Serendipity plays a great role in my life. The following joke could not have come to me at a better time. I am indebted to my friend from the land of milk and honey, who loves to rib me about Indians. This story however is about the Red variety.
An Indian picks up a hooker. ‘How much do you charge for da hour, sister?’ he asks.
‘$100,’ she replies.
He says ‘Do you do Indian style?’
‘No’ she says.
‘ I pay you $200 to do it Indian style’
‘No’, she says, not knowing what Indian style is.
‘I pay you $300’
‘No’, she says.
‘I pay you $400’
‘No’, she says.
So finally he says, ‘OK, I pay you $1,000 to do it Indian style.’
She thinks, ‘Well, I’ve been in the game for over 10 years now. I’ve had every kind of request from weirdos from every part of the world.
How bad could Indian Style be?”.
So she agrees and has sex with him. They do it in every kind of way and in every possible position.
Finally, after several hours, they finish. Exhausted, the hooker turns to him and says, ‘Hey, I was expecting something perverted and disgusting. But that was good. So what exactly is ‘Indian style’?’
The Indian replies ‘You send bill to Government’
I am an Indian. The original Brown variety. For me, a sister, blood or rakhi, is a very different relationship. I am conditioned by my culture, religion and traditions to treat a sister differently. I am not constrained by any psychoanalysis and have no time for such inane pursuits. Nor do I believe that I need such analysis. I am very comfortable with myself and the way I am.
With that story, and my little footnote to it, this is to formally bid goodbye to a flamer who has misused the hospitality of my blog. The comment that the flamer has left in my post is being suitably responded to.
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