Recently my hotel- Ship had the good fortune of becoming international in nature when a group of Japanese arrived with their dark, tense goatees and flawless complexion being the main attractions.
It so happened that hardly had this Japanese contingent set foot on the haloed turf of Ship, one of the roomies in my dorm, who can boast of exactly the kind of paunch that inspires me to do some ab crunches everyday out of fear, struck a (conscious, intentional, forced) friendship with one Japanese punk who was of course as slippery as an eel although he looked a picture of innocence.
The Indian seemed to be saying through his body language, ‘I am Indian you are Japanese. I am a special Indian, you are a special Japanese. I am rare you are rare. Destiny has brought us together in this small hotel. Well we must play PM-PM i.e. you represent your country I represent mine.’ And they talked, discussed bilateral issues of importance, and translated each others names into each others languages. Here, the only word that I can use to describe the Indian’s behavior is ‘cocky’. When they were “talking”, I had this uncontrollable urge to get up and ask the Indian how his little yellow rat was doing in the friendship lab. Not that I hold anything against this Indian. It’s just that I have never seen him interact with anyone “Indian” in the room but things obviously changed when a Japanese, from miles away came to stay; this Indian suddenly felt the pangs of being friendless.
I will not say anything beyond what I have already said ‘cause I do not want to analyze something that has been a million times already, by Indians or non. I would rather end it by congratulating this evidently well informed, English speaking Indian for being quite a diplomat and certainly IFS material.
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