Right. As always, I'll preface this a bit. Some of you know me and have suffered for their sins. Others don't and for this I beg mercy of those who do.
I've been less than forthcoming (yes, RELATIVELY) than usual in the past few months and in the interest of staying true to my readers, I promise to remain so in future as well. However, as always, it is when I am truly in a deep blue funk that my alter ego rises and booms forth. Hence, I introduce you to The Ed. And this, the first Bugle (formally known as The Ever-So-Oftenly Bugle) of the year.
The Bugle is my way of expressing what goes on in my life (or in some cases, doesn't) and holding forth loudly on matters that concern me not. And so, for those who have not met one yet, I present to you... The Bugle.
Usually beginning with a casual "I guess you stopped going for morning runs, then", it'll gently (but surely) progress towards... So now that you're free (read unemployed), why don't you think about settling down (read your ovaries are withering as we speak), it's high time (read what decent Hindu boy in the community will want to marry you without the benefit of an enormous dowry and the odd cow or so we can't really afford if you get toooooo old)?
Or there are the more direct approaches; constituted (at least in my family) primarily of simply commandeering the nearest single male and shoving him in my face with praise enough to soundly whirl the mind of an ascetic monk deep in devotion to that eternal bachelor, Hanuman. Once upon a time (yes, it's that long ago), they'd take the trouble of ascertaining "suitability" which, as is common in good Indian families, comprised a deeply complex algorithm of factors like family background, education, profession and family buzz combined with equally if not more complex regression coefficients of income, economic growth and stability and general well-to-do-ness. This combination is matured and fine-tuned over generations of cackling wizards and witches gathering in midsummer over cauldrons (oh all right, so it's aunts, uncles and miscellaneous elders over a cuppa in the family room and some cookies maybe) and is as closely held as the recipe for coke (the drink, not the good powdery stuff).
However, it's if one survives all this (mind, this is from people who're soundly and firmly in one's corner), that one really steps out into the jungle. And that is when one realises what the family blockade was all about.
And it is thus, with much pride, though little enthusiasm, I present the "Mummy kehti hai" (roughly translates to a sneering version of "Mommy says". All malice is an addition of the translator) male. This male will usually (if not always) be accompanied by his mother, head bowed in reverence as he walks in the shadow of the great being who suffered to bring him forth into the world. And hasn't stopped suffering, or ruling over the poor hapless creature since. This male is easily identifiable when not in his natural habitat i.e. next to Mamma, by his prefacing every second sentence with Mummy says... Mummy doesn't do it that way (no matter the task at hand)... or the classic "my mummy says you are perfect for me".
Then of course, there is the ever-present "I'm always right variety". This species is well known for its astute ability to guess what its unwilling victim wants. Or thinks. Or is going to say. Which effectively allows said lady to have a peaceful encounter without need to use any of her faculties. Why waste time deciding to have a Bloody Mary when the male has cunningly realised that Cosmopolitans are best (Two cosmos please!)? Or apply complex algorithms of choice and decision making when he has similarly cunningly surmised that Red Curry and rice is best (two red curries with rice please!)? Never mind the pesky allergy to peanuts. What price health compared to such diligent care?
Which is not to say that every Indian male has a God complex. Not at all. Some are pure charm and wit. This species will typically sidle up to a potential mate with such winning lines as "I usually dislike women with short hair, but YOU are pretty". How is ANY girl to prevent an episode of swooning at that? In case you've missed seeing one so far, they can be found in bars and other social venues; usually standing to a side leering at a set of disapproving (or outright sneering) females.
The most heart-breaking species though, is the genuine "good Indian boy". This male is truly, earnestly, incapable of conceiving of a damsel not in distress, just waiting for her prince. Which works out well for damsels in general, except say perhaps the ones not in distress. Of any sort. Or even the (rather silly) ones who would rather handle distress by themselves. Sans comfort of a stable male shoulder (remember financial secure, stable boy? Yup, prime example, though community must be considered). Sadly though, once caught unsuspecting in the snare of the good indian boy, retreat is usually difficult for the potential prey. For this species is unhappily all too prone to making life-long commitments on the back of 2 telephone calls and no actual contact. And in this case retreat is complicated by family blockades that must be convinced of crimes worse than "he's too nice!".
The Ed.
I've been less than forthcoming (yes, RELATIVELY) than usual in the past few months and in the interest of staying true to my readers, I promise to remain so in future as well. However, as always, it is when I am truly in a deep blue funk that my alter ego rises and booms forth. Hence, I introduce you to The Ed. And this, the first Bugle (formally known as The Ever-So-Oftenly Bugle) of the year.
The Bugle is my way of expressing what goes on in my life (or in some cases, doesn't) and holding forth loudly on matters that concern me not. And so, for those who have not met one yet, I present to you... The Bugle.
The Adventures-of-Single-Girl-in-Indian-Jungle Section
In all my 30 years (okay, FINE, 31), I have had the misfortune of studying closely the Indian male in pursuit of a mate (temporary or not). Some people ask me (read as "threateningly demand" when I am surrounded by that dreaded gang of hoods that constitutes my family) why I am still single. Notice the emphasis - it mocks not only my dreaded singlehood but also hones in on the fact that it has now gone on far too long. Indian families are notoriously subtle and devious when engaged in slipping several jibes into a single sentence. I would go so far as to say they make an art form of it and hold closely guarded and well monitored competitions on who managed to insult whom the most with the minimal number of words. Bonus points if the no-doubt-terrified prey is a difficult target i.e. mostly insusceptible to La Famille.The Subtle-But-Necessary-"About-The-Family" Sub-Section
For the most part, I'd say I manage to escape the bloodshed through sheer grit, commendable sang-froid, courage in the face of... ok, so I run and hide. Or don't show up for weddings. Or birthdays. Or festivals. You're getting the gist (or you're getting old) here. And while this is a good strategy, it also means that when I DO show up, they're ready and waiting.Usually beginning with a casual "I guess you stopped going for morning runs, then", it'll gently (but surely) progress towards... So now that you're free (read unemployed), why don't you think about settling down (read your ovaries are withering as we speak), it's high time (read what decent Hindu boy in the community will want to marry you without the benefit of an enormous dowry and the odd cow or so we can't really afford if you get toooooo old)?
Or there are the more direct approaches; constituted (at least in my family) primarily of simply commandeering the nearest single male and shoving him in my face with praise enough to soundly whirl the mind of an ascetic monk deep in devotion to that eternal bachelor, Hanuman. Once upon a time (yes, it's that long ago), they'd take the trouble of ascertaining "suitability" which, as is common in good Indian families, comprised a deeply complex algorithm of factors like family background, education, profession and family buzz combined with equally if not more complex regression coefficients of income, economic growth and stability and general well-to-do-ness. This combination is matured and fine-tuned over generations of cackling wizards and witches gathering in midsummer over cauldrons (oh all right, so it's aunts, uncles and miscellaneous elders over a cuppa in the family room and some cookies maybe) and is as closely held as the recipe for coke (the drink, not the good powdery stuff).
However, it's if one survives all this (mind, this is from people who're soundly and firmly in one's corner), that one really steps out into the jungle. And that is when one realises what the family blockade was all about.
The And-We're-Back Sub-Section
For the single Indian male in pursuit of his mate is not a pretty sight to behold. The categories are far too many (and frankly, just heinous) to enumerate, so one will have to suffice by giving examples of the prime cuts of this (unfortunately not-so-rare) bird. And here I must admit (and fervently thank the universe) that ALL these examples are not of personal experience (phew).And it is thus, with much pride, though little enthusiasm, I present the "Mummy kehti hai" (roughly translates to a sneering version of "Mommy says". All malice is an addition of the translator) male. This male will usually (if not always) be accompanied by his mother, head bowed in reverence as he walks in the shadow of the great being who suffered to bring him forth into the world. And hasn't stopped suffering, or ruling over the poor hapless creature since. This male is easily identifiable when not in his natural habitat i.e. next to Mamma, by his prefacing every second sentence with Mummy says... Mummy doesn't do it that way (no matter the task at hand)... or the classic "my mummy says you are perfect for me".
Then of course, there is the ever-present "I'm always right variety". This species is well known for its astute ability to guess what its unwilling victim wants. Or thinks. Or is going to say. Which effectively allows said lady to have a peaceful encounter without need to use any of her faculties. Why waste time deciding to have a Bloody Mary when the male has cunningly realised that Cosmopolitans are best (Two cosmos please!)? Or apply complex algorithms of choice and decision making when he has similarly cunningly surmised that Red Curry and rice is best (two red curries with rice please!)? Never mind the pesky allergy to peanuts. What price health compared to such diligent care?
Which is not to say that every Indian male has a God complex. Not at all. Some are pure charm and wit. This species will typically sidle up to a potential mate with such winning lines as "I usually dislike women with short hair, but YOU are pretty". How is ANY girl to prevent an episode of swooning at that? In case you've missed seeing one so far, they can be found in bars and other social venues; usually standing to a side leering at a set of disapproving (or outright sneering) females.
The most heart-breaking species though, is the genuine "good Indian boy". This male is truly, earnestly, incapable of conceiving of a damsel not in distress, just waiting for her prince. Which works out well for damsels in general, except say perhaps the ones not in distress. Of any sort. Or even the (rather silly) ones who would rather handle distress by themselves. Sans comfort of a stable male shoulder (remember financial secure, stable boy? Yup, prime example, though community must be considered). Sadly though, once caught unsuspecting in the snare of the good indian boy, retreat is usually difficult for the potential prey. For this species is unhappily all too prone to making life-long commitments on the back of 2 telephone calls and no actual contact. And in this case retreat is complicated by family blockades that must be convinced of crimes worse than "he's too nice!".
The Carry-On-Ed. Section
Another difficult species is the rather simplistic "I am from phoren" male. Or the more complex "Family boy". The permutations are endless and must alas be continued in yet another episode of your friendly neighbourhood Bugle. Regular readers obviously know that this may never happen... On a related note though, readers will be happy to know that work on The Ape, The Apartment and the Damsel in Distress has begun again.The Cross-Promotion Section
For those who want background to The Ape, etc, we refer you to (http://eversooftenlybugle.blogspot.in/2008/02/sri-lankan-chronicles-saga-begins.html).
As always, all brickbats to be addressed to The Ed. The Alter-ego is um... sensitive.. to criticism. Of any sort. Ever. No matter how (ouch) justified.
As always, all brickbats to be addressed to The Ed. The Alter-ego is um... sensitive.. to criticism. Of any sort. Ever. No matter how (ouch) justified.
The Ed.
2 comments:
What about that brand of Indian male who is tall, dark and handsome? Oh wait, that is southern Italy...
Hahahahah. RS, you KNOW we're going there next year, right? :D
Post a Comment