“Why is India So Hot and So Dirty?” Every NRI Relative Visit Ever

Humour

“Why is India So Hot and So Dirty?” Every NRI Relative Visit Ever

Illustration: Ahmed Sikander

T

he annual invasion of my relatives from the US has begun. They arrive – always around 3 am – in September in my city, Chennai. Either because there are four weddings and a funeral to attend, or else it’s time for another root canal. So we set our alarm for 2 am, and off we go excitedly to welcome our NRI cousins home.

We smile and wave from the arrival lounge much like the Penguins from Madagascar, as we spot Sriram Anna and Kokila Akka wheeling in eight suitcases – four of which have about a thousand Pampers for their Baby Kathyayini. (Of course, how can they trust the desi Pampers sold at our local shops?) Anna and Akka are flanked by Kathyayini’s scowling brothers, Agastya and Vishwamitra, and even from a distance we can lip-read what they’re saying: “Why is Chennai SO hot, mom?”

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