Tonight, MKR viewers saw Jessie and Biswa exit the series. I heard a collective sigh of relief from my neighbourhood.
Predictably, there’s been a bitter race dispute that’s resulted from their antics on Channel 7’s hit cooking series. That would be of course, because every Indian on the planet acts and cooks like Jessie and Biswa, don’t they? No.
Come on people!
I will not miss Jessie and Biswa either, but not for their ethnicity (which I happen to love), nor for their lack of integrity and poorly disguised strategic votes.
I will not miss seeing Jessie and Biswa on my TV screen because they talked on top of each other. They finished each others’ sentences.
They were two peas in a curry pod.
I am the youngest in a family of five. For a period of my childhood, my mother’s uncle from Italy lived with us. My parents told us how it was. My grandmother told my parents how it was. Had my great grandmother been alive, she would have told us all how it was. You get the picture? We were raised to respect our elders and speak when we were spoken to.
Free speech was not encouraged and I rarely got to finish a sentence let alone speak my mind.
So I’m quite enjoying this being-an-adult-thing, with a mind and mouth of my own, to (respectfully) use as I please, without older siblings, parents and other relatives to compete with.
I can think of nothing worse than someone finishing my sentences, anticipating my next word and displaying their friendship by speaking in unison.
Excuse me, I’m speaking. Do not start your sentence until I have finished mine.
It’s basic manners, which Jessie and Biswa don’t appear to have on a number of levels.
Maybe that’s why I like writing so much. There is no-one to interrupt my train of thought or think they know what I’m going to say next.
Well that’s me done. Thanks for listening.
Now it’s your turn. Go ahead, I’m all ears.