I received my first salary. And rightly so, I was thrilled. My bank account, which had resembled Aryabhatta's discovery, was now like a healthy beating heart. As I write this blog, I look back on the one month that has passed and the amount of work I have put in to earn my bread.

I was told that the company I was joining would make me work like there was no tomorrow. I had prepared myself mentally for the struggle I would have to go through. I was ready to put in all those hours and burn the midnight oil. I should consider it my good fortune that, in the past month, I have not done even an iota of work. The only thing I have done so far sitting in my thousand pound chair ( by the way, my salary is less than that) is to watch videos on youtube, connect with my other job less friends and well, start writing this blog. I have sat on the balcony overlooking the Arabian Sea for hours together feeling the gush of wind go past my face. I have pained my fellow colleagues by constantly going over to their cabins and engaging them in mindless conversations. It has been a nice 'honeymoon period', as my envious colleagues call it. And as many would point out, after the honeymoon, it can only go down hill. Nonetheless, I shall cherish this lovely phase and feel lucky to have got the 'phokut ka paisa'.

One Night stand

I was enjoying my last long holidays when I got an email from the company I was going to join that I will be posted in Mumbai. It came as a shock as I had taken for granted that I would be in Delhi. Anyways, couple of things went through my head at that time. One of them, the insane amount of rent I would have to shell out of my meager salary. I had heard that finding a place of your own in Mumbai was tough, except for me of course, or so I thought.

Fast forwarding about a month or so - I was in Mumbai, the city that never sleeps embarking on an important journey, taking the first steps into the 'real' world. In the real world, there are no parents to provide you shelter in the night. I was on my own, well not exactly, I crashed at a friends place. I remember telling him that I can stay in any house and it won't be long before I'm gone. It has been 3 weeks running and there still seems no sign of me moving out.

To be honest I had my chance. After looking through houses of various size and shape, making innumerable calls to brokers, I finally found a place that would suit my needs. The problem was that my friends who were going to stay with me weren't around to see the place. I had to take a call on my friends' behalf, otherwise this 'wonderful' place would elude us. I convinced my friends over the phone. I still can't believe those guys trusted me. So there you go, we finally had a place to stay. We did not have to live out off a suitcase. There was a sense of relief amongst all three of us.

I announced to the world, that I had found a place to live in. The boy had become a man and had done something worldly for the first time. I congratulated myself and even gave myself a pat on the back. All we had to do now was to fulfill the legal requirements and sign an agreement. How tough could that be? When you have a businessman sitting on the other side of the table, it can get a little tricky. Unfazed, I invited one of my friends to 'our' new home. I showed him the place very proudly as if it was I who had built the place. That proud moment was to last for a very short time.

After spending the night, I went to the owner's house to ask him to make certain changes to the agreement. So what, if this was the first time I was doing this, I was going to stand my ground. The guy in his late forties was in no mood to listen. I sheepishly walked out, and told my friends what had happened. To my surprise, one of them was adamant and would not budge from the terms we wanted. Talking to him at length did not help sort out the issue. It was agreed upon that he would not stay with us and we should look for a new flat mate. You would find it surprising that in this city where one can find people everywhere, we could not find a third guy to stay with us.

I thought it would be polite to tell the owner that we were not interested to stay anymore. Unfortunately, this did not go down so well with him. To be honest, I wouldn't have cared a hoot about his opinion or feelings if it wasn't for our Rs 1.21 lakh that were in his bank account. The prospect of losing that kind of money before earning was not something that excited me. After an hour long conversation with the owner in which he accused me of insulting him, and god knows what, it was decided that he would keep a share of the above money. Thankfully, we got back the 1 lakh. I shall wait and hope to retrieve the remaining sum as well. It was an unforgettable experience and I had to be satisfied with a One Night Stand only.