Desi families don’t take vacations. Not in the true sense of the word any way. What they do is, they pack up almost everything they have, buy gifts for every single relative and go back home for a month. And what for? To go to those people’s houses and give them the gifts they bought them. It’s a family affair, really. I feel very lucky. So that’s what we do in summers. But the holidays are two and a half months long. I used to spend one month in Pakistan (towards the end of the hols), but I still had the first 45 days free. And these would be filled in with bicycle expeditions, TV overload and a lot of “doing nothing”.
Then this one summer, a friend of my dads came to me with an offer. There was some summer event festival (for the losers that stay in town during summer), and it was sponsored by Kellogg’s Frosties. He was working for one of the other sponsors, and had heard that Kellogg’s were looking for people to dress up in Tony the Tiger suits (in the Dubai summer, where it can hit way above 40 degrees C in the afternoons!) and walk around in the park to entertain sweaty kids and pose with them. The position of the adult Tony had already been filled and they needed some one to put on Tony’s son’s suit (totally a Dubai invention), and my dad’s friend was recommending me. AED 30.00 (USD 8.00) per hour, and I was sold.
So, day 1, I went to the park and put on the Tiny Tony suit. Now this was no simple suit. It was made out of the stuff anoraks are made of, and the head had extra padding (resulting in extra warmth) in case there was a retard wearing it who kept falling. So I did it. I got into it, and walk around all day. It was strange. Every kid wanted to shake hands with Tony but they all snubbed me. Perhaps they saw in him a father figure, and in me, competition. But I was his real son, dammit! I was a tiger, they were humans. We eat humans. We rip their faces off, and decorate our dens! But they threw stuff at me. They pushed me, jumped on me, tripped me. It was the single most demeaning incident of my life. And it was day 1. I was to do this for 5 days, and four hours each day. Doing the math in my head, it seemed like a good bit of money, but the price I was paying was ridiculous.
I ended that day on a major low, just walked into the toilets, changed, handed in my Tiny Tony suit and promised to come back the next day. Which I did. And the day after that, And on until the last day. When suddenly, there was a dust storm. And things had to finish early. All the kids left. Me and my stripy dad walked into the toilets to change. He took off his tiger head, and to my honest surprise, I saw the head of my dad’s friend. He had managed to go through five days without letting me know who was under the Tony mask, and all of a sudden, nature had taken a rude course and he had to be in the changing area (toilets back then, in the park) with me. And he didn’t want me to tell my dad. I didn’t. But he ruined something for me. I wanted to be big Tony when I grow up, but seeing this man’s pathetic face, it killed something inside me. He was doing it for the same reason I was. The AED 30 and hour! But I wanted a new guitar. He probably just had to pay for his upcoming annual family holiday back home!
