Thursday, November 18, 2004

The guest is god

"Athithi dhevo bhava". The guest is the god. The couple from the United States had agreed to consecrate our humble abode with their presence at breakfast. They duly arrived a couple of hours late. When they had so graciously granted the pleasure of their company, expecting punctuality too would be a tad greedy, we realised. Dhoddamma put on the fake smile. Dhoddappaji put on the shorts he bought in the US, firmly establishing his credentials as one of the caste; the lucky few to have stepped on the soil of the greatest nation on earth. Immediately, the conversation turned in the only direction that it could have turned. The clogged roads, the corrupt system, the pollution, the barbarian manners. In contrast the other side of the world offered bliss.

V was extremely bitter, he hadn't forgiven this nation, which gave him his name, Veer-bha-dra! And in his every word, no in his every gesture, he renewed his pledged allegiance to the soceity that had so easily given him peace of mind, a big house , a big car and a big paycheck. What other country in the world would offer a virtual nobody the opportunity to be the President of a chapter of the Veerashaiva association of Wisconsin. He was grateful for the land that brought him so far away from a third-world existence. He now knew no other way to clean a soiled ass but to wipe it with tissue paper.

S had made the metamorphosis that was expected from her. She wore jeans and trendy tops. She covered her face with a generous helping of something that looked like wax. What she lacked in articulation she made up in diction. The rolled 'r's , the light 'th's, the "oh man"s, the "basically"s. She was as American as 'duh'.

Atleast the parathas were tasty.
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