Author Archives: A N N A

The Unsinkable Monty Brown

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monty.jpg

Like Tori and some rather old rodents (oh, like any of you are old enough to remember them), “I don’t like Mondays”. I thought you might feel similarly about today; if so, then perhaps you, too, will find this picture irresistibly smile-provoking. Marinate in the exuberance:

England’s Monty Panesar (R) celebrates with Ian Bell after dismissing the West Indies’ Corey Collymore during the fourth day of their first test cricket match at Lord’s in London May 20, 2007.

Now if you wanted to play our favorite caption game with this photograph, I don’t think anyone would object to such fun. And finally, to all the patient-with-a-novice, possibly-in-withdrawal cricket heads out in Sepia-land…I told you I was no fair-weather-padawan. 🙂 Continue reading →

Mosque Attacked in Hyderabad

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A “crude” bomb exploded at the 17th century-era Mecca Masjid in Hyderabad during Friday prayers, killing five and seriously injuring at least 25 others (Thanks, Red Snapper and Tamasha):

Minutes after the blast, Muslims angered by what they said was a lack of police protection began chanting slogans — a situation that quickly devolved into mobs throwing stones at police, who responded with baton charges and tear gas.

Some reports I’ve read state that the tear gas was used to clear the area, to help ambulances rush to and from the scene.

The bombing and ensuing clash between worshippers and police raised fears of wider Hindu-Muslim violence in the city, which has long been plagued by communal tensions and occasional spasms of religious bloodletting.
Many of those injured in the explosion at the 17th-century Mecca Masjid were severely wounded, and the city’s police chief, Balwinder Singh, warned the death toll could rise.
Y.S. Rajasekhara Reddy, the chief minister of Andhra Pradesh state, where Hyderabad is located, appealed for calm between Hindus and Muslims.
Reddy called the bombing, which killed at least five people and wounded 25, an act of ”intentional sabotage on the peace and tranquility in the country.” [NYT]

Mecca Masjid, so named because some of its bricks were brought from that holy city, took 8000 masons almost eight decades to complete; it is the largest mosque in Hyderabad.

Developing… Continue reading →

A Third Serving of Caste

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…via SAJAforum. This ran in the WSJ today, as we were still discussing caste on this blog. What excellent timing for a barely-mediocre cartoon.

A very stupid toon.jpg

What do you think? Over at SAJA, commenter Sendhil had the following to say, which left me giggling:

If this is from the WSJ’s “Pepper… and Salt” spot, it’s not unusual that it’s not funny. Those cartoons are funny less often than “Fred Bassett”. I have concluded that they must serve some other, hidden, purpose, like sending coded messages about tomorrow’s Dow performance to the members of the Trilateral Commission.

Fred Bassett? Ouch. Continue reading →

Whole Grain Naan @ Whole Foods: Not So Much.

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After much kvetching about it, I will cave and put up a post so you aren’t tormented by South Indian perfection everytime you hit F5.

I find it wickedly hilarious that the only thing I had “ready-made” was also about…food. 🙂 Don’t worry– these Naan looked a lot better than they tasted, which was not very good. How do you cook something with ghee in a tandoor and STILL have it taste like a pita?

::

I keep it fobulous, y’all.

No, really. I’m going to. By my conservative estimate, we have people from twelve different countries working on my project; several of them bring food from home every day, which they nuke in the microwave, which means the fragrance/reeking odor permeates the entire office suite.

501754291_7d08d0e4e1.jpg When my Pakistani colleague heats something up, it smells vaguely familiar. Same for the Turkish food. But everything else…seriously, someone needs to pass a law which prohibits the reheating of SEAFOOD in microwaves. Vomitacious. That’s what that is. So, I am no longer going to be considerate to the point of paranoia about eating brown food at work, especially not when the Pakistani food comes here in big plastic dabas to facilitate multiple servings– people love desi food, so the man sweetly brings extra. That’s how I got some unexpected halwa a week or so ago. He was walking around the same way my Mom does at home, at the end of lunch, looking for someone to finish the last portion (whether they want to or not), so he could wash the dish. I was already full and in no mood for sooji halwa, but I got a big ass serving of it and you best believe I cleaned my plate in time to pass his inspection 20 mins later. 🙂

So. This is naan I found at Whole Paycheck on Sunday. I had absolutely no hope of it being good, especially since it has “BEST New Food Product in America” stickered upon it. I mean, it’s at Whole Foods. How authentic could it be? Still, stupidity springs eternal, innit?

Well, it is not the real deal or even remotely close, despite the fact that it is made (allegedly) in a tandoor, with ghee no less. But after the first two disappointing bites, I found myself going back for more. It tastes like really soft pita bread. Or a cross between pita and naan. As long as it doesn’t taste like Bisquick (I’m looking at you, lazy desi restaurants!!!), I’m open to destroying something pickled with it. I’m surprised to report that the “regular/white” type tasted much better than the whole-grain-loaded version pictured above left. Too bad, too. The wheatish ones looked somewhat like my mom’s puris…but they taste even more like pita bread than the “white” naan do.

Since I was already in an experimental mood, I tried a DIFFERENT brand of Kaduku Manga pickle: “Nirapara”. Verdict? Not bad at all. Tastes more home-made than my belowed Grandma’s brand, but that is because it has an edge I can’t quite determine the origin of– and imperfection feels homely. No matter. It’s my “work” kaduku manga. I’ve got half a case of the real deal safely squirreled away at home, where it belongs. Continue reading →

Reminder: The DC Meetup is THREE DAYS Away!

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Actually, it’s less than three days away, but who is being pedantic…not me, especially not when there is gluttonous dosa and vada consumption to anticipate in my near future.

D.C.’s sixth meetup will occur this Saturday at Amma’s Vegetarian, in Georgetown at 1 o’clock isharp. Since none of you read that, I’ll restate it, this time with formatting:

WHERE: Amma’s Vegetarian Kitchen, 3291 M St. NW, Washington, DC 20007, 202-625-6625

WHEN: Saturday, 1pm

WHY: Because you asked for it!

Lakshmi, MuraliMannered, Ashu, Arun, Coffeeface, Portmanteau, Sriram and at least three others have all tentatively RSVP’d– what about you? For all of you who are thinking, “There’s always next time”, don’t. There may not be. Besides, brunch this weekend sounds enticing, doesn’t it? Yum. Carpe dosa! Continue reading →

“Those who spy for America will face this same fate”

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A bomb exploded in the Peshawar restaurant where a “close relative” of Mullah Dadullah—the charismatic leader of the Taliban who was killed this past weekend—had been arrested, though there is no confirmation that said arrest provided the intelligence which helped us find Dadullah. The attack is especially ominous because it indicates that the war in Afghanistan is spreading to Pakistan [via PI].

The suicide bomber’s severed leg, found in the rubble of a restaurant where he killed 25 people, was wrapped with brown tape used to seal packages. On the tape, scrawled in the Pashto language, was an ominous warning.
“Those who spy for America will face this same fate,” it said.
The bomb went off yesterday in the four-story Marhaba Hotel in an old quarter of this frontier city, which served as the main staging point for mujahedeen in Soviet-occupied Afghanistan in the 1980s and is still synonymous with violent Islamic radicalism and political intrigue…
In addition to the warning for those who spy for the United States, provincial police chief Sharif Virk said, the parcel tape bore the Persian word Khurasan – often used in extremist videos to describe Afghanistan.

The timing of the attack is noteworthy:

The bomb went off shortly after the restaurant’s Afghan owner, Saddar Uddin, returned from a trip outside with some relatives, said waiter Hassan Khan. Uddin, his two sons, two other relatives, and seven employees were among the dead, he said.
A local intelligence official said Uddin, an ethnic Uzbek, had links to the party of anti-Taliban warlord Abdul Rashid Dostum, part of the Northern Alliance that helped the United States topple the old regime.

Continue reading →

Oppression All The Way Down

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Quick– read the following paragraph and tell me what you think:

The women legally arrived…in 2002; (their employers) then confiscated their passports and refused to let them leave their home, authorities said.

Domestic slavery? Nightmarish abuse of Sri Lankan maids, at the hands of Arab employers? That’s what I thought. I was only half right (Thanks, KXB).

Two Indonesian women were subjected to beatings and other abuse and forced by a couple to work in their home in a swank Long Island neighborhood without pay for several years, federal prosecutors said Tuesday.
Authorities said they uncovered the abuse after one of the women was found by police wandering outside a doughnut shop on Sunday morning, wearing only pants and a towel…[IHT]

Apparently, employees at the store thought the woman was homeless, until she started slapping herself and trying to utter the word “master”.

Varsha Mahender Sabhnani, 35, and her husband Mahender Murlidhar Sabhnani, 51, both from India, entered not guilty pleas at their arraignment in U.S. District Court and were ordered held pending a Thursday bail hearing. Their attorney did not immediately return a telephone call seeking comment. [IHT]

The women were only allowed outside of the house if they were taking out the garbage; when anyone visited, they were stashed in a 3×3′ closet. That’s pleasant compared to this:

The women were subjected to beatings, scalding water thrown on them, and forced to climb up and down stairs as punishment for misdeeds, prosecutors said. In one case, they said, one of the women was forced to eat 25 hot chili peppers at one time.
One of the women also told authorities she was cut behind her ears with a small pocket knife and both were forced to sleep on mats in the kitchen. They were fed so little, they claimed, that they were forced to steal food and hide it from their “captors.”[IHT]

It’s just so depressing. What quirk of destiny relegates one South Asian woman to endure the beatings of her Arab mistress while halfway around the world, her desi– albeit privileged– counterpart metes out similar viciousness to another brown human being? Sri Lankan and Fillipino maids get abused in the middle east, the Indonesian survivors from this cringe-inducing story were enslaved by people our parents might associate with, right here in the U.S and desperate, option-less women everywhere are exploited by those who should know better but don’t care. For shame. Continue reading →

On Feeling *Extra* Brown This Morning

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Every weekday morning as I make my way towards the looooooong escalators which lead to red lines, I smile at the man who is employed by the Washington Post to hand out their freebie paper The Express (a.k.a. WaPo Lite). It’s stapled and tabloid-sized which makes it convenient to manage but more importantly, it’s interesting enough to make the trip to work fly by; I especially like the back pages, where they choose pithy quotes from blogs, mention things like FREE Haagen-Dazs and update us metro-riding DCists on celebrity-related crap.

I don’t read Trent or Perez because I’m not THAT interested in whether Britney is wearing knickers (Shamita Shame Shame on the other hand…) but I don’t mind learning enough to keep me clued in to what might be considered conversational fair-game. That’s why I skimmed the following blurb about Junior Combover and his spouse, while waiting for the next train:

Donald Trump became a grandfather over the weekend, 14 months after he became a dad all over again. The baby girl, Kai Madison, was born to Donald Trump Jr. and his wife, Vanessa, both 29, on Saturday in New York, according to published reports. She weighed 6 pounds, 14 ounces. Trump Jr. said the girl’s name comes from her maternal grandfather, a Danish musician. Kai will grow up alongside her uncle Barron, born to Trump and his third wife, Melania, in 2006.

Fine, fine…but what caught my attention was the title:

Family Tree Irrevocably Mangled by Trump Scion

I was so perplexed by this, I didn’t hustle like a normal person and I almost missed my opportunity to evade Sliding Doors. Seriously? Wasn’t “mangled” a bit much? I know, the writers at Express are delightfully snarky, but this immediately and consummately reminded me of all the times when I was younger and my classmates were weirded out by my byzantine family tree: Continue reading →

Why Does Caste Matter to US?

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I think I found this after reading an email sent out on the ASATA listserv; it asked for participants for a survey on caste and Sikhism. Since I’m interested in both, I decided to take a quick look. The first notes wafted tentatively through my iBook’s wee speakers and I smiled: Van Halen. I knew exactly what kind of video this would be. We used to make ones just like it for JSA‘s Fall and Spring “State”, usually to open the conference. Well, it was either that or we’d blare Public Enemy‘s “Fight the Power“…

After watching it, I was moved, because I felt like so much of it was applicable to all of us, not just Sikhs. Someone Malayalee needs to make one of these, stat, I muttered…and then I realized that they didn’t. Maybe they should just watch this, I thought and that’s when I knew it belonged here, in a space where it would get the attention it rightly deserves.

Ravidasia // Khatri // Jatt // Tarkhan…The labels that divide us are endless. Caste, gender, class, and power tear apart our Qaum, our Gurdwaras, and our Pariwars. How do we overcome? How do we forge unity without silencing voices? [Jakara]

My closest friend in college was a Sikh girl from Fremont, who happened to be Tarkhan. My boyfriend from Freshman through Junior year was Jatt. So were all of his friends. They made fun of her when she wasn’t around and ignored her when she was. This baffled coconut-flavored me. “Why are you so mean to her?” I’d ask him, over and over. “She’s nice.”

“Because she’s…Tarkhan. They’re lower class. And so backwards– didn’t you say her parents tried to get her married when she was 17, that they didn’t even want to send her to college? Who the hell does that?”
“That’s not her fault, why are you taking it out on her?”
“Look, it’s a Sikh thing…it’s probably difficult to understand. Don’t you have a sorority thing to go to?”

::

I’m amazed at how often caste shows up on our comment threads, among second gen kids who should know better. Then I am humbled as I remember that I’m complicit in this too, when I tease my best friend about doing TamBrahm stuff or when I embroider stories from bygone UC Davis days with an extra adjective which probably isn’t necessary:

“Well a lot of students were from the Central Valley or Yuba City…so a good number of the desis I befriended were Jatt Sikh.”

It’s so insidious, the way this need to inform others of where we are in some dated hierarchy persists. Right now, we need to ask ourselves…why? Continue reading →

Shamita Shetty Showed her Shame Shame!

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Say THAT five times fast. Anyway, am I the only one who had a terribly silly Auntie refer to her kids’ naughty bits as their “shame shame”? Thankfully, my parents always said, “that…you know…” while vaguely nodding in my midsection’s general direction or “kundi“, which is optimal compared to what Silly-Auntie called it. Way to instill healthy feelings about one’s body, there. Obviously anything labeled “shame” is going to be thought of positively. Oh, wait. We’re desi. My bad.

Aside: At one of the best Kahani workshops ever hosted in DC, somehow one of the writing exercises (d)evolved in to a brief discussion of what one was taught to call their “shame shame”, after Turbanhead’s adorable youngest sibling read aloud her draft, which mentioned how she referred to that area as…wait for it…wait for it…

…her happy-no-no place.

Ah, I love wannabe fiction writers and their fantastically fecund minds. 😀

I swear I had a point…but it’s Friday and I’ve missed happy hour…what…was…I…OH YES! Shamita. Dear sweet Shamita. Shamita whom I had never heard of before yesterday, who is younger sister to the woman whose effigy was still a top-seller, as of last week. I’m referring to Big Brother star and Richard Gere-magnet Shilpa Shetty, of course.

Well, Shamita pulled a Britney, though in my day, it was called a Basic Instinct. She showed up somewhere all of two of you care about in a mini-dress without her chuddies on (Thanks, UberDesi). That’s the big deal. Hahaha. Now you know. Yo slick, blow.

While you do that, I’m going to ponder whatever happened to Bel, Biv and DeVoe and whether one should trust a big butt and a smile (I’m inclined to say yes, but I’m biased). Happy Weekend, y’all. Continue reading →