Not-So-Indian Porn…

I’m a “happy go lucky” kinda chick (as the regular readers will already know).

Right.

Despite my positive demeanour, one thing consistently pisses me off: 

-False Advertising

It’s a sore point for two main reasons:

A: I work in Advertising, and we don’t make false claims

B: I tend to be easily persuaded, hence my disappointment when “I’ve been had”

At no time was I more upset than several nights ago, when I found myself the victim of devious trickery…

***

…It was late at night, and I was feelin’ some major insomnia. 

The clock showed 1:00am, whilst I flipped through the channels looking for something to watch….

As I climbed my way to the “movie channels”, I stumbled upon “Maharaja“, a cinematic romp of the “Adults Only” variety. 

Now as a general rule, I’ve studied porn, and I’ve realized it’s not for me (no really, it creeps me out…like why is everything so big sometimes, to the point of wondering if the actors grew up near a nuclear facility, which resulted in boob/genitalia mutation? (and yeah, yeah, yeah, “big is better”, but there’s a fine line between “fun” and “why did you leave your job at the Circus?”)…And why can’t they have better background music? (like how about ”hits from the 80’s?”, or “Boys II Men”?…). 

Despite my reservations, the title “Maharaja“ spoke to me, in nothing less than a sultry native tone. 

What I mean is, “maharaja” is a word used in India, to describe a king or similar position of royalty. 

Once I made this connection, I realized something incredible: I was standing at the foot-hills of INDIAN porn!!!

I considered this a big-time win, since I’d never before been exposed to “Motherland Porn” (which is something you should ALL see once, no matter where you’re from).

So…I put down the remote, got myself comfy (uhh…whatever that means), and prepared for a hell of a show.

What I found a few seconds later, is not what I expected…

First, the characters on screen were (for lack of a better term)…”white folk”. 

I mean granted, they had dark-coloured wigs and fake-tans, but again…”white folk”.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken.

To add some insult to injury, the “actors” weren’t even wearing saris…or long braided hair…or turbans (or any of the fashion-cornerstones of Indian culture).

Instead, the women wore belly-dancing garb whilst the men donned ”puffy Aladdin pants”,  as they performed lewd acts against a backdrop of embroidered carpets.

That’s when I knew that the mofo who directed ”Maharaja” had made a colossal mistake:

-He/she had confused my “Indian” culture…with “Arabian” culture!

And now I was just plain MAD.

Like I’m sorry, but if the makers of the film went to ALL the trouble of digging up the word “maharaja”, could they not have researched further, to see that it relates to INDIAN culture!?!??!?!

I felt so cheated, you know?

It’s the same as if someone had said “Hey Romi, here’s some curry powder to put on your Cheerios”, only to hand me a bottle of Club House seasoning.

Exactly the same as that.

Needless to say, what a tease.

I wanted to file a customer complaint, but I’m not sure if porno-directors have fixed addresses, or if they’re more like nomads, who live in the barns, auto-shops, and pooled backyards where they shoot the majority of their films.

So…I did nothing (except switch the channel to Ghostbusters, where I re-kindled my crush on the venerable Bill Murray).

***

Now since my horrible experience, I can tell you today that I’m a bit more jaded, and a little less pleasant in everyday life. 

So in the spirit of a cloudy demeanour, I will close with the following thought: 

-Yes, I am Canadian (born and bred), but the spicy blood of India coarses through my veins.  Hence, if anyone wishes to relate to me on a cultural level (i.e. by offering me treats, a romantic drive through the city, and a stop at the local market), make it Indian (i.e. samosas, a taxi-ride, and a stop at a convenience store), or get the fuck out.

 

 

PS:  Sometimes I need to be stern and serious in my posts, and this was one of those times.