Make Your Daddy Proud, Son.

I don’t remember where I read this but it’s a popular maxim widely advocated in advice books and Readers’ Digest back-issues. “People see you as you see yourself “. Whatever. Some kind of eighties mantra, I suppose. Up there with “Today is the first day of the rest of your life”. But for some reason the thought popped into my head today. Not really “People see you as you see yourself “ but its corollary “What if you become the guy people expect you to be?”

Say for example, there’s this guy. He’s a currency trader, or investment banker. There’s a certain perception of an investment banker. It’s pinstripes, a cold demeanour and cut-throat principles. Whether you like it or not, the minute you introduce yourself to someone as an investment banker, these thoughts are going to enter their head.

(Just as being an advertising man somehow makes you out to be a hippie schmoozer).

What I realized is, that for every banker who resists these stereotypes, there are ten who embrace them. I’m telling you the vast majority of bankers aren’t really cold-hearted Gordon Geckos but aspire towards that ideal. In other words, they want to become what people expect them to be. I suppose that’s because, in their minds, these are positive stereotypes. It’s like the stereotype of black men being well-hung. Why do I hear no brothers out there proh-testin’?

Stereotypes are important because people need to put a label to things. (For further information on this, visit youtube.com and type ‘Russell Peters’ in the search box). Sure there are negative stereotypes as well (just ask the Aussies) but on the whole I think we Indians have come out with the better end of the stick. Let’s see how we’ve benefited from narrow-minded thinking over the ages.

PRE-WW2

Hello, I am Babbooo, hypnotist Maharajah from India. I sleep on a bed of nails and I ride an elephant to work. I can levitate and do the rope trick. I have rubies as big as coconuts, an extensive harem and peacocks in my back-garden. You want to see my python, memsahib?

POST-WW2

Hello, I am Dina Ram, a self-righteous, indignant, skinny native who wears a dhoti and carries a stick. There are millions of people like me and we all ride on the roofs of train compartments. I demand to be treated good. And I don’t want your Marie biscuit. Just a little respect, thank you.

SEVENTIES

Hay-llooo, I yam Ramprasad Govind Gopichand Badrinath Choudary. I yam vayry pleased to be meeting you. I yam scientist at the NASA. My yenger brether is ahlso theeyer in the Yoo Yes. He yees a dahctar in Maryland. If I have caused you any inconvenience, a thousand apologies.

EIGHTIES-NINETIES

Hullo. I am Apu. I own a supermarket.

PRESENT

Good morning sir, this is Tara from Citibank, don’t let my American accent fool you, I work out of a call-centre in Hyderabad, and I have stolen a job that may have belonged to your community, but you can’t do shit about it, because the moment you breathe a word, I’ll be screaming ‘Xenophobe!’ so hard, you won’t know even realize how soon I’ll have the hippies picketing outside your door. Now, how may I help you?

To tell you the truth, I liked the Babboo era better. Wouldn’t you? Which is why I have no issues with the films of Peter Sellers gaining cult-status, Indiana Jones and the temple of doom and images of Indians on elephants.

A friend of mine who was recently blessed with a child told me he was planning a return to traditional trades for his son. Said he was going to train his son to be a hypnotist. Needless to say, I applaud his worthy ambition and I wish him well. That’s what India needs. Not bloody engineers and slave coders. We need more snake charmers, magicians. Look at David Blaine and David Copperfield. That’s our turf you’re standing on. Scram, shitbird. Make way for the next generation of Indians.