i keep the wolf from the door
but he calls me up
calls me on the phone
tells me all the ways that he’s gonna mess me up
steal all my children
if i don’t pay the ransom
but i’ll never see him again
if i squeal to the cops
In my case, it’s a Punjabi Infosissy. But this bit of xenophobic (sarcastic, perhaps. but I really don’t care) stupidity shall not go undocumented!
Scene: A phone call. Delhi-ite in Bangalore to a Bangalorean/Hyderabadi in Delhi.
TBB: I’m addicted to ghee roasts! All I eat everyday are ghee roasts!
THF: YOU BASTARD! You complain about eating ghee roasts all the time when I have to survive on chole kulcha! I spit me ‘zem all, ‘zis North Indian cuisine of yours.
TBB: Chole Kulcha at that place in South-Ex is better than Ghee Roasts anyday!
THF: A likely answer! Try something different, then.
TBB: Like what?
THF: Try Bisi Bele Bath. It’s one of my favorites.
THF: Bisi Bele Bath.
TBB: What the fuck is that?
THF: Bisi = hot. Bele = dal. Bath = rice. It’s really good, trust me.
TBB: You’re trying to get me beaten up, aren’t you? You think by making me ask for something in Kannad (with punjabi accent) or Tamil whose meaning I don’t understand, you can get me beaten up or laughed at or both. Well, guess again! I’m sticking to my ghee roasts! If I wanted “hot dal rice”, I would fall sick. I only eat “hot dal rice” when I’m sick.
THF: Bravo. *clap… clap… clap*
By the way, since you put all your trust in human beings… here you go.