George W Bush may not win any awards for popularity, but I have to admit it. I admire the fellow. Everyday, G W Bush stands in front of the mirror and mutters in his indecipherable drawl, ’’Ooozaamah Been Le Dain (Osama Bin Laden), you ass (U S).’’ He then proceeds to stroke his hand through his hair and exclaim, ’’My hair need OIL!’’
It’s a strange country. I am frankly surprised how G W Bush became the President of the United States, while our very own Laloo Bhaiya is still feeding on fodder. Sab politics hai! And then, there is oil. I believe that the US loves oil even more than Tusshar Kapoor does! Is there anything else apart from oil that the Americans love? Read on ...
==========================
Anurag Mathur’s ’The Inscrutable Americans’ is a rip-roaring account of America’s second obsession - sex (the first one is oil!). Mathur is an author-cum-journalist and if I am not mistaken, is related to the Supreme Being of MS, Spookay.
The book may be all of 247 pages, but do not expect to complete it in a jiffy. The first half is rather laborious to read as it has you falling off your chairs laughing, every second line.
Statutory Warning: Do not read this on the terrace, lest you may fall down laughing!
’The Inscrutable Americans’ deals with the Inscrewtable Americans. A gaon ka gora to the core, complete with abundance of hair oil on his scalp, travels to the Big Apple for further studies. The book is a light, albeit exaggerated account of the cultural shock he encounters.
Meet Gopal. He is obsessed with two things - oil (the one he applies on his scalp, not the GWB one) and breasts of sizes that make you expect to see rock climbers clambering on.
The funniest portion of the book is undoubtedly the beginning. Gopal’s letter to his younger brother is outrageously hilarious, as is his experience of drinking 37 glasses of Coca-Cola on the flight.
Courtesy the Internet, most of us have read a number of ’Laloo jokes’ - accounts of Laloo Yadav’s fictitious encounters with foreigners. Gopal’s character is reminiscent of that, as just like Laloo, Gopal possesses a native, rustic wit which far transcends his linguistic limitations. Watch out for the joke played on him by his friend, Randy (and I am not talking about the likes of Bipasha and Mamta Kulkarni here, if you know what I mean!), who tells him that a true New Yorker never walks, but swaggers and swivels, and instructs him to do so.
Expecting a riot when others see Gopal bogeying like a maniac in broad daylight, Randy informs the others that something funny is coming up ... until Randy realises that the joke is on him as Gopal walks in quite normally, without the pronounced swagger and bounce he was indulging in, a few minutes prior to it.
The piece de resistance is his psyche. The misconceptions, the fears, the conjectures - each of them are simply hilarious. His sheer innocence immediately endears himself to the readers. Watch out for the portions when he is casually asked ’’How you doing?’’ by a girl, and the enthusiastic Gopal launches into the trials and tribulations of his one-dimensional life, which include the losses he is suffering due to his beloved hair oil factory.
’Operation Devirginisation’ occupies a major chunk of the book as Randy is aghast at the fact that the naive Gopal is still a virgin, and desperately endeavors to get the Indian simpleton laid.
==========================
While the first half is incredibly funny, I must say that the humor gets monotonous at times. Sexual jokes, sexual puns, sexual cracks and some more sexual humor.While most of them are witty, subtlety isn’t Mathur’s strong point, as some of the wisecracks go to the extent of being downright crude.
The clincher: Gopal asks his cousin hesitantly, Er ... do red-haired women have red hair ... all over ?!’’
The second half gets a trifle emotional, as Gopal decides that he is in love, but still continues on his desperate attempts of losing it.
==========================
Although I love the book for the incredible humor, simplicity and innocence of Gopal’s character and the entertaining flow of words, I believe that the climax (pun very much intended!) killed the book. While we laugh away when Gopal laments that the Gods are against his having sex, the manner in which he finally ’becomes a man’ in the final chapter is half-baked and extremely tame. In fact, it has been just forced into the story for the heck of it.
In spite of that, I highly recommend the book for an evening of light reading, especially to those who want an insight into the linguistic ability of my Chemistry professor ... the poor chap is even worse than Gopal!
Hen hebzolyoot dheexaazthar!
(an absolute disaster!)
==============================================
Appreciation, brickbats ... do leave your comments ... or just wish me best of luck for the remaining exams! (The first two papers were good)