Confessions of an NRI's dreary mind

 
The second part of the story, is something I dont do and I hope I never do !

Found this article on Hindustan Times.

Confessions of an NRI's dreary mind

BOSTON DIARY | Sunil Lala

May 9, 2005


A hello from Boston to all my Indian readers! The New England winter is now over, and the snow has melted off our driveways.

Those romantic nights spent sitting in front of the crackling fireplace, sipping Courvoisier, while listening to Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, are behind us. The skis and ice skates are back in the basement.

Those ever stubborn thin green blades of grass are beginning to grow again. The perennials planted in the yard last year are blooming once more. Warm and sunny days are here, and so are a thousand fun-filled activities.

Baseball on weekends, roller-blading on the BU campus, leisurely walks on Newbury Street, moonlit cruises on the Charles, dinners at the Top of the Hub, maybe a trip to Paris.

Ah! The life of a Non Resident Indian! Always new things to do, exotic places to visit, exciting parties to attend. Always fascinating, always adventurous, always glamorous. Right?

Wrong!

It's time for a confession, dear readers. But please - this is strictly between you and me. Don't let those other NRIs get a whiff of this. They might feel hurt, even betrayed. Brace yourself for the truth.

Truth that no other bottled water sipping, Ralph Lauren wearing, "oh I can never drive in India" NRI has ever dared to divulge. Come closer now, I must whisper this in your ear - it is a closely guarded secret after all.

Our life is actually - yes, you heard it right - pretty boring, monotonous and uneventful! Shocking, eh?

Here's an insider glimpse into what we NRIs do in our spare time. Our weekends are largely spent on one of the following activities:

1.The NRI weekend get-together - This is our default weekend activity. Various NRIs, mostly IT professionals with a smattering of doctors and MBAs, gather at a restaurant, or at someone's house.

These events typically begin about ninety minutes later than their scheduled time. As people arrive, jokes are cracked about their sense of schedule, or the lack thereof. These are the exact same jokes that were cracked the previous weekend and the weekend before that.

Everyone laughs. Men and women split into separate groups. Bottles of wine are popped open - red for the men and mostly white for the women. Discussions are usually centered on a few major issues - how India has completely changed in the past ten years, how Bollywood movies are so different, how cheap it is to call India now, and why we all should move back to our homeland soon.

2.The NRI "Surprise" Birthday parties - These are occasions when someone, in most cases a woman (the chief conspirator), throws a surprise birthday party for her unsuspecting spouse (the victim).

The activity begins with the chief conspirator sending out emails to her friends (co-conspirators) informing them of the upcoming event. The victim is excluded from these emails, to maintain an element of surprise. A plot is hatched.

Plans are made to lure the victim away from home at a predetermined time, using a lame excuse. Hushed phone calls between conspirators generate tremendous excitement.

The day of reckoning arrives. The conspirators turn up, one at a time, and park at secret, pre-designated spots. They enter the victim's house and wait patiently. They keep a close eye on the driveway, through the family room window.

As soon as the victim's car pulls up, a stern "silence" warning is issued. Everyone complies. Except for that one odd guy, who despite ten years of attending surprise parties still hasn't quite grasped the concept. A child begins to cry.

The hapless victim enters the house, thoroughly bored. People wait with baited breath. As soon he walks past the corridor and into the kitchen, everyone pounces.

"SURPRISE!!" they all yell in unison. The victim acts shocked and the conspirators break out into rounds of self-congratulatory back-slapping.

They recount exhilarating tales of how the event was planned. The chief conspirator talks about the difficulties encountered in convincing the victim to leave the house. Everyone asks the victim if he was aware of the plot. Unwilling to extend this torture anymore, he quietly shakes his head.

The women squeal in sheer delight. Bottles of wine are opened, red for the men and white for the women. Discussions begin. On how India has changed, on Bollywood movies, on international dialing rates, and on how great it would be to move back to India.

3.The NRI getaways - At one of these above mentioned parties, someone mentions the need to break away from it all, to do something different, to be adventurous. A getaway! Everyone nods in agreement. Vigorously.

In the coming weeks, schedules are reviewed. Suggestions are made. The absolute essentials for such a getaway are listed. They are identical to the last getaway of course. A table tennis or a pool table, a fireplace, preferably a hot tub. Oh, and definitely not more than two hours' drive from home. There are limits to adventurism after all.

The internet is googled. Phone calls are made. A decision is arrived at. Everyone concurs. Everyone except that one hard to please couple.

So, the search starts afresh. After a few attempts, a consensus is reached. On the designated long weekend, everyone arrives at this paradise on earth, a 90 minute drive from home. The men hit the beers and the pool table. The women hit the wines, white of course. The kids hit whatever they see in front of them.

The hot tub goes unused because the women are reluctant to wear swimsuits in front of other desis, no matter how friendly. So, a few rounds of Antakshri are played instead. Discussions begin. On how India has changed, on Bollywood movies and?.well, you get the idea.

So the next time an NRI gives you any grief about the exotic, alluring, bacteria free life in the US or England or Canada or Australia, just remember this NRI's confession, and smile. Oh, and pass those unhygienic jalebis and paan please - they are to die for!

Ketan V. Patel

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