Are you a closet NRI?

Remember those NRI relatives who would only drink Bisleri water, incessantly complained about the unclean streets and took vaccinations before they travelled to their homeland?

Now it’s quite the opposite. Most of our generation is more grounded, takes more pride in our origins and actively tries to preserve our roots. We were cool even before we set foot on a foreign land, and we took to our new world like dolphins to the sea. We don’t need to flash our international baggage tags and complain about jet lag for two weeks to feel cool. Instead, as soon as we dump our bags we head to our favorite roadside vendor and have that vada pao (vada sambhar in my case) like it should be had. Our accent disappears on its own on the flight into India and returns on the flight out. We make mental notes to change the units in our head (km, not miles. Kilos, not pounds) just so we don’t accidentally come across as being a showoff.  We do everything to ensure that living in India for only a few weeks of the year hasn’t changed us a bit. We are the generation of closet NRI’s.

But after 8 years of living abroad, I’m dismayed to realize that NRI is not just an attitude problem. It is as real as your fear of ghosts. Never mind if ghosts are real, but the fear is.

Here are a few signs that you may just be a closet NRI, and tips to stay safely in that closet.

  • Ettu, Tummy? After landing in Bangalore, I eagerly run to the nearest Adiga’s and order my usual Mysore Masala Dosa, Vada Sambhar and filter coffee to satisfy my South-Indian cravings. But I sniffle through the dosa and weep my way through the vada because they’re too spicy, painfully aware that they’ll make me cry on their way out too. Ouch.

A delicate stomach is the biggest symptom of NRI-hhea. Your tummy and palate have gotten used to the blander food you eat every day. And the germophobic society you live in doesn’t help your immune system either. I order a lassi or a sweet along with my food so I can eat in a more dignified manner. Yoghurt is also great for the digestive system. And when I return, I add an extra half teaspoon of chilli powder to my normal cooking, just to keep up with the spice levels of my vacation.

And the germs? You don’t have to apologize for your stomach having turned an NRI. Just don’t baby it and make it more complacent. If you have to, secretly take a course of mild antibiotics after you land so your body has a little help in adjusting to its new environment. And then get back to living it up, for the best chaats aren’t made in five-star hotels.

  • You’re dumb without your smartphone. You stand on a street full of restaurants, biting your nails and lost on which one to eat at. Your smartphone is probably not unlocked to be used with an Indian SIM, and you’re using your mom’s Nokia 1100. That means no Yelp or Open Table or Trip Advisor. Even if you do have a working smartphone, there aren’t enough Burrp reviews and the few that are there look fake. You’re incapable of making a decision and you freeze up.

As a safe option, I visit my old haunts unless I know better options. Nostalgia’s a good excuse for the unadventurous. Better still, I let my friends decide where to meet. And I always make sure mom’s kept some food in the fridge, just in case.

  • You get cheated because you’ve become naïve. That auto driver didn’t reset the meter when you started, and gave you lesser change. People cut in on you in lines all the time. The supermarket cashier billed you for the chewing gum but it never came home. You’re outraged that some random stranger wasn’t honest when you trusted him for no reason at all.

Remember your mom’s words when you were ten? Check the bill, check the items and count the change. Take nothing for granted. Naïve is another word for dumb, and you don’t want to be that. The next time someone cuts into my line, I’m speaking up, because trying to stare them down doesn’t work when I’m staring at their backs.

  • You’re always the first one to arrive. You remember how Indian Standard Time works, you even worked it yourself once. And you know that your friends aren’t really going to arrive at 8 PM. So you play video games, read the newspaper for the third time, take a little nap, take extra time getting dressed and still land up only 15 minutes past 8 PM and spend the next half hour alone and overdressed.

If you don’t want to be early, be late. Simple. I plan to reach late not for an 8 PM table, but for an 8:30 PM table. That way my fashionably late is fashionable. If you’re too late, you can always blame it on that old friend—jet lag.

  • You’re dehydrated because you don’t drink water. What else do you do when you’re travelling out of the city and don’t want to step into dark, smelly public restrooms?

But it’s unhealthy. Being a guy is only slightly better when you’re travelling.

So what do you do?

Yoga, baby! Remember chair pose? Oh yeah. Learn to squat in mid-air, and girls, learn to aim!

But seriously, I plan my day so I’m going to be at a restaurant which has relatively cleaner restrooms. I also drink lots of water an hour before my lunch break and before heading to bed to stay hydrated.

After you return, visit your local highway gas stations to see that West isn’t always the best. Ever hiked? If compostable ‘honey bucket’s don’t make you start squatting, nothing will.

Enjoy your vacation, my dear NRI’s. And stay in that closet.

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About chaitanya

Since the day I realized that making two words rhyme was the first step to poetry (a step I've now thankfully outgrown) I've been writing. I've just been too shy to blog. But What is the Question? is a baby step toward exploring my blogability. I aim to post twice a month and I'll try my very best to not bore you, because I hate boring blogs too! Keep checking back in!

Posted on February 25, 2013, in Sunny & Funny and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Loved the post! Entertaining and funny in equal measure

    Like

  2. hahaha, that was a fun read!! well, even though i live in a village, i can empathize with you.

    btw, i saw your ‘get published’ post on the list of short-listed entries. Congratulations!!!

    Like

    • Thanks Debajyoti. I refuse to let anything, even myself, get in the way of my vacations.
      Thanks, I’m excited about the get-published contest! As an aspiring writer/author learning the ropes of publishing, this should be an interesting experience.

      Like

  3. Haha! Hilarious!
    And a nice funny way to know NRI’s difficulties! 🙂

    Like

  4. Your article was like a deja vu for me. My Friend came from LA last summer & this is what he was complaining about. Good Touch of humor.

    Like

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