The Village People

No - this post is not about that iconic 70s band that represented all that was flowery, camp and gay......this post is about my extended relatives from the pind (village ) who now call Canada home. When I first came over about 7 years ago, the tribe probably regarded me as something of a cultural novelty......the England wala who preferred to converse in Angrezi, white collar occupation (or at least didn't drive a truck), who preferred soccer to kabbadi, possessed a filled bookcase and preferred sipping wine then the usual macho ritual of getting semicomatose from swigging the hard amber stuff. I'm afraid my attempts at Jatt-ness must have been sorely lacking in the eyes of my fellow chest beating Punjabi babbar sheres...

In moving to Canada, I suppose I've experienced a more rustic Jatt version of 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' and I've noticed some distinct cultural differences between desis here in Canada and those in England. In England immigration from the sub-continent has been virtually shut down for the last 30 years, resulting I suppose in a more homogenous urban outlook amongst the desi community which has been there since the 50s, 60s and early 70s. Contrastingly, most desis I have come across in my circle have been here for barely 10 years, direct from a rural Punjabi village and via the family class immigration category. Culture and language are two biggest differences I've noticed.....there is a constant western/rural desi cultural faultline which means east and west never quite fuse together. The gurdwaras here (in Ontario) are a lot more hard-core pro-Khalistani than the ones in England, and it seems that bright red lipstick in still in vogue with the chunni and salwaar kameez brigade who go weekend shopping for wholewheat atta and mangoes.

Still, it ain't all bad though....even though my ribs are continually sore from the countless number of bear hugs I've received over the years - it is a testament to the genuine affection I've received from my tribe who ask for nothing and yet are willing to give. In fact it reminds me of a passage in Partap Sharma's 'Days of The Turban' novel:

"The bus will take you there. Now. But before it was wild. Desolate. The backyard of Punjab. Here, in my village, the men carry guns and anger easily between their quotidian farming chores.

These are the men of the far North born out of the forerunners and morass of all civilizations that attacked India through the Himalayan passes. These are the men born out of and into the war.

They carry their bloodshed lightly between jokes and daily lawful living. They are men and women of the earth, as basic as that - as quick to yield harvests of kindness and goodness, as quick to dry up and turn sullen and destroy. These are my people".

ps. and for those of you who did a Google search for Village People (the musical version) and came across my sociological rantings, here is consolation prize for you:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Jmfix-st9U