?There is this fat guy who looks like you and has written a book.?Sometimes I think you are inspired by him?his walk, talk, writing and even evil smile,? said Boss, giving ?stereo typing? a new meaning, with left keys and right keys, ?His name is Michael Moore, and the sloppy Joe unwashed cabin crew type from British Airways sitting there in the corner demanding his third extra free bowl of yellow chutney and brown sambar, has objected to the fact that the visiting expat on the next table is reading his book Stupid White Men. I don?t know what to do. Both these categories of customers eat a lot and never tip.? Boss frowned, as he hid the special ghee and red tomato-onion chutney, and looked askance at me for a reply.
I have travelled a lot, and boss knows it, so he defers to my opinion. That is called management. He then goes ahead, and does what he wants anyway. That is called democracy. And then he justifies it, forcing me to wear a uniform while I wait. That is called dictatorship. I am in uniform, but I have to get down and get dirty.?It is something like Commander-in-Chief Bush demanding that his protege Commander-in-Chief Mush should take his uniform off when shove comes to push.
?I think we should tell the NRI to concentrate on eating,? said I, thoughtfully. ?And meanwhile, let me try to explain to my fellow worker from 35,000 feet that this refers to white men of a different sort. Republicans, for example.?
Neither will listen. One claims that the book is offensive to white men in India, and the other says it is his birthright to read any book in India, regardless. I get it now. The BA cabin crew does not mind the book in England, but dislikes the fact that a brown man is reading it in India. And the NRI is of the sort who will not have the guts to read this book in public in Umrika, but demands that his rights be honoured here in India. Since I am the ultimate Indian, I throw both of them out and keep the book. It is brilliant. Please read it. Also read Insecure Brown Men once I write it.
