If you thought the FCC was a little slow on the uptake you have no idea what the "moral police" is like in the land of the Taj Mahal. Of course, Indian ingenuity is always about working the system and so the clever fellas beaming out programming would broadcast racy stuff only later in the night. "It's 11 PM, your kids shouldn't be up anyway"...
Part of this programming was this show called MTV Grind. Wikipedia says it was called "The Grind" stateside. Whatever. The show featured people in a very fake looking disco dancing to songs I did not understand (or like). Of course, it was decent entertainment for a kid getting to know certain parts of him better, since the ladies moved in astonishing fashion. Then came baywatch, adult films, and of course porn. Plenty of it.
I was taken to a club the first weekend I got to the states. Now, I'm from Bangalore where the club scene is virtually non-existent. In the bars (we call 'em pubs ya' know), we listen mostly to rock and metal, head-bang in a circle and nearly everyone gets wasted. A typical Friday night. Dancing doesn't happen and many of us dance/move like arthritis patients practicing Tai Chi on a cold Monday morning. Anyway, here I was trying to dance with with this outrageously pretty Indian girl, and trying to forget how goofy I looked (and felt), when suddenly I heard this wild hooting sound and found myself firmly wedged in between two white girls.
I'm built like a typical Indian male which meant that these two were each a foot taller than me. Great. I wasn't prepared for anything like this, and neither were my friends judging by their bewildered expressions. What was I to do? Thankfully I kept my hands to myself (or in the air - I forget), didn't make contact on my own - I behaved. Of course, I was able to keep perv habits in check since the Amazons stank. Badly. Guess a night of dancing and groping strangers does that.
They left as suddenly as they'd arrived and I tried getting back to that pretty girl. My friends, clearly invested in my best interests, suggested I go dance with "my girls" instead. My "research" had taught me that pizza delivery, plumbing and computer repairs were the best jobs and that women in America found brown skinned foreigners exotic. So naturally, I complied. Strolled up to the girls who were now just milling about on the floor, ignored the huge Mexican chap with them, and beckoned one of them to me, asking for a dance. Naturally, she refused. Told my friends I couldn't take the stench and barged my way back to the pretty girl. She said "your dance style is unusual".
So yeah. Slept well on the futon that night.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
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2 comments:
It must be really difficult to be you. What with so many wimmen vying for your attention?!
All I need is the love of a million different people ;)
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