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Head of the warehouse, head of the household

2005-03-17 -

Nasir, head of the warehouse and me, went to lunch together today. Since I�m the only other person besides Art (another warehouse regular) who likes the Hari Krishna temple food a few miles away, Nasir alternates between going there with the two of us. Nasir�s wife likes to compulsively call him ten times an hour, just to see if he�s up to no good. They�ve been married for at least twenty years and have some kids, and she�s afraid he�ll leave her. Well I can assure her it won�t be for me, at least. He just doesn�t strike me as that kind of guy. Women always feel comfortable around him, so what if he doesn�t think his wife �needs anything� for Valentine�s day.

�I a show her all time what I think, she know I love a her.�

�Yeah but Nasir, she�s your wife.�

�Yes I know but she don�t need to be always told. I a tell her.�

�Well then I guess you�re just an old fashioned kind of guy, maybe it�s an Indian roots thing, screw our wives, they�re just the women we married and said we�d cherish and love and honor for a while.�

�No I really a love her, but she such a nag! Always a nagging me!�

So anyway we get to this place in the half hour time slot that we have, and immediately, well you�d think LA was a little more lenient. Immediately 60% of the outside patrons stare at us, my older Indian friend, his younger American gal pal. Let us at least exit out of his �94 Camry with the news blasting, don�t ask me why. Blasting, and he�s got good ears. But his vocabulary needs some work.

�Look at the pigs.�

�What pigs, where do you see pigs?�

�I�m looking right there, and there. Pigs, look.�

�Nasir, where the hell do you see a pig, also this is a Vegetarian joint I don�t think they�d keep pigs out here.�

�No. Ohell, look up there�s so many pigs! Wow!�

�In the tree? Nasir those are figs!�

�Right, p-..figs.�

Then he likes to tell me everything he�s going to eat on the food line.

�I like the salaaad, but I bring my own rice that my wife she make, and I also will take some pot-aaa-to, and then I like this kookumber, and a soup, and I mix it with the rice that my wife she make�.�

�She�s pretty cool for a nag, your wife.�

�She a good wife, I just think she needs some help with her head, she always she worry and worry!�

�Get her a Valentine�s present once in a while, maybe she�ll stop.�

�No she just always she worry about when I am coming home. Where is Nasir? What do you do when you go to the store? Where do you go? I tell her nothing nothing nothing, but she a little crazy!�

On the ride back, I asked him a very straightforward question.
�Alright Nasir, in all honesty here�s a question. I know how much you love your kids, I really do. But if you had to do the whole thing over again, would you have children?�

�Absolutely not.�

�Didn�t think so. Maybe I won�t after all. Who knows?�

�It cost so much money, and the next ten years I�ll still be working only to pay for them. But I love them. But I would never do it over again. No, never.�

�Well I guess that�s inspiring and disheartening. My oldest brother told me the same thing. And he looks really happy.�

�Yea, and they�re never never happy. Always they want this, then that, always. They don�t know what work for something means.�

I flashed back in my mind to this past December at our company Xmas party, the one where the managers created carnival games which I originally thought were queer beyond belief, then played them, then won stuff, then fell in love with the idea of gambling all over again. Nasir�s eight year old daughter was �working� at one of the ring tossing booths in a Santa hat. He looked really proud of her. They didn�t pay her, but she worked for food. That�s working to me. I didn�t mention it.

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