Say what you will, it’s hard to get close to another desi guy.
No, we don’t mean emotionally but literally (as in physical proximity).
Most desi men smell stink.
No question about it.
Don’t believe us?
Go ahead, ask your Caucasian buddy.
The odds are 90 to 1 that your White IT buddy at Morgan Stanley, MetLife or Goldman Sachs will tell you sotto voce that a desi Java programmer’s bad smell arrives a few seconds ahead of the bugs in his application.
Kinda heralds their arrival – Here I come, the stinking offal,the detritus of the third world.
Few White-Desi Hookups
Sneer at us all you want but we think one reason why the pretty White babes don’t come near desi guys is because of their bad odor.
Sure that’s a hypothesis and we confess we don’t have hard data to back us up. But there exists anecdotal evidence or proxy variables to support our argument.
For instance, open the New York Times Sunday matrimonial announcements at the end of the Styles section and you’ll see few desi guys hooking up with the Goris (White girls).
It’s always Ramesh Patel with Sheetal Patel, Mani Shankar Iyer with Meenakshi Ramachandran, Rajesh Yemeneni with Sunita Reddy or Darshan Singh with Priti Singh.
Rarely, rarely do you see Deepak Shah planning to share his future with a Melissa Rivers or a Mani Panchapakesan tying the ‘until death do us part’ knot with a Susan Douglas. 🙁
In the Air
Just sniff the air and you’ll know you are in the vicinity of a desi.
Try it out today in the supermarket aisles of Shoprite in New Jersey, Pathmark in New York or your local Costco/Sam’s Club where your Gujju bhai Shantilal Patel is likely stocking up on cheap Sam’s Cola and cream pastries for his convenience store and the families of Divakar Babu and his buddy Sivashankar Reddy (who likely share a single Costco card) are piling groceries and vegetables into their carts.
Take a deep breath and if their offensive odor doesn’t slam you hard then our name is not Aishwarya Manisundaram. 😉
Why the nose-wrinkling smell of the desi men?
It’s probably because of desis’ genetic predisposition to poor hygiene, sweating and and, of course, their insane, incurable addiction to curries like Gutti Vankaya Kura, Chicken Vindaloo, Poondu Kuzhambu and Vengaya Sambar.
But desis wouldn’t be desis if they didn’t have a hardened aversion to spending money, right?
So few desi men fork out moolah to buy colognes, perfumes or after-shaves and blissfully wander about polluting their McKinsey cubicles, IBM meeting rooms and the hallways of Regal cinemas.
Now, don’t y’all get your knickers in a twist and start hyperventilating that this post smacks of racism, blah blah blah.
No cursing allowed here (after all, we’re on a goodwill mission here of spreading good cheer good odor around you).
Au contraire, think of this post as your wake-up call to rid yourself of that stench and perhaps a passport to a happy life hereafter with a Belinda Matheson or Denise Jacobson. Not that a lissome Lavanya or a sultry Sujatha is any less alluring. 😉
OK Boss, Here We Come
Over the decades, we’ve tried several colognes including the humble Indian Attar, the lowly Brut, the common Old Spice and less common names like Kouros By Yves Saint Laurent, Eau Sauvage By Christian Dior, Desire By Alfred Dunhill, Nautica, Polo and several other brands that we’ve now consigned to the back-alleys of our brain.
A few months back, our Mudaliar friend from India was here on a visit and left behind his near-empty bottle of Boss Eau De Toilette Natural Spray.
Like any cheap desi, we wouldn’t let it go waste.
Anon we stopped spraying our Dunhill Desire and switched to the leftover Boss by Hugo Boss.
And before you could say 3 Idiots, we had taken a liking to the new perfume (well, we like anything new).
It became a daily ritual.
Right after our shower and before sitting down to entertain all ye schmucks, unfailingly we opened our gray box, took out the 100ml bottle and sprayed a little here and a little there. Delicately, because there was not much left in the bottle.
The pleasant odor lingered for several hours.
We also liked the fact that the Eau De Toilette spray was not so overpowering as to distract us. Not too masculine either.
Alas, before we could say Ayarithil Oruvan our bottle of Boss was empty.
By now, we were so smitten with our Boss that we decided to get a new bottle for ourselves.
So off we headed to our favorite e-tailer Amazon.com to order a new bottle on January 20.
Having gotten used to the free perfume for a few weeks, we didn’t like the price tag of $36.96 for the 100ml (3.3 oz) bottle. But Jeff Bezos is not our uncle and so we had to fork out the money. Since we opted for free shipping like any battle hardened cheapo desi, we waited till January 25 to receive our bottle by UPS Ground.
Now we have the full 100ml Boss bottle occupying pride of place with Dunhill, Nautica, Old Spice and others on our bathroom shelf.
Yes, we do have some gripes about Boss besides the price.
We wish the nice odor would last a little longer. Maybe, instead of two short bursts we should try three or four slightly longer sprays.
Is this the best perfume we have sprayed on ourselves? Actually, no. We find Kouros by Yves St.Laurent a bit more appealing. Kouros’ odor lasts longer too and has a slightly more exclusive smell. But Kouros is also $7 or $8 bucks costlier depending on where you buy it.
Our personal preference for Kouros aside, Boss is a decent product for everyday use.
Unlikely your girl (be it Deepa or Janet) or your co-workers will complain.
As for us, we plan to keep one on our shelves for a long time (or at least until we find the next new perfume).
Listen, girls can fall for the Boss too, can’t they. So, don’t you go off on yet another speculative orgy here. 😉
If you shop around, you might get Boss at a cheaper rate than what we paid ($36.96).
Now, if you’ll excuse us our Idli + Mooli Sambar brunch awaits us. 😉 It’s 10:46AM on the East Coast and we’re mighty famished.
Yummy (both the Sambar and Boss)!