The British Asian Blog

Life as it is @tbablog

Category: Personal Observations

Malaysia Airlines MH370: Jet mystery – how can a plane vanish?

How can the Malaysia Airline 370 simply vanish?

Aircraft such as this, the boeing 777, has an excellent safety record and is full of electronic equipment to tell the ground where it is, even in distress.  It amazes me, that so far despite searching for so long by so many different agencies from so many different nations with all the technology, satellites and intelligence – no one yet find or can explain this mystery?

What has happened to it?




As straight as a gun barrel

I believe I’m an erudite person who knows and understands how to be a gentleman and behave like one.  I must extol the virtues of life of those men who lived before us and used to uniform, condition themselves and conduct like real gentlemen, where the younger generation loathed to following in the footsteps of such eloquent, articulate individuals – impersonating and mirroring their real men styles both physically, ability and behaviour wise.  Where women would shimmer and glisten at the mere confidence of being handled by a real gentleman and at their chivalry.

I’m the first to admit that I’m an inveterate of these gentlemen principles, and that my habits, life-style, way of conducting business and handling or interacting with women are conformed and obsequious to these exact quaint principles.

You mustn’t take umbrage at a fact that in one area I have obtusely overlooked and has now come to haunt me more than in one way.

Before I proceed, you must read the disclaimer below:

Disclaimer:  What I write below is no way meant to offend anyone, or their life-styles or their beliefs, if while reading the post you feel somewhat offended, then, this, I’m afraid is life so don’t let the door hit you on the way out and still I’m not a gay.  It is important for me to state here that I stitch together this post via my iPad from the Carnegie Pavilion at Headingley today, during the failed attempt (due to rain) to see day 4 of the second test against England and South Africa.  Considering where I am, and its my first time using an iPad to blog and write this, I may not have got the feel to this blog right, and it may not have gone the way I wanted it to go.

Last few months have really been an eye opener for me.  This is not a vociferous whining of a matter which I will talk about but a growing candour concern of how common it has (started to) become in my life, and the worst part is, I don’t know why?  This no longer is clandestine which I kept to myself and the cajole to talk about this is now more than important for me.

The zenith of this problem was reached on Monday 30th July after work, but before I continue, allow me to explain a little more about this predicament or problem if you wish in some simple words.  The quandary problem is this:  In the last 3 months, I have had three gay men hit on me to which I’m finding it hard to understand why, why and why?  I have no enmity against gay men – as long as they leave me alone.

Allow me to start with the most recent episode of what happened on Monday 30th July.  My routine is to escape from work at 4:45pm on those days that I am in Leeds office.  I have a set routine which I take, a five minute walk to the car park where my car (or motorbike) is usually parked.  On this day, I decided to walk Amy (accounts personnel, a 23 years of age single mother of one child, originally recruited by me) to the train station first, not because I was heading in that direction but merely because she was clearly overwhelmed by the amount of baggage she had with her.  As I offered to walk her, I opened my umbrella and shielded us both from the light drizzle.

We walked towards the train station with me now carrying most of her baggage – half way there; I decided to close my umbrella as the rain had pretty much stopped.  I paused to do this while Amy stood by my side watching me struggle to close the bleeding umbrella.  Just then a chap walking somewhat loosely, walks right up to me with a smirk and says “Hi”.  While still struggling to close my umbrella, I glanced at this chap and uttered the words “Can I help you”.  What follows is the conversation to the best of my knowledge:

Chap:  “I’ve seen you around the city few times, just wanted to know whether you are actually from Leeds or not?”

Me:  “Yes, Indeed I am”

Chap:  “Oh good, I’m from Oxford and working in Leeds for a short term assignment”

Pause conversation:  My eyes flickered between Amy and this chap, my perusal could see Amy’s face blush with a little excitement, and instantly I could see Amy’s face starting to show signs of her drooling at this chap.

Me: “Yes, Good and how can I help?”

This chap, grinned with a rather large smile exposing his extremely white teeth and with a jelly-like posture put his hands to his head, somewhat nervously and uttered:

Chap: “Well, I’ve seen you around a few times, and I find you extremely striking with a real gentleman feel and I was hoping to share this with you when I got the opportunity, and now I managed to catch you at the right time”.

My instant reaction was to turn my head towards Amy’s direction, my heart suddenly stopped pumping and the bloody rushed to my head in total fear or was it rage?  I could see Amy put her hands to her mouth in slow motion as if to say “Oh my GOD” and she continued to scan this chap head to toe which looked like an expression a porn star would make in a porn film.

My heart finally managed to pump some blood and the blood rush to my head somewhat eased, and I realised right that moment what the situation was.  This chap was a gay and he was hitting on me.  I simply and physically could not acknowledge this wanton and I returned with a rather short response:

Me:  “Excuse me, I don’t understand?”

Chap:  “I was wondering if we could meet up some time this week, even if it is just for a drink or something.  There is something about you that is really attractive”

This surely can’t be happening to me, again.  This is what you say to a woman not to a guy.  I’m a bloke and I couldn’t believe another bloke was saying this to me; I am not a sycophant I screamed inside my befuddled mind.

Despite the urge to simply headbutt this guy a few times, I freakishly continued to smile at him – pretending that I wasn’t taking him serious.  But deep in side I just wanted to get the hell out of his way and nadir situation but just then I managed to find the energy and buoyancy to say a few more words along the lines of:

Me:  “Mate, I’m sorry but I’m not who you think I am.  Sorry”.  I nodded at Amy to get her attention, but she was hypnotised by this chap and her facial expression said it all.  I quickly picked up my share of Amy’s baggage and took her by the arm and got both of us out of harms way.  Just as we shuffled past this chap, he made his final knock out blow and bluster:

Chap:  “Can I have your number or email address, it will be good to stay in touch”, still grinning and sort of waving with is left hand.

My response was “Sorry, but you’re mistaken”.

As both Amy and I got a few meters of distance between us and this chap, I rediscovered my intrepid attitude, Amy quickly turned around and shouted “He is single; I wouldn’t give up if I was you”.  Right at this moment while shrugging Amy by the arm, I turned and this chap blew a kiss in our direction in a lurid way.

What happened in the next few minutes is really a blur and all I can remember is Amy uttering the words “Oh my God, what was that all about”.  After seeing Amy off, I took the longest route possible to my car.  I was literally in total disbelief and in infamy of this crime or incident which just took place.  This really can’t be happening to me?

The next few days, Amy had pretty much told everyone of this incident at work.  I was being approached by everyone (almost), asking me what had happened, this, no longer was an arcane anymore.

In the interest of keeping this post short and limiting the details of embarrassing moments, I will briefly update you on the two other incidents.

The second episode and incident was when I was jogging at my local park.  I usually go for a quick jog in the evening as I get back from work.  On this day, the park was busy with the usual regulars, some jogging, some walking their pets, and some simply reading or listening to music.  As I jogged, I realised a guy jogging ahead of me, but slightly slower.  As I overtook him, just then, he seemed to have increased his speed to match mine.  He turned his head towards me and said “Hiya” to which I simply replied with a smile.

Thinking nothing of it, I continued.  Some moments later, while my jogging speed was constant, the same chap happened to catch up with me.  Again, I didn’t think anything of it and continued to jog.

The guy entered into a conversation with me, mainly about the weather, the park and his diet all the while we jogged.  As is common in Yorkshire, people generally start conversations randomly with other people and its not uncommon for such conversations to take place between two total strangers, and as such, (thinking nothing of it) I continued to chat and jog together.  I’m not entirely sure, how long we jogged for together or how we separated but I remember jogging back to my car and as I got semi changed near the boot of my car, the same guy reappeared.  At this point I got the sinking feeling that this guy was upto something.  He continued to express his interest in jogging at this park and as I continued to get changed he simply refused to take his eyes off me.

Just then, he launched the same knock out blow to me (as the chap in the first episode) and asked if he could have my number as it would be nice to jog together ‘regularly’.  I simply paused – I was shocked and somewhat nervous of this guy.  He seemed to have enough confidence in what he was saying or asking.  My natural reaction was to walk right up close to this guy, stare into his eyes, and I remember saying something along the lines of “My car is a four wheel drive, and it weights about 2.5 tons, how would you like the weight of my car on your head?”.

For a moment, this guy, nervously laughed at what I was saying, but he realised my expressions were still serious.  His face and his laughter turned into a gulp of air when he realised I was staring into his eyes and standing up-close to him.  He, somewhat stutteringly, replied “You, you j-j-joking r-r-right?”, and my reaction was to raise my one eye-brow as I usual do to assert the mere fact I mean what I say.

What happened next is a slight vague memory, but I do know, he sprinted off in total panic.

The third episode or incident was at my local gym in Leeds.  After a long cardio session and a shower, while getting dressed another gay chap had a pop at me.  During this incident, I was way too polite and I refused to give my number, he simply wouldn’t take no for an answer and in the end I simply told him that I was engaged to a woman, who happens to be waiting outside for me.  Indeed there was a female waiting for me outside but she wasn’t my fiancée but an acquaintance.

The very recent incident with Amy was a true eye opener.  It has promoted me to discuss this with few close friends and work colleagues, merely to seek some guidance in understanding what made these guys hit on me and not for any elated reason.

Some fed back that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but considering all incidents mentioned above, I would hardly call it being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  It must be something else.  A few have been a little more specific and pointed out that my slick hair-style with side parting is to blame.  Others say it’s my slim suit appearance and while some have made some crazy suggestions which I rather not repeat here, but in all honesty, I chide at all the suggestions made above as they are utterly nonsense.

Without being impertinent or impudent I believe the incisive resemblance of a gentleman is something of interest or attractive to gay men and this is why I have been hit on so may times in recent months.

Let me reiterate and reconfirm:  I am not gay.  I am as straight as a gun barrel.

The song below from Dostana 2008 movie, echo’s a little of how I feel and what’s been going through my head about the whole gay-hitting-on-me thing, enjoy:

The Ghobi, The Aloo and The Masala

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.

Thanks for dropping in..

For some strange reason, I decided to finally own a blog of my own (the strange reason I will write about later, when I have understood it properly).  An achievement by my standards.  Thank you for dropping by – I’m glad somehow you managed to click your way here.

There is a reason why I decided to own my own blog, and why I chose the deliberate blog name (or url) as ‘The British Asian Blog’ which I hope to write in another blog post either tomorrow or the day after.  That said – I have struggled to search for other British Asian blog(s) that exist and that are live today (as some do exist but the owner appear(s) to have gone a long vacation since the last post(s) are in 2006 or earlier).  Do British Asian blogs exist?

Anyway – I wanted to start this blog with a little welcoming note.  As I said before, I hope to start writing in the coming days, once I’ve played around with wordpress and its features.

Once again, Thank You for visiting, and I hope you do return and on a regular basis.

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