Sense and Indian Sensibility

(warning: a mature philosophical rant)

Many a times, walking down the plastic lanes of Singapore, I have questioned my identity in this melting pot of business and culture. Having acquired new habits, tastes and routines - have I really moved away from my true roots? What really defined me as an Indian? An year in this city had seeded some acorns of fear that I was moving away from our values and traditions. But today, a succinct grave discussion with my flatmates reassured me that deep inside, we had not changed.

So Rohan came out of the kitchen this night, visibly perturbed. In his left hand was a fat bunch of tissues from Khan-sama restaurant - leftovers from our Kaminey Nights party. In his other hand was a standard white roll of kitchen wipes. The conundrum was simple, yet quite formidable. Which of the two would we three wise men recommend to use as a substitute for toilet paper? It was quite unfortunate that our supply had unexpectedly exhausted at 11 in the night.

A cold hearted decision indeed would have been to judge the options on the basis of their functionality - the size, texture and softness of the material. The Khan-sama tissues were significantly softer and in their natural state bearing a close resemblance to twin-ply. The kitchen roll on the other hand was white, coarse and modular. A clinical decision had an obvious outcome.

But our hearts did not not let our minds rule at this juncture. How would we ever be comfortable performing the task, when bold blue letters screamed Khansama from every tissue? The concept of food would be unacceptable in that situation. Could we bluntly focus on the needs of one sense while ignoring the sensitivities of another? Wouldn't that imply poor upbringing? (A point aside - if you were ever to visit Singapore, do try Khan-sama's food. It's delicious). So the tougher, harder, coarser option was chosen.

Over the next day, we may suffer a little pain. But we are ready to sacrifice that happiness in exchange for some pride - that we are still True Indians.

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Safety First- A Guide to handling chakkas on trains

Last week, for no particular reason, my flatmates and I had an intense discussion on our key tactics for dealing with chakkas in Indian Railways. Any Indian male who dares to claim that he is 'truly' Indian, should have had at least a couple of such experiences when traveling sleeper class. Before I get lectured on Human Equality, or the members of facebook groups 'I love the guys in the middle' and 'Those freaky Chakkas are awesome' bombard me with their wrath, let me state I don't have any particular angst against the chakkas personally. They are a pain to comfortable travel and this guide will help the newbies. It's all with the aim of making the world a better place! (Inspired by the current favourite flowchart meme)


Glossary:
Chikna - Means a clean shaven guy with a skin tone relatively fairer than the average Indian male. The stereotype states that chakkas like chikna people more. This is never been proven and I am sure Human Equality commission hasn't conducted any study on it.

It: Your genitals.

Easily accessible: When a troupe of chakkas approach the coupe', some guys prefer to pretend sleeping in a foetal position, which raises the risk of getting groped in the other direction. Another option is to scamper up to upper berths, if available. The less fortunate can only hope to act like a zombie and get ignored over other chikna fellows.

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