This Above all
Humourless Tam-Brahms: A class apart
KHUSHWANT SINGH

In contemporary parlance Tamil Brahmins are known as Tam-Brahms. Among the Hindu sub-castes they enjoy the reputation of being the brightest as well as the most orthodox in conforming to Vedic traditions. They are strict vegetarians. Besides meat, fish, poultry and eggs, they abstain from having onions, garlic or mushrooms because they are born out of polluted soil. They are also obsessed with bowel movements. I know quite a few exceptions to the general practice: those Indian families include men who did not wear sacred threads, scotch flows, beef served and their offspring married Whites, Muslims and Hindus of lower castes. I admit they were a rarity. Another thing I noticed about Tambrahms is high self-esteem, short tempers and inability to laugh at themselves. Come to think of it only two religious communities make jokes about themselves and are able to laugh at their foibles: Parsis and Sikhs. Both had the self-assurance of achievements and despite the fun they made of themselves did not lose their sense of superiority over others. The Sikhs have lost it in recent years and have become as touchy as others. I received a notice from the lawyers of SGPC that if I did not stop making Sardarji jokes, legal action would be taken against me. I threw it in the waste-paper basket.

Did I say Tambrahms have no sense of humour and are unable to laugh at themselves? I withdraw my charges with abject apology. I’ve just finished reading No Onions Nor Garlic (Penguin). It is about Tam-Brahms, written by a Tambrahm, Srividya Natarajan who teaches English in a Canadian University. Her story is tortuously complicated, totally contrived and overwritten. Despite all that, it is Indian humour at its best.

The principal character of the story is Professor Ram, Head of the Department of English of Chennai University and an ardent champion of Brahminism. He lives in a newly constructed apartment built by a property developer (also a Tambrahm) who has made a huge fortune using shoddy material getting by municipal regulations and the police by periodically bribing them. With Prof Ram lives his wife, son and daughter brought up as orthodox Brahmins, and a maid servant-cum-cook of a lower caste who serves them with devotion, receiving a pittance as a wage without ever asking for a raise. Their mornings begin with hot coffee and butter-milk laced with evacuants (I presume it is Isabgol) to keep their bowels moving like clock work. He is not so care-taking of his bladder and at times wets his trousers and socks. He scans pages of the Bindhu (I presume The Hindu, a Tambrahm-owned paper he assiduously reads paying special attention to columns on the beauties of Hindu religion which appear alongside the crossword puzzle. (I skip the religious columns because they constipate me, I do the crossword religiously because they move my bowels.) Ram is for ever promoting himself. He hawks his book, published at his own expense on the significance of the sacred thread, wangles invitations to international seminars by cultivating the British Council, US Information Service and the University Grants Commission. Arthur Koestler described such seminar-wanglers "Modern Call Girls". His bete noir at the university is a Christian lady professor who organises Dalits to fight Tam-Brahms hegemony. Much to the chagrin of Dr Ram, they manage to instal Dr Ambedkar’s bust in the convocation hall. He does not take it lying down. While rehearsing Shakespeare’s Mid-Summer Night’s Dream in which he plays the principal role and teaching students how to speak "proppa Poppadum English" he plans to instal a mammoth sized statue of the Goddess of Learning, Saraswati, on the beach facing the university.

Prof Ram’s children come of marriageable age. So besides his columns on religion, he and his wife carefully scan matrimonial columns of The Bindhu. They chance up on one inserted by an NRI couple living in Canada. They eat no onions, no garlic, no eggs and are Tam-Brahms. They have a divorced son and daughter and want spouses for both. What could be better from Ram’s point of view. Negotiations are opened, date for a double marriage ceremony fixed, cards sent out; all seem to be going hunky-dory.

Meanwhile Prof Ram and the Christian lady Professor come to blows over the Ambedkar statue. She hits him on his head, knocks him down to the floor. He bites her heels with his false teeth and draws blood. It’s a case for the police. But Providence saves them. It is revealed that Prof Ram’s son is in love with a Dalit girl, his daughter is a lesbian and the poor maid-servant of low caste is the mother of both Professor Ram and the Christian lady professor. And right at the end of No Onions Nor Garlic the author reveals that she is the divorced wife of the NRI couple’s son.

"Utterly improbable", you will say. I agree but add "utterly readable".

Punjab’s election festival

Who wants to be PM?

When Pranab Mukherji was asked if he wanted to be PM?

He replied: "But I am already PM!"

(Contributed by KJS Ahluwalia, Amritsar)