In Chennai there is this monstrosity called Saravana Stores. Much like an indoors Marina Beach, in the sense that all of the Chennai and outskirts population seems to descend upon said place like locusts. While at the beach, there is a waterbody and peanuts to be had for entertainment, Saravana Stores is the reason we are, as a country, progressing into the clutches of consumerism etc. I don't care about the capitalist or consumerist leanings of the general public owing to my political apathy. What I Do worry about, however, are crowds.
As in, I don't like them. They poke and prod, and sometimes stare at me with complete lack of humility (I mean, seriously, what is up with that?), and lack hygiene and consciousness and volume control.
But Saravana also sells strawberry preserve and Nutella, and I needed to pick up some stuff for Hellore, so I had to dive right into the Kraken's mouth this morning. It went largely well. The new rules of navigating a crowd are not so much to indulge in polite Excuse Mes as to just shoving them in the sacral/coccygeal region of their spine with your shopping cart. (Find your inner Xena the world seems to be telling me.)
So after about two hours of playing Bumper Cars using Tamil arses as targets, I finally got done with all the shopping, and while carrying down the stuff, I passed by a clutch of old people with their little bags of groceries, muttering things.
After we got home, my mother wouldn't stop laughing at me, which was odd, even by her high set bar of lunacy.
Because apparently that bunch of old people were griping about how all these white people were infiltrating the stores wearing next to nothing, thinking they could strut in and out wherever they please, what with their lack of morals and pants and what not.
This is the fourth time this has happened in the holidays. My neighbour, random people at the jogging park, hell, my dad's uncle - they all think I'm European. And now my mother has a new nickname for me which she won't stop singing, ABCD. American Born Confused Desi.
Um, wha?
Oh please dont even pretend like you're not enjoying it.
ReplyDeleteYou're practically boasting about it, while trying not to.
Possibly. *looks shifty*
ReplyDeleteI'm more laughing at the fact that I pass off as a foreigner, though.
ABCD...hahaha :D and yes d boasting part is obvious :P
ReplyDeleteThat's the thing with the south...the bar of expectation is low. But you're not European. And whaddya mean, you were wearing next to nothing?
ReplyDeleteBooby, I was wearing shorts. And a tshirt. Since it wasn't a half-sari or a burlap sack, I was presumed to be nekkid.
ReplyDeletehmmm.....ever tried being stared at as you shop listening to ur ipod and then you phone rings and you talk in your english language....trust me...that is when you feel that you definitely need to strip and then ask in Tamil "Have you seen enough sir?"
ReplyDelete