SOMETHING OUT OF BY
JAZMINE J, PERRY
PART
1.
SHURUAAT
PART 2. BEECH MEIN
PART 1.
SHURUAAT
The modern Indian man, white-washed, usually doing medicine or engineering, has more white friends than brown Just your average-day Shahrukh Khan is walking the streets. You experience the typical man that thinks he’s something out of Om Shanti Om and attempts to sweep you off your feet, and suddenly, you're wearing a sari, singing in Hindi. I mean, how Bollywood could this get? I promised myself I wouldn’t date an Indian man; I didn’t want your stereotypical brown misogynist with old-fashioned relationship ideals
I am the epitome of white-washed. I am no Aishwarya Rai, Deepika Padukone or Priyanka Chopra I don’t even speak enough Hindi to make any Aunty proud I can’t even make round parathas or homemade chai; I reheat the frozen ones from my local Indian grocer and use a regular teabag. I own one sari and lehenga, and I will order butter chicken.
I go through life just knowing I have no typical Indian stereotypes to call me your local Desi friend I am not much of a modern Mastani, and I wouldn’t be one to date a Baji Rao Yet alone, date the actor Ranveer Singh A girl can only wish
Modern-day dating, the popular post-Covid dating apps, Hinge, Tinder, and Bumble I didn’t go on with high hopes that I would have some whirlwind romance that would change my whole life Very dramatic Instead, I open my hinge profile to a bunch of white dudes hoping to get in my matches, writing what they think you want to hear. I sit swiping through all these jaded dudes and replaying multiple different versions of no in my head,
“No, nope, definitely not, no, no, oh my god, ew!”
I was like Cher from Clueless, not Bollywood, more like Hollywood. I have dated my fair share of white guys, gym junkies, nerds, and geeks It never worked out I must warn them not to laugh at my Auntie’s accent and if they find the food is too spicy to stick to the rice and naan bread. They didn’t fit in, and the cultural disconnect just was more and more of a reoccurrence.
SHURUAAT
So why dating apps? Don’t worry I asked myself the same question because the idea of having an arranged marriage seemed too good after a day of pressing the no button. As I sat on the sofa with my very “up to date” mother, she suddenly suggested that I find myself a nice ethnic man who is not white. I thought, why not? Because at this point, I was like the less successful Priyanka Chopra, without a Nick Jonas Or any Jonas brother for that fact
I’m your not so typical brown girl but that night as I lit up my altar’s candles and prayed to the Hindu Goddess Lakshmi, I pondered the idea of dating an ethnic man Maybe a rip-off of Dev Patel? Dark hair and brown skin would have insight into having a South Asian family with no type of Slum-dog Millionaire success He would be able to eat my Aunties chicken curry without dying and saying its “spicy” and maybe be white-washed enough to handle my not-so-hardcore feminist take on life.
This would be ideal, if anything, and would keep the pressure off me no cultural disconnect for once. Ah, now that’s my idea of heaven.
A few days later, I had three rip-offs, two Ranveer Singh’s, one Dev Patel and no success It is not easy finding my dream Brown man; if anything, it’s not like I’ve got any experience.
Suddenly, I am on the profile of this brown dude with decent photos who seems to have enough Dev Patel and combined personality compared to the 50 other guys I have just swiped past
I like his photo, and it’s a match! His first message isn’t hard to read or repulsive, kuttee is off to a good start And honestly, that doesn’t happen often But he’s is the definition of what my brown dad would praise for being the “dream child” Studious, studying S.T.E.M and spoke Urdu and Hindi. I think to myself, that this man, would so eat Pani Puri and not say it’s gross, and I even think he’d eat with his hands. Thats right, he’s the cultivated unlike the others kutte, dogs.
“Acha! yes!”
SHURUAAT
Now this is someone I can date First Date arrives, he picks me up from outside my house and does the one thing, the pinnacle of winning my parents over, he introduces himself to my Dad and talks about three key things; cricket, stocks and food. You name it he said it… my dad was in love and in his head was planning a wedding, seeing his future son-in-law as the highly successful engineer saving his “artsy” daughter from a life of being single
As we drive away, I can't help but smile. It's rare that someone impresses both me and my dad in the first meeting. My phone buzzes and I see a WhatsApp message from my dad, “Beta, he is great, imagine how good this would be for you ” As the car ride continues, he is talking to me about his work and passions, and I am struck by how genuine and earnest he is.
The more the night goes on, the more I think of how “textbook” Indian he is. He calls his mother *amma* and chews on cardamom pods He tells me about his family's Diwali traditions and how much he loves carving out time to cook with his mother. It doesn’t end there, he does aerospace engineering and on weekends volunteers to teach math to underprivileged kids.
I find myself doing something I've never done on a first date – imagining a future Like something out of Bollywood, he’s actually perfect and it’s disgustingly good. His dimpled smile, golden in the setting sun, seemed to seal the deal for me.
PART 2.
BEECHMEIN
Being on dating-apps feels like I am a Tawaif, trying to find my perfect Nawab. I am being shown off like some Courtesan, except I am not singing or dancing, and singing *Saiyaan Hatto Jaao*, will not get me the dues or riches I deserve. Not like the men on dating apps would be able to afford my expensive services.
Dating-apps are sadly nothing like *Heeramandi* This gorgeous brown man though? he is the Tajdar to my Alamzeb I could write poetry on his chest and have him chase me through the endless corridors of the library.
Bit far fetched ? No, because this love story in my head is like a Sanjay Leela Bhansali film, full of grandeur and unspoken emotions With extravagant saris and detailed dupatta’s, and luxurious Lahore mansions.
His car is how we started every date. He picks me up. I stare at him as his big smile illuminates his glowing face, and he holds the car door open for me He speaks of engineering like a song, channa mereya, light of my soul He speaks better than John Mayer singing. I sit in awe.
Like true Bollywood fashion, he drives us to a drive in cinema. And before you ask me if he serenaded me in the car with a hundred male backup dancers, you couldn’t be more wrong. Instead, he simply puts on some tunes, and as the movie plays in the background, we get lost in our own conversation.
He’s more dreamy than Tajdar, and I would write on his chest like a poet possessed More romantic than Charlotte Brontë or even Jane Austen could ever imagine. In his arms, I find a world more magical than any scene Bollywood has ever painted.
BEECHMEIN
His laughter, music, and every word he spoke, poetry And I was infatuated with the desi man I’d refuse to even look at a few weeks ago.
Days past, and my phone is blank, he messages me every other day. I try to occupy myself, but every moment without his voice feels empty Bollywood has me in a rut listening to sad songs, I feel as lost as Lajjojaan.
Masoom dil hai mera
It's a tender heart of mine, caught in the throes of longing My phone empty, my heart broken.
Masoom dil hai mera
But I hold onto hope, with each melancholic note that echoes the Bollywood melodies. That he won’t break my heart. And I won’t see the end of our Bollywood romance.
It wasn’t It wasn’t an end at all, more like an intermission, a brief pause in our budding romance.
DEDICATED TO
SOMETHING OUT OF
