Wrote this for my friend Muzayun a long time back as a guest author on her blog. Recently she decided to clean up her blog to make it more acceptable, and this was first amongst the many things that got dumped. I spent quite sometime writing this, so am publishing it again nevertheless.
"I am an Italian by soul". And I am not the only one who strongly believes in that. Silvi and Helena have reaffirmed my belief by subscribing to this fact, without any provocation. And Sid is a witness to it, check with him if anyone has any doubts. Now there are different theories about what part of Italy do I belong to. My favorite crush Michelangelo (Torino) believes I am from Napoli, and his wonderful curls convince me of that. However, others feel that I am more Milano. Sid is different, he thinks I am from a region called cold Bihar. I hate that.
Personally I also believe that I am Iranian, my family and close relatives tell me so. The fact that I look like one also convinces me of that.
The ghodawala also feels that I am not Indian. When I travel with Sid, people ask him for driving license as proof and me for my passport. But I like it. Though we make for an odd combination, a phoren mem back-packing with a desi bihari. My disastrous luck! Where are you Michelangelo?
When I visit Diu, people look at me and stare. The fools haven't seen many with Multinational personalities like mine. I bask in the glory of my Internationalhood!
But my passport is Indian. So I am making distinct efforts to learn the local lingo, starting with the desi gaalis. Though they sounded disgusting in the past, am getting used to them now. Local and low-level friends like Sid come handy!
My sisters are Indian and pro-India. This statement becomes highly relevant when it comes to my home, which is badly hit by violence and destruction, apart from the fast spreading anti-state sentiment.
My daughter, Snehal, is also very Indian. And her last name is Joshi. We all call it coincidence, rather a nice coincidence. She sings beautifully, and I like whatever she sings. Her songs are distinctly Indian. Now I am thoroughly confused!
Many of my REC friends are based in Europe, but they also hold Indian passport. God I am so so confused now!!! Oh, but Filipe, Helena, Silvi, Jan and many many more are not Indian. Thank god my International credentials are still intact.
And every time I try speaking in the local language (including Kashmiri), people look at me with open mouth and appreciate the efforts I have taken to learn an Indian language, after all not all phoren mems take the effort to mix so nicely with the locals. When I tell them that I was born here, and learned the language in school they are less than impressed.
I ignore all of this. I know who I am -
"I am Firangi, but an Indian at heart. I am an Indian, but an Italian at heart. I am International, totally phoren at heart!"
"I am an Italian by soul". And I am not the only one who strongly believes in that. Silvi and Helena have reaffirmed my belief by subscribing to this fact, without any provocation. And Sid is a witness to it, check with him if anyone has any doubts. Now there are different theories about what part of Italy do I belong to. My favorite crush Michelangelo (Torino) believes I am from Napoli, and his wonderful curls convince me of that. However, others feel that I am more Milano. Sid is different, he thinks I am from a region called cold Bihar. I hate that.
Personally I also believe that I am Iranian, my family and close relatives tell me so. The fact that I look like one also convinces me of that.
The ghodawala also feels that I am not Indian. When I travel with Sid, people ask him for driving license as proof and me for my passport. But I like it. Though we make for an odd combination, a phoren mem back-packing with a desi bihari. My disastrous luck! Where are you Michelangelo?
When I visit Diu, people look at me and stare. The fools haven't seen many with Multinational personalities like mine. I bask in the glory of my Internationalhood!
But my passport is Indian. So I am making distinct efforts to learn the local lingo, starting with the desi gaalis. Though they sounded disgusting in the past, am getting used to them now. Local and low-level friends like Sid come handy!
My sisters are Indian and pro-India. This statement becomes highly relevant when it comes to my home, which is badly hit by violence and destruction, apart from the fast spreading anti-state sentiment.
My daughter, Snehal, is also very Indian. And her last name is Joshi. We all call it coincidence, rather a nice coincidence. She sings beautifully, and I like whatever she sings. Her songs are distinctly Indian. Now I am thoroughly confused!
Many of my REC friends are based in Europe, but they also hold Indian passport. God I am so so confused now!!! Oh, but Filipe, Helena, Silvi, Jan and many many more are not Indian. Thank god my International credentials are still intact.
And every time I try speaking in the local language (including Kashmiri), people look at me with open mouth and appreciate the efforts I have taken to learn an Indian language, after all not all phoren mems take the effort to mix so nicely with the locals. When I tell them that I was born here, and learned the language in school they are less than impressed.
I ignore all of this. I know who I am -
"I am Firangi, but an Indian at heart. I am an Indian, but an Italian at heart. I am International, totally phoren at heart!"
