I opened up my draft (read “nemesis”) and actually edited two chapters yesterday.
It felt like a huge victory since I have been avoiding it for so long now. My inner Hiro is rejoicing. Anyway a couple of weeks ago someone left me a message on my Facebook page. They wanted to interview me. I thought it was a joke because hello I am Geek. I went to their site and they seemed pretty sane so I thought what the hell, so they want to interview a geek. Who am I to judge? Read the interview here : Smart Indian Women
My sudden and overwhelming fame is not going to turn me into a snob,don’t worry. Nothing is going to change my geek status.
Contrary to the Indian movies that often portray every young girl’s goal in life as securing that Suitable Boy’s proposal, most girls just wanted to have fun.
Dear (Not so ) Suitable Boy,
I have been meaning to write to you for some time now (about 20 years) but somewhere along the way, after I realized you most certainly were not my knight in shining armor, I married someone else and had five kids. So yeah I was a bit preoccupied. No, I didn’t end up marrying the knight in shining armor. He still hasn’t shown up. Curse you, Disney. Curse you.
I remembered you and your audacious proposal yesterday night as I was scooping fat cat’s dehydrated poop out of the litter box. Please don’t be offended, you do not in any way remind me of dehydrated cat poop. I just get random thoughts scooping poop.
I just want you to know that it never would have worked. I was done the second I realized I was about to be shown off like prize cattle, when I saw you sitting there in my aunt’s drawing-room with your mom, your dad and your female sibling. I am surprised you didn’t bring your grandparents. I stopped at the door and I checked you out. Sorry I wasn’t raised in Pakistan, yeah I checked you out and you did not even make my “last guy in the world list”. But let’s be honest, you were there with your family to do the exact same thing. I just beat you to it.
Yes, in those few seconds I was able to sum you up and sweep you aside. I was a narcissistic nineteen year old what could you expect? I knew I was on every eligible bachelor’s mom’s list, most likely first or second, because I fit what every desi mother-in-law wanted. Tall, thin, fair, but most importantly, Canadian National. God bless our hypocritical, stereotypical desi double standards!
Besides being turned off by the fact that I was about to be paraded in front of a guy I did not know (why can’t people just arrange a normal lunch with lots of people?) it was the moustache. That ridiculously thick moustache that made Tom Selleck look like a fuzzy lipped female. Had you never heard of Johnny Depp? Apparently not. You looked like a forty-five year old, (yes I am aware that you were not actually forty-five, but damn that was some ‘stache!) a forty-five year old who was accompanied by his parents and little sister to check out a nineteen year old chick. That is not a good first impression.
I did my utmost to be as obnoxious as possible to your mom and little sis. I refused to go into the drawing-room to meet you, I didn’t see the point since I had already decided we were most certainly NOT meant to be. So they came to meet me in the other room. I disagreed with everything your sister said, I mocked the fact that she didn’t enjoy Jane Austen which she was required to read for school. I love Jane Austen. The second a tray of drinks was brought in I hopped up and rudely grabbed a drink for myself to the shock of both my aunts. And your mom. I wanted her to realize what Canadian National meant. It meant I was not the standard docile girl who had been embedded with the concept that I had to marry whichever Suitable Boy thought I met his mom’s standards. I would not be cajoled into an arranged marriage just because everyone thought you were a Suitable Boy.
Fourteen hundred years ago my religion gave me the right to decide if I liked a guy enough to marry him, but along the line somewhere all that got lost in stupid cultural backwardness. Up till the point where girls were displayed to be evaluated by a boy and his family. To see whether or not she was good-looking enough, submissive enough, to make a good daughter-in-law and wife. Then the poor girl waited, hoping not to be rejected as Prince Charming went on to check out the next eight girls on Mama’s list.
The point of all this is, you probably have kids now. Unless you jumped off a cliff in a fit of drama, your ego bruised by a girl who had the impudence to refuse. If you have a daughter please don’t parade her in front of dozens of young men and their families. Let her peek in the drawing-room first. And if she doesn’t want to go in and meet them, don’t make her.
Sincerely,
The Canadian National you are so lucky not to have gotten hitched to.
P.S. Do remind her however, that the knight in shining armor rarely shows up, she should not waste her precious time waiting for him.
Selfie: A selfie is a type of self-portrait photograph, typically taken with a hand-held digital camera or camera phone, while in the bathroom in front of the mirror wearing undergarments and sticking out lips in a most nauseating fashion, giving the impression of being extremely constipated, going into labor or passing a kidney stone.
Disclaimer: No intention of hate, I love these guys as much as you all do, they keep us so entertained! But I couldn’t resist having a little fun. (all pics from Google images)
Last summer when I took the animals offspring to the park one beautiful lazy Saturday, I overheard a ‘white guy’ conversation about ‘white people’ problems. He was complaining about what a pain in the ass his ex-wife was. I felt sorry for him, of course I don’t know what her side of the story was. Maybe he was just a pathological liar. Some months later in a different park, I overheard a conversation between a young wife and her husband. I wonder if this makes me a pathological eavesdropper?
Anyways she was very loudly telling her husband just what she thought of him. Both these people had a lot of complaints and it was funny to me because ‘desi people’ problems are so ridiculously extreme compared to (some) white people problems.
White Husband Problem: “Man my wife was so pissed, I forgot our anniversary again!”
Desi Husband Problem: “Vat the hell is this? You call this roti? I wouldn’t feed this to dog on street! I’m going to my sister’s house!”
White Wife Problem: “My husband is such a jerk, he never puts the dishes away after washing them! I am so totally fed up of his crappy habits!”
Desi Wife Problem: “Hai Rubba! Vite men vash dishes?!”
White People Problem: “Oh my God I still can’t decide where we are going to go for vacation this summer and I need to book seats or we won’t get them in time!”
Desi People Problem: “Niagara Falls? Do you know how much ve vill have to pay for parking just to see all that vater go down a cliff? Ven it starts going up, tell me, I vill pay to see that.”
White Mom in the Morning: “Honey wake up or we are going to be late!”
Desi Mom in the Morning: “Oye kumbakhton! Get up lazy good for nothings before I bring jug of ice vater!”
White Girl Problem: “My mom said I can’t have like more than $300 to buy a dress for the semi-formal can you like believe that?”
Desi Girl Problem: Desi Mom to Daughter : “Semi-formal, vat semi-formal? How do you expect to be a doctor if you are always out for mutter gush and not studying?”
Would you like to add any problems?
(all pics from Google..just google Desi problems!)
khaula Siddique 