Hindu Girls Who Love Blac Men

My name is Sundari Dharamveer. I was born in the beautiful City of Ludhiana, in the Indian State of Punjab. I recently transferred from the Punjab Engineering College in metropolitan Chandigarh, the Punjab State's best town, to Carleton University in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. Leaving my homeland of India for Canada hasn't been easy. However, when destiny calls, every man and woman must answer its call. How do I feel about life in the Capital of Canada? It depends on the days. Right now, I'm having one of those days. I woke up late for my civil engineering class and as I ran to get there, I tripped on the freshly fallen snow and fell on my big butt. The white guys walking by laughed at my plight. However, I got some help from a most unlikely source. A big Black guy who was also on his way to my engineering class.

The stranger's huge shadow cast over me like a towering mountain. I looked up at him as he pulled me to my feet. I've never seen a guy this big! The stranger was easily six-foot-six, and had to weigh close to three hundred pounds. With a bright grin, he asked me if I was alright. I nodded, and thanked him for his help. I noticed that I was staring at him and excused myself. I really had to get to class. The stranger nodded, and told me he woke up late for his civil engineering class. I smiled, and he said nothing. I told him I was late for the same class, for I noticed he clutched the book under his arm. Together we dashed through the Carleton University campus, and made our way toward the Minted Center, where the advanced courses in engineering are taught.

I sat in the back of the class, and my rescuer sat next to me. Our professor, a middle-aged white guy, droned on and on about applied civil engineering and its role in changing the developing world. I noticed that he was referring to India as a developing country. My Sikh pride arose in my chest, and I hastily raised my hand. I got everyone's attention by saying I had a question. The professor looked up, saw me and nodded. I politely but firmly reminded him that the Republic of India produced more millionaires between 2000 and 2011 than did the United States of America, Canada and the European Union. The only nation which surpassed us economically was the Republic of China, and even they had better watch themselves. The professor seemed miffed by my statement. I sat down, well-aware that a lot of people were staring at me. I didn't care. What could they do to me?

The big and tall young Black man who helped me out earlier smiled at me. He held out his hand for me to shake. Smiling, I shook his hand. He introduced himself as Zithulele Dumisani, of the Zulu tribe of the Republic of South Africa. I introduced myself as Sundari Dharamveer, proud daughter of the Sikh Nation of the Punjab State of the Republic of India. Zithulele smiled, and congratulated me on standing up to our obviously smug and Euro-centrically biased professor. A lot of white guys in Canada think they know everything. I'm in my second semester at Carleton University and in most of my classes, I outperform white guys and white chicks left and right. The only competition I sometimes have trouble getting around are Chinese students. I hate to sound stereotypical but they really are something else. They're wickedly smart. Too bad so many of them love sucking up to authority figures.

As class droned on, I noticed Zithulele looking at me. I wasn't surprised. I'm somewhat imposing at times. I stand five feet eleven inches tall, curvaceous but fit, with light bronze skin, Black hair and light brown eyes. I've got a cute face, curvy body, sexy legs and a nice, round butt. Like all Sikh women worthy of the name, I am beautiful, proud and strong. And I don't mind expressing my opinions. Among the Sikh, it's well-known that women are considered equal to men. According to the tenets of the Sikh faith, practiced in the Republic of India for centuries, female warriors and female leaders are just as capable as the very best of their male counterparts. We've had legions of female warriors among the Sikh people defending our land, culture and traditions from invaders at a time when most European women, the so-called inventors of modern feminism, were baking cookies and saying yes to everything their men said. I'm just saying. By the way, unlike European women and North American women who bash their men at every turn, Sikh women love their men. Ask anyone in the great nation that is the Republic of India.

Class ended, and I headed back toward the campus library to grab some food at the small restaurant hidden inside. As luck would have it, I ran into Zithulele again. For some reason, I decided to go talk to him. I'm ashamed to say that although I've been at Carleton University for an entire year, I really don't know anybody. I'm either studying, or working. I work as a bouncer at a nightclub in downtown Ottawa. One located not far from the Rideau Shopping Center. Yes, women can be night club bouncers. The owner of the club had doubts about hiring me. I had to get an Ontario security guard licence first. And since I'm an international student from the Republic of India instead of some Canadian hussy, they made me get a work permit, social insurance card and health card before hiring me. It was a lot of hassle but I don't mind. I like my job. I make three hundred dollars every weekend for working only twelve hours. How cool is that? Yeah, it's pretty cool. Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yes. I was telling you about my taking a break from being a recluse and asking Zithulele to grab dinner with me.

The big and tall young man from South Africa flashed me a big grin and thanked me for the invite. We sat down and got to know each other over coffee and egg sandwiches. Zithulele was born in the City of Johannesburg in the Gauteng Province of the Republic of South Africa. His parents moved to the United States shortly after his birth. They wanted to escape the horrors of Apartheid. My heart winced as I heard this. In India, we also suffered the horrors of European colonialism but we never got mistreated to the extent that Blacks in South Africa did. Zithulele told me how his parents, Malusi and Siyanda Dumisani of South Africa, emigrated to the United States in their mid-twenties and had to adjust to life in a new country...with their new son in tow. They settled in the City of Brockton, in the State of Massachusetts. Zithulele's father Malusi became a cab driver and his mother Siyanda eventually became a nurse's aide at Caritas Hospital after obtaining her certification.

Zithulele became a naturalized citizen of the United States a few short years after his family moved there. However, he was different from other African-Americans. And not just because of his name. His family came directly from continental Africa, something his peers in Massachusetts found fascinating. He grew up hearing about the mistreatment his brothers and sisters in South Africa endured under Apartheid. He would return to South Africa in 2008. Long after the end of Apartheid. He transferred from Massasoit Community College in Brockton, Massachusetts, to the newly formed University of Johannesburg in Gauteng, South Africa. Zithulele's face brightened as he told me about his experiences in South Africa. He described it as a return to the home couldn't even remember leaving. He also told me about improving social relations between Black folks and Caucasians in the Republic of South Africa.

That last one puzzled me. I thought the Afrikaners were unrepentant racists for sure. Zithulele shook his head and told me that he saw lots of young white women from the Afrikaner population of South Africa dating young Black men at the University of Johannesburg. I shook my head and laughed. Black guys everywhere crave white women! Zithulele told me that his favorite movie about cross-cultural romance wasn't the supremely popular Save The Last Dance. When I asked him what it was, he told me he loved the movie Mississippi Masala. I smiled at that, recalling the flick where African-American actor Denzel Washington romanced a lovely Indian gal. Zithulele and I smiled at each other. And then I realized that I had to get to my next class and I ran off, but not before promising to add him on Facebook.

That night, Zithulele and I added each other as friends on Facebook and exchanged cell phone numbers. We talked for hours, discussing everything from our strange experiences in Canada to our love of our ancestral homelands. He casually told me that while in South Africa, he dated a beautiful Tamil gal from the Kerala region of India. For some reason, that made me uncomfortable. The Sikh people of India have a history of friction with the Tamil people, to put it mildly. All I know is that even though my family is fairly liberal and open-minded, there are certain things they wouldn't tolerate. My older sister Arshpreet Dharamveer met a handsome young man at the University of Melbourne in the Victoria region of Australia. He was half-Chinese and half-Aboriginal Australian. To me, he looked like a light-skinned Black guy with Asiatic facial features but she insisted he was something else. My Sikh parents were far more accepting of my older sister's mixed husband from Australian than that time she dated a Tamil guy while living in Chandigarh. The Tamil are a dirty people in the eyes of most Indians. And we Sikhs haven't always been kind to them. Did that diminish my opinion of Zithulele? Not really. He doesn't know about us Indians. I told him that Sikh women were far more beautiful than the hottest women of the Tamil people. Zithulele laughed at that and asked me if I knew any hot Sikh women. Ugh! I could have smacked him! I'm a hot Sikh woman! Zithulele laughed on the phone. I didn't say anything. He apologized, then asked me to go to the movies with him. Of course I forgive the big oaf!

That Friday night, Zithulele and I went to the Silver City Movie Theater in Ottawa. We had ourselves a good time. We saw the movie The Ides of March. I've always been a big fan of George Clooney. If I was into white guys, he'd be the one I'd date. Zithulele and I had a really good time at the movies. Afterwards, we grabbed a bite together inside the Blair shopping center. I think I'm starting to like this guy. He's funny, smart and really considerate. For a Black guy raised in the United States of America, he's surprisingly nice. I thought all Americans were assholes. Of course, Canada's full of assholes too. After dining on some delicious Chinese food, we went back to campus. Zithulele escorted me back to my dorm. We parted ways. I kissed him on the cheek. I had to tip toe of course, but it felt nice. We shook hands, and I watched him go. He was something else. Charming and sweet, and not bad-looking at all. If only he was a Sikh!

Man, you can't imagine how torn I felt. Seriously. I've got feelings for him but he's not of the Sikh faith. He's not even Indian. I needed to talk to someone about this. That night, I called my sister in Australia. Arshpreet complained about my call due to the time zone difference, but she got over it when I told her about my new semi-romantic situation. Arshpreet listened to me as I explained my fears and hopes. I really like Zithulele but he's Black, and American to boot. No, I'm not racist. It's just that my Sikh faith and my culture are important to me. Arshpreet and I haven't been too close since she married the mixed Australian guy. Arshpreet was surprisingly friendly and helpful on the phone as I poured my heart to her. She told me that my problem was simple to solve. All I had to do was decide what I wanted. That night, I called Zithulele. Instead of pussy-footing, I got right to the point. Anything less would have been un-Sikh of me. Haltingly I asked him if he liked me. He said yes. I asked him if he liked me as more than a friend. He said yes. My heart thundered in my chest as I heard him. I paused, then told him the feeling was most definitely mutual. Zithulele laughed, and told me he wanted to date me. As in become my boyfriend. I laughed and said yes.

The next morning, we walked into our civil engineering class at Carleton University hand in hand. The Sikh woman from the Republic of India and the young South African man raised in the United States of America. Yeah, we were definitely turning heads. We sat together at the front. The professor looked at me. The guy still hadn't forgotten about my correcting him about India's economic and social standing in front of the class. I flashed him a bright grin. He narrowed his eyes, gave me that fake smile so common among Canadians, and began with today's class. Zithulele took my hand in his and kissed it. I smiled at him and kissed him. He's such an amazing man. A gentle giant with the soul of an angel. My giant. My sweetheart. My man. I'm so glad I talked to my rebellious older sister last night. I think I'm falling in love with Zithulele. And I'm okay with that. The funny thing is that if somebody told me a year ago that I would date a Black guy from South Africa who spoke with a Boston accent, I would have laughed. Now look at me.

As class went on, I found my thoughts drifting to increasingly sensual territory. Zithulele and I are an item now. And even though our relationship is new, I want to do more than kiss and hold hands. Seriously, I haven't gotten laid since I moved to Ontario from Punjab. I'm seriously thinking about ambushing Zithulele in my dorm after class, strip naked and jump on top of him. Once he sees my hot, nubile body and fantastic, well-toned Indian booty, he won't put up much of a fight. Then I'd rip his clothes off, grab his manhood and hop on for the ride of a lifetime. Hmmm. Do my thoughts surprise you? They shouldn't. Gals get naughty thoughts too. We think about sex far more often than guys give us credit for. Zithulele looked at me adoringly and asked me what's on my mind. I grinned, and shrugged. Nothing, I said with a wink.