Forget the latest interpretation of Raag Darbari. From the Indian Premier League to Commonwealth Games — such a short journey! Let’s gird our loins for London Olympics 2012, and prove the Brits wrong! Clearly, the angrez have missed the point yet again, and underestimated our desi achievements. What do those blokes from the United Kingdom’s national tourism agency know about our special skills and abilities? Those ignorant staffers have released etiquette guidelines to be observed while dealing with the hordes of foreigners expected to descend on London for the Games. VisitBritain has instructed workers to refrain from getting a bit too up close and personal with us desis, since “Indians don’t like being touched by strangers!” Ha! Since when? As a nation we are so seriously sex starved, any touch is better than no touch. And the best touch of all is the one that comes with a phoren tag. And when Indians think phoren, they think white. Come on, you guys in VisitBritain. Wake up. Indians will readily shell out hard currency for the “privilege” of being touched by a white person of either sex. Take a look at what happens back home in Pushkar year after year. We grab the first innocent gora/gori and have ourselves photographed. Emboldened by the experience, the more adventurous take the heaven-sent chance to the next level and snake an arm around the startled person’s waist. Fairs, melas and festivals are Groping Heavens where it is open season for all those hard up men to “celebrate” with foreign visitors. This nasty celebration sometimes leads to molestation, even rape. If there is one thing Indians are brilliant at, it’s wholesale haath maroing. Touchy-Feely is a national past time — no, a national obsession. Which is why it is of key importance to reword those guidelines. Bluntly put, for a lot of tourists from India who may be planning to attend the London Olympics, one of the key attractions will be the countless opportunities to paw locals. Denied such a chance, there may be heavy cancellations from our shores. Yes, sir. We will show the world what we are all about. Free-style Leaching is something we excel at. Marathon Ogling comes a close second. Our only hope to win a minimum of two medals lies in just these events — Lechery and Ogling. Wonder where these angrez chaps get their data from? Fully faltu, I say. They have read us wrong. And now they want to rob us of all the fun. Image ka sawaal hai, bhai. If these guidelines go out to the rest of the world (as is the intention), we’ll get royally… errr… scre***!
Indians are total “rascalams” when it comes to taking advantage of gullible foreigners. Our Touchy-Feely selves are pretty hard to restrain as anybody who has ever travelled by public transport in India will confirm. What is comparatively new to us in the big cities involves the art of social kissing — the “muaah muaah” we see on foreign television and in the movies… and increasingly on local entertainment channels that cover society events. But even here, we get it all wrong. A social kiss is just that — social. We have converted it into something pretty anti-social. There is a huge difference between a full on slurpy, noisy smooch (suction action, optional), and a light grazing of cheeks, lips elegantly puckered to indicate “intention to kiss… but strictly no desire”. Our version is like a jalebi-eating contest — gooey, sticky, yucky. Plus, men here don’t seem to get it — it is simply not done to pull a reluctant lady’s extended hand and arm twist her into a nauseating clinch. A namastey or a hand shake means just one thing — “Hands off, you sloppy bugger”. It is particularly annoying to deal with supp­osedly well-travelled fello­ws who attack cringing females at parties and go into this rather nauseating routine. I agree, this is definitely “against Indian culture”, and is one modern import I’m willing to lead a morcha against. Other than this trend, our Touchy-Feely selves get into avoidable trouble when we grab cute phirangi bachchas on the street and coo, “Chhhho chweet… give kissie to auntie, na?” Please note: the irresistible bachchas have to be white and blond. When was the last time you saw someone express such an urge towards a black kid? Our own travel guidelines ought to advise over enthu types from touching other people’s children in a foreign land. It is just not done, and anybody attempting to even ruffle a kid’s mop of flaxen hair, risks arrest (“Child mol­ester! Paedophile! Get your dirty hands off my kid this second”).
It would be of great interest to know whether Suresh Kalmadi and Co. have issued similar etiquette guidelines to desi staff and volunteers of the blighted CWG. One suggestion: Such instructions should not go beyond basics like, “Keep off the Grass” style “Keep your hands off”. These little handbooks should be printed in Hindi and Punjabi, preferably with illustrations to go with the text. I am serious. They should also be given to loaders and others at Delhi airport. Several women I’ve spoken to have complained about how violated they feel the moment they land in the capital. There is something about the boori nazar of those guys, to say nothing about their tendency to brush past female derrieres and then turn around to check whether or not that accidental touch has been noticed by the victim. I have clobbered enough loaders at the Delhi airport to be officially registered in a log book. God knows how these beasts will behave once some amazing international hot-bods start arriving in the capital. But before we train those chaps, perhaps we should offer an even stricter crash course to all the top bosses in charge of (mis)handling the event. There are enough stories of excessive Touchy-Feely encounters going around about those hard up men to warrant serious intervention. But who will bell the tomcat?
Let the Touchy-Feely Games begin!

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