Happy Independence Day: Or guess who has the biggest goat in the world

To all those who can’t think of India without thinking of superlatives (oldest civilization, largest democracy, highest mountain peaks, most number of cows, and longest mustache) - Happy Independence Day. (Oh, and I totally include myself in the category).

Clarkson goes potty over India: let's be outraged but for reasons other than the HCI's

Here's why I can't agree with High Commission of India, London's, demand that BBC apologises for Top Gear's offensive portrayal of India on their 90-minutes Christmas Special.

If we don't give others the right to make fun of us, we must also give-up the right to make fun of others. And I dearly don't want to lose my right to make fun of the British: their terrible food; their inability to hold down a drink (evident in the all the puke you see on the streets on Saturday and Sunday mornings); the Katie Price-inspired fashion that dominates Picadilly Circus; the quixotic British train system that breaks down at the mere mention of snow, rain or autumn leaves; the famous British bureaucracy and the mad Prince Charles.

Remember, if we don't want the British to laugh at the Top Gear episode, we have no right to laugh at this scene from our own beloved Kabhie Khushi Kabhie Gham.



This, after the British Government so kindly allowed us to shoot half our film in their country!

Besides, here's something I don't get about stereotypes? Is a depiction still a stereotype if it is true?

Ok, so the Top Gear showed street dogs and Indian men pissing on the streets of Mumbai, long queues in front of Railway ticket counters, they talk about tourists in India getting the trots (or diahorrea), the dangerous highway between Delhi and Jaipur. But aren't they true depictions of our lives. I can't remember a single day in my fifteen years in Mumbai (or 22 years in India) when I didn't see street dogs and men pissing in the open. And yes, public toilets in India are a shame. I challenge the High Commissioner of India to England to use the public toilet at Kurla Terminus in Mumbai. These are not generalisations, these are the realities of living in India. It is just that the Top Gear depicts them in their standard cheeky style.

The Top Gear team also showed the lively street stalls and enterprise of Mumbai (in fact, Clarkson and team come sloppy seconds against the dabbawallas), Delhi's glitterati in their incredibly expensive cars and the beauty of the Himalayas.

The show hosts also constantly make fun of Britain. The whole exercise shows the British products as awful and poorly constructed, and themselves as buffoons in the garb of Britain's representatives. And they are happy to make fun of themselves. (In fact, over the years, they have made more fun of Britain than of any other culture, country or people).

If I do have a quibble, it is this. Their's jokes - whether on us or themselves - were so contrived. The Top Gear humour is at its best when it is spontaneous and full of surprise. But over the years, the character of the three hosts has become so fixed and the dynamics between them so predictable, that one can foretell the result of all their pranks before they have played themselves out. That is just bad television.

If we must protest, it is over this. That even with all the chaos, crowds, surprise, and fodder for humour that India provided them: Clarkson, Hammond and May couldn't really give us a genuine moment of spontaneous humour. We deserved better!

Tweet for Tat

Dear Mr Shashi Tharoor,

As the Minister of State of External Affairs of India, I really appreciate the way you try so hard to stay in touch with your constituency via twitter. In the last two days, you have kept a tireless hourly reporting schedule from Bogota of your activities and all the wise thoughts to cross your mind.

On Monday, the moment you got off at the Bogota airport, you immediately informed us that your bags had arrived and a jetlag was looming over you (2:46pm); but keeping that wretched jetlag at bay, at 5:18pm you directed us to a media report on your tricky diplomatic successes at Barcelona, which you had just left behind; at 5:26pm, you retweeted a tweet about India’s blind, urging people to donate their eyes; four minutes later, you retweeted a message giving your respects to Martin Luther King; we had to wait only another six minutes before you popped up again to pay your respects to Jyoti Basu; two minutes later you reiterated your pain at his sad demise (just in case anyone was in doubts about your emotions); the next two tweets were dedicated to Haiti; and you ended your day retweeting congratulations sent you by two of your grateful and ardent supporters on your achievements in Barcelona.

The next day again, you kept us informed about your thoughts on organ donations, Indian cricket greats, you successful meetings and other achievements in Bogota, Indian investment opportunities in Columbia, Bogota’s beauty and the lack of Indian tourists there, and Kerala’s backwater houseboats through tweets and retweets.

Now if only that the High Commissions of India around the world, which are under your direct jurisdiction, shared your enthusiasm to tirelessly serve us Indians to the best of their capabilities.

All I wanted to do was get more pages for my passport. The website of HCI in London, unlike your tweeting self, didn’t believe in details so had no information for people whose passport pages had run out. The telephone helpline for passport inquiries didn’t follow your ethos of remaining in touch with the Indian base either, because instead of reaching a human being I met at automated voice that directed me back to the unhelpful website. There was a general inquiry number listed on the website – both for office and after hours – but no one cared to pick up that phone line.

Feeling helpless, I took a chance and filled up the passport renewal form and arrived at the HCI. After standing in line for hours, I was informed at the counter that I needed photocopies of my husband’s passport, of our marriage certificate, and proof of change of address as well. My protests that these requirements were not mentioned on the website were met with careless shrugs.

On my second visit, I was pushed off to a counter that handles people without token numbers. After 20 minutes of being crushed by men from all sides who didn’t believe in queuing or giving women the right of way, I decided that my 5’2” self I didn’t stand a chance of reaching the main counter and called it quits.

On my third visit, I finally managed to reach the counter armed with all documents – but the lady at the counter who believed in service with a snort still managed to find a reason to shout at me and throw my papers and money carelessly on the counter before grudgingly accepting my application.

What worried me was that as a well educated, English-speaking Indian who is aware of her rights, I was getting HCI’s crème de la crème treatment. There were others, old men and women who could only speak Hindi or Punjabi and didn’t understand electronic forms and tricky paperwork, who were being carelessly and rudely shovelled from one counter to the other by your representatives at the HCI.

Why is it Mr Tharoor, that while you are busy putting India on the world map and giving yourself up to the service of your Indian constituency, your ministry’s footmen are busy making Indians feel helpless, angry, frustrated and keen to give up their Indian passports?

So while you are in Bogota today, I would suggest taking a break from your tweeting schedule and visit the HCI there to see whether it has the manners, infrastructure and the willingness to serve and help the Indian tourists that you wish to see more of in the country. Your ardent tweeting followers, including me, will with live with the loss for a day or two, I am sure.