..a good question – where am I? I’ve not been blogging for a while; this is because I have a fever. This fever has a new name and is called ‘Simren-fever’ and for the first time in years I’m actually enjoying the symptoms of this Simren-fever.
I won’t be away for much longer, as we have had plenty of drama and allot has happened between me and her, and I need to tell you.
So, let me enjoy my Simren-fever symptoms for now and I’ll be back shortly.
If you are up-to-date with the story of Simren and Me, then carry on reading. If you’re not then I strongly suggest first reading my last post– otherwise you will baffled as to what is going on.
Following on from my last encounter with Simren, exactly 10 days ago, my mind has been racing with 101 questions, mainly about how she views me and my reputation, what she knows about me, how she managed to gather so much information about me and why?
That evening, where earlier I was tormented by what Simren had to say, I took a walk out in the pouring rain. I needed the walk and that 1 hour and 20 minutes of time to myself, despite the ugly but refreshing rain, allowed me to regain my focus in ‘what I wanted to do next and how to achieve it’.
During my walk, I was totally drenched and I continued to receive text messages from Simren. Her main concern was that she upset me, which was visible on my face during the get together, and to see if I was alright.
I needed to see her again, it was important. Other than to make peace with her I had to get her to see the reality of my life, and more importantly to ‘try’ correcting her perception and image of me. After consulting with a few friends close and afar, it was highly recommended and strongly suggested that I make the move and invite her to meet me, even if it was just for coffee. Deep inside me my fear was that she was scared of me, of my reputation. I felt she wanted to keep her distance from me and didn’t want to be seen in public with me.
The following day on Sunday, exactly 9 days ago, I decided to text her and the following is our text conversation:
Me: “Hi, despite what has happened, I think I need to meet you again. It’s important – can I call you?”
Simren: “Please don’t, I don’t want 2 b associated with u. Please don’t complicate my life”.
Her text summed up her nervousness and fear of me. So I decided to call her up anyway and considering thinking she won’t attend my call, she actually did. The first words out of her mouth after I said hello was “I think I really need to break your legs now”, at which point, the tension and fear I had around how the call will go eased.
It remains a mystery to me as to why she seems like a different-difficult-stubborn person over text messages and yet on the phone, she is entirely approachable. Anyway, I offered to take her out for a drink and despite all my attempts, and all the banter I used, she still refused. Just then, as I was losing hope, I could hear Aunty Jee in the back, not letting this opportunity go to waste I asked Simren to pass the phone to Aunty Jee. Despite Simren’s refusal to do so, the phone somehow ended up with Aunty Jee, and the conversation flowed along the lines of:
Aunty Jee: “Hallo”
Me: “Oh Hi Aunty, It’s me”
Aunty Jee: “Haiy mera putar, all OK son?”
Me: “Yes Aunty, how are you?”
Aunty Jee: “Jee Putar, I’m good. See son, Simren now answer your phone, I told her, she no mess you around now”
Me: “Aunty, that’s all good, thank you. Just one more thing Aunty Jee – I wanted to meet Simren and you for tea, in Leeds, in coming days. It will be good”
Aunty Jee: “acha, but son, Simren go to University and come back late. Esah karo ke tum Simren ko lay jao Unibersity (University) ke baad (it’s best if you take Simren, after University), I think it will be best”
Pause conversation – There is a saying common in South Asia, if you can’t take the butter out with a straight finger, bend you finger to have a better chance. My straight way of getting Simen to join me for a drink wasn’t working, so I resulted in using an indirect way via her mum. This is the moment, when you turn to a mirror on the wall, while on the call, and give yourself a smile. Continue conversation.
Me: “Aunty you sure, it will be good to see you too”
Aunty Jee “Yes, bery (very) sure, plus you joung (young) generation need to spend real time together, not only on basebook (facebook).
Me: “Aunty Jee, that’s great advice – well now I just need to convince Simren. Let’s hope she can make it”
Aunty Jee: “make it, son, she will have no choice, thair (wait)”
At this point, I assume Aunty Jee turned towards Simren and said:
Aunty Jee: “Hay, Simren, you go and have tea with boy, eva na puttar ke tang kar (don’t tease my son)”
I could hear Simren mumble something back – but wasn’t clear.
Aunty Jee, wished me good bye, asked how my family was and passed the phone back to Simren. When Simren had the phone, there was a bit of a pause and I could hear Simren run up some steps and then a few doors opened and shut, then:
Simren: “Is this how it’s going to be – involve my mum in stuff that doesn’t go your way?”
Me: “(I laughed a little and said ) OK, Give the phone back to Aunty Jee – she will sort you out”
Simren burst out in laughter, which added some hope to the entire conversation. We continued chatting for a little while longer. When I asked Simren (yet again) so can I take you out for a drink? She replied she need time to think about it, as going out for a drink with me wasn’t as straight forward, with anyone else it wouldn’t be a problem but with me – she needed some time to think.So I took the opportunity to give her some time. I explained that I’d wait and she could take as long as she likes (just days not weeks).
A few hours later I got another text from Simren, which read “I don’t think it’s a good idea, ur complicated n please don’t complicate my life”. A little disappointed, I gave my reply a little thought. What does she mean by “complicate my life”? Am I missing something here? My mind yet again raced with 101 questions: Is she already with someone? Considering how beautiful she is – why wouldn’t she be? Is she scared to tell me, in case I pay her boyfriend a visit (which I wouldn’t do for the record)? Or would I be the complication in her life?
I replied with the following text “Simren, one drink, even if it’s for 10 minutes, plus you tea wasn’t that good, want to treat you to a real cup of fine Yorkshire tea”.
Almost seconds after sending my text to Simren, she replied “Really, was it that bad I will make a disappointing wife”. This text was a key turning point in her mentality, although it may contain simple words but it did have a deep insight to her psychology.
After a few more text exchanges, she finally agreed. Which was a massive relief and I felt as if this battle I won. The one thing I had to concede to was that the day, time and place will be of Simren’s choice. If this wasn’t bad enough, she attached the following conditions:
1. I was to pick her up at Leeds Train station, when she returns from Uni.
2. I don’t pick her up in any one of my cars – a taxi will do.
3. No gangster suit – just casual.
My acceptance of her conditions above was conditional – that instead of a drink, it had to be a meal at a restaurant of her choosing and that she couldn’t say no. After a very long pause, which spanned for about 35 minutes, she agreed. I now had to wait for her to decide on what day and time I was to pick her up.
While I waited, somewhat anxiously – something was bothering me. No girl till this day has ever put up such a fight, and with Simren it was just for a drink (well, now a meal instead) and her determination not to meet me, bugged me. Was it really me and my reputation that embarrassed her and was scaring her? Or was she seeing someone and didn’t want me to know?The later was important and I needed to know – somehow without getting this information from Simren.
In the next 24 hours that followed, I called up an associate who owes me favours, my objective was to know whether Simren was single or not, or was it more complicated than that? So, without wasting any more time, my associate sent out his scouts to her University in a fact finding mission.
I felt somewhat nervous and yet excited, my method of gathering information about Simren may be frowned upon, but let’s face it – it was important, especially if Simren was scared to tell me herself.
On Wednesday, last week, my contact asked to meet me – as such business shouldn’t be discussed over phone or any other medium. So I invited him to a local Italian coffee shop that same evening – where we could chat in private and amongst other business he could provide an update on what his scouts reported back to him with. When we met, he updated me with the following information – as best as I can remember:
1. Simren is single and isn’t seeing anyone other than a few lunatics who constantly chase her around and pester her.
2. In a large group of friends mainly consisting of women, she has no engagement with a particular guy.
3. It’s a pretty much a case of her commuting to University, getting her stuff done and then back home.
This was music to my ears, as I sat with my mates in the coffee shop watching the Apprentice – I ordered a round of pure orange juice , to which my friends raised a cautious eyebrow(s) and said “you don’t drink orange juice” and with a smile and a toast I replied “The sun will be out next week”. During this time I contemplated that it must be me and my reputation that really do scare Simren. I could be the complication in her life.
Over this weekend, Simren confirmed that she would be happy to meet this Wednesday and the fact that she will be leaving University early than normal meant she could spend a few more hours with me. Let’s just hope that the restaurant she chooses to eat at isn’t one that is owned by a friend or known associate, or one where the owner is petrified of me – otherwise I’ll be back to square one with Simren.
The sun is indeed out this week and I believe this round belongs to me.
I swear to tell the truth, nothing but the truth so help me God
If what you read shocks you to the bone – then appreciate my honesty in confession the truth to you – it wasn’t easy.
I will have many WTF (What The F@#K) moments in the post which resemble my shock and disbelief in what I was hearing.
This is a very long post, I think I might have said this before.
What is it about me that my name has been so proudly paraded in public amongst groups of British Asian females in Yorkshire? This may be my confession, or it may be a little insight into my private life-style, but it’s important for me to mention this now, before the rest of the post flows in.
I could never have imagined, that my past, which is and has always remained private and ‘top secret’, would catch up with me like this and haunt me. You see, for me I don’t believe in love, especially not after the one person who I loved more than my own life, was whisked away literally under the cover of night and forced to marry someone from her own cast thousands of miles away in Canada. My crime, I was of a different religion and culture to her, despite being a British Asian all the same. Three years of my life with her through school and then college came to an end, suddenly in one night, the night which took away the one person I only asked to love and be with. We didn’t even get the chance to say good bye. There is no such thing as love, if there was, I wouldn’t be the person I am now.
Since then I have submitted to this famous saying “Cultivating whatever gave pleasure to my senses was always the chief business of my life; I never found any occupation more important. Feeling that I was born for the sex opposite of mine, I have always loved it and done all that I could to make myself loved by it.”
What I have become since then: is a person who has a reputation for having many amorous adventures. I make no secret of it. I have always been insensitive to the feelings of the opposite sex and as a result got away with murder so to speak (repeatedly). I am a heart breaker with intention, and I make the effort in courting women whom I find attractive irrelevant of their status. I know my purpose with the intended target and I set the bait, and upon achieving my purpose I often passionately and swiftly move onto the next. I make the extra effort for not committing to one lady and majority of my acquaintances are fully aware of my life-style and happily subscribe and oblige to my thinking. In other words I enjoy my Playboy-Casanova life-style and I wouldn’t change it for the world – but then I met Simren, and for once I contemplated the idea of changing.
Simren and I met for the second time on Saturday – exactly a week ago, at her house. Accompanying me was my mum and you could say she was my backup – in case Simren did fulfil her promise in sending me away carrying my own legs. For those who know the story between me and Simren carry on reading, for those who don’t then it’s best to read my first post about it here.
As far as my mum was concerned, she was fulfilling a request made by another distant relative, now residing in Manchester, of distributing wedding invitations of their son for this summer. Since my family is well connected and have frequent communication with both family and friends, the Aunty in Manchester thought, our family would be best to distribute the 40 odd invitations to those intended and living in Leeds, Bradford and surrounding areas. So when, I heard the news early last week, I thought this was the perfect opportunity to achieve two things: (1) to take up the challenge Simren set for me (don’t know what this is, then click here), (2) get to know Simren a little better since her personality and appearance were deeply attractive and freakingly touched a part of me which only one other person has ‘ever’ managed to do.
So, doing what I do best, I made my moves and influenced my mum’s thinking, so mum could visit Simren’s house first before embarking on her challenge to deliver the 40 odd wedding initiation cards in record time – spanning over a week. Knowing Simren’s mum, and my experience at the wedding, she won’t allow this visit to be a quick fly by one, and if we did go there, it would be couple of hours of motherly catch-up thus leaving me and Simren to talk.
My mum spoke to Simren’s mum on Wednesday last week; during their long 55 minute conversation my mum explained that I would be accompanying her on Saturday. As I hovered around my mum trying to catch what the conversation is about, and whether Saturday was on or not, my mum continued to walk from living room into the kitchen, then from kitchen to the conservatory – I followed pretending to be doing something in those exact places. The only time my mum decided to end the call was when the Panasonic cordless phone decided to beep to indicate its battery is getting low. Thanks to Panasonic engineering, they preventing my mum and Simren’s mum doing a talk-marathon. Finally, mum confirmed Saturday is on – oblivious to my real intention mum continued echoing snippets of their conversation. One thing for sure, Simren’s mum didn’t want us to do a quick fly by visit and insisted we come and sit for a while – perfect and mission accomplished.
On the same Wednesday in the evening, Simren sent me an unexpected text, and I assume, it was when she learnt that I did after all rise up to her challenge of coming over for tea. Her text contained these exact words “So Mr, I c u took our last encounter lightly. You just signed ur own death warrant, get ur affairs in order b4 u arrive ”. For the first time in many years I felt butterflies in my stomach. From now on, I could only guess how our meeting will go and I felt somewhat nervous of Simren – which according to my experience was rare, extremely rare.
On Saturday (last week) at exactly 2:15pm (15 minutes late) I drove up the small-up-hill driveway. Whether it was the loud engine noise of my 4×4 or whether Aunty (Simren’s mum) had CCTV, before I could switch off my engine – Aunty was already out, rushing towards my passenger side – where my mum was sat, with her arms out as a gesture to give my mum a hug. Aunty helped my mum out of the car and while hugging each other both walked into the house, leaving me behind to walk around the over-grown plants to my right.
As I walked into the house, I couldn’t understand where the hell Aunty vanished – along with my mum. My mind raced: Was this it? Is this the moment I witness my legs decapitated from my hips?
Luckily, Aunty realised she had left me behind and as I figured where to go, she walked towards my direction shouting “Putar, Kithay ha too (Son, where are you)”. Boy – was I relieved to see she wasn’t carrying a baseball bat or a sword to punish me? She guided me towards their living room and as I entered the large, bright, bling-bling living room, I could see Simren greeting my mum with a nice big hug – it was a pleasure to see her again and seeing her greet my mum so enthusiastically felt energetic and good.
Simren, politely walked my mum to a massive bulky leather sofa and held my mum’s hand as my mum sat down, she then turned and faced me, with squeezing her eyes together (which would qualify as giving me sweet daggers) she gave a big smile – and to be honest, her smile said a millions things and my heart sank. She then shouted “Oi, too khoon hai? (who are you?)” Which I realised was a sarcastic remark. Before I could find the right words to respond in an equal sarcastic manner, Aunty shouted “ai Simi, habardaar to meray puttar ko kuch kahay (Ay Simren, don’t you dare say anything to my son)”.
Simren’s hand was soft and warm, her skin was delicate and her hand size was much smaller than mine, as we shook hands, I sat myself down on the sofa directly behind me and Simren went and sat down right next to my mum.
As Aunty and my mum started talking, I realised their conversation will get more and more intense as it was clear they had so much to talk about. All this time, Simren refused to make eye to eye contact with me. It was obvious she was nervous, and so was I, I could also see she was pretending to be indulged in listened to what Aunty and my mum were talking about.
30 long minutes had gone by, at which point Aunty asked my mum to join her in the kitchen, where their deep family conversation could continue, and while Aunty put together a tea snack. The thought of being alone, in this large bright living room made me more nervous. Aunty shouted from the kitchen “Simren, show putar (son) house and garden”. Simren, immediately looked towards me, giggled and with her hands she rubbed them together as if she was warming her hands for a serious slap and said “Right, Mr, Say your last prayers”. It was a brilliant ice breaker and I simply burst out laughing.
Simren, today for some reason look much taller than when I saw her at the wedding, her skin tone today was much fair in colour than at the wedding. Her hair was straight and long with very light curls, and I loved the fact she was wearing the traditional shalwar kameez, light blue shalwar and her kameez was white with light embroidery. Her jewellery consisted of a silver ring, which she wore on her right hand, a silver bracelet which may have been a watch and two small earrings (one in each ear) – the simplicity of what she was wearing was perfect – my ideal. Her appearance was now more appealing to me then ever before.
The house tour went well, admittedly, the house is pretty big and I think I counted 5 (large) bedrooms with part of the house having a full new extension; this is where we ended up – it was like a library and a study room.
I immediately took the opportunity to apologise for my antics back at the wedding. I took the opportunity again to explain how it was meant to be a joke and how Aunty took it out of proportion. Simren looked more and more nervous and I felt as if she was scared, not entirely sure scared of what.
Simren quickly nipped out, and as I sat on the window sill, trying to see how the rear garden looked, she reappeared, a little more calm with a large try piled high with Samosaas, Pakorahs, plates and large pot of chutney.
We got into a comfortable conversation and discussed life at University, since she is doing law she stressed how hard studying has become. The next half hour or so went extremely well, and while I enjoyed the food and tea, I began to enjoy Simren more and more, she was soft but hilariously funny, with cute facial expressions. Right then, I decided to ask her a question which was troubling me since our last encounter at the wedding. How was I to know, that the next question I was about to ask, was the one which will uncover my reality, which would display all my past in such a way that it would be as if I’m looking directly into a mirror and seeing my past being played again.
I asked Simren, what she meant by “Your reputation speaks for itself and you know what – you will never change” during the wedding. Simren paused and looked directly into my eyes. For a moment the entire room went quiet, like tranquillity before the storm, and before long – the storm arrived.
In the interest of not letting this post get any bigger, I like to highlight her response to my question.
It appears Simren, already knows me really well. You may recall, in my last post – I stated that it had been almost 10 odd years before the wedding when I last saw Simren. Life had moved on, so did I and during this time, Simren was all too aware of me and my reputation. What you will read from now on may shock you but is my truth and I could not have put it any other way.
Simren, nervously with a little fear echoed what she knew about me and my past, which is:
1. One of my acquaintances – soon after my graduation just a few years ago, with whom I had a sexual ‘only’ relationship with is one of Simren’s best friend. This girl, whose real name is Sonia, according to Simren, has never since got over me and I’m to blame for screwing up her life.
2. Sonia also made Simren aware during this time that while I and Sonia were involved in a 6 months sexual only relationship, Sonia knew that I was seeing two other women at the same time – and that I had openly told her about this. What Simren said is true and I cannot deny this.
3. Simren once attended an evening party (for women only) last year in Bradford. There she recalled over-hearing a group of girls talk about me. They were openly boasting that two of them had sex with me together (as a three-some) a number of times. I do recall these two girls really well. One is a hair-stylist and the other is a primary school teacher in Huddersfield. Yet again, these are my acquaintances and I admitted and confessed to Simren, this is true.
4. She highlighted that there were other (British Asian) women who she or her friends have come across, who openly boasting about having sex with me, these girls are unaware that Simren and I are distantly-related. She feels as if, they actively go out to impress me, so I can add them to my list of acquaintances. Simren continued to give yet more examples of my Playboy-Casanova reputation.
This was a WTF moment, in which I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and small that I had to hear all this from Simren. She continued giving me examples of other girls, who her friends have come to know, who express their interest in me. She asked “What is it about you that you invite such attention, Why couldn’t you just be normal?” to which I simply lowered my head in shame. Simren appeared to be deeply upset, nervous and scared. I could sense she had tears in her eyes while she exploded with this information.
If the above wasn’t bad enough, Simren had allot more to say about me – but this time it was nothing to do with my Casanova-Playboy status but towards my reputation in Leeds, Bradford, Manchester, Wakefield and surrounding areas. Now this is where all the WTF (What The F@#K) moments really begin.
According to Simren, I and my close friends (which total 6 including me) have a ‘gangster reputation’ in the areas of Yorkshire mentioned above. In my book, a gangster is someone who is dirty, filthy, always engaged in violence, in trouble with police and who terrorises the neighbourhood, but in Simren’s view the following makes me a gangster:
1. The fact that I wear (fitted, tailor made) three piece suits throughout the day give people the wrong impression of me. She continued that normal people wear suits maybe just to work, but when they are in their own comfort zone (i.e. home) they switch to more casual wear, including jeans, t-shirts and casual footwear. She specifically highlighted that even on weekends she spotted me (with or without my friends) wearing three piece suits.
WTF moment, I have, as far back as I can remember, always dressed smart. I have been raised up in a family where casual and lazy look around the house doesn’t go down well. Even till this day, my father sometimes reads his newspaper with a shirt, trousers and a tie. When he visits the bank or the post-office he wears a shirt, trousers and a tie. I’m the age of 28 but my style and ways of doing things is the old-school way. A shirt with cufflinks, nice silk tie with tailor made suits is exactly what I call smart – but no way does this project that I am a gangster or my friends are. I somewhat subscribe to the idea that we the young generation (often first or second generation of British Asian) should always look smart where possible. I specifically wear ‘Ted Baker’ tailor made suits and nothing else, as this brand ticks all the right boxes. I prefer to wear a suit any day over wearing adidas jogging pants and a hoody which is pretty much the norm for most British Asians.
2. The fact I own a four-wheel drive motor which costs no less than £40k, and the fact that I have another luxury car worth £28k parked on my drive way, yet again, according to Simren projects the image that I am a gangster and live the life of one.
WTF moment, let me correct Simren here, my four-wheel drive 4.4 TDV8 Range Rover is not worth £40k, it is worth £38k to be precise, ever since my first Range Rover in 2006 I have always bought a Range Rover as the main motor for me to drive. The car that is parked on my drive way is a Lexus LS460 4.6SE-L Petrol and it’s not worth £28k it’s worth £23k – this, I only drive for long distance travel or when I need to go somewhere for business reasons.
These motors are as a result of my hard work, both in my commercial career and income generated from the handful of businesses I part own. This in no way means I am a gangster or live the life of one – I was truly shocked that Simren had in fact done her research and knew exactly what I owned and the value of it (despite being some pounds out).
3. The fact that I meet my close friends, without fail, every Wednesday evening at a local Italian coffee shop is yet again another indication that I am a gangster. I got to tell you, Simren did indeed do her research, she even pointed out that normally this coffee shop closes its doors at 6pm everyday including weekends, but how was it that only for me (and my friends) this coffee shop opened for Wednesday evenings, to accommodate us? The fact that during this special Wednesday evening openings, no one was allowed in other than myself and my friends and those invited by us – was yet clear that we got up to no good in there.
WTF moment, let me explain this special arrangement, which I tried explaining to Simren but she simply wouldn’t have it. This Italian coffee shop first opened about 14 years ago. I had my first coffee in this coffee shop on the first day it opened and I fell in love with the place. I and my close friends began to meet here regularly and especially after school. It became a place for us to locally meet and over the years we became more and more close to the Italian owner. After our graduation, when we all went into our own choice of work or business we made a pledge that ever Wednesday evening we would meet here, have our evening meals together and if we ever had any business to deal with it would be done then. The owner was happy, especially since Wednesday evening was the day where he did most of his paper work, and why not open the doors to a few lads who can give him some extra income while he did his paper work.
According to Simren, this special arrangement is common knowledge amongst the community, and people believe that we have a special member’s only club where we happen to do business which is wittingly hidden from the general public.
4. The fact that I own outright my own detached house, a 3 bedroom apartment in Leeds City Centre and another 2 bedroom apartment in Hebden bridge in the Pennine Hills – is further evidence of my gangster reality – and none of these are let out to any tenants.
WTF moment, I owned my first property when I was the age of 21. It was hard work and pure dedication that I managed to work along my elder brother in renovating properties, while still a full time student at University. The family business, which Simren is too well aware of, was a successful one and till this day my family continue to make it a success. The apartments are a result of my hard work, and majority of the income to buy these apartments came from my businesses as I mentioned previously. I have nothing to hide on this one and in fact I feel proud that I have achieved such high volume of success at a young age.
5. This one was indeed a shocker, and as Simren told me about this example – I felt shivers down my spine. Another example Simren uttered about my gangster reputation was in 2010 at her University (which is in Yorkshire). Simren explained that in her University, there is this British Asian guy studying medicine, originally from Yorkshire. According to Simren, this guy has the looks to die for, and that most girls at her campus simply melt when he passes by.
In 2010, this particular guy approached Simren and wanted to get to know her better. Simren was blown away by this guy, and more so by his interest in her. Someone who the entire campus was fighting over was actually asking Simren out – she couldn’t believe it. Anyway a week or two into this new relationship with this guy, they both went out one evening for a meal. During this meal and in a conversation my name was mentioned by Simren. Upon hearing my name, this bloke simply froze out of fear, and asked the waiter for his coat, stood up and walked right out of the restaurant – leaving Simren behind all on her own. She explained that she just couldn’t understand why he did this, and while she sat embarrassed in this busy restaurant she realised he freaked out after hearing that Simren was related to me. Simren embarrassed by what had just happened, paid the bill and went back home.
That same evening, Simren got an email from this bloke, who apologised for what he had done and apologised for approaching her in order to get to know her and he didn’t realise that she and I were related. This really freaked her out.
WTF moment, I simply froze when I heard this example. I mean I simply have no idea why my name or names of my friends freak people out. It was hard for me to swallow this information. It upset me and what really hurt was what the perception people had of me. If Simren thought of me like this then I wonder whether I actually did project the wrong image.
After this last example, I was numb. My mind was puzzled as to what just happened. But this didn’t stop there. She yet continued giving me more examples, one in which during her student Christmas party at a restaurant in 2009, where approx 12 students finished eating their meal. Since Simren had arranged this evening, when she asked the restaurant manager for the bill – he refused to give her the bill and insisted the meal was on the house. Confused by this, Simren enquired further and the manager responded that the boss had instructed him not to charge them for their food. Baffled by this, Simren asked to see the boss and after posing the same question to him, he replied that because she was related to me he couldn’t charge her for this meal. It was something the owner was obliged to do because of me. She further explained that this type of special favour happened to her on three separate occasions in three separate restaurants in two separate locations.
Simren continued to smash me up with more and more examples, by this time, I simply convinced myself that I was totally finished. I had ruined my opportunity with her. For the life of me, I couldn’t image why people thought of me in such a way. The freaky thing about all this was that while Simren exploded with all this information, she, at one point got so emotional that she began to point her finger at me. I tell you one thing – no one points their finger at me, the last person who did now washing my cars without fail every Sunday morning for free. But yet, when Simren was doing the same thing, I didn’t feel bad, in fact I felt comforted that Simren was getting all emotional over me and my reputation – why?
As I sat there, I was pretty much oblivious to what was being said to me by this time. The Samosaas wouldn’t go down my throat and I felt numb and senseless. Only then, Simren echoed some words with awoke me from my senseless state. She confessed that she had always liked me, ever since our early teens and more so during my days at University. She even confessed that after hearing the news that I had graduated, and as is the custom for relative to visit and congratulate the individual and their family, Simren and her parents came to my house but I wasn’t in. She felt saddened that she didn’t get to see me and congratulate me in person. Since then, her feelings for me somewhat got engulfed with the news of my behaviour with other girls, and as more and more news began to reach her, those feelings turned into hate, and as my reputation began to align itself with the image of being a gangster, especially since when increasingly my name was associated with more and more incidents she totally began to fear me, to the point where she couldn’t stand being in the same room where my name had or was being mentioned.
You see, the life style I live is dedicated to hard work. It’s true that I have influence in my community and connected to the right people. This is all in aid of helping and supporting my community. When there is conflict, either between two business owners, or conflict between Muslims and Sikhs during Leeds/Bradford summer Mela, or where someone is being targeted for no good reason, I feel the need to intervene and use my contact to bring a speedy resolution before matters get out of hand.
One example of such community support was when two highly rich families in Leeds fell out due to a business deal going wrong. As blame was ping-ponged one side to another, very quickly the young adults on either side decided they would take matters in their own hands. Both sides targeted each others business interests, breaking up shops, beating their siblings where ever they could find them. I was approached by one of the elder from one side of the family that was involved. He begged me to bring about a true before someone got killed. So, I did what I do best and managed to call upon my close contacts who then invited both sides to attend a meeting at the very same Italian coffee shop on a Wednesday evening, the same coffee shop Simren claimed to be a place where no good was happening. When both parties arrived, within 45 minutes there was a settlement and agreement was made that all matters will now be buried. The elder generation did what they had to by getting me involved and I did what I had to in resolving this potential explosive situation.
Such examples, add to the reputation and I guess Simren is the victim of Chinese whispers and by the time news reaches the 3rd or 4thperson, more crap is added to make the situation sound interesting.
As for me and my close friends, well, these friends of mine have been with me ever since nursery. In other words we are ‘Chadi Friends’ or better known as childhood friends. Without these friends, I feel naked and unsecure and I would give my life for them and our friendship. Don’t get me wrong, I have many more friends but these close ones have a total different relationship with me. We have conquered different parts of industry ranging from restaurants, fast food chains, Gyms, Printing Firms, Solicitor firm and an accountant firm, we now pretty much spend most of our time expanding our empire and continue to support our community and those who call upon us for help.
As for Simren and our ‘get to know’ suddenly came to a pause, as Simren seemed upset that she had to say such things to me. I too was upset after all this, and Simren continued to apologise for saying such things and getting me upset. Being the type of guy I am, I put on a brave face and told Simren that she didn’t need to be upset and if that’s her opinion about me and my life-style then most of it was the wrong perception. To break the tense atmosphere I uttered that “it may have been less painful if she actually did give my legs in my arms – over having to hear this from her”. She giggled while in tears and quickly washed away the sadness on her face. We joined the ‘mums’ back in the living rooms, they were too busy in their conversation to notice that the faces of both Simren and I had changed.
As I was driving home with my mum, I got another text from Simren which read “I’m ever so sorry, I’m upset and I know I’ve upset u, u have a reputation and I know u won’t change.”
Later on in the evening, we continued exchanging further texts in which I tried my best to explain from my side. I also took the opportunity to take a hard look at myself, my reputation with girls and the community. What I couldn’t understand and confused the hell out of me was how did Simren know so much about me? How did she know some of the stuff that was private to me? The fact that the British Asian girls who were my acquaintances shared information and compared notes with each other was something I least expected British Asian girls to do. In fact, society has moved on so much that while I was thinking a secret will remain a secret was a total false perception.
Still I need to know how Simren knows all this about me. Does she keep a close eye on me and my business out in the world, or was my business already public knowledge?
I’m not giving up on Simren just yet, she has the ability to change me for the better and for once someone had the nerve to tell me ‘how it was’ and I respect her more for being brave. She has declared war and I accept her declaration for war. I want her.
That very evening to contemplate what just happened, I went for a walk, a long walk in the pouring rain, alone with me and my mind. The song below somewhat captures my moments:
One of the weddings I attended was of a distant relative. It was in Bolton and the weather was miserable. As you may well have read on my blog on earlier posts that I try my upmost to stay away from Asian social gatherings – and I have my reasons.
However, I had a conversation with an Aunty Jee (who is not related, but out of respect it is common to call them Aunty) as follows:
Aunty Jee:“Puthar (Son), it’s been a long time, where you been hiding?”
Me: “Hello Aunty Jee, Hiding, No Aunty – I’ve been extremely busy with work and stuff – you know how it is with us young guns” I’m thinking this will be a quick Hi and Bye.
Aunty Jee:“Yes, yes, yes, in our days when we were young, we didn’t have all this technology and easy things, like bacebook (she meant facebook) or mobiles bhones (she meant mobile phones) we had to do everything the hard way”
Me: “I understand Aunty Jee, but…”
Anuty Jee:“You see, today you young generation have ebery (every) thing on plate. Cars, flats, houses and even ristay (marriage proposals)”
Me: “But..”
Aunty Jee:“What But but but, look at your 3 piece suit – I bet you have hundreds of these suits but in our time we only had two Sarees. One in the wash and one we were wearing. I tell you, there is no value in anything any more”
Me: “But…”
Aunty Jee:“What but, but. Tell me have you done shady (married) yet?”
Me: “No”
Autny Jee:“What do you mean NO, bloody what’s the problem”
Me: “Aunty Jee, there is no problem. You daughter doesn’t answer my phone calls – what can I do”
Pause the conversation. OK this was meant to be a joke, we call it banter and a sarcastic remark, and oh boy did I ask for it or what. To be honest, I didn’t even know she had any daughters or at least I can’t recall meeting any recently. Continue conversation:
Aunty Jee:“Which daughter, is it Simren. I tell you Simren is always on Bacebook (facebook) all the time. She tell Choti (I assume Choti is the younger daughter)she likes you, and Choti tells me – I know, so why she not answer your call – I bloody phix (fix) her. Oi Simren, Ithay Ahh (Oi Simren come here)” By this point, Anunty Jee was shouting out loud across other people who were seated, “ithay ahh and tell me why you not answer this boys bhone (phone)?”
Me: “Aunty I was joking, listen Aunty I don’t even know your daughter – I was kidding”
Aunty Jee: “Puthar it’s OK. I know Simren, she bloody in her room all day and always in bacebook (facebook). She been home from Univerbasty (University) for two bloody weeks and I no seen her, she always in labtop (laptop) or listen to busic (music). I shout but she no bloody hear me”
Pause the conversation. At this point, I see her daughter called Simren walk up to join us. I was impressed by Simren’s eloquent walk, and her look (white saree and silver jewellery, with some red touch in it, and did I tell you – white is one of my favourite colours?). Her look was simply (hardly any cosmetics) but yet pretty and attractive. I could tell she has natural long hair, but for this occasion she had curled them slightly and she looked beautiful. I now recognised who Simren is – and the last time I saw her we were much younger at it must have been at least 10 years ago or more. I felt nervous and I felt my tie get tighter and tighter as Simren approached us. So as Simren joins us. Continue Conversation:
Simren:“Yes Mom, what” with a nice gentle smile towards me.
Aunty Jee:“Yes mom di batchi (daughter of), ithay ahh. Why you no take this boy phone call?”
Me: “Aunty Jee, please listen..”
Aunty Jee: “Puthar don’t burry (worry), I talk to her”
Simren: “Mon, what are you talking about, who is he and why would he call me?” I could see total confusion in Simren’s face. She too didn’t recognise me and I could feel my collars irritate with the heat expressed by my increasing nervousness.
Aunty Jee:“What, you don’t know him, hey listen don’t go far with me. I tell you at home bloody get off bacebook (facebook) and interact with family so you see the real world. I tell you now and you bloody listen, when this boy call you, you answer his phone – OK”
Simren: “Mom, are you feeling OK, who is he, and I’m totally confused?”
Aunty Jee:“Chup karr (Shut up), don’t know who he is. I don’t want no excuse.”
At this point, Simren is giving me the most serious looks I have ever had in my life. Having said that Simren is actually pretty and attractive. I try my best to avoid eye to eye contact with her during the 3-some conversation. But Aunty Jee, has taken this joke to the next level and I felt embarrassed, ashamed and numb.
Aunty Jee continues:“Tu Sadah Puthar hai (your our son) and you welcome to our home anytime. You know where we live now?”
Me: “Aunty Jee, erm No, I think you lived in South Pudsey right”
Aunty Jee: “oh no puthar (laughs) that was a long time ago. We now moved to other end of Pudsey and we have a much bigger house now – you will like. Simren – give this boy our address now. Your mom always complains you not at home and is trouble, but she is wrong – you are a good son I will tell her”
Simren:“Right, give me your number so I can text you our address” Still giving me those serious looks and with a fake smile. She managed to frown and produce a fake smile at the same time – which was sort of cute but I never felt so nervous in my life.
Me: “my number is XXXXX XXXXXX, (and at this point the Aunty Jee reaches up for my cheeks, pulls down my face towards her and gives me a sloppy fat kiss on my cheek and walks away), Simren, Serious it was meant to be a joke. You mom blew it out of proportion”.
Simren:“How dare you tell a lie? I am not impressed. You embarrassed me and this is the last thing I want. I’ll deal with you later. Thanks for your number and I’ll text you the address later. Your reputation speaks for itself and you know what – you will never change” With a punch to my arm she walked away with an angry look (in fact she looked cute).
I thought this was it but then Simren stopped, turned around and said “If you even think about coming over to your house, I’ll make sure you walk away carrying your legs”, she smiled again and walked away.
Dam, Simren from cute turned to hot. I felt energetic and safe that I got away with it – well sort of.
Around 10 minutes later, I got a text from Simren with the address and a nice little message saying “Don’t even think about it”.
Boy oh Boy, have I been challenged or what. My reply to her was this
To be continued… but the video somewhat captures the mood soon after:
Phir Mohabbat Karne Chala Hai’ [Official video song] ‘Murder 2′ Ft. ‘Emraan Hashmi’
I’d like to make a correction in my yesterday’s post, read here. I originally said that this case was now over after yesterday’s news of the two convictions, but I’d like to correct this statement by saying “This case is still far from over”.
The reason why I made this correction, follows, two further developments in Stephen Lawrence case which came to my attention, and which at the time of writing yesterday’s post, were not apparent, or at least not to me.
Firstly: It’s a known fact that, the group that attacked and killed Stephen Lawrence were a total of 5 people. The names of all five I mentioned in my post yesterday. Although, two of the five have eventually been brought to justice with one has been given minimum term of 15 years and 2 months and the other has been given 14 years and 3 months, three suspects remain at large and thus far have evaded justice since 1993. It make sense now to bring the remaining suspects to justice, especially, since they not only have evaded justice but seem to think they were above the law. A welcomed statement from Britain’s top Policeman Bernard Hogan-Howe said “despite almost two decades, the investigation is not closed” and that “others involved in the killing…should not rest easily in their beds”.
Secondly: I made this point yesterday in my post, and I feel the need to mention it again, but with a little more detail. It’s taken just over 18 years to bring about a conviction, and despite the conviction being a better result than any other result in the past 18 years, the satisfaction of this verdict or conviction is muted by why it took so long to get here? Our society would never have changed, and, continue to change if it wasn’t for the sheer hard work and determination of that Doreen and Neville Lawrence put in over the years, mainly to overcome a lack of interest from an inward-looking, complacent – if not outright crooked – police force. It’s still not perfect, and in the near future, can never be. Doreen and Neville Lawrence have forced institutions to have a hard look at their own mind-sets, and more importantly highlighted to the wider population, the exact problems we face.
By digging a little deeper, around the past race related events of Eltham I come to realise Stephen Lawrence was not the only victim of racist murder. In July 1992, Rohit Duggal aged 15 was murdered only a few hundred yards from where Stephen Lawrence died. Eventually, years later, the Macpherson report had recorded evidence that Rohit Duggal’s killer(s) was one of the same gang responsible for Stephen’s death. In Thamesmead, Feburary 1991 Rolan Adams aged 15 was to lose his life to racial motive killing.
Seeing news reports and documentaries one after the other, in the recent days, indicated a common sighting, especially during the scenes of demonstrations followed after the frustration of Lawrence boiled over to demonstrations. Placards held by people during these demonstrations clearly condemned the presence of British National Party (BNP) in the area. Somewhere during these events, lurking in the background was the influence of the British National Party. It was known that only a few miles away, a bookshop covertly operated as a British National Party head office in Upper Wickham Lane, Welling.
Although, from the zenith Eltham appears to be a place which harbours racists, not just the murderers of Steven Lawrence, but it was, after all, the people and community of Eltham who gave up the names of the suspects from which two yesterday were convicted. It was indeed the local “Institutional Racist” Metropolitan Police, who decided that the death of a black man just wasn’t worth the investigation, and it was never the wider community of Eltham with that view.
Unfortunately, the problem expands throughout the United Kingdom, there are places that remain a soft target for those who seek to stir and divide people. The role played by the British National Party in the Bradford Riot(s) in July 2001 is a clear reminder of that, they just didn’t stop there, their motives and intention were abruptly apparent by major other riots around neighbouring cities before reaching Bradford.
Almost two decades later, what has changed and how much has changed? Until Politian’s and others, either locally or nationally, don’t stop whipping up tensions, places like Eltham will remain soft spots for racial divide and may never escape the spectre of racism.
As I write this post, there remain three more suspects, who have, so far evaded justice in Eltham. Throughout the country, many more such cases similar to this case, and, some have briefly hit the headlines, and especially since post-9/11 and 7/7. However, circumstance in each individual case determines the course of justice, and in most cases, the lack of determination shown by Lawrence’s parents is missing, or the, institutions simply can’t afford to have another Stephen Lawrence Murder-like case on the horizon. Racist Murder(s) and Racist Crime are more wide spread, more than we are led to believe.
Nearly two decades one, and with the recent verdicts, have at least for now, brought to attention the problem our society faces. Communities such as Eltham at least now can begin to heal from the wounds over the last 18 years. Victims of such racist murder(s) and racist crime(s) are not just the people directly attacked, but those who lived with them, went to school with them and the community who lived around them – the family of Lawrence, Neville and Doreen Lawrence lost their own lives over the last 18 years, as well as their son Stephen Lawrence – nothing can bring back what they have lost. What happened that night was a great loss but from this loss the sheer determination by Neville and Doreen has helped change and improve our society, and the various institutions that swear to protect us, no matter what race or colour we are. We owe it to them and those alike who fought to bring justice for all of us.
So, to bring the focus back to my original point that this case still remains open, thus far after 18 years two have been brought to justice but I really can’t help thinking that until the remaining members of the group are not put on trail and convicted, there still will remain uncertainties around this whole cases, with some way to go. I also feel we have a long way to go yet to understand why this case has taken 18 years to prosecute 2 out of 5 suspects? Some ownership, responsibility and accountability of the failings at institutional level need to be investigated, and to bring to light those sectors which contributed to the failure(s). Until these questions are answered, we may well still have to fight for truth and justice.
For the last few days, I have been drafting 2011 Year in Review post in my head. It’s the first time I’m writing such a post, since my blog is less than 7 months old. If I am to really explain year 2011 it will indeed be a very long post – but I’m going to attempt to explain it, in as little information as possible and how I feel about it.
All praise is to the lord above us, who, has blessed me with the biggest and most valuable gift one could ever imagine, I made a wish late 2010 and early 2011 that the Lord above granted true for me, and for this I am for ever indebted to the Lord above.
2011 compared to my previous years, has probably been the best year for me, as each year brings its blessings. I can only pray and hope for more blessings going into the next.
Yes, at times, there have been downs, disappointments, periods when I wanted to be left alone, where I cried and looked to the heavens above for help, guidance and reassurance.
And Yes, there have been ups, delight, periods when I enjoyed the blessings bestowed upon me, when I laughed, smiled and looked to the heavens above to say ‘Thank You’, for guidance and reassurance.
Going through ups and downs in a period of 12 months (or longer) is part of human nature. We, hope to do our best, be the best we can, help ourselves to help others, and to remember the bad moments in the hope to reflect, learn and become better individuals.
The world in 2011 has changed dramatically, it’s our responsibility to remember what we have, and appreciate everything we have in our lives. If we count the blessings we have in our lives the moment we wake up till the moment we go back to sleep, we would no doubt lose count.
We seen mother nature show us her force in many parts of the world, earthquakes, tsunamis, tornadoes and so on. We seen human beings at the lowest, when we fought each other for our own desires, greed, and for ill intentions. 2011 was no exception, and we witnessed enough losses that we never seen before. We as humans, need to reflect on our purpose, reflect on our actions – not towards the end of the year but throughout the year – in the hope that we can lead better lives and live in harmony with each other and with our surroundings.
I’d like to share the following quote from one of my favourite personalities that once ever walked on this earth Jalal al-Din Muhammad Rumi:
God turns you from one feeling to another and teaches by means of opposites, so that you will have two wings to fly, not one.
That said, I pray for everyone that we embrace 2012 as a year of success, good will and positive energy. Where we put aside our differences and work together for a better and brighter future. Yes, we do have many obstacles ahead of us, Yes we need more courage to deal with these obstacles, Yes we may experience ups and downs – but remember the quote above so we may indeed have two wings to fly, not one.
Today, the US stated the last of US troops have left Iraq, but who are they trying to fool this time around. The second World War ended in 1945, and guess what, the US (and its allies) still remain in both Japan and Germany.
I’m not fooled by this news. Especially considering that on Iraqi soil the US have created the largest military base and US embassy in the world. The question you then ask, is this to be a war launching pad for either Pakistan or Iran?
What really upsets me about this news is the blatant bias of the west, the media and war mongrels who thrive from making war. The media here in the west has been reporting that “almost 4,500 American and tens of thousands of Iraqi lives [1]” (so the small figure comes before the large one – how interesting) but what about those who have died out side of combat zone, or those who have gone missing (and never found) and those millions of men, women and children who have been injured during this (illegal) war in Iraq?
I oppose any war, whether its in Afghanistan, Iraq, India, Pakistan or on the Moon. War is bad, no freedom can be bought by attacking another nation, especially not when lies after lies are blatantly aired to brain wash us.
I can’t stop thinking we (UK) have already signed up to a war with Iran, where history is repeating itself for when momentum was building up for a show down in Iraq. I oppose any war and I will do anything in my power to voice my protest at war. I am not a member of a party but I can tell the difference between right and wrong.
Back in 2003 millions of people (in the UK) took to the streets to protest the war in Iraq, similiar and much larger protests repeated around the world – but that got us nowhere. There are two things that this system understands and that is blood and money.
I have added a video below of George Galloway, who I have no connection with and have never met, but what he says in this video is along the lines of how I feel. Please, I’d advice you to watch and listen to this youtube talk.
It’s upsetting, it makes me angry and sad that we are going to sleep walk into another war, one which has already been planned and executed behind the scenes. Much like, Libya was, much like Iraq was and much like Afghanistan was.
The Ghobi, The Aloo and the Masala – By The British Asian Blog
As a British Asian, born bred and living in the UK – I thought Asian culture (and all that comes with it) would have stayed in (South) Asia – and living in the UK as a British Asian (or an Asian living anywhere outside of Asia) I also thought I would be shielded from Asian Culture giving exception to some culture practices. The very least I imagine(d) the strength of British Culture (or what’s left of it) would have hit Asian Culture for a six over the stadium, across the car park and right into the river thames.
But instead what we have is a fusion between the two cultures which in return has created a MONSTER never seen before.
Disclaimer: Before I continue, in my ‘About’ page I expressed my wish to keep my identity hidden. I have a really good reason for this – which is not to be assassinated by the Ghobi’s, the Aloo’s or the Masala’s. I will explain further what these are. In advance I want to apologise to those Aunties and Uncles who I will deliberately (and with pleasure) make a mockery of.
In life we categorise people we engaged with, whether they are family or friends, colleagues or just strangers we meet daily – they all fit into a category. Much the same way – I have devised a set of categories for Aunties and Uncles who in fact are not all blood related but out of respect award them the title of either Aunty Jee or Uncle Jee.
On Saturday – I was dragged along to a barbecue. Here I expect(ed) people to be chilled and relaxed, in summer clothing holding drinks. Breathing air filled with laughter, jokes, reunions and grilled chicken and burgers. But boy was I wrong or what and did I mention this was an ‘Asian’ barbecue?
For years now – I have dodged going to any type of friends and family get together – whether it’s a wedding of someone who I don’t know (but yet my family were unfortunate to receive a glittered wedding invitation – ripe with misspelled words, colour coded in maroon and red, displaying footer “Raj Store and clothing world” printed and imported directly from India ), some engagement party or a birthday. All such events mixed with Asian culture are like having to sit a 3 hour long exam at University for a module you hate and for which you have barely revised. On Saturday, my luck ran out and along with family I was forced to attend a barbecue at an Aunty Jee’s house – which as a matter of fact is not even blood related but once was just a neighbour.
When we got there, the barbecue was latterly size of a wedding, decorated with glitter and even had a photographer snapping away . I swear I thought I’d walked into a wedding reception. I guess we were invited to attend the wedding of the Chicken Tikka with the Meat Seekh Kebab. Everyone we had ever known was there and arriving. All the Uncles were in three piece suits (either light grey or cream with worn out shoes) and all Aunties in their wedding outfits – simply a walking Christmas tree ready to be plugged in.
Some of these Aunties, Uncles, and their siblings hadn’t seen me for years, and now I had grown several inches taller, got a hair style and a good dress sense – for them I am still a kid.
It is here where you find Aunties and Uncles who are either a Ghobi, a Aloo or a Masala – allow me to enlighten you with more description:
The Ghobi
The Ghobi are those Aunties who simply refuse to accept that I am no longer a toddler. Pinching my bum in public when my back is turned is seriously embarrassing. Scanning me up and down then giggling in groups of no less than 3 is seriously not cool but worrying. No matter how much I try telling them “I am not a kid any more” these Ghobi Aunties will treat me like one. Stroking and messing up my hair style, pulling my cheeks till they turn red and slopping all over me in groups is seriously cramping my style. These Ghobi Aunties are hell bent on introducing me to their daughters (or vice versa) or nieces in the hope of producing more babies for them to give the same treatment to. These Ghobi’s simply do not understood the concept of Data Protection and any girl (who is of approx my age) they come across without fail my name and number is passed to them – accompanied by stories of my baby days. Other than food they embarrass the younger generation by openly talking about or question their sexuality. But in reality these Ghobi Aunties are simply harmless and always on the high and buzzing – they look after you and wish you well in all stages. They genuinely have loads of respect for people and have a very good memory.
Here is an example of two Aunty Jee’s embarrassing the younger generation, an example if you rather of what happens at Asian events:
The Aloo
This then brings me nicely on to the Aloo Uncles and Aunties – These are those Uncles and Aunties who simply think this world is not up to their standard. Their corner shop is just as big as Asda and try promoting the cheep cost of their tomatoes and onions – they are always cheaper than anyone else. They have this weird understanding that their sons and daughters are super heroes who wear their under pants underneath their pants and Hollywood got it wrong in Superman. The degrees their sons or daughters are doing have never been attempted by mankind. It’s either a degree to become a Dacterr (Doctor), Ennginear (Engineering) or a degree in bijinus (Business) that matter and the rest is simply rubbish and waste of time. Bless them if only they really knew what their sons and daughters were really upto they’d go into hibernation for the rest of the century.
Despite my best attempts to explain “Aunty Jee – I have got two degrees, and now I am working full time in the healthcare profession and also doing my post-doctrine PhD research at University part time” their response is “Beta (Son) – PhD what nonsense is this, what is PhD – do a degree like my son/daughter and become big” – only if they knew that a PhD is only possible after getting a first in your degree (well in my case in two degrees). These Aloo’s have never heard of a PhD research and neither has anyone in their families got a doctrine – for them a degree is the highest point of the education pyramid – the rest is “what rubbish”. No matter how many facts I give them – I am always wrong and they are always Right. Take a look at the video below to get a little idea of what I mean:
The Masala
And finally the Masala – these are those Aunties and Uncles who simply refuse to accept people have their own lives, live and pay their own way. These Masala category enjoy rumours and spend hours and hours bringing back old stories, and exaggerating new ones. They like to point fingers at others but the reality is that their own (personal/family) issues are worse than anyone else’s. They have no control of their own kids or their future and hence enjoy ripping to shreds other families. They continuously brag about their children all the time. One son is the original person who created the iPhone, the other son has opened a new business and Bill Gates has applied for the receptionist position and their daughter is the Queen’s best friend and chat’s to her endlessly every evening without fail. They are always comparing themselves to other families, trying to make themselves look more advance, posh and wealthier in every way possible. The truth is these Masala’s are simply in debt to their eyeballs, they ration their food between them at home but when it comes to these events they are first to hang about the food area, they drive an estate Volvo which is about 300 year old and portray the image that no other car is more reliable then the one they have – but the reality is they simply can’t afford to buy a slightly better one. Their children disrespect them and never ask how they are or about their well-being – but for the world everyone else’s sons and daughters are really bad but theirs are angels. These Masala’s are usually seen in events arguing with their other half, or shouting down at their siblings and at the same time forcing a smiling – pretending everything is just PERFECT. Below is an example of how the Masala try to be something they’re not:
These events are simply a cooking pot, slowly stewing away with the Ghobi, Aloo and Masala, to produce a Monster Dish. Each one depends on the other, and if one is missing the dish is never complete.
Truth be told – I don’t think this Monster dish will ever go away. One of the most side splitting conversations I have had recently was with a Aloo Aunty about her new iPhone. She was convinced the inventor was Indian. When I asked what gave her that impression – she said the “i” in front of the Phone really stood for India. In her world the iPhone was simply indiaPhone. If you think I am kidding then have a look at the example below:
If you are reading this post at work, home or while your travelling, lets grab the nearest glass, cup or anything that looks like one and raise a toast to the Ghobi’s, Aloo’s and Masala’s – for giving us such a Monster Dish – Cheers.
Next time you go to a Asian event, see if you can spot who is a Ghobi, a Aloo or a Masala.
I will make a disappointing wife”
”. For the first time in many years I felt butterflies in my stomach. From now on, I could only guess how our meeting will go and I felt somewhat nervous of Simren – which according to my experience was rare, extremely rare.
Unfortunately, the problem expands throughout the United Kingdom, there are places that remain a soft target for those who seek to stir and divide people. The role played by the British National Party in the 
Today, the US stated the last of US troops have left Iraq, but who are they trying to fool this time around. The second World War ended in 1945, and guess what, the US (and its allies) still remain in both Japan and Germany.
