It was a stroke of marketing genius to declare that the national dish of Britain was Chicken Tikka Masala. A dish almost totally devoid of Indian origin - but exotic enough to make us seem comfortable with multiculturalism. I like a good curry. Damn. Even the word curry is a generic Britishism designed to cover any spicy food from lands afar. Every Indian restaurant in the UK offers "The Most Authentic Cuisine". I know what I like - but I've no way to judge its authenticity. One of our…
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India is an explosion of colour. The food, the clothes, the temples. They all pulse like a rainbow. But not me. I'm white. Very white. More than that - I feel white and foreign. I feel out of place. The people I meet are friendly - but it's clear I don't really understand the culture, the way things work, or even how to cross the road. My first sight of a swastika shocked me. I know its origins, its special meaning here. But even daubed in multicolour paint on the side of a taxi was…
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There's a whole science dedicated to the universality of human expressions. Across vast continents and endless oceans, humans make the same face whether in a state of grief, joy, or disgust. More or less. The face of the Indian street vendor clearly said "Oh, FFS!" I had made the universal tourist mistake of paying for a cheap product with a ridiculously large bill. The bottle of mango juice I needed so desperately to cool down in the mad-dog sun came to 20 rupees. The smallest…
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