MONOSACCHARIDE: The simple sugar.

The last thing I need is for you to impose on me your theories as to why I am shrewd and not conforming to what you feel is healthy. So fine, think what you may, that it was out of repulse of one side’s hurtful flaws and a couple of bad experiences that must have wounded me pretty deep, whatever, or that I watch too much TV, whatever, seriously man, whatever. Just keep it to yourself. Do not keep reminding me. Stop trying to figure me out. I haven’t done it myself so I don’t see why you should. If you really must, do not do it at my expense. I am happy where I am. I am happy ignorant and confused and stagnant. All I know is that I am here because I chose to be here. Not because I was trapped in a corner and suffocating and desperate to be saved like you think.

Maybe I am in denial. I don’t know. Maybe, who cares, I certainly do not. It does me good that I do not think about it and that I deny according to my fancy. I do not think about it because I do not want to have this figured out just as of yet, meaning I do not wish to listen to your overwhelming opinions as you attempt to explain my life and my choices. I am young, I am reckless, I am careless, and I love it like that because it is undeniably easier that way. I am very comfortable with not having to wage war with the demons in my head just as so I can once again own a sad piece of terrain on your land. I am very comfortable with letting myself fall onto whichever side of the fence. Do not make it seem like the grass patch on your field is greener in comparison because I highly doubt you’ve climbed this opaque wall to see that other patch of grass and walk on it and lay on it and smell the dew on it the next morning like I have.

You cannot see through walls like Superman, can you? And hearsay does not count either because it does not do anyone, or anything, justice.

You choose to love what I love too, can you not understand that I love them for the same reasons too? Is it the male ego that hinders your acceptance that a seemingly inferior class is preferred over yours when by right, society gives you and your kind the throne?

Do you know that this experience has taught me more about myself than a whole army of men ever could? Have you thought about the fact that maybe I am truly in love with this new world, and not because I was left with no choice of alternative routes to salvation? Don’t you think it is possible that I have fallen in love through the course of my journey and not because I made up my mind to do just that before I began?

It is possible, is it not?

All that I ask from you is that you give me the benefit of the doubt. I am not sure myself, I am anything but clear-headed. But having negative mentalities like yours and churning such pessimistic ideas will not help either. Let the answers come to me naturally, let me explore and learn, truth will surface in due time, and when that happens, we will discuss. I will talk.

For now let me be.

Don’t you realise that it is people like you who say the things you said the reason why I cannot be proud of this, and instead hide it like it was some kind of embarassing, sick flaw? So much for encouraging me to be open, really. You only make me feel faulty and inept.

Please do not impose typical Indian culture on me cause I just don’t get it. Indian by blood, but I’m really Frangipanian (sorry, Nat) by nature.

Let’s do a case study. Closest girlfriends like Mya and Bella have dated Indians too, but those weren’t typical Indians. They don’t look typical and they definitely do not think typically either. A couple were mixed-blooded, most have never dated typical Indian girls, some have lived overseas all their lives, all were either well educated, well disciplined or held down decent jobs, and most importantly, none were alcoholic.

A fair warning to aspiring middle-class Indian lovers, take it from the one who’s been there and done that more than once, and watched it going on around her, more than twice- Don’t go there.

Be prepared for their uniQQQQue sense of drama, and out of this world brand (it’s almost like India is on an entirely different galaxy) of bullshit. Whether or not the Indian has nigger proned ambitions and his ex-girlfriend was quote unquote, some shit mix Indian but she’s Christian. And see, this thing about Indians is that, despite the over-crowding that is going on back home in the land of celestial cows, they still believe that the Indian community is small, tight and well-connected.

Meaning, one Indian’s relationship, is every Indian’s business. Pray the dramatics are extensive enough to allow some 5 billion black noses to be stuck in. Make sure every nook and cranny are filled up to allow every moustached mouth under those noses a topic to talk about.

If you’ve heard about Indians being likened to double-headed snakes, I’m telling you, it’s true. Not all, but most.

See the problem is not necessarily the Indian you date, cause we all know that all our boyfriends and girlfriends are essentially the most wonderful people in the world, regardless of how hairy their chests are or how much darker the room seems to be at night behind closed doors.

Most of the problem lies in the Indian community as a whole. They feel an ingrained sense of duty to make matters worse by exaggerating a possibly small issue. And until the boyfriend is put in a spot where every inch of his being is being scrutinized and dirtied, until the relationship is put at the edge of a break-up, their solemn duties as friends have not been properly fulfilled.

They must talk, even if they weren’t at the scene of the crime. The Indian boys must act like they’re brothers, and that it is of utmost honour that they say things about the girl (even if the girl is their friend) to add fire and to break the couple up. The Indian girls must act like they mother the god-forsaken boyfriend and carry out maternal duties of assuming that the boy is too stupid to think for himself. And like all mothers, they must ask stupid OBVIOUS questions pertaining to his ‘pride’ like, “aren’t you ashamed for having been cheated on?” just to you know, rub salt in the wound.

Of course the boy is in some kind of dilemma. He cannot explain to his stand-in mother that she doesn’t understand what is going on but that he does, and he knows that everything is alright. He cannot explain that she was absent from the scene and hence, she doesn’t know enough to have the right to talk so much, that she has no idea what the nature of the relationship is like and so she won’t know how the rules run, he cannot explain that he loves her and that the relationship is strong even though it doesn’t seem like it sometimes. He cannot possibly explain all that- cause they’re Indians and they are so absorbed in their land of curry and coconut that they won’t get it. Ever.

Of course the boy can’t possibly be expected to back her up like how she did for him at least twice before, of course. Because his friends are Indians, and everything else is false and unfinal except for the words that sprout from the mouth of Gandhi and all things of the same shade.

I should know; My father’s Indian.

P/S: For those who are new to my writing, and are not yet informed of my blogging habits, please know that any threats/harsh requests/anything along those lines to delete my entries are duly ignored. I am expecting some form of blow-up somewhere to come out because of the things I have said here, but threatening to take back what I say won’t solve anything. So please, spread all you want, but comment selectively.