The Real Hard-Knock Life

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Erstwhile Sepia guest blogger Saheli is amazing for many reasons, but now I have confirmation that it’s obviously genetic; her Uncle is Arunabha Ghosh, who recently accompanied rapper Jay-Z to Africa. Uncle Arunabha (do you like how I totally mooched him?) is involved with many worthy issues:

He worked on the rights of indigenous people, international migration, and the rise of culturally intolerant movements around the world. He recently delivered a lecture on the integration of immigrants at the Universal Forum of Cultures in Barcelona. [link]

What caught my attention and what Saheli just blogged about, however, is water:

Over a billion people lack access to clean drinking water. Every day–including today, Christmas Eve–over 4000 children lacking good drinking water will die of diarrhea-causing diseases.
It’s hard to wrap our heads around such astonishing statistics, or understand what causes this great gaping need, and how simple some of the solutions are. Last month MTV put up a set of videos in which Shawn “Jay-Z” Carter went on a tour of a home and a school in Africa to understand the basic issues. He was accompanied by his “homeboy,” my uncle, Arunabha Ghosh, a Policy Specialist and one of the authors of the UNDP Human Development Report. Arunabha has spent the last few years tirelessly running around the world, raising the alarm about development needs and spreading the word about development solutions. Last week he addressed an Indian Parliamentary forum on national water issues.[link]

Saheli does a fantastic job of breaking down the plight of children who spend hours fetching something which most of us shamefully take for granted, as we let the faucets run while brushing our teeth (wasting 3-7 gallons per minute). See for yourself, on her “More Fantasticness” blog, here. And if you want to know what I want for my birthday, see for yourself, here. Continue reading

Merry Christmas to All, and to All, “Show Some Pride!”

3670482_a31914cae1.jpg One of my dearest friends has an Op-Ed in today’s Washington Post (page A29). Nitya, I’d be proud of you even if “Longing to Join in Christmas” hadn’t been published, but now that it has, Akka loves you even more, because obviously, like all good South Asian elders, my affection for you is directly tied to your achievements. 😉 I can’t think of a more perfect post for today (so let me get out of the way):

Christmas is the season when you are most likely to find yourself on a street of beautiful homes with twinkling lights, warm fireplaces and happy families outfitted in festive holiday sweaters, only to be filled with a yearning to possess not just the house but the lifestyle inside.

For my whole Indian American childhood in the early 1980s, I wanted a Christmas tree that way. And it wasn’t for the presents. It was for the lifestyle.

I wanted the Santa Claus, I wanted the holly wreath and I wanted the jolly elves who toiled in a workshop all year long. I wanted the sleigh bell-wearing reindeer on my roof. I wanted the colorful stockings hung by the chimney. And I wanted the jolly fat man to wiggle down our (nonexistent) chimney before he ho-ho-hoed his way across the night sky in a triumphant journey back to the North Pole.

From the warmth of my Hindu home, I always longed for that good old Christian magic — and not a holiday like Christmas but Christmas itself. I wanted to belong to the classroom party hosted by homeroom mothers in Santa hats, to know the words to the holiday songs that everyone knew, to feel the evergreen anticipation that never faded or fell from branches needle by needle.

My immigrant father, who’d recently come to America as a University of California grad student, was a man of little sympathy and extra principle when it came to the wants and woes of my childhood.

Continue reading

Ninde Achan Aara, Nel?

Sreesanth Swinging His Bat…. Dhoom Machale?!

It’s my first time, Mutineers, so be gentle. I’m a total Cricket virgin and if you’re mean to me about what is sure to be an amateurish post, I’ll be scarred forever– whether I end up a frigid fan or not is in your hopefully kind and capable hands. 😉

After hearing about Mallu hotness Sreesanth (thanks, DTK), I had to visit ye olde YouTube to find out about this right-arm fast-medium-pace bowler, who is a right-handed tailender. Apparently, excessively lippy South African Andre Nel questioned Sreesanth’s heart/courage/skillz after Sreesanth evaded something called a bouncer. Sreesanth responded by hitting Nel for a six and then performing a dance I’d normally associate with an end zone. Oh, that was just brutal to write. I can’t imagine how many men I’ve just annoyed. 😉

I may not know a damned thing about what is arguably the most popular sport in all of South Asia, but I know the art of trash talk well and if anything could get me to fall in love with this very Brown game, it’s the video I’ve posted above. Set to some probably-famous song I’ve never heard before (“Dhoom Machale”), it’s way more fun than the other YouTube clips which came up when I searched for the new object of my lecherous (he’s eight years younger) affection. Not since I was kicked off our co-ed IM team in grad school for illegal (and may I add, utterly justified and deliciously violent) tackling during a flag-football game have I been so delighted by the immaturity of declaring “in your face!”. Gopu, I heart you. 🙂

UPDATE: The Google Video seems clearer, so I swapped it. Continue reading

SM Memo: Nars “Hindu” is Very Brown

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The mission came my way via Abhi over a month ago, a reader had contacted our comment line with the following:

The high-end cosmetics company NARS has a new lipstick shade called Hindu…I wonder how a shade called Jew or Protestant would fare in the public eye? Is the idea that all Hindus have temptingly red lips? To be fair, there are also shades called Afghan Red and Gipsy. What do you think?

Said Abhi, “This one is ALL you.” Said me, “HELL YES!” I love Nars. If I’m not wearing Chanel makeup, I’m glowing because of the most notoriously named blush of all time. One problem– “Hindu” proved more elusive than I imagined. It was sold-out all over town. The intrigue grew; if it was so desired, I had to keep it under surveillance for the sake of the Mutiny. I finally located a tester of it at Blue Mercury Apothecary (apothecary!) and made my way to my prey.

Part of Nars’ Holiday ’06 collection, “Hindu” had sold so well, it would take a month for me to procure one for the Mutiny. “Nars just didn’t make enough,” my source said, as they prepared the tester for germ-phobic me. I loathe such situations, because I prefer to examine communal cosmetics on the back of my hand. The allegedly-disinfected lipstick was headed right for me. I started to panic, but then I remembered that every Mutiny requires pain and sacrifice.

When she was done with me, I was wearing a very brown lipstick with excellent texture, which reminded of a sheer version of Chanel’s “Very Vamp”. I expected redder tones, not the muted brown which I was studying. I also thought there would be more glitter, since it’s very visible in the tube. The staff praised the end result; I was less convinced by the “Hindu” effect. Maybe for the office, but it was too dull for my scenery-chewing tastes. I was thrilled that it looked so good on South Asian skin, though.

“Would you like to be put on the waiting list?”

I hesitated; normally I would have politely declined, but Abhi had tasked me with more than just scouting “Hindu” out:

My biggest question is can a nice Christian girl such as yourself be labeled a “heathen” if they apply this? If you kiss a nice Mallu boy with “Hindu” lipstick on, what would happen!

In the name of the Mutiny, I gladly put myself on the line to complete this mission; alas, I did not find a suitable partner for such a life-or-death covert operation. Abhi, forgive me. Continue reading

55Friday: The “Cherub Rock” Edition

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I believe in Sliding Doors.

I believe in Serendipity (though I never ventured there myself).

And yes, I believe that at least one angel watches over me. There’s no other explanation for my stupidly good luck or the consistent little miracles which always make my heart lift a little bit in my chest as my hands fly to cover my face from either shock, delight or both. I’m a girly-girl and a Christian one at that, so for me, this is a season for miracles. True to my Orthodox roots (and like a certain Uncle and Auntie in Florida who used to wear buttons pointedly declaring this fact), I believe that Jesus is the reason for the season. If I do THAT, then I have to suspend cynicism, don’t I?

:+:

7:15. Metro. Red line to Glenmont. I hear the infamous, “Doors closing!” as I’m rushing down the escalator at Tenleytown, just as fast as my Connolly-colored mukluks could take me.

I skip the last three steps but it’s too late. Six minutes to the next train. That’s not so bad– it seems better than the Orange line, anyway. Six minutes pass, I board and after Cleveland Park, we pause for no apparent reason as the operator announces “Stand by.” I roll my eyes. I just want to get home. Continue reading

50 Hours until the D.C. Holiday Meetup

“This is Rasika, who were you holding for…”

“Hi, my name is Anna– I had reservations for this Saturday which I was just discussing with–“

“Ah yes, for 10:30 pm.”

“Well, I was told that it would be closer to ten and that we could do drinks in the lounge for an hour before.”

“A group of ten? You may try, but I don’t think that will be possible–” 296074949_ab2c968fa8_m.jpg

“But the hostess just suggested that very course of action, since the lounge empties around then–“

“I can’t hold any tables in the lounge for your party.”

“I didn’t ask you to, I’m sure we’ll be fine there, at that hour.”

“No, I don’t think so, I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“It’s a Saturday evening, it will be very busy, very full.”

“Okay…FINE. I guess we’ll try our luck and just look forward to dinner, which again, I thought was at ten.”

“Madame, I will have to push two tables together. It will take time. I cannot seat you until 10:30, I have to use two tables.”

“Oh…well, would it help if it was just a party of eight? Some of my RSVPs weren’t firm…”

“Is it a party of ten or a party of eight?” Continue reading

Reminder: (a formal) D.C. MEETUP- This Saturday

84643230_3f8aeaef69.jpg Before any of you mutiny-lovin’ right-coasters befoul the L.A. Meetup thread under Abhi’s last post with questions about D.C. events, I thought I’d create a separate and more relevant space for my fellow chocolatiers. If, however, you are befouling the L.A. meetup thread by saying something less than sweet about my least favorite city, foul away with my Northern California-bred blessings. 😉 I keed, I keed.

Anyway, Channukah is almost here and that obviously means it’s time to wear desi clothes to a meetup!

Iron that kanjeevaram, dig up your favorite lengha and find that sherwani your cousin made you buy for his wedding, which you didnÂ’t think youÂ’d get to use again. This is the MutinyÂ’s first holiday party and I want you to glitter as much as the fantastic setting.
Can you picture it? Sepia lovelies in silk, the chime of bangles as crystal flutes are raised and the food…my goodness, you should come, just to try the bhindi and the saag. At YoDad’s request, Msichana showed up to the last DC meetup looking luminous in a sari which fought the sunset for that night’s “Best use of Pinks and Purples”-award, so you may thank her for inspiring this request for your best dress. How down are you with looking brown? :)[linkery]

A month ago, I asked you to save December 16th on your cluttered social calendars and several of you kindly did so. Now I need a final head count so that I can either make reservations or find a different venue— I’m sad to report that I’m having some issues with the luscious, gorgeous Rasika. But, depending on how many of you RSVP, those issues might be moot so hop to it my little bunnies. I need a number and I need it soon! Continue reading

55Friday: The “I Want Your SEX” Edition

It is time for further explorations of today’s “You asked for it…” theme, via flash fiction on a Friday: 317440697_ad6e519f2e_m.jpg

Jai: As someone recently mentioned on the News tab, this blog is screaming for a Bad Sex in Fiction-themed 55Friday, like a man and woman simultaneously exploding in a 2000-gigaton thermonuclear detonation of desire and mutually-assured destruction, the mushroom cloud of their passion suffusing the bedroom like acid rain in a post-apocalyptic nuclear winter.
Pooja: A N N A did respond to my suggestion with a “Hell, yes!”
We’re waiting… ;).[linky]

Wait no longer, my pets (though allegedly, if you do it’s that much better)– the porntastic version of 55Friday is here. Jai and Pooja? Membership has its privileges, because this DJ doesn’t always take requests. 😉

For those of you who are utterly confused as to what we three book-lovin’ pervs are going on about, Ennis wrote a post entitled “Good Writers Finish Last” about a dubious competition–the Literary Review’s Bad Sex in Fiction Award— which inspired the comments you see quoted above.

Now in its 14th year, the award is given to the passage considered to be the most redundant in an otherwise excellent novel…
The judges said the award’s mandate is “to draw attention to the crude, tasteless, often perfunctory use of redundant passages of sexual description in the modern novel, and to discourage it”. [linkypoo]

Hopefully you still have enough stamina to mount an attempt at some 55age, though I know some of you must be exhausted from all of that passion expended over on the “size matters” thread. You may write total fiction, obscure some, ahem, non-fiction or use Mutineers or anyone else you please in your nanofiction. Come now, it can’t take you all that long to recover. 😉 After all a 55-word story is nothing but a quickie. You’ll be done (and so very satisfied) before you know it. Continue reading

For Shame.

May her memory be eternal, may her murderer rot in hell. From the news tab (Thanks, Maurice):

THE plight of India’s untouchables was highlighted again yesterday after a 15-year-old Dalit rape victim was burned alive for refusing to drop charges against her alleged upper-caste attacker.
Asha Katiya reportedly told police before she died of her burns at a hospital in Pipariya, in the state of Madhya Pradesh, that the man had threatened to kill her if she did not change her statement in court.

Raped in July, Asha was a month away from going to court. She was brave enough to seek justice, he was vile enough to react like this:

I will burn you, set your house afire and cut your father into pieces,” Asha’s mother, Shashibai, quoted the 22-year-old man as warning them when she and her daughter were working in the fields near their home the day before the blaze.

Such determination to punish his accuser:

Newspapers reported that late on the day of the blaze, the man rode past Asha’s home on a horse and that night “doused the victim with kerosene from an opening in the roof of a room where she was sleeping and threw a burning matchstick”.

Asha’s family couldn’t save her; there was no easy way to speed her to a hospital.

“The family members alleged that though there are many vehicles in the upper-caste dominated village, no one came to their rescue and they had to call one from Sandia, 8km away,” one local newspaper reported.

The article used all the right language, i.e. “alleged” or “claimed”, but I can’t help but think that if you do something so evil to silence your victim, there’s no need for doubt.

Police said the man named by Asha as her attacker had been arrested.

I hope he doesn’t get away with this. Continue reading

Aishah, You’re Fired.

The debate over multi-culturalism is back in the news ‘cross the pond, in the land of the pickled: Niqab.jpg

An Indian origin Muslim teaching assistant in west Yorkshire, suspended earlier for refusing to remove her veil during school hours, has now been dismissed from the job.[link]
Aishah Azmi, 24, lost a discrimination and harassment case at an employment tribunal last month, and saw support collapse among parents at Headfield Church of England junior school in Dewsbury, West Yorkshire, over what was seen as an uncompromising stand.[link]

That “lost the support of parents”-angle is extra interesting, considering

The school where Azmi was teaching had 530 students, aged seven to 11, and 92 percent were Muslim, mainly from India and Pakistan.[link]

A bit of backstory:

Mrs Azmi, who was awarded £1,000 by the tribunal in Leeds because of mishandled disciplinary processes, was dismissed yesterday after a hearing at the school. She started work a year ago but was suspended in the spring when she refused a male teacher’s request that she remove the veil when helping children in her role as a bilingual support assistant.[link]

This latest controversy comes on the heels of a column written by Former Foreign Secretary Jack Straw, which provoked international debate about veiling and identity:

Straw wrote in a newspaper column last month that he asks women who visit his district office wearing veils that cover almost their entire face to remove the garment when they meet with him…
He said the piece he published in the Lancashire Evening Telegraph newspaper had been thoughtful and respectful, and that he had never challenged women’s right to wear a veil.
He emphasized that he only requested — and never demanded — that women remove the veils in his office and said he did not support banning the coverings.
He said those living in Britain should have a stronger sense of shared identity based on the country’s democratic values.[link]

Continue reading