RINSHIKIJIKATOMEY

…is a word. I’m sure of it. I’m certain even about its pronunciation – a short pause between shiki and jika, and a succinct mey at the end. But after Googling, searching my memory, and quizzing a Japan-returned friend, I still don’t know what it means.

Here are some other things I’d like to know:

1. The function-flowers funda: Why do we bestow hapless dignitaries with floral ‘tokens-of-our-appreciation’? Do bonsai blossoms, bedraggled ferns and cheap squares of cellophane, a bouquet make? I suspect an organiser-horticulturalist nexus formed to perpetuate a social custom that ends with a dais littered with unclaimed saplings. Do they then go back to their crafty botanist?

2. Perpetually pehle aap: Nobody wants to go first; everybody seconds that. Why do we wait for someone else to answer incorrectly, before guessing it right ourselves, by elimination? Someone has to bungee jump first! We experiment by doing nothing, and you are your own silent Ethics Committee.

3. Ominous Indian epithets: In Konkani, ‘Biji’ means ‘mashed’. What sort of fate do Punjabis wish for their paternal grandmothers by christening them that? Are Gujaratis so dismissive of their fathers’ sisters that they call the good lady ‘Phooey’? Is a ‘maasa’, a Maharashtrian fish or a Gujju mother’s brother-in-law? And if ‘bhanji’ means ‘niece’, whose niece is Sir Ben Kingsley (born Krishna Bhanji)?

4. A town called quota: Being labelled is protested as being stereotyped, but capitalising on one’s label is permitted as a constitutional birthright. Have Sushilkumar Shinde’s Dalit origins helped solve the power crisis? Will you trust a neurosurgeon to operate on a fragile tumour because he comes from a nomadic tribe?

5. See, for complexion: Dusky women slop on Fair-and-Lovely. Fair and lovely women go to tanning parlours. When will they realise that (most) men know blushes aren’t permanent, and it is impossible to age back twenty years in one trip to the powder room?

6. Marxist mythology: In a diktat smacking of communist sympathies, Kunti decreed that her Pandavas must always share equally. Everything – including a wife. Chinese comrades under suspicion had to make self-criticisms before being accepted back into Party folds; Sita was made to undergo a trial by fire before entering the welcoming arms of her loving husband. Readymade and historically vetted propaganda, yet the communists disavow religion. Pity, no?

7. Crime and self-punishment: Do crime beat reporters garner journalistic acclaim for digging out the grisly details of a private death? Do we read their stories to envision our own macabre abductions/rapes/murders? And do elegant SoBo hostesses discuss the difference between murder and manslaughter over tinkling teacups? Then why are we obsessed with gore?

8. Radio rants: Every night, Fever FM feels the need to educate me about the technological and cultural advances of outer Siberia. Radio Jockeys with jocks’ intellects dispense relationship advice. Anirudh LLB has multiple (and very vocal) orgasms on the airwaves. Why do we even bother tuning in?

Someday, I will find out. Until then, rinshikijikatomey to you.

Whatever that means.

* * *

YENNA RASCALLA!

Yes, you who revel in South Indian stereotypes. You who believe that we ‘Madrasis’ actually say ‘Yenna Rascalla’ out loud.

Read, and learn.

1. Geography: ‘South’ is a direction; Karnataka, Andhra Pradesh, Kerala and Tamil Nadu are states. Hubli is in Karnataka, Hooghly in Paschimbanga. Tirupati, Tirunelveli and Thiruvananthapuram are not baaju baaju mein. And Sri Lanka is more than a paddle-boat ride away.

2. Languages: ‘Andu-Gundu-Naaru-Gundu’ may have profound meaning in modern Haryanvi, but is gibberish in Kannada, Telugu, Malayalam, Tamil and Tulu. ‘South Indian’ is not a language – Tamilians will comprehend Telugu the day Mamtadidi spouts Gujarati. It kills me when you blurt out ‘Illay Illay Po’, and howl, as though what translates to ‘No No Go’ is somehow tremendously funny.

3. Pronunciations: Do not attempt to sing the Malayalam lines from ‘Jiya Jale’. Notice how even Lata Mangeshkar didn’t? Touch the tip of your tongue to your epiglottis, and maybe you can pronounce Kozhikode correctly. Dossa is a dreaded don, Saambhar, a species of deer – neither is meant to be eaten.

4. Names: We have house-names (Pilavullakandi), street-names (Thekkeparambil) and first names (Usha), to make us easily traceable (I suppose). The suffixes ‘-an’, ‘-swamy’ and ‘kutty’ are not meant for indiscriminate attachment. Some of us do have names that do not run into the next line. Yes, we have the Balamuralikrishnas. But we also have the Raos.

5. People: who speak Kannada are called Kannadigas, not Kanadians. Yes, we’re pretty good at English. No, we aren’t all nerds. We’re conservative. We’re liberal too. Figure it out.

6. Appearance: Living closer to the Equator doesn’t scorch our skin; we too can boast of Vanity Fair. Chidambaram is an oddity – many of us have been known to venture out in pants. Our women have better things to do than ravage flower buds and oil bottles first thing every morning. Lola Kutty, I hate you.

7. Professions: All Shettys do not run Udupi joints. Every Shiny, Molly and Mary does not a nurse make. Despite the exodus to the Gulf, there are still Malayalis left in Kerala. We’re nuts about engineering, just like the bhadralok are ga-ga over journalism. Vijay Mallya makes beer. A certain Raja makes money.

8. Religion: ex-President Kalam was born in Rameswaram. Cochin Jews date back to 70 AD. Shravanabelagola is a Jain pilgrimage destination. Thomas the Apostle introduced Christianity to the Malabar Coast. And I do not wander with a zebra-crossing pasted across my forehead.

9. Food: Idlis are strictly breakfast items. Forgive the Bongs for their mustard oil and us for coconut (oil and other products). Dining off banana leaves is quaintly enjoyable. We may be messy eaters, but that’s because we love our rasam-rice. Don’t you?

10. Arts: Rajni:Tollywood::Salman:Bollywood – entertaining, not enlightening cinema. Heard of Adoor Gopalakrishnan? Don’t beat Carnatic music till you’ve tried it – play MS Subbulakshmi at dawn. And if you describe Kathakali as that ‘mask-wallah dance’ one more time, I will Chammak Challo your arse to oblivion, okay?

Mind it.

* * *

TEEN Khwaahishein

Dear Adult,

Bemoaning the lack of respect from and deploring the state of the values of my generation seems to be the national pastime these days. You think we think you are a tyrant and we think you think we can’t think at all. Suddenly, or so it seems, someone has drawn a Line of Control between AdultLand and Youngistan, and neither of us can get a visa to cross over. What you ask for is obedience, what we feel is subordination; you think we want our freedom but what we really want is our independence, if you know what I mean. We’re on our way to where you are but you’ve forgotten that you too were once the way we are, so here’s reminding you about the three things teens today want…..you to do.

Let us CHOOSE. Please remember that the choices we make today decide who we will become tomorrow; if we accept all your choices, all we will grow up to be is another you. Not that it’s a bad thing, but we believe we can make our own special difference to the world. Please understand that overnight, we’ve been offered a lot of options and have had to make a lot of decisions – you might or might not agree with some of them but please understand that we will never learn to recognize a wrong choice without making a few of them first. Also, please know that we must experience what is hateful about a thing before we learn to hate it – we did not try knowingly and knowingly, we will not try again.

Please remember that our lives are no less complicated than yours; we too have a lot to deal with and sometimes, we don’t deal with everything too well. Please accept that academics are a mere blip on the teenage radar; let us choose what we want to do – right or wrong, we will emerge a little wiser. Please remember that fruit punch isn’t alcoholic and ‘funk’ isn’t a bad word; that mental growth is accelerated during phone conversations and that doing nothing is a wonderful thing to do. Please understand that we wear short skirts not to test your limits of decency but our own and that we spend hours on the net because we genuinely enjoy it. Although you may think we are too immature to be in a relationship, please remember that our hormones cannot hear you. Accept that we are growing up earlier than we should but we cannot think as rationally as you do. And oh yes, salads, rejection and peer pressure all suck.

Let us LEARN. Please realize that though you have been the ideal teacher so far, we have started spotting chinks in your armour and have set out to repair them ourselves. Before you tell us to learn from our mistakes, please remember that we are also learning from yours. Please keep in mind that we are more confused than inquisitive and that there is a limit to how much you can help; just like our rooms, we have to learn to sort out our own messes ourselves. It really hurts when you help us without our asking for it; though it might not seem so, most of the time we are trying to help ourselves. You are always saying that life is the best teacher – please remember that and stop trying to take its place…….we love you and respect you but we’d rather be our own role models. Don’t be overprotective – we will learn that backbiting friends are worse than no friends at all and that regular cramming is better than irregular studying(yes that actually makes sense to us). Don’t worry about the values bit – we got them with our genes. Stop being so proud when we do something that you taught us to do, well; be prouder when we do something we’ve taught ourselves, even half-successfully. Finally, stop telling us to learn from your example – if you open your eyes wide enough, you have a lot to learn from ours.

And lastly, let us LIVE. Please don’t forget that we don’t like you breathing down our necks any more that you like your boss breathing down yours. Please know that we have a mind of our own and that the best thing you can do for it is to let it be. We think you think we think we can’t live without you, but as teens, please remember that sometimes we can’t live with you.

By living, we choose to learn and learn to choose. And don’t worry – with all the choices and mistakes and opinions and misconceptions and hormones and problems, we will grow up just fine.

After all, you did too.

* * *

Note : I wrote this when i was seventeen.