The Naan Maker and Matcha Pundek

A few days ago, I was browsing through the profile of someone who had sent me a friend request on Facebook when I stumbled upon this message:

The World 🗺 needs to be Vigilent against South Asians namelyIndians 🇮🇳, Pakistani 🇵🇰, Bangladeshi 🇧🇩 & Nepali 🇳🇵 .

I copied this message onto my Facebook Wall and stated that I found this message to be offensive and I stated my reasons why. Interestingly enough the person who posted this message reshared this message and complained that I must have been a “South Asian” migrant and he was going to be protect his nation from the “terrorist PAP” government that allowed South Asians into Asia.

I shall leave the rebuttal to that for another day and instead, focus on two chaps I know. Call them Bijay and Mike or the Naan Maker and Matcha Pundek (Tamil for brother-in-law cunt – a word that Tamil friend of mine said, “In India, we don’t use that word – it’s SO CRASS.”) Bijay had the misfortune of being married to Mike’s older sister, who used to be a senior civil servant and since remarried and moved to Belfast.

I got to know the Naan Maker nearly 15-years ago when a mutual friend invited me have Naan at a place along the junction of Serangoon and Deskar Road. Bijay was the man who made the dishes at this little restaurant and he adopted me as his younger brother. He once explained to my ex-wife that he felt very comfortable when I called him “Bhai Sahib.”

Bijay’s story is what you’d call the dream of every migrant. He met his first wife when she was on holiday in Nepal, where he was born. Somewhere along the line, they got married and he moved to Singapore with her. He went through national service and got his citizenship. He then set up his own shop selling Naan and the range of North Indian foods. Then he met two Pakistani chaps, who got him to work for them and he spent the next few years working in the morning’s and having a chilled life in Little India. His relatives who were in the Gurkha camp on Mount Vernon were happy for him.

Somewhere along the line, his marriage broke down. He left the family home where he had lived for over a decade and found himself doing odd jobs. His girlfriend who has now become his wife, moved to Singapore and somehow, they managed to live on his income. Then, the man struck gold when he moved from being a chef in a five-star hotel. He bought his own property and managed to support a family on his single income.

I always think of Bijay as Forest Gump. He’s not the best educated of my friends nor is he the most ambitious. However, he works hard and does right by family and friends.  

Mike, or Matcha Pundek, his former brother-in-law, also works very hard. He works hard at being too good for any available job. One of Matcha’s proudest moments in his career was working as a taxi driver. He proudly tells people that a “North Indian,” (In Singapore speak, those snooty fuckers from darkie land who don't understand that well paying jobs are only for  White People) once asked him to drive somewhere in his taxi and he didn’t like that guy who he kicked the guy out and never worked as a taxi driver ever since (Singaporean born people get very upset that people from “Shithole” countries might actually be qualified to work in jobs specially reserved for white people). Matcha was also very proud of the fact that he walked out of an exploitative job directing traffic near a school (had to wake up at 6 in the morning but you only work about 2 hours a day).

Mike is a stand up and generous guy. He’s exceedingly generous if you’re paying. Matcha is exceedingly generous if the paymaster is his former brother-in-law is paying. The first time I met Matcha, it was with Bijay. We were sitting down for our weekly $20 wine session and Matcha felt that it was beneath him and insisted that his former brother-in-law, who has the audacity to work for a living, move up to the Harry’s Bar. The ever loving Matcha, proceeded to hit-up his former brother-in-law (migrants are always stealing, so we’re told) for a loan of S$2,000.

The second time I met Mike, the ever loving Matcha invited Bijay and I out for a lad’s day out. The ever loving Matcha asked us to meet his gang of overweight louts, who proceeded to drink and drink and drink. When the tab came, he happily handed the bill to his former brother-in-law. We then proceeded to go somewhere else. After a few minutes, I dragged the ever loveable Bijay away from this wonderful gang. As we were walking away, the ever loving Matcha called his former brother-in-law to pick up the tab. Thankfully, I was there to cut the crap.

So, here we have it, a nice story of a migrant brother-in-law who has the audacity to work but according to some people, he’s a threat to Singapore society. Somehow, his presence is something the world has to be afraid of. By contrast we need to protect the native-born population like the ever loving Matcha, who is a mover and shaker at your expense. Somehow, Matcha is the “exploited” one by all these horrible foreigners from South Asia.

Maybe I’m just slow but I don’t get that logic.