The Suntan Drama

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆

My next door neighbor is Ernest in this small, semi-rural mid-western town. He is often curious and inquisitive without being a know-it-all or obnoxious. In real life, he actually has a different moniker but I will call him Ernest here because, if nothing else, he is very earnest and seeks my opinion frequently during our summertime evening rituals when we are both happily grilling in our backyards. As the comedian Ms. Rudner has said, "Men like to barbecue. Men will cook if danger is involved." Indeed, we do - heck, brother Prometheus stole fire from the gods for us just so we could barbecue - we can't let our brother down! 

Ernest is a pillar of this community, retired now from some worthy pursuit and volunteers as a high school girls basketball coach. Ernest and his extended family are card carrying members of the corn-belt. He is an upstanding member of his evangelical church, local through and through. Ernest's worldviews are shaped by the local broadsheet - it carries all the relevant latest in Section A, Page 3 - under "World News". If it is not there in Section A, Page 3, it could not be important anyway. The rest of mysterious ways this universe behaves, he gleans from his pastor's Sunday sermons. He admits to watching Faux Noose (occasionally) but claims that it is only for a balanced perspective. He balances all his opinions with prolonged discussions with me while his burgers and sausages are sizzling and my tandoori chicken, zucchini and corn-on-the-cob are roasting to their charred perfection. He does expect me to represent and speak for a group of 1,428 million strong (and growing) - and who am I to disappoint? I happily oblige and fulfill my duties after we pop open a brew or two which definitely lubricates our parched throats and livens up the tête-à-tête.

Lately there have been a couple the things on his mind. 

He had just read something about G20 and POTUS's flying visit and some clips of the G20 summit. So he asked me about it last night. Ernest is keenly aware of the fact that global leadership role could be slipping away from the Ewe Essay. He believes that his neighbor's (moi) home country could be a like-minded ally and partner - English speaking, although with a funny sing-song accent. They are not the heathen, g*dless communists or them ay-rab sheikhs with their harems and camels and oil. He is also appreciative of all the tech support that comes from "Dick", "Mark" and "Andy" from their respective call-centers although he feels it peeved about those individuals who call at odd hours offering to fix his hitherto unknown "Microsoft computer Wirus" and want his credit card information. I did confess that I had not been following the G20 closely but will see if I could find some more information for him.

Doing some basic math here...Is it still correct to call it a group of 20? Technically, there are 19 plus 2. However, G19 would seem too much like a certain recent pandemic with 19. G21? I will defer that to a future raging WhatsCrapp debate - simply no desire to get into a 2nd Amendment discussion and the Glock 21. This time around - G20 is missing 2 key leaders, apparently, who have sent in their second stringers. Rumor has it that Comradeо дин is nursing his vodka, desperately looking for a cure for his rupee-rouble hangover, brooding in his dāchā, missing the delectable jāykédār delicacies at this party of the millennium millet hors d'oeuvre - that beluga икра́ (caviar) must taste quite bland in comparison. Also, Comrade 双 had to stay away due to the sudden onset of his diplomatic cold, coughing xi xi or is it 嚏 (ātischoo! in Chinese). Sadly, this humble gala with its austere silver'n'gold place settings just had to carry on with B-list phorén dignitaries sampling the culinary delights. 

Giorgia Meloni? Puh..lease! Macaron Macaroon Macaroni Macron? I can't even begin to get that straight! Just in, it is true, though, that PM Trudeau is flying solo without Mrs. T, eh? President Lula (not to be confused with our own Lalu) - o sim? Olaf - don't make me lachen ('tis to laf, er, laugh)! But... the show must go on! The one true star that the paparazzi have been buzzing about is the our wunderkind, the British PM and Mrs S-M (not S & M! Sunak Murthy?), a celebrity in her own right!

Our own angrézi jamāi bābu is attending now although he had missed the actual jamāi sashthi, tsk. The proud mother / mother-in-law of democracy janatantratā ki mātā ji / sasu ji is all aglow with the visit. But let's face it, behind the broad smile, there is a lot of emotional baggage and hurt feelings - koh i noor, bengāl famine, 45 trillion, etc. etc. if my WhatsCrapp feed is any indication.  But let us enjoy this brief moment of harmony anyway. I can almost hear the typical two-hour phone conversation happening with the Sunaks and Mother India Bhārat Mātā that goes on with any SiL/daughter no matter how long they've been married... "bété, tum call nahin karté, sab theek thāk hai nā? Mummy ko tum dono bhool gayé? Hamé tumhāri chintā lagi rahti hai! Kabhi kabhār to bhulé bisré call kar liyā karo! Sharmā ji ké bacché to roz unko call kar ké khoj khabar lété hain. Wāpis kab a rahé ho agli bār? Ab ham log budhé ho chalé! Paké hué āam hai, kab tapak ké gir jāyéngé!", etc. ending with, "Jug jug jiyo, betā, tumhāri khushi mé hamāri khushi hai, meri lādli ka khyāl rakhnā, bétā". To my friend Rishi, if you don't know how to respond to Bhārat Mātā during this monologue if ever given a chance while she is catching her breath, there is only one correct response, "hān, Mummy ji!" Not sure how to translate all this for my neighbor Ernest - perhaps I can use the old "big, fancy, noisy family gathering like (a la Big Fat Greek Wedding?), a billionaire tycoon ké bété / béti ki shādi with neighbors and friends of family and families of friends of neighbors. A cast of thousands, some on display, pay no attention to the many behind the green curtain" line... The explanation about G20 gala of glitz and glam, pomp and circumstance, chakmak chakmak, dhoom dhamākā, clearly needs more thinking on how to spin the G20 story. Perhaps better to avoid the word "cast" so as not to get it mixed up with the "caste" discussions in the mind of my neighbor Ernest.

The other one that has floored me completely right now was his question about the Suntan Drama. I thought I was on the right track as he politely listened to my lame explanation about how I and my fellow countrymen are blessed with an abundance of melanin since birth. Informed him of the fact that white skin is actually a flaw, a result of a natural deficit in their gene pool. The summertime activities of various skimpily clad neighborhood ladies (no, I do not go looking specifically, dammit, just can't avoid it during my neighborhood stroll!) to enhance their summertime skin glow - lounging poolside sunbathing, visiting tanning salons, using sprays, etc. seemed to result in their resemblance to poorly boiled lobsters more often than not. I carefully avoided the topic of "skin-whitening cream" hawked by various local celebrities on desi TV and print media. I had warmed up quite nicely after a couple of brews going on and on that no one in India ever needed suntan and there was absolutely no drama. Until I noticed his confused look that reminded me of my own childhood befuddlement, like the look on my face when I had asked an adult a question like "where do babies come from?" Or during their long winded explanation of the word "thespian" instead of the word "lesbian". Ernest corrected me gently, "No, no, not that!" He and his church group were trying to understand the difference between a certain -ism, its -tva variant and the Suntan Drama. Now help me out, folks. How do I enlighten my neighbor, the earnest one?

© 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖆