When A Punk Called Me Paki

Posted: July 31, 2016 in London, My Silly thoughts, TransOceanic
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I still remember the day, clear as Bangalore’s summer blue sky as It was Eid. I saw the cars zzup fast me, inside happy Muslim family dressed in eye blinding, flashy clothes. Their face was reflecting their joy of the day while I stood on the bus stop and waiting for my ride home.

It was 8.30 PM, but the sun still shun like newly married groom thanks to crazy UK weather. I crossed the road and hurried with my one and only annoying company of 8kg, 4 GB laptop humming my all-time favorite Cold-play song in my usual crow like voice. “Para, para, Paradise..”. Lost in my thoughts I didnt much bother about the slowing car from behind and the driver screaming something at me. It was UK after all, why I have to be worried anyways. I am slow processor at times I took a minute or two to interpret what that UK punk just called me. Before I could react he was gone, taking the poisonous air of his existence with him.

“PAKI” (short form of Pakistani) he had called me. Tere Ma*** ** slang lost in my brain, middle finger stuck in my jacket’s pocket and ID card sleeping peacefully in my bag I just smiled. I didnt cry, didnt stamp my feet with anger saying “suhar ki…”, I didnt get angry but I smiled on the stupidity of ignorant, bal**less scum bag. I know even Paki’s are human being bla bla bla but boy never call a Indian Paki; It hurts. Something did snap in my heart then, I walked home like a wounded deer, wondering why people all across the world has to be mean and racist. If you think there is no racism in UK then it’s high time you wake up from your dream like I did.

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The trouble I took to register my name in voter list, tears I wiped seeing my ghost like picture in identity card, long and never ending wait for Adhar card, bunked office to make sure my name and picture is beside my unrecognizable parents in the in the ration card. With all the trouble I took to prove my identity and some illiterate, %^&&* calls me Paki. I am sure when his teacher was teaching him geography he was picking lies from his hair and ticks from his body.

So what I got brown skin; black is color of my hair. It’s true my personality matches many nationalities  Pakistni’s, SriLanga’s(Sri Lanka) Bangladeshi’s but I am an Indian, ‘I’ in caps. When I go to Zoo I see chimpanzees, Oragutan’s, gorillas, Gibbons, Mandrill Fangs, I am smart enough to recognize them by their type knowing they all belong to same specie of MONKEY, so what they vary in their color and looks.

Next time someone call me by names I will make sure I will give my piece of mind, and gyan to him no matter what, broken nose, blacked eye, one more scar on face that’s alright, I can survive with one. After all scars have deepest secret of our life.

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