It's Medu not Mendu

Well this is not a roz ki baat but sometimes, just sometimes I feel like looking into the ignorant eyes of my friends and whispering, “ My name is Shetty, and I am not a madrasi.” 

Like many second generation Maharashtra citizens, even my grandparents moved from Mangalore to Mumbai. Unfortunately, they were too employed to see the alienating remarks casually being thrown around.

I saw it, more so, I felt it. When I say “I was born and brought up in Mumbai!”, to many that may just remind them of all those ‘oh, how can I not love this city’ reels they see on their fyp; Borivali, I'm breaking a bubble here, is not remotely close to the bandra-churchgate-Marine drive glamour.

The real problem is not people, it is the PEOPLE. 

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As a tuluva(yes, shettys (bunts) are tuluvas not kannadigas), the last time I spoke flawless tulu was when I was 4. What happened after that? I made friends at school! All sorts: gujarati, marathi, Marwadi, mallu, bengali.

I'm not saying they were an influence, even if they were, I was far too young to care. Nevertheless, it shaped a part of me, the part that could include marathi, gujarati, English and disgracefully, slanged-the-fuck-out-of hindi in a single sentence.

Maybe in 3rd grade I think, I clicked out of the NPC persona, and got conscious, that's when it hit me. These people don't call me Shetty, Idli-sambar, Anna because they want me to feel like they are close to me, that was just normalized micro-mockery. Saddest part? I don't think they even realized that.

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Throughout life I have always felt most Mumbaikar back in Mangaluru, and most shetty in Mumbai. Quite a paradox, but that's the reality for many in India.

And the lowest, most inconsiderate people take advantage of this feeling you have, the feeling of never being at home. Calling a person from the Northeast “Chinese” is not just ignorance. It is a quiet way of telling them they don’t belong, not even including our country's islands in most maps too, all of this is part of the problem.

Be honest—when was the last time you saw an actor from Mizoram, Meghalaya, Assam, Manipur, Arunchal in mainstream Bollywood cinema? Why? Why is ‘the face of India’ only the ones that fit one narrow standard of what Indians should look like?

It's because, the way women see earth as a man's world, the same way in India to be a north Indian—jatt, NCR-ite, delhi da Munda is default. The rest? Well, they will just have to bear with their stereotypical, 15th century jokes.

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For the people that are genuinely clueless, here is a list of all the problems(detailed edition). Because this is not just just something that happened to bother me, it is my lifestyle.

1. The great Indian education system(history particularly):

History taught in school is embarrassingly secluded from any sort of real life relevance of it.

Does being a history student in India only mean learning about the Delhi sultanate, the Maratha Empire and colonial history? Rarely do I hear people say they were also taught about the Vijaynagara empire or the Maurya dynasty.

When the pahalgam attack had happened and our country performed operation sindoor, in an international press conference Bilawal Bhutto Zardari referred to Pakistan as the inheritors of the Indus valley civilization. Although I have my list of opposing arguments ready, what stood out is the clarity in identity that statement projects.

If that clarity is so salient in shaping a national narrative elsewhere then why is our understanding of Bharatiya itihas so selectively constructed?

Our children should be taught about the Ahom dynasty, Chola empire, about the royals of Mizoram, The Kalaktiya dynasty—not as footnotes but as equal parts of India’s story.

This incomplete curriculum is the base of all misunderstanding. Furthermore, it also creates an imbalance in the fact that some children see their culture getting appropriate representation while others don't. 

This also creates a problem in the social life of many children, especially in suburban/rural regions where casteism is part of peoples’ lifestyles. Along with all the stories of the great triumphs by the Marathas and the Rajputs, a narrative slowly settles in a child, and without proper attention it rots into immature hubris.

Over time, instead of creating a future, they feel pride over the past, in which in any case they had absolutely zero contribution towards.

2. The house of judgement

My school was a Gujarati dominated one but all of my non gujju friends preferred to hangout with anyone but a gujju. This was the same in my mother's case when she was a child, just that instead of gujjus it was Punjabis. The common denominator was their dismissal towards other cultures, of their own country?

I am not aware of the others but with me it was always them asking me what is my mother tongue, and when I used to say tulu there was only one programmed response that I heard, every single time.

 

“Do you mean telugu?"

“Is it a short form for telugu?"

“Yeah yeah I know, it's also called telugu no?”

NO, it's not telugu, what?

But it does not end here. The majority community in Borivali was gujju, with them came their unspoken preference for lighter skin—to say the least, that preference was passed down like a family heirloom. One of my school friends, I still remember, said, “ It’s astonishing how you aren't so dark, I mean you are from the south only na?” 

Did she expect me to laugh with her? Was that even a joke? No, but the point is, if they are so comfortable mocking your looks, then they would conveniently also reduce your culture to just stereotypes.

In such environments, prejudice is often taught passively, I mean actions are undeniably more observed than words. And children? They observe best.

3. The illusion of inclusion

As the classrooms teach us who we are, cinema shows who matters most. Yes! It is just as alarming as it sounds because movies decide what ‘normal India’ looks like—and they keep choosing the same version.

Unfortunately for us ‘Bharat rajgan’ passport holders, the north indian archetype is the default. Worse still, even those are flattened to a name, a plastic personality, and a stereotypical delhi da Munda accent.

Come to think of it, a significant chunk of Indian cinema leans on stereotypes. Movies like chennai express that reduce entire cultures to intonation and punchlines to films that glorify scruffy, unkempt, borderline unhygienic men or writing female leads like they were added to the plot last minute. Movies like Pushpa and Ala vaikunthpuramaloo that have used female leads like Christmas decorations.

In all of this, you don't even hear about the north-east, Kashmiris or our islands at all. This attitude reads to me as: it is a privilege to be included, even if represented erroneously.

Another debacle of Indian cinema is that we are infamous for our love for pearly white skin. I have only ever heard honey singh rap about brown skinned girls, and everyone else is just frozen in the ‘gori’ aesthetic. While us chocolate girls are still begging for a foundation shade in our olive toned brown skin.

If Rihanna made a foundation for the darkest of the African-american demographic, why doesn't kay beauty or house of masaba do it? The gaps in inclusivity within the beauty industry reflect the social sentiment towards dark skin, ‘fondly’ called shyam rang.

This absence extends beyond skin- tones. The inconspicuousness Austroasiatic/northeastern features and adivasi representation on the big screen further reinforce the ‘default indian’ facade which on a global scale is quite embarrassing for our state.

Just a personal theory, but I think Sita amma had northeastern features, we just have illustrated her the wrong way for centuries. I mean if I were the mother of the universe and had the chance to be born 10 times, I would collect cultural aesthetics as well. But that's besides the point.

The gist of it is, diversity in India is only celebrated on two days of a year, and on the rest of the days, actresses are forced to bleach their skin, and fix their breathtaking indian noses that carried the pride of their ancestors.

Nevertheless, we have bigger problems. Take this as an example: 

When I was selecting the fabric for this half saree, comparing it to a gorgeous dark blue and purple fabric in a similar design, I had asked one of my friends for advice. He said, “Choose gold because you wouldn't be visible in a dark colour.” 

The point is, this is the mindset of the vast majority of the Indian internet users.

From getting shamed for dark colour to body shaming to racism to regionalism, everything, romanticized and pushed forward by the algorithm. This is not even the tip of the ice berg, at the very bottom of it lies the biggest, most baffling mystery: why are we still consuming this content?

Maybe because there is absolutely no escape; there is nowhere to hide from all that hate, it follows you, you follow it. You can not break that cycle until you delete instagram. You may be feeling that the internet does not care, but don't be fooled, it's the people that run that hellhole that couldn't care less about inclusivity.

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This is one part where we can consider that maybe the people just don't know but crowds are apprehensive to actually speak about their culture because it is made fun of when they do.

There was this girl in my class that said, “I want mendu vada.” I corrected her very politely because as a south Indian it is my job that fellow indian are educated about my culture.

“It medu not mendu.”, I corrected

She looks at me and says, “Nahi lekin hum marathi log aise hi bolte hai.”

Guess what? They started making fun of me for correcting them, and I was not even like they were strangers to me, these are the girls I hangout with every day. This condescending sentiment of theirs’ is spread out through every anecdote I have of telling people about my culture, and it is a serious problem because I don't want my children to face the same issue.

Actually, people like them, people who will speak over the teacher in marathi, to assert god knows what dominance, I want her to try living in delhi, or chennai. Somewhere which is just as prideful in their linguistic identity as her, and know what it is like to be ‘exotic’, to never fit in, slowly go insane seeing the people around you only making it worse for you.

Unfortunately, here in Mumbai, only this one, curated version of me will be accepted. I would sell my soul for a chance to run away to somewhere I don't have to prove my legitimacy, or how adaptable I am, but as I said you can never outrun that hate. Even if I go back home to mangaluru, i’ll need a few years to settle in properly. After those few years I will finally feel like I belong, I can finally allow myself to attach to my surroundings rather than living in a constant state of psychosis. I hope that comfort does not make me the monster that I used go to school with, that I was friends with, that I go to college with.

I hope I don't feel scared to open the comments when I see a picture of a dark skinned person on instagram, I dont make fun of someone from the northeast for their eyes, I dont show indifference towards our peoples’ languages and cultures, I don't overlook the culture of the people of andaman, nicobar and lakshadweep.

At the end of the day, no idea can be pushed to towards the world, all I can do is wait, wait till India realizes why Vishnu came down to earth 9 times.