Desi/Brown Parties Be Like…

Desi/Brown Parties Be Like…

 

White Parties

noun

  • a social gathering of invited guests, typically involving eating, drinking, and entertainment.

 

Brown Parties

noun

  • Packed af, typically involves nosy aunties and a indian buffet.

 

So what I’ve learnt in Desi parties are that: 

  • The only surprise parties, brown parents throw for their kids are arranged marriages.
  • Aunties have CCTV, they know everything and anything
  • We call random women aunties even if they aren’t our aunties
  • If a white person has attended at least 3 brown parties they are an honorary member of the brown community
  • Our parties last longer than some of you stayed married. Like have you seen our wedding celebrations? It was longer than Katie Price’s marriage.”
  • Note to self: *BRING YOUR OWN CHAIR

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I went to a desi party the other day and sometimes I just think why do I even bother?

First of all Brown people will always have parties on a Sunday night and they start at 9pm which basically means 10pm. Like come on that’s when I freaking sleep. We run on some kind of two hour delay the Invitation card would say the party starts at 7:30. A white person would get there at 7. A brown person would get there at 8 30 just in time for dinner, because let’s be realistic the food is actually the only reason why you would go.

I’m 18 and there’s old grandmas and ladies out there do you really think I want to socialise? No. I’m here for the buffet they are giving me. The party is in some weird little country club hall and when you walk in you’ll see a cluster of chairs in the corner of the room all lined up. But you won’t get to touch them because when you try to find one that’s empty its like a scavenger hunt. Because there’s no empty ones at all!

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When you walk in, straight away you see that the guys are on one side whilst the women are on the other side. Brown people still have that mindset of separating guys and girls. So when you step into that hall you’ll immediately become aware of that distinct invisible line that no one can see because it’s visibly not there, but when you step over that line, then you have the whole community staring at you like you broke into some Turkish borders because uh oh you stepped on the “guys” side.

Once I’m on my side, I spend half the party shaking the hands of random aunties who know my mum but not me. But out of respect I’m faking my smile and shaking these old peoples hand replying with Jee” “Jee” “Jee to everything they say because my Urdu is shit and saying “Yes- Jee is all I know.

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Once I finally get a seat I’m sitting there listening to these aunties gossip like they are in High School. I hear conspiracies about how Nadiya across the room is pregnant because she’s gone fatter and that Bushra down 2 rows wears short clothes. Whilst all this goes on I hear my mum say “Rani dupatta upar laylo in one ear and a random auntie saying “It’s time for you to get married beta” in my other ear. With all this muttering going on we also have Bollywood songs in the background which I always question Why do brown people play music at parties if they aren’t going to let me booty pop to Imran khan Bewafa and amplifier?

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As I mentioned before all our eyes are on the food. Why do you think these aunties come to these parties they are way too old to be here this late. So the answer is the food. White people have drinks and maybe snacks we have a whole buffet with chicken legs, potatoes, rice with curry and naan and if the hosts go over the budget we get gajrela. I’m waiting for that white table sheet to be spread and all the plates to be put in their place so I can go and eat. We all know that famous white sheet and a long table that every brown party has heres a picture of the white sheet.

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That’s when you know the foods coming. So when I finally get up to walk to the food table, so does every other person in the hall. We all turn into fucking animals trying to get to a seat. Everyone’s barging past each other putting their bags on a seat to stake their claim. And at the end when I do get one a Budhi comes and says “Beta can I take that seat please, mera taang dukna hai and that’s when I walk back to my previous seat which has been taken by now.

Fighting to get a table is like being in a stampede.
Fighting to get a table is like being in a stampede.

So now I’m waiting for the next round of tables to eat. And yes, we do have “rounds” because the freaking host invites the whole bloody continent! They don’t invite the right amount of guests that are in proportion to the venue naah they get a shitty cheap venue and invite the whole community and no exaggeration its like 600 people!

At this point I think I’m in the safe zone. Wrong. Whilst I’m eating, I’m getting filmed. Every brown person has experienced that guy walking around with his massive camera that has the brightest light ever with the wire cord trailing behind him. I don’t know why brown people do this, but they always feel the need to hire a professional photographer to videotape our entire move. This also means people eating.

please let me eat in peace.
Please let me eat in peace.

*Flash* the video tape is on me and I have to put down my naan and pick up my drink and pretend to talk to the person next to me because boooy I don’t want these people watching me eat like a dog. The thing is, we never see that footage again. I’ve been to 100 of these parties and not once have I seen these footages. I thought that was the end of my eating problems, but then we get that dreaded sentence from our Mum’s and its always the same thing. Brown parents at parties be like “Eat now cause I’m not gonna give you anything at home” 

When everyone is done eating somehow the hall starts to get empty because like I said, people only come for the food and then go home. When the party has ended, I just think was it really worth it? Because now I’m hungry again and all I hear in the back of my mind is my Mum’s dreaded words of “Abi khaana kha lo Ghar mein kuch ni miley ga

OnceUponAJayJay x

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