I am proud to be of Indian descent. Whether it is the rich culture, the story of Mahatma Gandhi, or the recent tech boom, there are many aspects of India that I appreciate. But there is one thing that drives me nuts. Oh yes, I believe it may be what separates India from reaching it’s potential. What is this scourge of which is I speak? One word. Bollywood.
That’s right, India’s prolific cinema scene (Bombay + Hollywood = Bollywood) has managed to drive me nuts for years. It started with the movies my mom watched on Saturday mornings when I was a child. What was the appeal? These people lived ridiculous existences. So many people see these movies and think "wow, that’s what Indian people are like". Ugh. Stop It! I feel like I need to go to everyone who has seen the movies and explain: No, Indian people do not dance around and sing spontaneously with goofy grins on their faces!
Well, maybe we do if we’ve got a kid in tow.
My childcare has turned into one ongoing Bollywood movie. You see, I hear it is good to talk to a baby. Cherise is great at talking to Iris, but it’s hard for me to have a conversation with someone who’s response usually consists of sloppy drooling (now I know what Cherise goes through when she tries to talk to me early in the morning). I do have a trick where I will take Iris as I am talking to my dad on the bluetooth headset–Iris thinks I am talking to her instead of her grandfather and she usually falls asleep (yes, the girl passes out from boredom when she hears me speak–reminds me of my days being single). But other than talking to my dad, I don’t get much phone time. So I need to resort to other measures. Truth be told, I find it easier to sing than go with a soliloquoy.
While Coldplay is still the preferred bedtime selection, I’ve really started extending my repertoire (I think she is starting to get into Audioslave!). It’s even more fun when the songs seem to apply (including the Dave Matthews lyric "Baby it’s alright. Stop your crying"–that has been on cue on many occasions). And when Iris is getting fussy, I will get up and dance as I sing. It wasn’t until I strutted past a mirror that I realized that I looked like one of those ridiculous Bollwood movies, complete with goofy grin. Hmm. Perhaps there’s a career in showbiz for me yet. Book me two tickets to Bombay. Iris and I have a casting call for "Three Indian Men and a Baby"…