Open Letter to Closed Minds

Abey Oye!

We’re from Hyderabad, or the city that’s as old as the Vindhyas. We’ve gone to all cities looking for jobs, but we simply come back to Hyderbad. Or Secunderabad. Or if we can’t deal with the traffic at the twin cities, we move to Cyberabad. Our families think it’s insane for us to let go of the opportunity of working in Delhi, Bombay, or even single-male conducive cities like Bangalore, but still choose to live with them. But we cant help but continue living in Hyderabad and laugh at everything else. Let me explain.

We Hyderabadis speak any language with an accent borrowed from the Kakatiyas, the Bahmanis, the Shahis, the Mughals, the Nizams, the English, the Socialists, the Call-Centre trainers and everyone else who has cared to enjoy our hospitality. And with it, comes an attitude of “taking light” of any situation. Which is possibly why we are always able to see the lighter side of life. It’s true. We believe if you ever have a bone to pick with a Hyderabadi, it’s possibly from the massive plate of Chicken Biryani that you’ve shared with him.

Given our inherited sense of humour, we’re more than thrilled at laughing at a joke, even the poorest ones without discrimination. One fine day, we read this hilarious piece written by a Madrasan in Delhi. It’s got some really funny lines like this one –
“I am very sad to report that your reputation of being an ignorant, chauvinistic oaf with the intelligence levels of an autistic 3 year old on crack precedes you and it hurts me even more to admit to this rather accurate description.”

After reading this, we gleefully LIKEd it and SHAREd it with friends on Facebook. But on reading this piece from a half-Madrasan in Delhi, we realised it was not all hunky-dory. But I must say even this piece had its share of wit in response to what the Madrasan had to say. Here’s what the lady had to say –
“It seems nigh impossible to fall that low. For every Daalli boy living in Defence Callony there is a Medraus boy getting up ‘yearly in the maarning’. Why do we as a people deride our own regional accents while swooning over a French accent? Are you ashamed of your skin, accent or your food habits? You’re weighed down by your colonial hangover, lady.”

Just as we were going to share this piece, we received another link worth its laughs from an offended Delhi-ite who introduced himself by Maa-Behning all the clichés from the two aforementioned blogs –
“I’m a Delhi ‘Boy’. And I’m not a rapist. Or an oppressor of women. I can drive pretty well, and yes, I do appreciate my Rajma Chawal… preferably with sweetened curd. But I’m weird like that. Whenever I talk to someone south of the Vindhyas (This is a stretch… I don’t even know where the damn mountains are on a map), I’m expected to conform to stuff “we people do in the North”. From what I’m given to understand, there’s apparently a large conspiracy afoot to find people ugly, make fun of their cultural/religious leanings and drive my SUV over people on pavements.
And you know, I resent this. Most of all because I can’t afford an SUV right now.”

We thought we were done with this Capital Punishment, but just then came yet another ‘Banda’ with capital ideas. Here’s what he says –
“What is wrong in driving SUV? U know, there is four month waiting for Fortuner. It is great car – even better than my old Civic. Its not for what you think yaar, not for pataoing girls n all, im a car freak. I have need for speed. And what abt this you say Punjab male ego? No man.. we are very chilled people yaar. My cousin brother wife wears bikini n all when she go abroad. My dadaji dadiji are cool with it. We respect women too much. For Rakhi, I gave my sis 25 grand – money is for spending only, yaar.”

Just as we were thinking about the four really funny blogs, we came across this intelligent Ctrl C + Ctrl V rendition –
“I am very sad to report that your reputation of being an ignorant,chauvinistic accent-confused oaf with the intelligence levels of an autistic 3 year old on crack leer of a movie villain to anyone with slightly fair skin precedes you and it hurts me even more to admit to this rather accurate description.”

So Dear Madrasan in Delhi, Quarter-Madrasan, Delhi Boy, Drunk-on-a-quarter-of-scotch-and-SUV-driving-Punjabi-Frnd-frm-Gudgaon, and everyone else from in and around the Vindhyas, we can’t help but pray that there are more such posts. We’ll be more than happy to laugh at anyone’s expense, even our own. And of course, we’ll gladly share all your jokes yaar. We’ll also LIKE and SHARE on Facebook. And we’ll also copy the link on to an email and forward it to mom-dad yaar. Even your poorest jokes of India, my Ctrl C + Ctrl V friend from Bangalore. Looking forward to more such posts.

South Indian boy from Hyderabad.