The colour is slowly fading to color. The z eating up the s. A land on the other side of the globe but yet so near, so influencing. I love Bade Ghulam Ali Khan but adore Bob Dylan. I detest Chacha Chaudhary and similar crap while appreciating the humour in Mad. Mark Twain occupies a more prized position on my bookshelf than RK Narayan. I go to watch Sarkar not because it is a Ram Gopal Verma film, but for the reason that it is his tribute to Godfather. Not many of us follow basketball but Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan adorn the walls of hostel rooms. The five pocket trousers made of denim is the de facto attire. I watch Sarabhai Vs Sarabhai, but the Simpsons remains an all time favourite.
The make over, thankfully, is not yet over. The dil phir bhi is hindustani (the heart remains Indian). The light switches are still not upside down. I ask for a litre of petrol at the petrol pump not a gallon of gas at the gas station and drive the kilometres (not miles) on the left side of the road. I read the hoardings; billboard is only a top 20 countdown. I walk into McDonalds and eat my McAloo Tikki burger. Lassi still rules over Coke. BC and MC are more effective in a brawl than f**k and MF. Staying with the parents (not folks) does not make me less manly. I live cricket and can’t comprehend baseball (only the bats come handy in the aforementioned brawls). And I still don’t like George Bush. Whew!