Tuesday, 9 October 2018
Monday, 7 May 2018
We are crazy.
We love being loud.
We love the intense fervor in life. We love our country, our religions, our festivals and everything that is associated with being Indian.
We love cricket, not only the gentlemanly game, but also the one with masala and mayhem.
We are divided by our thoughts and actions, but come an outside farce questioning our integrity, then cometh the force with which we retaliate.
We are Indians first, then classified as a Malayali, a Tamilian, a Punjabi etc. etc.
Our festivals are something that always remain close to our heart. Be it in any corner of the world, your heart travels miles to feel at home. Supermarkets stock up festival items to ensure that the craving of the body, heart and soul is appeased despite the fact that you bear the groveling heat and bone freezing cold to fend for yourself in a foreign land.
As a Malayali in the Gulf, a so called cliché adrift in the lands down south, we seldom find it difficult to celebrate our festivals, be it Vishu, Onam, Eid or Christmas.
Thronging in big crowds in the supermarkets during the festival eve, walking the aisles specially earmarked for the festival items, people load their trolleys with the festivity items.
A glimpse into the Vishu shopping fiasco at a predominant supermarket chain in the "Gelf"
Thursday, 21 September 2017
Not just any phone, the much acclaimed Samsung Galaxy S8.
Wednesday, 9 August 2017
Wednesday, 17 May 2017
I am an Indian, a proud one. The beaming pride of being one shines on you the moment you step out of the country.
As I type this, I am traveling enroute Colombo from Kandy in Sri Lanka, sitting in the crisp chills from the air conditioner made in China, fitted in a Japanese car while the scorching sun sets the outers ablaze in its fury.
Truly, the world would cease to exist if country to country coordination and association takes a road bump or a bottleneck. If countries can, why people can't?
As a tourist whose country's border is just 32 kms from this country, I am often appalled by how we see each other. Being the face of a country, you expect people to reciprocate the compassion in brotherhood while the same ceases the moment I desist flipping out my wallet.
Being an Indian is hard outside India as much as it is in India. For people, any tourist is just a walking stack of notes, easy enough to manipulate.
The moment I turned down a tour guide, cold eyes and contempt follow me down the halls. The moment I don't tip, smiles beguile.
The moment I step into a shop, price tags become least selling prices.
The moment I don't buy, I get cursed in their language.
A taunt is a taunt in any language.
A deceitful look is the same in all places.
You, being the face of the country, show me an attitude belittling your already small island nation, guess what, I do care. I am not just a wary tourist pumping in my hard earned money to boost your economy, I could probably be a loggerhead for your country's economic development. If I can stop one person from coming to your country, if I can stop one dollar from being spent, I am definitely one to watch out for.
Doesn't this malady happen in India by an Indian to an Indian in an all Indian context?
Well, yeah. It does.
And that is the sad state of affairs. Our affairs.
Tuesday, 18 April 2017
Monday, 5 September 2016
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