"Hello, sir," the boy with the thirty-two-watt teeth in his mouth said. He shook hands with my Canadian friend and walked off. That was the first time in our lives my friend or I had come across this boy.
That, and a bunch of boys shouting 'hey, bro' at my friend from their school's (toilet?) window made me realise that foreigners were as much of a rarity in Dombivli (for I shall refrain from generalising it to all of Maharashtra or India) as any sense of privacy or basic etiquette while dealing with people who are not 'us'.
The distinctions begin at the root. To me, my friend is a friend and a human being. And my suspicions are that, to most Dombivlikars, my friend is a phorenar just another face that stands for 'America' or 'England'. As my friend later pointed out to me, he was the centre of attraction because he was Caucasian; had it been a dark-complexioned person, regardless of their nationality, they would have become African to most people around. Likewise, every Asian person would've been Chinese or Nepalese.
The causes begin at the base of perception. Indian blockbuster-commercial-senseless-stupid movies have mostly portrayed Indians as a cut above the rest. If there is an Indian and a phorenar, and they are up against each other for something, the Indian has to be morally deserving of the prize after all, by virtue of being Indian, he/she doesn't smoke, isn't a prostitute, doesn't sleep around town, and doesn't use four-lettered-words. And the phorenar does it all. Even one is enough for him/her to lose out. In Aa, ab laut chalein, everyone but the Indians was shown to be a stereotypical crack-house-like character. Well, the Indians in the movie could obviously use Indian swear-words (for they're not four-lettered usually) and spit and urinate in public. Shit. Pardon my French.
Finally, when we were seated on a bench in the compound of the building he was staying in, a man came up to my friend. I expected him to be an acquaintance of my friend. I wasn't very surprised, though, when all the man said was, "Namaste! Who house you come in?"
And at times, things cause you embarrassment. I wait for change. I hope it'll come. But not until the media and education portray foreigners more responsibly and realistically.
That, and a bunch of boys shouting 'hey, bro' at my friend from their school's (toilet?) window made me realise that foreigners were as much of a rarity in Dombivli (for I shall refrain from generalising it to all of Maharashtra or India) as any sense of privacy or basic etiquette while dealing with people who are not 'us'.
The distinctions begin at the root. To me, my friend is a friend and a human being. And my suspicions are that, to most Dombivlikars, my friend is a phorenar
The causes begin at the base of perception. Indian blockbuster-commercial-
Finally, when we were seated on a bench in the compound of the building he was staying in, a man came up to my friend. I expected him to be an acquaintance of my friend. I wasn't very surprised, though, when all the man said was, "Namaste! Who house you come in?"
And at times, things cause you embarrassment. I wait for change. I hope it'll come. But not until the media and education portray foreigners more responsibly and realistically.
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