My ex boyfriend used to always call me Punjabi Pris and my local Nepalese friend also called me Punjabi. “Pulling a Punjabi” or “Full power Punjabi” or “Proud Punjabi.” These names are so funny and they hold a special place in my heart. Therefore, I had to go and check out what all this Punjabi power was all about. Previously, I had loved the Punjabi food I had tried, loved the music, the Punjabi jolly smile and belly with the colored turbin, and the Punjabi weddings always look like full power fun.
On the train, I was not smart like my fellow Punjabis. I was sitting with leggings, no socks, a mesh top, and a jacket freezing while the Punjabis ALL had a big, fleece blankets. It was like they gave them out on the train ride to everyone except me. The Punjabi’s were quite loud waking me up constantly. When they speak it sounds like Tamil. They speak quickly and then all you end up hearing is “La.”
Off the train, it was full of colorful turbins from green to beige to blue to pink. They have nice style with women wearing nice bangles, shoes, and saris boys wearing nice watches, loafers, nice pants, and belts. I am thinking that they are the most fashionable ranked up there with Mumbai of course.
After little sleep(even when applying layers I was cold) I ended up passing out in the waiting room for a few hours and then hopped on the bus to the center where I used the cyber café where business owners were typing their menus out with one finger and a co-assistant to help with spelling. The owner says I look like Jackie O with my hat and I am shocked he even knows who that is. I make an escape with plans to go to Lake S to sit and write. I meet Jary who is a local who helps gives me a mini guide to learning the sectors. In Chandigarh, they have sectors from 1-50 that help guide you through. He is trying to help me with recharging my Reliance stick, but that just fails again. I tell him to forget it, but he is insistent on helping me. He calls up his friend who knows about these things.
We are waiting at a café drinking chai and waiting for his friend to show. He finally shows up and it is hard for me to not drop open my mouth. He looks like Versaci’s son or a designers son(this is hard to describe) but he has such a fashion and presence. He wears a pink polo(such a sign of a player, but it is hott) and he wears expensive loafers and jeans. He smells of a fresh, but not overpowering cologne. They are speaking in Hindi about the internet stick and I just sit there quiet. I gaze at him and think, “Where has this guy been my whole trip?”
Being fed up with this internet stick, I say that I am just going to return it and move on. It turns out I should have let him “help me” because I could have spent time with him. After chai, he left because he solely came to help me out and I basically declined his help-nice one Priscilla. Guess I will not see him again perhaps in my dreams.
My new Punjabi friend invites me to dinner and I accept. He is very cool, fashionable, smart, owns a nightclub, brother owns BPs in New York, and he is just friendly-that is all. I can tell that he knows the good spots to go so I think our night out will be an adventure.
There happens to be cute men in Punjab-completely unexpected. I know they are known to have good fashion sense and style, which is refreshing to see. I guess the ones I have met are not really from Punjab just residing here, but they are nice to look at for sure. Punjabi men actually work out. This is a rare thing for Indians except in Mumbai where they are bollywood stars and they are working out of course for movies.