on mallu pride

dear fellow-"mallus" out there, ever wondered if there is something called "mallu-pride"? have just reached this conclusion that there is one, that operate at a very subtle level, one that twists its head from the layers of identity sedimentation and "settling in" we undergo over the years, when it is threatened, hurt, questioned and mostly by the ignoramous bunch. well, not that i always go in for such generalisation, but after so many questions regarding my mallu identity and on what tourism brochures have helped establish to unquestioningly be "god's own country", i cant help but conclude that all those questions i have bulldozed with did belong to the largely ignorant.

all through school, i remember we had to mug up names of states, languages spoken, capitals, blah blah blah. and as a dutiful student, i mugged up all of those and somehow managed to preserve it in memory. so i wonder what all these morons who badger me with questions the moment they discover i am from "south india" did during those precious school going years and during those boring hours of geography and history.

you are walking around in the capital, not really bothering about your identity, until someone runs into you and goes on the often predictable conversation, i am sure most "malls" like me have had to undergo painfully, frustratingly. and for someone who detests the very term "mallu", these questions offer little solace. phoo. well, here is how most conversations go....

Moron: hey, u new here?

S: Yeah.....

M: whats ur name

(i give the one over which i had no choice)

M: (a 99 per cent chance this) oh, nice name....what does it mean?

S: a parrot..

M: oh, that's interesting. where are you from?

S: Kerala....

M: Oh, that's in South India right?

S: (phew! sigh! here we go again)

M: I've never been there. But i've heard it's a beautiful place..

S: yeah, it is....

M: oh, so you came all the way to delhi? good lord!!

S: (well, did i have a choice? could delhi have come all the way to kerala, huh?)

M: is it really god's own country?

S: (smile, for fear i'd sound pompous if i answer)

M: so, you are from trivandrum?

S: (yeah, yeah, like all bongs are from kolkata) No, from Thrissur.....

M: oh, where is that?

S: never mind....(tired by now)

for the next question, again in order and very predictable, there are usually two diversions - say, moron1 and moron2 versions....

M1: What language do you speak there? Tamil, right?

S: No, Malayalam

M1: oh, is that different from Tamil

S: (nod)

M1: but i thought all of you speak the same language in South India?

S: (a weak, irritated, forced, sarcastic, cynical stretch of the facial muscle made to look like a smile and wondering what the hell did you do through all those hours of social studies, you pighead!! but etiquette has been driven into my barbaric mind and i try hard not to tear out the person's brains before attempting to do the same with mine and hit my holy head against the damn wall.phew!)

Now, for the second category of Moron2

M2: Oh, you speak Malayali na?
S: not really. it is MALAYALAM. ( and for the benefit of all those who dont really know, or don't care enough to distinguish between the two - the language is MALAYALAM, and the person is called MALAYALI, and strictly not the other way round)
M2: (with that typical "how-does-it-matter-anyways" look) Will you teach me Malayali, err...what did you say....Malayal- er-am??
S: smile (yeah right, you pighead!!!)
well, there are many more, it just gets more hilarious or bugging depending on the mood you are in. and mostly, the morons manifest themselves in the form of a financial consultant, an MBA student, your doctor, a colleague at office, oh , forget it, it could be anyone off the so called educated block(-heads!). but there is this conversation i had just couple of days back and it has been the best so far.
Yours truly is sitting on the terrace, enjoying one of those rare evenings in the midst of delhi's sultry summers when the wind is blowing and the skies look ready to pour down on the slightest provocation. and up comes this fellow hosteler. she comments on the weather, says how she had to rush from the parlour, and the usual blah. and then she HAS to go for the kill.
She: Btw, are you from Delhi?
Me: No
She: Where you from?
Me: Kerala
She: Oh, it is a very beautiful place i have heard
Me: (so you have, eh?) (Smile) ehmmm....
She: It is famous for its spas, right?
Me: Well, I am not sure (what really did she mean by beautiful???)
She: Hmm...it is also FAMOUS for prostitution, na?
Me: (wtf??? @#$%&$%) well....not really....(grrrrrr.....)
She: No...my friend had told me
Me: Hmm...then maybe you should ask your friend.....
well....what could you possibly say, other than, dear friend, fellow hosteler and moron, you take the cake, the icing, and the cherry!!! cheers!!!!

gathering evidence...

i would rather keep my bed unkempt.....my clothes scattered all around.....my wet towel all rolled up and moistening the bed spread......the shavings of crayons from a crazy picture i made the previous night...half-read books piling up near the pillow i never use for the purpose it was invented for.......my little chikoos always upside down and within arm's reach.....and the little alarm clock pressed to the bed.......and alongwith these, pens, pencils, week-old-newspapers, the iron, my favourite lilac comb, the moisturiser, the sunscreen, wallet and bills all tossed in......i wouldn't change one thing.......for these are proofs that point to my existence, bits of evidence more concrete than the wisps of air i inhale and exhale......