The (Unsaid) Indian Privilege…

Away on an overseas trip, I spent my last Saturday taking a walk in the laidback and quiet neighborhood of Thousand Oaks.

As I walked past a park I saw a fellow ‘brownie’ running after his son, who I later got to know was just five years old. This guy probably hailed from Gujarat. I had no official confirmation to this and I gathered this trivial piece of detail purely from his “Eenglisss”.

The exasperated father kept chasing the little monster (he literally had created), who for no explicable reason kept giving him ‘The Finger’.

This is how they went..

Father: SSSStop it Nnnnow and come back. Aa kai taro baap no rasto nathi. (This path doesn’t belong to your dad)

Son: (Looks at his dad, says nothing and just keeps walking)

Father: Breejesss, Commm Heere.

Son: (Says nothing but sticks out his tongue and up comes the middle finger)

Father: “O.. Gadhera!!! Manes na phett no che ka dhor na phett no che?" Taapi maa dubhi mar. COMMMM HEEERE RIGHT NOWWW.

(I somehow managed to get the translation for this “ O donkey!!! Are you from the stomach of a human being or from the stomach of stray cattle? Go drown in a lake.)

Son (with his impeccable rolled ‘r’s and Brad Pitt accent from ‘Inglorious Bastards’): No way Misturrr. I am staying Rright Heerre. (and thus came the finger again).

I was smiling at the scene when the father caught me looking at him. He nodded and smiled back sheepishly. Maybe he wanted to say it wasn’t his fault and that the child was a brat because he had inherited his mother’s genes. I was particularly amused at this scene. Dare you say something remotely like this to your father back home, no matter what age you are, you get enrolled for some real nice ‘disciplining’.

I walked over to his side and he came around as well. He took off his baseball cap he was wearing, wiped sweat off his forehead with his wrist in true Indian spirit, introduced himself as ‘Dhawal Patel’ and we got talking. It’s surprising how two people who barely share a connection get talking and pour themselves out in an alien environment.

Dhawal: You see, my son dialed 911 couple of days ago and cops came around. I scolded him for doing so and he called the number again and told the cops that I was hitting him.

Me (Well, I just thought he was an idiot. Why could he just not keep his phone out of his kid’s reach): Oops. What happened then?

Dhawal: Had a lot ….(paused)…lot of explaining to do. (paused again)… Now I can’t really say anything to him.

Me: (You IDIOT): Hmmm.. I guess you don’t have these problems in India.

Dhawal: Oh no Sir. Back there.. My dad would just give us a look and we would all sit in a line. Here.. “main bhes aagar bhaagvad jevun chhe”(reading bhaagwad puraan (a scripture) to a buffalo)

Me: (He confirmed he WAS an IDIOT): Uhmm…so, what do you plan to do now? (I thought he would say something like taking him to a therapist or some psychoanalysis jargon, I was so proud of him when he replied this…)

Dhawal: After 3 weeks, I am planning to go to India. He is coming with me. As soon as I land at the airport, shall give him the taste of Indian mirchi right below his ears. “Aah maru lai peerau” (he is drinking my blood). Wahin jaake agli pichli sab poori kari liu (Shall compensate for all past and present there itself).

Me: (Oh, I love this guy): Ha.. ha…ha.

Dhawal: I swear on my mother I shall spank him so hard, he would sleep on his stomach all life long.

Dhawal continued for a while before his master (master Brreeejesss) decided to turn around and walk him home. I could not stop laughing all the way back to my hotel. This was patriotism at its best – someone craving to return to his motherland, only to box his kid’s ears. That, Sir, is one privilege no one can deny an Indian parent.

So, next time you think about leaving India and settling abroad or want to criticize your nation, just thank your stars that you were not born in a country where parents are robbed, humiliated, blackmailed and even held hostage by their kids…trust me, you SHOULD be thankful for it.