Author Archives: A N N A

Art Imitates Kaavya’s Life

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Kaavya.jpg

Since Miss Maya hasn’t done anything blog-worthy lately, I thought I’d torment you with the other Southern belle who gets assloads of Sepia space: Kaavya Viswanathan. Oh, admit it. You totally missed her. I know I did, especially since my plea for temperance in judging her brought me a few love letters with choice sweet nothings like the following:

Your defense of that plaigarist (sic) Kaavya destroys all your credibility with me. I will never take what you say seriously. You think lying and cheating is okay and you call yourself Christian? Maybe you are a plaigarist, too!

For the record, I am neither a plaigarist nor a plagiarist and I usually call myself, “you IDIOT!”. But I digress. Apparently, someone might have been inspired by the would-be author who…was…”inspired” by so many other writers. Could the saga of the other Miss Viswanathan be coming to a YA shelf near you? Via Gawker:

CHILDRENÂ’S: YOUNG ADULT Jamie MichaelsÂ’s KISS MY BOOK, story of a teen writing sensation who gets caught plagiarizing her debut novel, but finds redemption and romance when she escapes to a small town, to Krista Marino at Delacorte, by Michael Bourret at Dystel & Goderich Literary Management (World). [link]

Gawker didn’t explicitly state where that blurb was from, but I’m guessing that we’d find it on Publishers Marketplace if we could get in there. Nick Denton’s flagship blog snarks on:

Surely DreamWorks is considering optioning this, if only to get back at Viswanathan for screwing them over the first time. No studio exec is above exacting revenge on a teenager. Now, does anyone know who reps that Bend It Like Beckham girl? [link]

I know, there’s only one desi actress in Hollywood (and we had to go across the pond to find her), but maybe, just maybe, she doesn’t have to play EVERY brown female role? Surely it might be possible to import another hottie from the land of Pickled Politics and give pretty Parminder a break? Casting directors might have to– the current E.R. star isn’t known for her sneer. Continue reading →

It Sounds Like Bologna To Me, But…

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pudgesicle10mos.jpgUsually, an article related to the process of sex selection would sadden me because I think the brown preference for boys blows, but this one which was submitted to our news tab (Thanks, Premii!) had me laughing, because I immediately thought of celebrity evidence to back it up. Apparently, it is possible to choose whether you are going to have a male or female…calf:

Want to have a baby boy? Tuck into the burgers, fries and ice cream. Want a girl? Then go on a diet and lose some weight.
It works for cows, according to John Roche, a scientist at New Zealand’s dairy research organisation Dexcel. “And we would expect what holds true for one mammal will hold true across the board,” he said.

Also, if it can be applied to celebrities, it must be true. Angelina stayed rather sleek while incubating the most attractive celebrity baby possible, to the point where useless weeklies which cost $1.99 and all run the same story (though with slightly different covers) speculated that based on the lack of fat around her elbows, the lippy star was way too skinny. (I kid you not. I read this while waiting for my train.) Angelina, the magazines screeched, was “dangerously thin”. She had a girl, in case you haven’t had access to television, radio, newspapers, the internet, carrier pigeons, flaming arrows etc.

Meanwhile, Kate Hudson put on an amount which was almost equivalent to my mother’s entire body weight pre-pregnancy-with me; Hudson gave birth to a boy, Ryder. Britney…well, we all know about Britney. Do not read anything in to the fact that the quote I’m about to use contains the word “heifers”. I am establishing no connection between Britney and one of those. If you are currently thinking that thought, it’s your bad, not mine. 😉

They found that cows that gained weight before conceiving were more likely to give birth to bull calves. Those shedding kilos before conception had a better chance of producing heifers (females).
Roche told the Waikato Times , published in Hamilton at the heart of New Zealand dairying country, the research underlined the theory that humans had some control over the sex of their children…Roche said it was not clear exactly why weight affected the sex of a cow’s offspring.

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Everything Brown Is Better ;)

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even our crustaceans are prettier.JPG
This is going to seem highly random, but I was meandering about Wikipedia thanks to this thread, because I thought I’d read more about Bigelow teas after this comment. Whenever I wiki, I always peep the main page to see if there is something interesting and or brown (since I’m the one who named this category).

Today’s featured picture of mictyris longicarpus captured my attention for two reasons:

1) I am absolutely terrified of crustaceans and think eating them is just gross. They remind me of insects and one of you more useful (read: non-poli-sci major) types told me that the two groups of ickiness are actually related.

2) LOOK at those COLORS. Have you ever seen a prettier icky creature?

Here, learn something:

The light blue soldier crab (Mictyris longicarpus), inhabits beaches in the Indo-Pacific region. Soldier crabs filter sand or mud for microorganisms. They congregate during the low tide, and bury themselves in a corkscrew pattern during high tide, or whenever they are threatened.

I googled a bit more and found out that this thing (more formally known as the “soldier crab”) scurries about the Andaman and Nicobar Islands. This proves my E.C.F.I.-Uncle-esque theory that everything South Asian is prettier. 😉 Continue reading →

Guest Blogger: The Barmaid

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One of the things which fascinates me about this community of blogginess we inhabit is the randomness of connections and the chain of events which must transpire in order for someone to find blog X. Those of you who know me in real life know that this is a question I always pose, because before SM, I always wondered, “How on earth did you know I was alive?” The vast majority of the answers I’ve received boil down to three syllables: Manish Vij.

My FAVORITE new (to me) blog of the past year belongs to a fellow DCist and I would like to thank erstwhile SM regular and current legal eagle Maisnon for indirectly introducing me to one insightful and addictive personality: The Barmaid. I can’t imagine my life without one. 😉 She’s half-woman, half-amazing. Finding her exceptionally well-written blog resulted in one of the rarest activities I might choose to do: reading an entire archive. To get all power chord-y Aerosmith on your kundis, I didnÂ’t want to miss a thing. I think we can all agree that when you’ve forsaken all others and forgotten what it was that you were supposed to do because you are voraciously consuming someoneÂ’s back catalog, thatÂ’s a sign that youÂ’ve stumbled on to one hell of a blog.

Perhaps it would be easiest if I counted down the reasons why the most talented blogtender ever makes me reconsider my addiction to NYC (Yes. She single-handedly puts all the hotness in swamp city. And if you donÂ’t know, now you know):

10) She was a Theta, so she gets this DG‘s reliance on Greek speak (I almost rushed that house, so good taste on her). SheÂ’s like the grand-little I forever wanted and never had.

9) She, too, adores Amma. Respect her authority as she taxes the Dahi Vada before leaving for the Mysore Masala Dosa. Then fall a little bit in lurve as she matches you, cup for cup of Madras Coffee, at a Saturday morning brunch which is the closest IÂ’ve ever come to those unrealistic-to-me morning-ish meals which went down on every ep of Sex and The City.

8) She appreciates my powerful love for the wackiest news show on television: World News Now. Hail its wonderful weirdness with me even if its most recent source of brownitude is no longer holding court.

7) Malayalees do it better. 😉

6) Her drink specials are so tasty, intoxication occurs quickly and inevitably. YetÂ…thereÂ’s never a hangover.

5) If you end up at Sephora with her, she will exhibit no hesitation or self-consciousness when it comes to testing out vivid metallic Chanel lipsticks or four varieties of bronzer/glitter. She will also loyally assist you with shooting stink-eye at those useless @$$h073$ at MAC. Hisssss.

4) She is wise enough to use TYPEPAD, like someone else we know. 😉

3) Her inclusion of her soon-to-be-as-legendary-as-Yo-Dad parents, “Lester” and “Sally” in her blogging life is inspiring, heartwarming and fodder for some of the most exquisitely priceless, “OMG, me too!” or “Omg, I wish.”-moments I’ve had this year.

2) Remember that personal bravery she displayed at Sephora? SheÂ’s just like that online, dissecting heartbreak, regret and lessons learned with a selfless candor which makes you want to hug her and thank her. Repeatedly.

1) She is hysterical. Witty. Rare. Consistently awesome. In short: perfection.

Kindly welcome the latest knockout to grace our bunker as a cherished guest: The Barmaid. If you are mean to her, I will cut you, like any good Akka/Chechi would. I canÂ’t for the life of me see why I would need to do that, though. I predict youÂ’ll end up just as enchanted as the rest of us.

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DC Restaurant Review: Tandoori Nights

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Oy, I almost don’t want to write this– but I took so many pages of notes during my disastrous dinner at Tandoori Nights in Clarendon, that all that information deserves to be used. I know you’ll appreciate reading some of it, since our threads on dining, fine or otherwise are consistently popular. So let’s get this over with.

I’ve recently become an addict of EMS. I know, I’m the only one who has ever entered the store in stiletto heels, but what can I say? You can only spend so much time underground with Abhi before he begins to influence you. While I work up my nerve to (gulp) actually go camping for the first time, I’m going to keep frequenting EMS; for some reason, it makes urban-me want to be outside. Powerfully magical, I know. So between my forays to gear mecca and the container store (and yet– my apartment is still disorganized), I noticed that a potentially brown restaurant had opened on the second floor of the ritzy Market Common at Clarendon, just outside of D.C.

Yesterday, I decided to give it a shot, even though I was a little put off by the restaurant’s font. Yup, I’m that kind of dork. Why wouldn’t I be? If words are my life, the shapes of the letters which create them matter, too. I looked down at my outfit, which I had worn earlier to the amazing lecture Sajit blogged about at the Smithsonian. It was casual, but to me, so was the font. So imagine my shock when I tentatively walked through the front doors and saw a lounge sleek enough to impress, a distinguished man in a well-cut suit who looked like the manager and a mural of brown women on the ceiling which made me want to faint because I spent so much time craning my neck back to memorize it. “WOW,” I thought to myself, “it’s GORGEOUS.”

I simultaneously regretted my clothes while planning a meetup or party that just had to take place in this space. Much like it jinxes the shit out of my crushes on boys to imagine my first name with their surname, all of my moony swooning, my counting parties before they were hatched…well, it virtually guaranteed doom. 🙁

My friend and I were seated in a beautiful, semi-private room and were asked if we wanted still or sparkling. I opted for the first and the busboy blurted out, “it’s bottled”. Um, okay. I wasn’t sure what to do with that so I asked him what brand. He didnÂ’t know. When he came back, he said “Voss” and my pretentious-meter went off so hard it broke. How very glam. And everything on the menu was spelled properly! Well played. Continue reading →

55Friday: “World In Motion” Edition

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Oh Laila.jpgEvery four years, the entire world pauses to watch very hot athletes play a game I find irresistible. We could get all armchair (or, more likely, office chair) psychologist on my kundi and consider that Soccer was the only sport my august father ever played, but it’s also the only sport I ever played.

One glorious summer a few years ago, I decided to sack up and work through all the issues I still had with forever being picked last to do anything in elementary school P.E. I played my heart out four nights a week and I had bruises the size of watermelons on my legs (playing indoors can be brutal) and a permanent ankle injury to show for it. Despite being black, blue and purple in addition to my usual brown, I’ve never been prouder of myself or my resolve to do the impossible: front like I’m actually coordinated.

This Friday, if you are so inclined, write exactly 55 words about: FIFA, footie, Footballers’ Wives (whose most memorable star from this past season was half-desi hotness Laila Rouass, pictured left), soccer camp, Adidas gear…whatever floats your World Cup boat. As always, kindly leave your flash fiction in the comments below or provide a link to where we can find some. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend to my mobile; Ennis keeps blowing up my spot with text messages which say “Goooooooooooooaaaaaaaal!” 😀

P.S. If you haven’t been watching Footballers’ Wives on BBC America, you’re so missing out. Laila Rouass plays “Amber”, erstwhile Bollywood star and sort-of-estranged wife of a Beckham-ish “Conrad Gates”. I won’t spoil the rest for you since they recently commenced re-running the entire season on Sunday nights at 10pm and 1am (at least that’s how Comcast does it here in D.C…YMMV, obviously). Watch. You won’t be disappointed. 😉 Continue reading →

55Friday: The “Love and Marriage” Edition

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Spring has long sprung and like several of you, I was at a wedding last weekend. ‘Tis the season for bridal registries, trips out-of-town and getting faded on Black at receptions (via trunk bar or open, natch). Even though it has almost been a week since I saw a priest recite ancient exhortations at the Cathedral of the Incarnation, I’m still very marriage-minded on this Friday. You would be too, if you had been at an Orthodox ceremony; I had several hours to ponder tradition, obligation and tying the knot (both literally and figuratively).

Then there’s the Mutiny’s role in keeping the vedding bells ringing in my head; I had read the “Modern Love” essay penned by Sarita James when it came out, but Amardeep’s post from earlier today prompted me to visit it again, since I knew it would be a hot topic (I predict 300+ comments). It’s mildly amusing to me that the one issue which can bring this entire community together/rouse lurkers from their anonymity/stir up so much drama is marriage. Not politics, not Arundhati, not spelling. Marriage. It’s a testament to how much angst and weirdness we all feel about this rite of passage, that whenever we feature a post like this latest, every F5 will bring you a brand new comment.

While we already had a Friday nanofiction orgy which featured a few 55-word biodatas, I think that the time is right to “go there” again. We haven’t 55’d in a while, might as well get reacquainted via a subject which inspires all of us to say something. As always, you may flash us with fiction about whatever you wish, just be kind enough to leave your words (or a link to them) in the comments below. I know, I usually name our 55Fridays after music I listened to in college, but no wedding reception is official until you’ve played Frank (though to be clear, the couple I just celebrated with danced to U2’s highly awesome “With or Without You”.) What are you waiting for? Nanofiction, already. Continue reading →

Desi Family Terrorized in Wayne, NJ

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The words in the subject line of Sree’s SAJA email blast made me cringe. HATE CRIME: NJ Record on Hindu family targeted

Oy.

I’ll take the tentative exotification over blatant intimidation any day, thanks. What puzzles me most about this crime is the syntax of the spray-painted hate:

We Kill U.
We will Fire your house.
Watch Your Kids.

Feel free to scream at me for this, but I know desis who sound just like that, not that I’m in any way implying that it’s an inside job OR that asshat racists are usually articulate. “We will Fire your house”? To quote OMC, how bizarre.

More from the Bergen record:

Those threats and other profanities — spray-painted on a two-story house in black and orange and neon green — are terrorizing a Wayne family of five who police say have been singled out for their Hindu beliefs and Asian Indian roots.

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Brown, Like My Coffee

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After almost an hour of traffic, I’m nearing work, though I’m furious that this succession of delays means that by the time I get there, it will be too late to get fresh breakfast. Now that I’m off donuts, there’s not much left in the “continental” spread that I feel like eating.

WasnÂ’t there an amazing indie coffee place around here? I remember grabbing something hurriedly before my pre-wedding mani/pedi a few days agoÂ…I hadnÂ’t expected much, but after my first sip of perfectly brewed espresso, I was a believer. The place had a cutesy nameÂ…there it was: The Bean Counter. Unfortunately, parking was not allowed in front of it. Fortunately, I snagged a coveted “zone two” spot right around the corner. Go me.

I knew they were famous for a Cuban sandwich or similar, i.e. something I could never eat, but I wondered if they served breakfast. As yummily necessary as coffee was, it wasn’t a proper meal. I started to read the menu which was framed to the left of the front door—

“Just go in, I’m sure it’s fine.”

I slowly turned and found a very well-dressed older black man smiling at me. In my peripheral vision I noted a gleaming black town car, illegally parked.

I started stammering, I had been in my own little world before he yanked me out of it.

“Um, yes. It, um is. It’s good—really good actually. Excellent espresso.”

“That’s what I heard from the woman down the street. Thought I’d check it out. Well, I don’t want to crowd you, so…”

“Thanks you, I mean, thank you.”

My goodness I was an idiot first thing in the morning. Fine, second thing, too.

I went back to the menu but the only thing which appealed contained nutellla, which IÂ’m staying away from, since IÂ’m weaning myself from sugar. Just coffee then, I guess. I went in and walked all the way to the back of the narrow space, to the register.

“How many shots are in a large?” I asked, slightly ashamed that I knew exactly how to order my desired drink in Startwat lingo. I didn’t want to betray my shameful secret, so dumb questions were in order.

“Three.” She had a rather thick accent I couldn’t place.

Madre de Dios, thatÂ’s a lot. I remembered my junior year at Davis, when I went to Roma off A street right before a final exam and ordered a triple shot drink. I spent the majority of our two hour test period puking my brains out, leaving me a whopping 20 minutes to fill a blue book with my suddenly very shaky handwriting. Thank goodness it was just poli-sci. 😉

“Large, single-shot latte then.”

“Single? You single?”

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Tomorrow’s Meetup = Divine Play

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UPDATE: I just got off the phone with Leela Lounge, the venue for tomorrow’s sophisticated, singular soiree– they do not open until 5pm, so that’s when we shall meet. The kitchen opens at 6, so there will be a full hour of getting faded before anyone fills their bellies with mushroom samosas to soak up all that intoxication; in other words, 5-6pm shall be a dangerous hour for the mutiny, as lycheetinis and Old Monk flow freely. Loose ships sink lips and all that. 😉

If you’re coming, leave your information in the comments, pacifically if you’ll be dragging along otras personas. The good news is, thanks to the long weekend, Leela is going to be very chill– they shooed me away from making reservations. So if you’re feeling like a “maybe”…go with that. There will be space at the table for you. Especially after one of us falls over and out of our chair, from laughing excessively loudly (Kenyandesi– that one’s for P).

Questions? Requests? Complaints which don’t contain any of the following words: Chicago, Midwest, pandits, auspicious, washcloths, plagiarism, Oregon, geography, bees? 😉 Well, if I don’t hear from you, I’ll see you tomorrow, tiny creator of incriminating evidence in hand. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few saris to tie and a wedding to flog!

WHAT: Sepia Mutiny Meetup #7
WHEN: May 28, 5pm
WHERE: Leela Lounge, 3rd between Mercer and Broadway

Continue reading →