Monthly Archives: October 2006

What It Feels Like For A Girl

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A few hours ago, when I left my new apartment for dinner at Heritage India (Connecticut Ave), rain was escaping the night sky with such fury and speed, my golf umbrella was barely adequate and my mukluks were soaked. They are lined with sheepskin, which is now wet and disgusting. My toes are miserable. I’m barely cognizant of this though, because I’m on the phone, having the most important conversation of my day. I’m so involved with this voice, I barely notice the mile which I’ve walked uphill, the road I’ve made a right turn on, the periodic hordes of people on Adams Morgan’s 18th street, on this dead-because-it’s-wet-and-miserable night.

I should be at my new home, snuggled in my, um, Aerobed, but I have no internet access yet, so Tryst (a much-loved haunt of our Manish’s) has gone from third-place to first place in my life, for the moment. I don’t want to go inside and be the idiot on her cell phone though, so I’m hunched over my umbrella handle while I shiver mindlessly right outside the giant picture window, directly across from “my table“; practically on the sidewalk, it’s close to an electrical outlet and the perfect size for one. It’s also almost exactly where I sit when I’m at Greco. Some call me boring, I prefer consistent.

I’m in the middle of responding to a worrisome revelation when a group of frat-tastic retards lurches past, reeking of sweat and bad alcohol. I’m less vexed by such roving stupidity than some of my friends, mostly because unlike them, I was “Greek” and thus constantly around similar. I turn away from them slightly as they stagger by, wishing Maisnon were here; one of the last times we were together in the Morg, I was grabbed so violently, you could see marks the next day. Well before THAT sickening reminder of ickiness manifested itself in my flesh, our girl became Our Lady of Terrifying Rage. Approximately two minutes after Filthy McNastyman’s fingers defiled my arm, she accosted the pulayadi mon who startled and then offended me. “You do NOT do that”, she ranted, right in his face, as his innards liquefied in the face of her wrath. Ah, good times. But why was I thinking these thoughts? I had no need for such big guns. Nothing was going to happen to me…

“Jewugingglut”

Wait, what? Immediately, I hit a mental rewind even as I strained to listen to the voice currently inhabiting my cell-phone. WAIT. OMG. No. He. Didn’t. I dropped the phone right then from ear to hip and shouted in to the bastardÂ’s wake.

“What the hell did you just say to me??”

He turned back, the look on his face scaring me so much I think I whimpered for Deepa, my Mom and/or my ferocious, late German Shepherd Rani. Continue reading →

Free Choudhury

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Salah Uddin Shoaib Choudhury

Salah Choudhury is a Bangladeshi Muslim currently on trial for ostensibly spying for Israel. Alas, even prosecutors in Bangladesh are forced to concede the surface accusations are false. The real reason he’s being persecuted is for using his role as a leading newspaper editor to criticize radical Islam and advocate an open, tolerant Bangladeshi society. In a political environment where everyone is crying out for moderate Muslims to rise up, Mr.Choudhury appears to be the real thing. And he can use your help.

The Chicago Tribune gives us the back story for the of Choudhury’s saga –

Salah Uddin Shoaib Choudhury…will be tried this month on charges of spying for the Jewish state. The crime is punishable by death in predominantly Muslim Bangladesh.

…Choudhury was arrested at Dhaka-Zia International Airport [in November 2003] before boarding a flight to Israel, where he was scheduled to deliver a lecture on Muslim-Jewish relations. After several months behind bars, he was charged with sedition, a capital offense in Bangladesh.

“This is absolutely a false allegation,” Choudhury said. “I never, ever spy for any country. We work for the betterment of the interfaith.”

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Puppets deployed against landmines

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Witness the following horrific string of events:

I know it isn’t pretty and I hope that I haven’t ruined anyone’s lunch hour. The Christian Science Monitor has an article about the puppets of “No Strings,” and that organization’s mission to teach the children of Afghanistan about the dangers of landmines:

“Bang!” The little puppet boy steps on a mine, and now he only has one leg. The Afghan children watching the video at a school on a Kabul hillside gasp.

Puppets have long been used to entertain and to teach children basic lessons such as how to count and the letters of the alphabet

“The Story of the Little Carpet Boy,” loosely based on Pinocchio, is the brainchild of No Strings International, a British charity set up to reach children in war-torn areas and teach them vital life lessons through puppetry.

“It’s hard to get a crowd of children to listen to an adult, but the minute you bring a puppet out, kids just light up,” says Johnie McGlade, founder of No Strings.

Mr. McGlade worked for more than a year with two of Muppet-creator Jim Henson’s original team, Kathy Mullen and Michael Frith, to create a culturally sensitive film using characters from Afghan folklore to teach children about the dangers of minefields.

About 60 Afghans a month are killed or injured by mines and unexploded ordnance around the country, and almost half of them are under 18 years old, according the United Nations Mine Action Center for Afghanistan (UNMACA). [Link]

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Festivals: One Up, One Down

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A quick-hit/public service post concerning two of the major annual events on the American desi cultural circuit. First, the South Asian International Film Festival (SAIFF) opened last night in New York City, and runs until Sunday. The films and events are taking place at venues around Manhattan; you can buy tickets online or just show up at the door. Here are some film synopses to whet your appetite:

“My Cultural Divide” – A three month visit to Bangladesh becomes a discovery of family and home that runs parallel with the filmmakers attempt to tackle the complex issue of global trade. Accompanied by his ailing mother, he takes us on a very personal journey to bridge the gap between his heritage in Bangladesh and his life in Canada. He connects his politics with his humanity, and weaves together a story that is both thought provoking and touching.
“Driving in India” – There are no traffic regulations and much like survival of the fittest, the biggest vehicle on the road wins unless you’re an elephant. Shot all over Northern India, “Driving In India” is about a sudden and fast-paced economical environment that has contributed to this challenging way of transportation, but it also shows the relentless optimism and humor of the people and the unwavering need to survive.
“A Cry in the Dark” – This film captures an extraordinary succession of abuses of authority and culminates in a horrifying, desperate act. She was an ordinary village girl but the popular movement that rose up in the wake of Thangiam Manorama’s death shook the foundations of a government. Reportedly raped and killed in police custody her death shook the foundation of local government and barely made the world news.
“Quarterlife Crisis” – Dumped on his 27th birthday by his college sweetheart Angel for being indecisive, Neil makes a silly bet that takes him on a wild ride through New York’s singles scene, accompanied by four testosterone-packed imbecile buddies and one crazy scheming New York taxi driver. On these madcap adventures Neil journeys from life choice paralysis to real life manhood. [w/ Lisa Ray and Russell Peters]

…and lots more feature films, documentaries, and shorts. Many of the films are by emerging or first-time filmmakers. Ali at Eteraz has an interview with one of the latter, Shripriya Mahesh.

On a less happy note, we hear from Sarita Vasa of ArtWallah, the decade-old Los Angeles desi arts festival, that the organization and festival are in jeopardy. They are launching an appeal for emergency funding. Sarita writes: Continue reading →

Leave the gun. Take the wattalapam.

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I like to keep track of the various industries where desis are making an impact, especially in New York City. When I was growing up, almost all the news stands were owned by Bangladeshis. Later, Punjabis became a major presence in taxi cabs in the city and gas stations in the suburbs. But the one I missed along the way had to do with Sri Lankans and porn stores [hat tip Manish].

In 1999, Tunku Varadarajan wrote an article for the NYT about Gujarati motel owners that contained the following throwaway line:

Sri Lankans, in case you didn’t know this, run most porn-video stores… [Link]

I did some digging, and the best estimates I could find show only a 10% ownership of the video smut business (I’m not entirely sure that these figures describe the same period as Varadarajan’s article, and they may be low since they came from within the Sri Lankan community). Still, no matter what the numbers, it’s a fascinating history.

The story starts, as all good New York City stories start, with the Mafia. La Cosa Nostra had dominated New York’s red light businesses for a number of decades but finally found their dominance undone by new technology:

Video’s emergence in the ’80s changed the Mafia’s porn role. No longer could the mob dominate distribution by simply running adult theaters and peep shows. Gotti and Basciano allowed businessmen without ties to the Mafia to move into retail stores. Immigrant entrepreneurs, particularly from Israel and Sri Lanka, multiplied X-rated video shops in New York neighborhoods from Greenwhich Village to Queens.

“The days of Mob influence are gone,” claimed a Sri Lankan businessman. “There’s no money in the business for them. Tapes used to be $100 each. Now they’re selling for $3:99.” [Link]

Confusingly, the same source also tells an alternate story, one where Sri Lankans entered the business earlier, working with the Mafia at first:

Sri Lankans worked for the Mafia through the 1980s and moved into ownership when the Mafia left. [Link]

This generates a great image in my mind, almost Benneton-like in its pluralism, of Sicilian and Sri Lankan mobsters working side by side to bring smut to the city that never sleeps. If this is true, a lot of hollywood dialogue needs to be rewritten and desi actors will start to complain that they only get roles as doctors, terrorists or gangsters. Sri Lankan script doctors will have to be hired to write lines like this:

“Leave the gun. Take the cannoli wattalapam .”

Continue reading →

Dengue Fever

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In recent weeks, what is fast looking like an epidemic of dengue fever has been spreading in different parts of India. Delhi is over 600 reported cases, with 16 fatalities; Kerala has over 700 cases; Gujarat, 200; West Bengal, 300. At India’s top hospital, the All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS), one medical student has died and 20 nurses are infected. In today’s news, it appears that two of the grandsons of Prime Minister Manmohan Singh have also contracted the disease and have been admitted to the hospital.

Dengue fever, you ask?

Here’s the scoop. It’s transmitted by mosquitoes: not the Anopheles, which carries malaria, but the Aedes — especially the Aedes aegypti, which the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) describe as a “domestic, day-biting mosquito that prefers to feed on humans.” There are two strains of dengue. Regular dengue fever (DF) produces fever, headache, back ache, joint pains, nausea, eye pain and rash. Dengue hemorragic fever (DHF) is nastier and potentially deadly:

Dengue hemorrhagic fever is characterized by a fever that lasts from 2 to 7 days, with general signs and symptoms that could occur with many other illnesses (e.g., nausea, vomiting, abdominal pain, and headache). This stage is followed by hemorrhagic manifestations, tendency to bruise easily or other types of skin hemorrhages, bleeding nose or gums, and possibly internal bleeding. The smallest blood vessels (capillaries) become excessively permeable (“leaky”), allowing the fluid component to escape from the blood vessels. This may lead to failure of the circulatory system and shock, followed by death, if circulatory failure is not corrected.

There is no vaccine and no specific medication for dengue. Cases of DHF in particular require rapid hospitalization and fluid replacement therapy for the patient to pull through. This requires, obviously, a medical infrastructure that permits rapid hospitalization, not to mention hygienic hospital conditions, never a given anywhere in the world.

Mosquitoes are the only vector of the disease, meaning that anyone who contracts it in a hospital environment likely did so from mosquitoes hanging out there. The best way to prevent dengue, therefore, is to reduce mosquito breeding opportunities and infestation settings like standing water. In the immediate, the authorities in Delhi (and presumably other places as well) are carrying out a fumigation campagn with pesticides. At the same time, it seems that the country was also insufficiently prepared to deal with a disease that has been endemic for a long time.

The spread of dengue — as well as chikungunya, which has now killed 71 people in Kerala — comes at a time when health experts are revising their longtime opposition to DDT. The WHO has lifted its ban on DDT, and the US government also supports wider use of the once-dreaded chemical. This is controversial, obviously; this article, for example, makes the opposing case.

Dengue has been spreading worldwide as the Aedes mosquito makes itself at home in more and more places. Here is a map that shows the reinfestation of Aedes in the Americas since 1970. As a side note, there is also a hip band out of Los Angeles called Dengue Fever. They play a blend of psychedelic rock and Cambodian pop. Continue reading →

Kathak at the Crossroads

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My sister Anjali, an occasional commenter here, attended the “Kathak at the Crossroads” conference that was held last weekend in San Francisco. She passes on these thoughts.

I have just returned from an international kathak festival and symposium, organized by the Chitresh Das Dance Company in San Francisco. I’m having trouble refocusing on the mundane trivialities of day-to-day life. This was a rare gathering of a majority of the names and legends of kathak, with close to fifty artists, both dancers and musicians, attending from around the world. Some, like Birju Maharaj and Krishna Mohan Mishra, are descendants of long lines of dancers whose forefathers performed in the Moghul courts. Kumudini Lakhia is a dancer who broke the mold and, in the 1950s, injected “Western” notions of choreography into kathak, beginning a long discussion as to what is and is not traditional. Madhuri Devi Singh is one of the last living baijis (courtesans) of Benares, whose difficult life, etched in lines along her face, nonetheless produced a dancer of almost divine grace and tangible kindness. Other masters and grandes dames of kathak included Tirath Ram Azad, Chitresh Das, Sunayana Hazarilal and the sisters Saswati Sen and Vaswati Mishra. And then there were dancers of a younger generation (and by “younger” I mean close to or in their 40s) such as Rajendra Gangani, Aditi Mangaldas and the members of the Chitresh Das Dance Company.

There were presentations and panels. There was talk of fusion and confusion, of traditional versus contemporary, of authenticity, of accessibility. And there were performances. For a student of dance, this was a treat beyond treats. With three or four hours of performances every evening and additional showcase events during the days, I felt like a child with a bucket of my favorite candy and someone standing over me telling me I had to finish it all at once. It was almost too much. I wanted more time to savor each performance before being swept into another one. I watched in amazement the fastest and most precise footwork I have ever seen, the most deep-seated perfection of rhythm and timing, and the total devotion to an art form that one rarely encounters today. Continue reading →

Sepia Signs

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When I was last in India, around new years, I took a lot of photos of signs (Posts: 1, 2, 3) Of all the ones I saw, however, these two were my favorites. I spotted them at a Reliance truck stop / Dhaba on a toll road in Gujarat, late at night.

The first sign clearly indicates a ladies room, but in a very desi way. This is what I’d always hoped for from modern India; not a straight forward cloning of the west, but instead a bollystyle mashup, a “blend of eastern and western” tackyness. Yes, I know that not all Indian women wear saris, I’m Punjabi. But it’s still more apposite than a woman in a dress, and for Gujarat, it’s dead on many Gujarati women wear saris, albeit in the local style.

The second one I love because it takes the mickey out of the western name for the facilities, the “bathroom”. You know, if you’re doing #2 in a tub, I really don’t want to know about it. Toilets are for p*ssing and sh*tting in, bathrooms are for bathing in. And better still, this icon doesn’t show a western style shower (which many truck drivers may never have used) but instead an Indian style bath (or a very confused man using a lota wrongly ). It’s a shame these signs aren’t available for import here …

Oh yes, in case you were curious, the men’s room was spotless (unlike this: 1, 2) My nostalgia for traditional dhabas only goes so far …

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A bride for Budhia

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I want to start by saying that I DO NOT condone child marriages. In this case however, for the good of Mother India, I think we should all consider the merits of such an arrangement. In the past we have blogged about young (4 year old) Budhia Singh who was running upwards of 30 miles on an average non-competition day. Some overly cautious adults banned him from running marathons in the state of Orissa and charged his coaches/handlers with abuse. Officials said that they didn’t want him to be exploited but I’ll bet it was to protect the other runners (who may have had friends in the government) from embarrassment. Now we get word of another young runner. Meet the hard charging Anastasia Barla:

A 10-year-old tribal girl from a remote village in Sundargarh district ran 72 km in eight hours on Monday but failed to break Budhia Singh’s record.

Five-year-old Budhia had run 65 km non-stop on May 2 in his bid to enter the Limca Book of Records, while Anastasia took a five-minute break after running 58 kms.

Anastasia Barla’s target was to cover 105 km. She began her marathon run from Sundargarh stadium at exactly 5 am amid cheers from a large crowd.

But she stopped at Rambahal near Rajgangpur at around 1 pm, after covering 72 km.

Her coach Dominque Lakra said Anastasia could not achieve the target today as she had ran on hard surface. “The girl is comfortable on soil which is soft…” [Link]

Look, if India wants to get serious about competing athletically on a global stage then they need to start making some tough decisions now. Even if Budhia and Anastasia are held back by the corrupt Indian system, at least their offspring might have a chance to be the great brown hopes. Can you imagine the running abilities of their kids given the genetic stock of Budhia and Anastasia? An arranged marriage seems to this blogger to be the most reasonable course of action. Damn any caste differences if they exist. A modern India calls for pragmatic solutions.

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All brownz must speak English in this airport

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Via BoingBoing comes news of a guy who was detained and missed his flight for “acting suspiciously” by speaking a mixture Tamil and English on his cell at Seattle’s cosmopolitan SeaTac airport:He told officials that he would not speak in a foreign language on his cell phone at an airport in the future

A 32-year-old man speaking Tamil and some English about a sporting rivalry was questioned at Sea-Tac Airport and missed his flight Saturday because at least one person thought he was suspicious.

The Port of Seattle dispatched its police officers to investigate the case, which occurred Saturday around noon, said Bob Parker, airport spokesman. The Chicago man was preparing to board an American Airlines flight to Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport.

The man was speaking Tamil, a language largely used in India, Sri Lanka and Singapore, on his cell phone at the departure gate and on the aircraft. An off-duty airline employee heard the conversation and informed the flight crew. [Link]

The whole thing was cleared up once he promised to become monolingual at airports!

Parker said the man was cooperative and boarded a later flight to Texas. He told officials that he would not speak in a foreign language on his cell phone at an airport in the future. [Link]

This is hardly the first time this something of this sort has happened. A man was detained for several hours for speaking Arabic on the phone at a bus station. Two britasians were kept off a flight for speaking Urdu (although there is some evidence that they may have been trying to provoke an incident). A flight was even diverted because passengers felt threatened by two orthodox jews praying in Hebrew! There are many more cases like this involving Sikhs immediately after 9/11, I’m just showcasing some non-Sikh examples so that the rest of you can relate.

You don’t even have to open your mouth to have an incident. This Lt. Colonel in the US Army (formerly active service, now reserves) was detained for hours because US Air Marshals didn’t like the “way he looked” [He won a court case based on this incident]

So yeah, even 5 years after 9/11, I still only speak on my cell phone in English at airports, I always call or text somebody to tell them where I am in my journey, and I make extra sure to grin broadly and shuffle my feet while boarding. Nossah massah, I only speaks the english! You gots watermellon on this heah flight? I just love me some watahmellons!

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