Peters and Non-peters

We witness dwindling symbols of 'culture' and 'tradition' in today's Chennai. I'm a part of it. And so are most of the girls I know. Don't get me wrong, I'm not talking about anything big, or anything of great consequence or damage to our saastrams and sampradayams! A few observations, amusing ones, drive me to write this post.

How many times have you walked down a street and seen a foreigner, in very indian clothes, smile at poo-kaairs (flower girls/women) and kariga kaarans (Vegetable sellers), who return a knowing smile? Hell, even if I saw them everyday, they probably wouldn't smile at me, in all my Indian-ness and Chennai-ness! I believe that foreigners are way more polite than we indians are. But would I get the same treatment if I were as polite? No. And why? This woman, this (as the pookaris and kariga karans might put it) Vellaikaari, took to those 'articles' of 'culture' and 'tradition' that tamizh-penns these days seem to have shed blissfully :) And what might those be, you ask? First, the round red (or whatever colour!) mark on the forehead. The Pottu. Trying to coax us 'learned' tamizh girls into getting back to the pottu mode, dear paatis and ammas and maamis told us how that particular point on the forehead has a divine connection to the pineal gland, and thus, how we must not refrain from 'the act'. But what did we say? We said, we could just touch the particular point once a day, if it were so significant, and forget about walking around with a pottu. They obviously gave up on us, and our reasoning, probably with a "indha kaalathu ponngal laam yenga namba sonna pechu ketkardhugal?" line! We laughed it off!

Second, maligapoo. Jasmine flowers. Even today, thousands of tamizh women adorn their hair with neatly tied up maligapoo every evening, and thousands of pookaris are still in business, selling moonu mozham pathu rooba (It would be weird to translate that!), or actually, less than moonu mozham these days! The flowers that I loved pinning up to my tightly plaited, coconut-oil-oiled hair when I was younger, and less 'learned', now touch my hair only during kalyanams, or festivals, or poojas (despite the fact that i DO know that some guys STILL fancy the smell!), and that too, ten times smaller in size, and for a much shorter time period! In a few minutes, I'd be answering the question "thalaila poo vechukaleya di?" with "yengayo vizhundhurthu, vidungo parava illai!". Gone are the days when I'd wake up to crunchy, brown, dried flowers on my bed, with half-white fading, dying, flowers revealing a white string, pinned up across the back of my head, one plait to the other! I was very Kenyan-tamizh then! ;) Coming back to India, changed it all :) But of course, we always have enough things to blame!

Third. Golusu. Anklets. As a child, i wore these extrememely heavy, ridiculously noisy silver ankelts, loaded with a million small chalangu (the collisions of which cause the sound to emanate), which i would carefully take off before playing hide and seek, for the fear of being given away by the oh-so-tinky noise! I loved them depsite the fact that they scratched me more than i'd have liked! I still remember the jeweller asking me if i was learning Bharathnatyam! I wasn't. I still bought them! I don't know when i finally stopped wearing them, and when i took to buying beaded, noiseless, SINGLE 'anklets' (and NOT golusu), from besant nagar beach! Well, there still arent any anklets on my feet!

So here we have this foreign woman, a decently sized maroon circle posing in between her eyebrows, her BLONDE hair neatly pulled back in a long plait (perhaps the hair was oiled too!) and adorned with atleast one mozham of malligapoo, wearing a purple/pink salwar kameez, like she was born in it (!!), BOTH her ankles circled by velli golusu (silver anklets), with not as many chalangu as my childhood noise-makers, but enough to be heard, and a genuine, belonging smile on her face, riding a bicycle in the crowded streets of Mylapore Tank. Was she more Tamizh than me? She was Tamizh enough to earn the smiles of those who wouldn't really care too much with others. And what do we do? We complain about the crowded streets of mylapore tank, and the cows in the middle of the road, and consequently, their shaani (!) and avoid going there unless we HAVE to buy Kolu Bommai, or eat in Saravanabhavan! :)

Well, not all foreign women give me this feeling of lost heritage. There was once I had to walk out of Naidu Hall, in Tnagar, for the fear of laughing out loud at a bunch of american women, and their Indian chaperone, dressed in spagetti strap tops, and skirts, their pony tails circled with endless concentric circles of maligapoo, their feet lost in a sea of green Pothys polythene covers, deep in conversation with the saleswoman, with momentary interruptions from the indian chaperone, about what colour petticoat would best suit each saree they had bought, as 2 very exhausted looking american men, dressed in shorts, carrying huge bag-packs, sulked behind them! My mother was decent enough to smile, and continue her shopping :)

Amma and I sat down opposite another Maami and her daughter, at the aforementioned, eternally crowded, Saravanabhavan today. The next table, had a bunch of foreigners, with a very weirdly accented english, deep in conversation in their native language. The Tamizh waiter took their order, and the conversation sounded something like this -

(M - foreigner man, W- Waiter)

W - Orrder sir?
M - Yus. I want an Eppel Zuice (apple juice).
W - Aapil juice ah sir?
M - Yus yus. And a Tho-maa-tho Zuice? (Tomato juice)
W - One to-mae-to juice, ok...

Blah. The rest of the order was drowned in the din. A few minutes later, the foreigners at the next table were happily eating what we call "meals", with rice, and sambar, and the things that actually taste good at saravanabhavan. I smiled. I looked across the table, and realised that the tamizh girl sitting infront of me had ordered a Pizza! and her maami-mother, some Chaat item! Why? AND, she dropped a fork, and made all the foreigners look her way! Aah, i continued to savour my sambar vadai! :)

And thus, we girls become what college guys today call Peter (with stress on the r. More like Petrr). Also, Scene, or better, Vethu scene. Shed your pottu, maligapoo, golusu, and the likes, and speak english, and you have a direct ticket into peter-land! All are welcome ;) Sometimes, the criteria differ, thus, for further information on peters and their characterisitics, feel free to intreact with my dear cousin,visu, who presently likes to call himself Vishwa, for mysterious reasons! Peter, perhaps? :D

Of course i have to add that it is the Tamizh Ratham, and mentality that counts more than all the articles of show! ;) I don't need articles to yell out my tamizhness, do I? Sheesh, Captain Vijaykanth would be proud of me!

Yours "Tamizho Tamizh"ly,
Signing off!