Dear Delhi dudes...

Namaskaram from the South of India, or as you may like tobelieve, the countries south of the Vindhyas. I came to your city 2 years agowith a brand new job and a bucketload of expectations. My friends and familyhere thought I was completely insane to choose Delhi over more female conducivecities like Bangalore or even Bombay. I am very sad to report that yourreputation of being an ignorant, chauvinistic oaf with the intelligence levelsof an autistic 3-year-old on crack precedes you and it hurts me even more toadmit to this rather accurate description.Your reputation hastravelled far and wide, to countries outside South India as well. And believe meman, it is not a pretty situation. I understand that your stone faded, rippedjeans, your V-neck cleavage showing t-shirts that reveal to the world that youhave infact inherited your mother’s voluptuous shaved Punjabi bosom, arewhat you think maketh a man, but it does not. Thanks to you, myliving in Delhi is as safe as Hugh Hefner's playmate of the year living inJeddah. You meet me at a friend’s birthday, talk to me about nightclubsand your new SUV and when I look like I’m in desperate need of a barf bag,you think I have an attitude problem. I understand this completely. But let meremind you that I am from SOUTH INDIA and not SOUTH DELHI, so no, I am notscrawny, I am not fair, I don’t have straight hair and my topics ofconversation go beyond Fendi. I am olive-skinned, have lower – back-lengthlustrous cascading tresses. I was born into a society where a woman can whoopyour Punjabi patoutie to pulp. While your mother pretends to be very progressivebut still cows down to the whims of her husband every single time, mine on theother hand was born into a matriarchal home where every single possession is inthe rightful name of the girl child. Could you ever, my hunky handsome, cashthrowing pig, imagine this kind of power in your society? And your English. GoodLord, what in the world is up with that? I don’t want you to‘explain me’ anything. And call them your parents, not your‘peerents’ or what your cooler, more happening brethren call them– ‘mere mom-dad’. Like what are they? Conjoined twins? Arethey joined at the hip? Your South India counterparts may not have your looks,but are way more mentally stimulating, a quality that eludes you obviously, buthas been the single most sexy factor for us Southie chicks since the age offive. If by a slight chance you fall in love with me and decide tomarry me, you will have to wear a mundu and you will have to lie prostrateshirtless at the Guruvayurappan temple. A small price to pay for all the genuineindependence I am giving up for you. And that’s the real thing, not whatyou see the Delhi girls at LSR and Stephen’s doing during their fake ashell protest marches ‘coz ultimately they’re going home to a familywho’re putting together money for Bobby beta’s bail coz he just ranover his girlfriend’s ex, by mistake, of course. I understand that I comefrom the land of ugly. I mean obviously Hema Malini, Sri Devi and Aishwarya Raiwith their natural banal looks don’t even hold a candle to Priyanka Chopraafter her two nose jobs and one lip reconstruction surgery. But when you do cometo ask for my hand, remember I am part Maharashtrian and part South Indian andNO, they are not the same thing. So please tell your family, not to drop racistbombs like “Arey woh sab toh ‘Sawth’ ke hi hote hai na?”And YOU – don’t walk up to mother in an attempt to make flatteringconversation and say shit like “Aunty you don’t look like a SouthIndian You are so fair” Just glean and flex your muscles a little and keepsmiling. You may not like our food, but then we don’t likeyou, which is worse. We may not be even that into food, but then that’s‘coz we have other things to do with our lives, like crack IIT or becomewriters, journalists, activists and do things that we are very passionate about.The South Indian woman has a voice and boy can she yell. So if you want toSambhar ‘Chawl’ your way into my life, then you got to toe the line.Be way more aware than what your are. Remember Delhi is not a country and we arenot Black. If I ever hear you utter that name of that colour. For someone who isso confident of his physical abilities you really suck at luring an intelligentwoman. Don’t send me text messages that say ‘happy gurupurab’, you freakshow and if you want to be cute with your ever socharming (not) Punjabi advances, then don’t send texts that say “Dillaye gayee kudi Madrraaas di”! NO. It’s just not cool man. I mayhave have missed on a lot in this letter, but that’s ok becauseyou’ll forget to read it and even if you do , you’ll get your cousinJassi from Defence Callonny to translate it. This letter can’t go onforever like the Punjabi male ego.Yours, Madrasan ...I’m part ‘Madrasan’ just like you (Tamilfor those who want to know)! I live in Delhi and am very aware of the foibles ofthe Dilliwalas. I love it nonetheless for embracing me and giving me a home.About five lines down your post, I felt a little ashamed of having ever thoughtthat I was ‘just like you’. For every Daalli boy living in DefenceCallony there is a Medraus boy getting up ‘yearly in the maarning’.Why do we, as a people, make fun of our regional accents and aspire to a more‘neutral’ (read as American/Brit) accent? Autistic three year old oncoke? Classy. Witty. And also so compassionate of you to make fun of a childwith a disability. If you’re playing for the South Indianteam, I think you just scored a self goal. I’ve never understood the issuewith muscular Punjabi men either – are you really saying we lovelydoe-eyed ladies prefer pot bellies and skinny legs peeping out from undermundus? What was that again about SUVs and big cars? If I had a buck for everySouth Indian man who talked about cars and gizmos, I’d be on a cruiseinstead of wasting my time writing this post right now. Who are you to define mySouth Indianness for me? I’m dark and I accept it – why do you needto sugarcoat it? Bug you much? You’re not scrawny? My sympathies – Icould offer you the number of a dietician. Genetically we’re built muchsmaller and more petite than Punjabans and Haryanvis (God bless their souls andthe ghee loaded parathas) who make an effort to stay fit. One tiny matriarchalcommunity does not a trend make. Have you missed the acid attacks?And the dowry we offer for our lovely daughters is mind-numbing. IfI’m paying 3 crores for an engineer I’d like him to lose the potbelly and the hair oil please! Amma-appa sound cooler than mom-dad to you? Howcould you be so petty as to pick up on something so ridiculous? You lost me atthe girls doing fake marches (check out what these LSR girls are doing, by theway)? What exactly is it that other college kids are doing that is so much moresignificant? As for them not liking our food, you’ll find dosas at everycorner stall in Delhi. If we pick on the lowest common denominatorto judge them by, they have every right to define us by the elbow lickers. Bythe end, I was embarrassed for you. I have no idea what brought it on, but agood bottle of wine and some girl friends and a box of tissues might have beenmore effective.