I am not really a Tamilian. Sure, I have lived in Madras all my life. I am born to Tamilian parents. I don’t know any Hindi. And very importantly, I don’t desire to know any Hindi either. But, I am not obsessive about my Tamil identity. I am not even sure if I have one. Having some kind of cultural identity seems important. I am too obscure for something like that. Besides, it is so boring.
When amma tries to turn me into one of those good Tamil girls, it annoys me. I am not even nice enough to pretend. So, I don’t understand why she must me even bother. What kind of thick skin does she posses? And where does one find that?
It annoys me when The Boy says that we go and see – Kattradu Thamizh. He says that only because I suggested that we watch – Jab We Meet. When I become North Indian, his Tamil pride hollers. If I had suggested that we watch the Good German, he would have said that we ought to watch – Jab We Meet. Bleh.
I don’t understand this girl. She is charming, articulate and flippant. And she is also difficult to ignore. I can’t help checking her blog every hour to see if she is updating it. If people didn’t do things for money, they would be so much better at what they did, no?
But then, I am rich. So, it is easy for me to say that.
