Ancestry Blues!

I’m not quite sure how I feel about my mixed Aryan and Dravidian origin. Sometimes, I feel it’s pretty cool to be a hybrid: hybrid seeds are better, hybrid cars are more efficient and so it goes without saying that a hybrid human is “awesome”! But then I begin to have mixed feelings just like my mixed ancestry.

The name’s Iyer. Anirudh Iyer. According to Indian ethnic classification, that puts me among those coming from the state of Tamil Nadu: yes the state with the shape of a man’s face, spitting on Sri Lanka. I belong to the people who take McDonald’s ‘finger licking good’ campaign to a whole new level; for them, their food is ‘fist and hand licking good’. The protagonists in their films look like goons in a Mithun Chakraborty movie.  But I barely resemble one of these goons. In fact, I look just fine! Thanks to my Gujju mother who comes to the rescue. Anyway, it's kinda hard being in this position, and its difficult to relate to a particular culture. On the brighter side, I have a choice many other people don't have and I have exercised it alright. I don't identify myself with any of the communities I belong to; sure I could pass off as a Gujju but I prefer my choice. Being born and raised in the city of Mumbai, I identify myself as a Mumbaikar and with the free mingling of communities that is on the rise these days, more people like me are going to be produced! :P I sure won't be lonely. 

But weirdly, I have been identified as a member of several communities: Gujarati for obvious reasons, but Punjabi, Marwadi once in a while. After these, I begin to go global. I once met this Hungarian girl who I stopped to ask directions. She helped me out and then asked me where I was from. "India", pat came the reply. "India?!? Really? I thought you were either Spanish of Mexican." Well, I sure was thrilled to hear that but the only reason I felt she guessed wrong was because I had long hair back then which was slicked back; as far as it would go. Anyway, this was just a one off incident. Most other  people in Canada call me Asian; more specifically, I'm a "regular Brown guy", as one drunk Halloween-er called me on a bus. But these past few months, I have been confused with an entirely different race of humans. These days, I am being called an Arab. Not just by the Arabs themselves, but my fellow Indians as well. Last month, I went to a Pakistani salon to get a hair cut. The bugger bored me to death with his endless barrage of questions about what I did for a living in Bahrain, which I was patient enough to answer. Anyway, while I was leaving, an Arab, in full "al habibi" attire, walked in and looked at me and started jabbering away in rapid Arabic. I didn't know what to say. Finally, the Paki intervenes and informs the Arab that I was in fact an Indian. With a crestfallen face, the Arab begins in broken English and bits of Hindi as well, " Tum India se? I thought you Arabic, you look like us." I mumbled something to him and walked out of the shop. But then, a few weeks back, an Indian walks into my office. He engages a colleague of mine in conversation, while I go grab something from the workshop. As soon as I return, I hear the conversation has turned to something about an Arab. I was further surprised when I realized that the Arab was apparently me. And this crazy old fool was an Indian; A MUMBAIKAR. I can smell a Mumbaikar when I see one! I corrected him that I was a fellow Indian and Mumbaikar but he was profusely apologetic about calling me an Arab. He said, your hair, your skin color and your stubble remind me of an Arab. And I've been called an Arab a coupla other times as well. It’s official now. I can pass off as an Arab with ease. CIA officials, if you're looking for a mole to infiltrate deep into Al Qaeda or someting, I'm your man, unless of course, the terrorists check me downtown, if you know what I mean. :P

Anyway, I must remind myself to look as Indian as possible, by shaving and wearing an "I love India t shirt", lest on the flight back to Canada, officials at the airport detain me. Incidentally, the day I'm going back to Canada is 9/11 and it's the 10th anniversary of the attacks and I hope some of the dumb westerners don't scream, "OH MY GOD, NO!" on the flight while I try to remove my wallet or something.