US and THEM

[complicateur]

Reworked an old attempt at a bit of fiction. It seems a little simplistic in hindsight but I would like second, third and many other opinions.
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“Bob! Tall white soy mocha with no whipped cream for Bob!” the barista called out. As I walked to the counter and picked up my drink, a girl waiting for her order took one look at me and smiled. I smiled back sheepishly. I had taken to giving my name as “Bob” at restaurants and cafés that felt that knowing their customer’s name made service more personalized. It’s not that I am ashamed of my name. It saved me the trouble of having to spell out Kothandaraman each time and them the embarrassment of butchering my name. At my regular haunt downtown they just call out my drink, but I guess it wasn’t the smartest move to assume they would do the same here. I slink back to my table, thankful for The Times and bury my head in an article about Rahm Emmanuel. Just as I learn that Rahm’s brother Ari is a Hollywood heavyweight, the phone vibrates indicating I received a text. “About 5 minutes away” it said, “just getting gas.”

It was a similar vibration that had brought me to this suburban Starbucks. As a 27 year old single Indian straight male I was beginning to suffer from a common affliction, giving-in-to-your-parents-wishes-itis. The symptoms were fairly easy to spot – I was tired of coming home to an empty apartment, the channa masala that tasted divine after the third experimental trial in grad school just didn’t cut it any more and watching the end of When Harry met Sally actually left me with a lump in my throat. It wasn’t by choice that the apartment was empty though. I’d been on my share of dates and sowed the occasional wild oat but it had become increasingly clear why birds of a feather flocked together. I had no explanations for Susan when she asked why I would rather go watch a movie where a middle aged cop romanced a young divorcee in song and dance while hunting possibly homosexual serial killers than come to her sister’s daughter’s bat-mitzvah. Elle couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea that I could listen to some dude called Sikkil Gurucharan elaborate on a single letter, aaaa, for 15 minutes straight and term it delightful music. It was a cop out, but I had decided that it might be easier to convince a ThirunelvEli girl to shop at Victoria’s Secret. But my ever-enterprising parents had a middle of the road solution. Apparently they knew a single ThirunelvEli girl who lived within a 50 mile radius who did shop at Victoria’s Secret – Ok I’m exaggerating that isn’t exactly what they said in the phone call that brought me to the café. (Boy would that have been an awkward conversation) So I gave Priya a call and set a date, today, to grab a cup of coffee. And now I wait as she fills up her car.

When she walks in 20 minutes past our set time, I still have my head buried in the Times. I jump a little when she taps my shoulder but recover when I remembered the picture I had on my Gtalk profile. We exchange the usual pleasantries, bash our respective bosses in moderation and talk about how opportune it is that gas prices fall during elections. The election being recent and fresh in our minds we dwell a little. “I’m so glad we could finally erase the race barrier. Electing Obama is a big step. Do you realize Bobby Jindal might actually have a shot at being president?” she says. I nod in agreement. “Not politically inclined?” she asks sensing a lack of interest. “No I’m just a good listener” I deflect. She smiles and continues, “I don’t think we should bail out the auto manufacturers in Detroit.” “We?” I say. “Well I mean the U.S. Government. What kind of free market economy socializes banks and then bails out its industries? They ought to die their rightful death if you ask me” she opines. I continue smiling and nodding. “Still being a good listener?” she jibes. “OK I won’t drone on, lets talk about something else. I just saw Burn after Reading. The Coens are hilarious, right? What was the last movie you saw?”. “Devar Magan” I say. “It has been so long since I saw a Tamil movie you know, very little access around here. You probably have Indian stores close to your place huh?” she says. “Nope I own a pirated copy; I can send you a link for an online version if you’re interested” I offer. “Sure. But I doubt if I’ll get time to watch it. Anyway I prefer watching movies on the big screen. What kind of music do you listen to, mostly Indian film?” she assumes. I don’t feel the need to go over how I had played Dark Side of the moon in concurrence with the Wizard of Oz to verify the legend or how I had shelled out a large amount of money to see Radiohead live just a few weeks ago. “Yup!” I confirm and the conversation swings into shutdown mode. We go through the usual lets-stay-in-touch-but-not-really motions and she gets up to leave. As I get into my car my phone vibrates again. This time it’s my parents. “Enna aachchu” its says in English alphabet. I control my urge to diffuse a serious conversation by replying “kozhanthai azhuthuthu. Please buy Woodwards Grape Water”. I don’t know whether to laugh or get mad at how involved they are in this process. I begin to type “I think she is a little too Americanized Maa…

[pavalamani pragasam]

An increasing dilemma in the marriage scenario!!! Choices and desires, old traditions and new trends coming to a confrontation! Compromises the only option? How sad!

[Querida]

not simplistic at all! It's so rich with detail!...I'm surprised that i think it's the first time I've read about a girl and not have her described (usually with stereotypical features/notions) but it would lend a possible reason to why our hero is so reticient....???
I wonder if you will elaborate why he wouldn't take more charge of the conversation or allow her to think he only listens to desi music....will you continue? I hope so!

[crazy]

sorry I just like the way you end the story(?)

Good...

[complicateur]

Querida: Thanks. And good point on the lack of description of the girl. I would like to claim credit for leaving that angle open, but the truth is I was so obsessed with the central conceit that it is just a happy coincidence. About continuing, I am a little obsessed with the theme, so I might continue but in a different setting.

Crazy: Thanks. Ithukku ethukku sorry ellaam?

[complicateur]

pavalamani pragasam: Compromising always leads to issues. Not compromising does too. Damned if you do, Damned if you dont and all that. Thanks for your comments.

[pavalamani pragasam]

Absolutely correct! I have chance to witness it around today's changing scenario!

[P_R]

Very well written complicateur

Wild oat pretensions and the overrated independence of culinary experiments have been finally shown their right place.

When people take umbrage to a society categorizing them as consumers (an n point vector in the market space - pardon the microeconomic pun), one can apply the balm that the consumption set can include not just products and services but also 'art and culture' consumables. Along such definitions we labour to bring about to mould 'ourselves'. It helps to present an easily digestible picture of ourselves to other people. But then we settle to 'understanding' ourselves on the same lines. And The humour coccoon one withdraws into with its palliative functions came out well.

Do keep writing.

cheers
Prabhu

PS: Next time,do look around when there is a chai tea latte for 'Jamal'.

[complicateur]

Et tu PR. In keeping with Aristotle's guidelines, I guess Jamal is the more probable impossibility .

Loneliness is the last great taboo.

"If we don't accept loneliness, then capitalism wins hands down. Because capitalism is all about trying to convince people that you can distract yourself, that you can make it better. And it ain't true.

I also thought the above quote from this link is very apt considering your microeconomic punnery.

And Thanks. I will try to keep writing. Hopefully one in Thamizh soon.

[P_R]

Was re-reading the story again last evening. Must say very well written.

The mathematical analogy I was trying to make was to heighten the absurdity. "Tell me about yourself" is such a stumper. You can't quite answer that in a remotely satisfactory way. In fact as you form an answer you surprise yourself. "I am x...I like y" etc. and in the background you are going " really ?....hmm... not that sure". And all this when "likes and dislikes" are themselves overrated as steps to understand a "person". But it is not just capitalism that has us believe this. It is a soft target. It is just the human urge categorize, enumerate, to order for ease of understanding and absorption.

To quote a line from an old Tamil poem:

பக்கத்தூர் பட்த்து மைல்
என்று காட்டுகின்ற கைகாட்டி
இரண்டடிக்குள் முடிந்துவிடும்
திறம்மிகு திறனாய்வாய்

Yeah ! The board isn't 10 miles long, it has hopefully communicated the distance to the reader. Can we do the same ?
Can we really say. Words, with their feeble abilities are all we rely on for vital things. Even if words were to be 'understood' correctly, to expect people tp go beyond and understand and ignore words when necessary is just too much of an expectation.

Having to make sense and having to be reasonable is itself a task.

From AK Ramanujan's "Love Poem for a Wife", it can be distractingly shocking but conceptually he just nails it:

Probably only the Egyptians had it right:
their kings had sisters for queens
to continue the incests of childhood
into marriage.