How To Spot An Indian

I’ve been hearing a lot of incidents of racial profiling, where Indians are ‘randomly’ pulled out of lines at the airport for a thorough check. It has picked up tremendously after 9/11 and I’m not surprised. As Indians, we unfortunately share the skin color and hair styles of the usual terrorist suspects. I would be racially profiling myself, if I said that all terrorists are middle-eastern, so I won’t say it.

A lot of people in Western countries shit their pants when they see a brown guy sporting a full beard. This fear is doubled if the brown guy is wearing a white kurta. And they practically run for their lives if this guy sports a Taqiyah – the traditional Muslim prayer cap. And there have been a few instances where a white guy literally had a heart attack when a brown guy he was talking to, used the word “Allah” in his sentence.

Terrorist SpottingThis is so ridiculous. There is a limit to paranoia, and taking it out on brown-skinned men and women, just because some brown assholes killed a bunch of white people in the past, is calling for trouble. Don’t get me wrong, I am shocked and disgusted each time there is a terrorist attack anywhere in the world. As a pacifist myself, I find the unnecessary loss of human lives intolerable. It is okay to be afraid, but it is not okay to assume that every guy with brown skin is a terrorist with a bomb strapped to his balls.

So, I have decided to write a small but useful guide to help people identify Indians in a line-up. Look, Indians are a harmless, gutless bunch of people who gave the world Kama Sutra, and wanted everyone in the world to live happily together, having awesome sex with each other. We are not the kind of people who would want to harm others. Hell, we go ballistic when our kids eat non-vegetarian foods and call them murderers – we believe in instilling guilt very early in our kids.

The first thing you should notice about an Indian guy in a line-up (I’ll get to Indian women later) is that he won’t smile. His passport photo will look as if he is attending his mother’s funeral. But this alone will not help you weed out Indians from terrorists, because terrorists don’t smile in their passports as well, as Russel Peters very eloquently put it, a few years ago. So, the next thing to do is check out a suspect’s facebook profile or, if he’s in the airport check-in / check-out line, grab his phone and check the pictures on his phone. Here’s what you will expect to see:

  1. If the Indian in question is a student at an American / UK / Australian university, he will have definitely stored pictures of himself posing in front of every tree, post-box, car and white guy he comes across. And in all these pictures, he will be wearing a pair of shades that are too big for his face, the thickest fur-lined jacket (if its winter) or a hat that can only be described as a fedora (if its summer). He will also have the smuggest expression on his face that seems to say, “Look at me, I’m so bloody cool!” Yeah, he’s an Indian, let him go. He will probably wet himself if he is questioned about bombs and guns. If you don’t believe me, then take a look at what I did when I was a student in New York. This is a link to my album on Orkut – I am so ashamed of myself that I hardly use Orkut these days.
  2. If the Indian is older and his passport lists him as being married, then his phone / facebook profile will have hundreds of photographs with his wife, taken on their wedding day – the wife will be posing solo in many of these, in a gaudy silk saree and a head-full of flowers, in front of various background images of waterfalls and mountains, arms raised in different gracious angles… He’s an Indian, let him go.
  3. If the Indian is older but unmarried, he will probably be trying to smuggle booze and cell phones into the country to distribute to his cousins and friends and parents. Hold him, but be warned that he will have a fantastic defense planned – something about being forced into this by a girlfriend or a dying kid from the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

I hope that I have made it abundantly clear on how to spot Indian men and I hope that this guide will aid law enforcement officials to avoid profiling of Indians because of their skin color. Always remember, we are the assholes posing stupidly in photographs. We are not killers.

PS: It’s quite easy to spot an Indian woman – she’s very hot and she screams in terror when any guy gets too close.

PPS: This post is not meant to be offensive to anyone. If, in the process of putting down my opinions, I have inadvertently insulted any religion, caste, creed or camel, I apologize.

How To Kill Your Landlord

After having a major fight with my conscience last night about whether to move out of the zoo I’m living in, I slept fitfully, trying out different options to hunt down and kill the rats that were wreaking havoc in the house. It’s not healthy in the first place. So, my instinct is to get the hell out. But slowly, the realization dawned on me that these rats were super-advanced than their dumb cousins in Bangalore.

They had evolved from being scavengers to being fine-diners; they hardly touched any of the rat poison pellets I’d left for them around the house. That’s when I made the decision to leave them be and focus instead on hunting down and killing my landlord.

My landlord is a stupid ninety-year-old fucker, who thinks he’s still young enough to drive a car by himself and lift a huge slab of granite all by himself. In hindsight, I think I should’ve let him do those things and let nature take its own course. But waiting for the elusive heart-attack takes a lot of patience, more than what I have.

So, I decided to take down two birds pests with one stone and came up with a brilliant scheme, worthy of a jail sentence just for the thought. Here’s how the four-step scheme works:

  1. Buy a rabid dog.
  2. Get the rabid dog to bite the old fucker.
  3. Get the rat to bite the rabid old fucker.
  4. Attend two funerals.

I was so pleased with myself that I went in search of a rabid dog this morning. The hunt is still on. I wonder why I keep having flashes of Hannibal in my head.

So, as you can see, I’ve been busy with matters of life and death, which is why I’ve been so inactive online. I hate myself for not having the time to respond to the comments and not having time to read any other blogs.

And I also realized that this is a great money-making scheme. If any of you want to kill your landlord, then get in touch with me. I charge by the hour.

PS: I’m not a professional killer-for-hire. I only kill landlords who are stupid fuckers. If you want me to kill anyone else, then I’m not interested.

PPS: If any law enforcement personnel are reading this post and raising their eyebrows and planning to come and arrest me, then I have two words for you fuckers – “Eat Doh-nuts!”