People are dying, being killed, maimed – half the world lives on the razor’s edge, and the other half is getting there. It’s a harsh life but we are writing about fried chicken and Tiger Wood’s feelings.

Come on, is that an issue? Bad taste is a human thing. Sure, Sergio Garcia wins no prizes for tact but if someone had said we are serving him tortillas and chili pepper no one would have got their knickies in a twist. Here, Sergio, have a Spanish omelette. Big deal.

In any case, slaves in southern American states did not get fried chicken for dinner, they got grits. So get over it. This is not racism. Racism is hacking a soldier to death as it happened in London. Yet, Woods gets more coverage.

And if you can say black, brown, yellow, you can say coloured. Even white is coloured. When are we going to get real about these things? I think if you watched the IPL closely and lip read, there was a lot more insult, foul language, enough of that to  make ‘enry ‘iggin’s sailors blush.

All this piety and propriety being flung around – as if everyone else was politically correct. And the horror being shown at the Garcia indiscretion? Come on, we are all sort of racist even if we dress it up in liberal robes.

We used to be ethnic funny and we had the confidence to laugh at ourselves. Who, among us, has not been racist? We make Mallu jokes, Punj jokes, Bong jokes, Bhaiyya jokes; many of them gross and crude and then we all get so hyped because Mr Woods is linked to fried chicken.

What happened to the human race that it lost its funny bone?

We told jokes about ourselves not so long ago. No one cared that much, no one bristled and held a press conference. Now we seek slight. That tolerance has soured like milk and curdled into offense, a sort of racist slur. Now we are racist lite, racist mean, racist ugly and racist violent. Fortunately, most of us use prejudice only to shore up our own sagging self-esteem and confidence and don’t really mean to hurt or hate. It is just that we don’t know how to bridge gaps in caste, colour and creed. So we cling to our type, go to our corner, our sort of folks, birds of a feather stuff.

And the idiot thing is we defend ourselves with outrage when there is no need. If someone said to me, ‘Oh, Punjabi, okay we’ll give you sarson ka saag and makki ki roti,’ I won’t fall about. Why is it that when it is American black everyone goes into fourth gear? Chris Rock kills you with laughter, so does Eddie Murphy. And a hundred other Afro-Americans do the same. 

Damn, we might have different coloured coverings but we all bleed red.