You Know You Are A Gulte In The US of A When

The following post was inspired by a conversation I had with Gulabo. She has the tendency to push my buttons by confusing my birthplace with any random place in Andhra Pradesh. Offended and hurt, I fail to distinguish, if it's the fact that I do NOT like to not be known as a Delhiite? Or if I have a few unresolved issues since my epic college days in Vijayawada.

So, in an attempt to sort out myself and comprehend the awesomeness that is the people of Gulte-land, I decided to make a list. I love lists- 10 ways to tone your hippo legs, 21 ways to make your neighbor water your plants, 33 ways to make your boss cry, 47 ways to run away from your boss who cries, and 59 ways to get away over the jerk. Sigh! Gives me a sense of misplaced belief, that Yes, We Can Too! Of course if I eat a rabbit's leg everyday and cover my hands with blue ribbons and rouge my cheeks with unicorn dust, I will become gorgeous too! So, I decided to put together my own list.

You know you are a Gulte in the US of A when:

1. All your friends on the east coast and their spouses, and their friends, and their spouses know each and every other spouse, and friend of their spouse and/or their friend; on the west coast. Alluri's brother's wife's second cousin who lives on in Fairfax is married to Velmati's third cousin's wife's mom's niece, who lives in San Francisco. We are a global phenomenon- except for the Mid-West- they are the non-essentials in our group. Cheecago people end up only mixing with people from Dalhaas (which is in Texhaas).

2. Gujjus open up a Dunkin Donuts in your neighborhood and you think- 'Chaa, ruining the Indian image'- while you start editing your resume to fit in with the latest requirement you got from your desi consultant (placed in Piscataway)- yea of course you have 9 years of experience by the age of 26- child labor never really went away in India!

3. You have made sure your parents see everything from Niagara Falls to Atlantic City when they visit you during a vacation. So, in the 6 months they spend time here, you make sure they see the insides of every possible permutation and combinational route on the Greyhound all with the added overdose of a stinking bathroom in the back. Then after there US of A sightseeing is complete within the first 14 days they spend the remaining 5.5 months looking after your kids while you go to your IT job to kill time.

4. You would rather take you mom to shop at Walmart or the dollar store or the sales at Aeropostale- India Shopping for all the attha and mamas back home- who obviously are still not bored of the mini Snicker bars or the cheap perfumes; rather than take her to the Nordstrom Sale.

5. You/your spouse enjoy the daily evening walks pushing your baby's crib (which has been in your family for almost 17 years now) around the neighborhood, in your flower/batik printed nightgown/salwar kameez- whichever you feel more comfortable in, paired with the Adidas shoes you bought at the last Thanksgiving Sale. 

6. You found a part-time job within 2 weeks of landing in the US of A for MS (duh! what else do people come to US of A for!) because one of your other seniors was graduating from college to join an IT job through the above mentioned consultant in Piscataway. Your peers (i.e. people from outside of Andhra Pradesh) struggled for a good 2-4 months because they didn't have your awesomeness in Networking. Whattay connection!

7. You love chilling with your friends. Equivalent to organizing a potluck every fortnight, where the men get drunk on Corona (and upload pictures on Facebook with mind-numbingly awesome captions, such as-' House Warming or House Drinking :D') and the women enjoy discussing their latest buys at Walmart or the Dollar Store or Aeropostale.

8. Of course you own a flat in Hyderabad! NRE account?!- duh!

9. Every year you send your parents the latest iPhone or iPad, which you rarely call on or connect with,  on the weekdays- because you are so completely busy at your IT jobs. You skype with them while making your Sunday afternoon biryani. You might think about going to visit them in a few years- probably close to when your H1B needs stamping again.

10. Adusumilli aa? Meedi Krishna Jilla e ga?

So, Gulabo just for the record- it was Sir Ganga Ram Hospital, Rajinder Nagar, New Delhi that I was born in, Karol Bagh that was home, and India Gate where at I learned to play football in the rain. NOT Vijayawada. 

@the Pavement

What started as an idea to kill time, my first attempt at a comic strip. 

© Pallavi Adusumilli and Madhu Vijaykumar

People be, as people are.

Of all the people I let go, I wish I had held on to a few.
1. That guy from my first year in undergrad, who decided that he wanted to address a love letter to all the girls in our class, on- nonetheless but Valentine's Day! He made me  the pall-bearer of this awesome news and hands me an amazing piece of literary achievement. Honestly, the letter began something like "Dear Girls, On the grand occasion of Valentine's Day, I want to...". Being the mean (read mentally stunted) girls in college that we sometimes were, none of us gave him a second look in the next 3 years there.  It would have been a lifetime full of surprises if I had kept in touch with him.
2. A tiny little girl from my hostel days- She was one of the most chilled out people I knew, and our second year at hostel (neither of us had a date, of course!) we decided to go watch the awesomeness that was PRABHAS in his latest flick Varsham- which we had both already seen 3 times. Nonetheless, we went in the scorching heat of Vijayawada summers (summer begins in January in these parts of the world, and no we aren't in the southern hemisphere). But, of course as the love gods detest me, we ended up watching Lakshminarsimha- an amazing movie about powlice raaj; under the awesomeness that  is BALAYYA. It was still fun as we both spent an entire 3 hours checking out the college hottie sitting 2 rows ahead (and yes, it was worth it).
3. A girl who made me morning coffee for 2 years (my roomie- for all you free thinkers out there). The time when everyone got extremely ahem- inebriated on $2 shots (the bill rang a whopping $240 that night- well OK, there were six of us), and I encouraged her to buy the extremely good looking blonde bartender drinks. We always decided we shall go back there one more time, which of course never happened after that night! Due to incomprehensible circumstances, I miss her today.
4. A girl I met in my first year of undergrad. She was undoubtedly one of the coolest people I'd met, with a sense of sarcasm that would have made me look like a newbie at the school of scorn! She and I schemed and plotted and desired to leave poison ivy in our seniors laundry buckets (in hostels, no one has a laundry basket, duh!). Sigh, college days. She ended up running away from hostel/home/college and marrying her aging tuition teacher as soon as she turned of age! Sigh, college days!
Alas, I can just reflect upon all these thoughts today but at least it still makes me smile.

Who is Kajal Aggarwal?

Lazy Sunday afternoon. The official Chicken-Day at my house. Mum, who's been sweating away in the kitchen all morning, yelled at/beckoned us for lunch finally. Dad, gave a slight grunt from his weekend reading material while I tried to search for my toothbrush with my eyes barely open yet (yea, well OK, it's Sunday- no need to patronize now). The phone rings, and my Mum eagerly searches for it in the midst of a pile of freshly washed (and sun-dried) clothes. After all these years, my mum still get's all happy and excited to answer her phone. Anyways, I watch as the usually happy look on her face undergoes a few alterations- dismay, confusion and anger; before she hangs up the phone.

Who is Kajal Aggarwal?

Aan? Ghoo? Please note that at this point I am a minute into my daily dental routine.

KAJAL AGGARWAL. Who's she?

OK at this point my curiosity is obviously stoked and I think it better to ditch oral hygiene and concentrate on my Mum's queries. Spit. Rinse.

She's a Telugu film actress. Ye amma? 

Everyday whether I'm traveling or in the middle of a meeting- I get these calls- 'Dheera, dheera, dheera-miru Kajal Aggarwal tho matladadam anukunte 9 press cheyendi-to speak to Kajal Aggarwal please press 9', who is this woman and why does her assistant start the conversation with a song? It's ridiculous. 


My mom is still used to the ICICI and Airtel tele-callers. I think she still needs to wrap her head around these movie promo stunts- which at point seem so- absolutely entertaining, until you are the one having to explain it to your mother.

It's OK ma, it's a movie promo thing, they probably want your ringtone set as that song or so. Let it be.


In the olden days people used to flock entire stadiums if ANR or NTR were attending a function. What has the industry standards come to? These actresses not only want to talk to us personally on the phone, so that we will watch their half hearted attempts at acting, they suggest us ringtones too?! What next is she going to text me sambhar recipes or something?? Art is bigger than the person, no amount of publicity would ever get a bad thing noticed. This is just annoying.


Been a long time since I saw my mother voice such a strong opinion. I smile inside letting her vent it all out.

And then all the openings and parties and socializing they do. Why do they even print that Hyderabad Times, what good comes out of that? Last week there was a General Store opening, and the traffic was held up for 50 minutes because Amala was cutting the ribbon there. Don't these people realize they are invading our private space. Very irresponsible.


Wow.

Umm yea ma, yea..very annoying...

And what are you doing till now? Why can't you wake up at normal timings like regular people do?!


See this is what I was afraid of. My mother like all other mothers, goes off on her loving off-springs; every time the maid doesn't show up or even if the petrol prices are hiked overnight or other similar reasons!

Yea ma, I'm done brushed and all- see my white sparkly teeth.


She just rolls her eyes and goes back into the kitchen. Her phone rings again.

Pause. Silence.

Who in god's name is Trisha?!!


Dad and I take it as a cue to bury ourselves in the newspaper.

So, telemarketers- I know it's a difficult job situation out there. I know jobs are hard to come by and you have to grab every opportunity that comes your way. But, please for the peace and sanity of the people of this world, stop calling our mom's and enquiring if she wants to talk to KAJAL AGGARWAL!

the prospective groom

'So, what do you want to do now?' My Mum begins one evening when I lay sprawled all over her bed, reading that day's edition of Hyderabad Times. 'Katrina Kaif and Kareena Kapoor to put their differences aside; if Kat and Ranbir decide to take their relationship to the next level'. Mind numbing articles- I recommend a daily read.

'We could watch the Filmfare awards again, they showing a repeat telecast'. I offered, willing to follow this literary bonanza with a visually equivalent treat.

'I mean what do you want to do in life now?'

'Huh? What? Huh? Who? Me?!'

'Do you want to go back, or do you want to settle here? Or do you want to get married and go back with the guy to the US?'

'Huh? Which guy??'

'Naana sambandhalu chustunaru ga, emayina nachithe chudu. [Dad's been looking for matches. See if you like any.]'

And as if on cue, my Dad steps in and starts rambling about some random guy.

'-And they want the wedding by March, but only issue is that the guy is 31.'

'Dad, please! No.'

Just as easily my Dad leaves, shaking his head at the hopeless talks with his beloved first child.

'We could have the wedding by May'. Ma ponders deeply looking at the latest Kalamandir ads in the newspaper, next to a news article of Jr. NTR getting married in summer. Is the universe conspiring against me?

'Mom! To whom?! You could probably get wedding shopping done by May! Not a wedding! I can't know a guy enough to get married to him by May!'

'How long does it take for that. You would have your entire lifetime afterwards to get to know each other. What is it that you want in the guy?'

At this point I just cannot believe how ridiculous this conversation is becoming. I want to roll my eyes, but you have to know this. I-am-shit-scared-off-acting-out in front of my Mum. So, I just mumble a completely senseless reply.

'I dunno. He should be taller than me. I don't wanna have short kids'.

My mind is screaming at me to shut up.

'And he should definitely read'. 

-Of course that sums up my expectations from a guy, a Neanderthal who can  string together a sentence!

'Read what? What will you both discuss in life? Books? Literary reviews? Stop being such an elitist'.

I look dumbfounded. OK. So apparently these are a little too pricey expectations.

'I am telling you right now. You would never find a guy like that in our community. What about looks?'

Images of a cricketer, an English Hons student and Prabhas pop into my mind. 

'I don't care about looks, amma. You know that'.

'Couldn't you be a bit more specific in what you have in mind?' -My Mum groans, all exasperated at the workings of her first child's mind. 

I am drawing a blank here, and now the Flicker stream in my mind has taken a turn to Talaivaland!

'Pink Floyd. He should be into Floyd'. 

Absolutely no clue why I set this criterion. Or any criterion at all, for that matter. My mind flashes back to all those movie scenes where the hero-heroine meet before an arranged marriage and ask each other pseudo intellectual questions, before they grope fall for each other.

'Floyd aa? That's it? It doesn't matter if he's short or dark or weird looking, as long as he is into Floyd?'

'And he should have clean, short nails'. 

It's Mum's turn to roll her eyes now, and oh boy, does she ever! I have no idea why I started mumbling such random nonsense when she was trying to talk to me about something so "serious" in my life. Well at least she dropped it after that, and we started discussing Floyd and Duran Duran and the new Audi A8. Sigh.

Something on these lines, perhaps..

precious

I like to read. I always have. The fact that at one time I had more books than clothes says a lot about that. Things have changed now. I have more bags than I have books, more shoes than I have bags, more clothes than I have shoes, more material than I can ever need. I crib sometimes about how reading is a dying passion..in me, in kids today, in the world. But somehow I still want to believe that it would still be something my kids would turn to after an exceptionally hard day.

I saw the movie Precious today, a movie as disturbing as they can make. I clutched my comforter every time the girl's mother yelled at her. And shut my eyes tight when she hurled that vase at her back. I almost cried during the last scene. The girl conjured up beautiful, happy images in her mind every time something bad would happen to her. She'd distance herself from the pain and suffering mentally, believing that this was not how the world was supposed to be and thats why there is always a next day. The fairy-tale she wrote for a class report was about a beautiful princess who lived in her own big bubble under the sea. How can it not break your heart, when she writes 'Why me?' on a page.

The one thing that made her believe that things can get better was that if her kids could read and write and be literate and then happy. She wrote every emotion that she felt even when her world was falling apart. She read through her misery so that one day she could read to her child.

I always thought saying "Books are your best friends" is the most meaningless thing any library can have posted on their walls. I realize now how much it means to someone who needs a friend. And that gives me hope.

the oddball

An experiment at screenplay-

Through smoke and bad neon lighting, I saw a glimpse of her. Nothing that I hadn't seen before. She was pretty, caught your eye alright. Long brown hair, dark piercing eyes, and a full red mouth. Ah, the mouth, something about it made me look again. It looked soft and strong at the same time. Nice, I think I might like that.

"Dude, seriously would you stop staring already! What are you 12?", my friend bellowed out loud in front of all.

Oh, was I looking that long? Past the 3 second scrutiny that we subject every girl that walks in through the front door. Ok, I got to reel it in a bit now, before these neanderthals start putting me through countless bouts of ridicule. But, man that mouth.

I glanced one more time towards her. She stood there all by herself. Waiting for someone I suppose. What man in his right mind would keep her waiting. She was tall, pretty in a very girl next door sort of way and looked smart; a combination I hadn't seen in a long time. She could be a lawyer or maybe one of those artsy types. I couldn't tell from here. If she would just look this way once I could probably figure if I had a chance.

Hey wait a minute whats that guy doing?

A shot of Glenlivet in each hand. He walked upto her. He's whispering something. She gave him the once over, considering if she should appreciate the balls on this one to approach her or just plain laugh at his face.

Haha, she is so gonna shoot him down.

She looks at the clock on the wall. Looks back at the guy.

Wait a minute is she...with him? Come on! Is there no justice in the world? That guy and HER?!

She's saying something back to him now. She took the shot of single malt scotch from his right hand. Downed it in one go. Wow, that has got to have burned. She took the second shot from him. Downed it again! And just as smoothly, walked out of the door.

Wow.

I think I am in LOVE.