I don’t understand politics. That technically denies me my mallu citizenship to a large extent. When I was studying law, I was selected as the class representative for SFI, the student wing of the Communist party. To this day I have no idea what that was all about.
Two years in Kerala made me certain that I was a total misfit there. I had no interest in where my fellow passenger in the train was going to, I had no inclination to ‘hang out’ with my male college mates on the parapet passing comments on my female college mates, I found politics boring and pointless. Moreover I had a bunch of Peroorkada Rowdy Chettans waiting to bash me in the bus stop because I was....well, me.
No other reason.
I wore black. I was liked by the girls in my class because I could hold a normal conversation with them and I had no idea what the full form of ABVP (Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad, in case you really wanted to know!) was. It sounded like a disease. And of course a life time of convent boarding school experience ensured that I could actually speak English, which made me, something called Ash Posh - which in mallu, means a snob. I have to agree, I was. I mean, come on. I just didn’t find it interesting. Sue me.
A mallu’s answer to someone like me will be to beat me up. Yep. We are very progressive when it comes to dealing with the strange.
Colour your hair, wear something other than what conforms, do anything to stand out - you will be beaten up. Have fun, it will beaten out of you.
I have this cousin who came to visit. She is a teacher in Kerala and was filling us in on how nowadays, youngsters are wearing their pants low in imitation of their western counterparts. Then with so much glee she regaled us with how the cops there beat these kids if they are found wearing such attire.
I don’t get it. Of course I too do not understand the comfort behind a pant that is purposely threatening to fall off any time but that doesn’t mean I get to assault them because I don’t get it. My cousin and I got into an argument about this. I asked her what her problem is considering its is not her ample derriere on display . She gave some spiel about the eroding of our Indian culture which strangely seems to depend on our arse. I told her to f**k off because going by her logic, women being beaten for wearing jeans and having a drink is okay too.
This is a teacher! I shudder to think of the future generation this women is influencing.
Now me, I seem to encourage the spirit of thrashing in my fellow mallus.
Prior to studying law, I had wanted to be a doctor. So like all good mallu wanna be doctors, I too enrolled myself into a parallel medical entrance examination training center in Trivandrum. I was able to complete two days there. The third day saw a multitude of Chankachoola ruffians outside my tutorial waiting to beat me up.
Was it my long dyed hair? Or was it my black clothes? Was it because of my stunning good looks? Possibly. I seem to attract hostility.
Ever been in a mallu fight? There are mating dances and we have the pre fight rituals.
I have a theory on this. If you are going to really get into a fight, there will not be any conversation. You will either get attacked or you attack. Period.
But if there is conversation, which involves a lot of shouting, shoving, onlookers around pulling your attacker back very half heartedly, then chances are good that you will walk away from this unscathed.
But watch out when a mallu takes off his watch and folds his mundu.
That’s as good as seeing an elephant with his tail held high and his ears fanned out. He is going to charge. Never wait for a mallu to take off his watch. Kill him before he does that. You either run or you just attack. Punch his throat, knee his groin and for good measure kick down hard on the ankles so that he stays down. Then you run and make sure that you don’t ever come back to that area again until a reasonable amount of time has passed. Approximately 100 years would do it.
Mallus can carry a grudge.
I know of one guy who beat his best friend with a stick after they had gone to the temple pool for a night swim. Before leaving the beaten and visibly stunned friend the guy told him that it was the payback for a fight which had happened when they were kids. That’s not normal behavior. That’s pure psycho. But don’t take any chances.
At last the news of the whole mallu world looking for me reached my uncle who then unleashed his CITU party workers from the railways porters to protect me.
The next time I attended a tutorial, I had a truck load of hefty guys all dressed in red shirts and mundu outside waiting for me. I just asked the auto guy to turn the auto around and went home. Thus the world was deprived of a surgeon.
I like Kerala, I really do.
Just don’t hit me because I find some of the species that occupy the land truly jobless.
Photo credit: www.shellyjose.blogspot.co.uk