Category Archives: Musings

In Barbie’s Closet

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A coworker sent me a link to this toy (thanks, Abi!) and I can’t resist posting it, if only because I wonder how much of “us” Mattel got right and wrong. From Barbie Collector (where it’s cheaper, if you’re about to make some little girl or boy really happy by buying it for them):

The most important and magical festival celebrated in India is Diwali. Homes are decorated with marigolds and mango leaves, thousands of oil diyas or lamps are lit as auspicious symbols of good luck, and everyone enjoys sweets to the sound of firecrackers and revelers.
Diwali™ Barbie® doll wears a traditional teal sari with golden detailing, a lovely pink shawl wrap, and exotic-style jewelry. The final detail is a bindi on the forehead—a jewel or a mark worn by Hindu women.

Mango leaves? Really? Since I’m a 2nd Gen (and a Syriani Christiani) penne I’m not going to claim that I know much about either that or the festival of lights, but I do have an opinion on Barbie’s ethnic dress. I don’t think that is a “traditional sari“. Perhaps it’s half-of-one? Honestly, I think it’s more of a lehnga, since I’ve never worn a duppata with my very traditional (can it get more old skool than kanjeevaram?) outfits.

I was curious about the “exotic” jewelry so I started fruitlessly looking up words after AIMing an equally clueless friend who insisted that the chain and pendant which decorates Barbie’s hair is called a “tikka“. I associate this word with murgh, but whatevs. After reading an entry in Stephen Colbert’s favorite online resource, I was concomitantly disagreeing with her and picturing 55 word nanofiction written by Jai. Here’s what was so evocative:

* When Rajput men married, they are said to have cut their thumb on their sword and applied a tikka of their own blood to their brides. This custom evoked the Rajput values of courage and indifference to pain.

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The statistics of fear

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My mom is always worried about her two sons who live on the opposite side of the nation from her. Before cell phones were common I would return home to find messages like the following on my answering machine (I am paraphrasing):

“Abhi, beta. Please tell me that you aren’t eating beef. You will get Mad Cow disease, you will become a vegetable, then you will die.”

After hearing this message on half a dozen occasions I pretty much gave up beef. Why? Because this is how the messages usually ended:

“Promise me beta, ok, love mom, bye.”

Or what about this more recent one on my cell phone:

“Abhi, I heard there are fires all around Los Angeles, be careful, stay away from the hills.” [note: I am nowhere near the hills]

My favorite to date has been:

“Abhi, do you drink water out of plastic bottles that you re-fill? The plastic leaks chemicals into the water. You will die.”

Since the World Trade Center attacks and the terrorist attacks that have followed in other parts of the world (like the recent Mumbai Train attacks), many people have established a new dichotomy in their minds. There was before 9/11 and there is after 9/11. “Everything is different now.” I find such sentiments bordering on delusional but until now I have had no really substantial counter-argument to point to that was any more cogent than me calling the person an “idiot” . That changed this week when John Mueller of Ohio State University published this paper for the Libertarian Cato Institute. Titled, “A False Sense of Insecurity?“ the paper takes a look at how ignorance of statistics allows entities (or my mother) to use fear inappropriately. This article (only five pages) is a must read and something I wish every American was exposed to.

For all the attention it evokes, terrorism actually causes rather little damage and the likelihood that any individual will become a victim in most places is microscopic. Those adept at hyperbole like to proclaim that we live in “the age of terror.” However, while obviously deeply tragic for those directly involved, the number of people worldwide who die as a result of international terrorism is generally only a few hundred a year, tiny compared to the numbers who die in most civil wars or from automobile accidents. In fact, in almost all years, the total number of people worldwide who die at the hands of international terrorists anywhere in the world is not much more than the number who drown in bathtubs in the United States.

Until 2001, far fewer Americans were killed in any grouping of years by all forms of international terrorism than were killed by lightning, and almost none of those terrorist deaths occurred within the United States itself. Even with the September 11 attacks included in the count, the number of Americans killed by international terrorism since the late 1960s (which is when the State Department began counting) is about the same as the number of Americans killed over the same period by lightning, accident-causing deer, or severe allergic reaction to peanuts.

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"…then you get tremendous joy"

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Because I can safely be described as a masochist, I am always on the lookout for masochistic stories with a desi angle. This one comes to us as a tip from former SM heartthrob Apul. It seems that there is a race that takes place in New York called the The 3100 Mile Race. Allow me to explain:

The Sri Chinmoy Marathon Team is proud to offer the Ninth Annual Self-Transcendence 3,100 Mile Race. In this grand test of endurance and survival, a small group of athletes attempt to negotiate 5649 laps of a .5488 of a mile course (883 meters) in the time-span of 51 days- an amazing challenge. This is the longest certified footrace in the world; runners must average 60.7 miles per day to finish within the 51-day limit. The serious athlete must have tremendous courage, physical stamina, concentration and the capacity to endure fatigue, boredom and minor injuries. The predecessor of this very race was the 2700 Mile Race (held in 1996), in which five intrepid runners finished the distance well within the 47-day time limit. In 1997, Sri Chinmoy, race founder, upped the distance to 3100 miles. Two runners finished the inaugural 3100 Mile race in less than 51 days, showing that athletes indeed believed in self-transcendence. Last year nine finished 3100 miles out of 12 starters… [Link]

There are two things that I find particularly interesting about this race. The first is that the founder, Sri Chinmoy, doesn’t appear to have the classic runner’s build. See for yourself:

He looks like he is about to fall asleep

Second, I found the “route” to be sort of mundane. Imagine circling the same city block repeatedly for 3100 miles! After some inquiries in dawned on me that this would also be a great route if you were a pedophile. What am I implying? Nothing. It was just an observation.

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The tiffinwalla approach to fighting terror

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I’ve been thinking about what sort of systems should be put into place to try to prevent further attacks as in Mumbai. I don’t mean this to be callous. I too have family in Bombay, and while they’re OK, my heart still aches for those whose family is not. But the trains are running once more and need to be protected. [This is also some very abstract thinking, so I might be and Mumbaikar reveals, in the comments, that I am entirely talking out of my kundi.]

One solution, as Manish argues, would be to close the entire system and control access:

What it would take to solve the bombs-on-trains problem: money, lots of money. Indian Railways needs to run more frequent trains so they’re not jammed all the time. The stations need to be fully enclosed so entrance can be precisely controlled. And, like on Eurostar high-speed trains, every passenger needs to be scanned for explosives. [Link]

Something like this is done in the New Delhi Metro system. Although there was no mechanical sniffer, at many stops passengers were patted down or wanded by bored jawans. However, it strikes me that this is the wrong path, similar to trying to create a computerized tiffin system in Bombay. Sure it might work, but you’d need continuous electricity and literate tiffin carriers. Instead, India currently has something better. Using a system of painted symbols on each tiffin carrier:

Five thousand tiffinwallas deliver 175,000 hot lunches from home to work every day, and empty tiffins back home, with only one error every 16 million deliveries. [Link]

India works best when its ample semi-skilled labor applies simple rules repeatedly and rigidly. I’m trying to think about how to best reduce security risk by applying India’s comparative advantage, rather than imposing an alien solution. Continue reading →

Let’s form a posse

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I’m kind of tired of reading comments right now. Instead, I am going to put up some pictures. When lots of big words make my head spin I like retreating to pictures. The first one is the cover of Time Magazine from this week:

The second picture is from this t-shirt titled “Cowboys and Indians” that an SM reader tipped us off to:

“Cowboys and Indians”

In the dimly-lit opium den that is my head, I thought these two pictures kind of went together given the evolving geopolitical situation.

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Stitches

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Did you make sure to hear some music last night? I did.

Of course, IÂ’m one of the lucky ones. I wasnÂ’t on any of those trains that set off from Churchgate. I knew no one on them, not directly; though my dear friendÂ’s wifeÂ’s cousin was on board, and he escaped unharmed, and his friend merely needed some stitches.

Doubly lucky, because I could, after a long day of small frustrations, step from the sticky street into a room where there was taking place, in a relaxed off-night way, jazz.

Quiet. Sound.

Could it have been more apposite? When Rez shifted to his hybrid guitar, the one with sympathetic strings, and Kiran stood at the mic in her kurta top, and they launched into their song called “Pearl” – as in, homage to Daniel?

As she worked through the scales against the organ and hi-hat, intently pulling the notes from thin air, by hand, in that geometric way Indian singers have, there seemed a moment of formal lamentation. Sorrowful, and wise.

Later, with two desi sistas – cousins, in fact – we spoke of mosaics of hundreds of tiny shiny tiles that make up, if not life, at least a livelihood. Of missing chunks, ripped out by invaders or worn away by time.

Testing the metaphor, we imagined a workshop where we – I – stay up late, polishing new pieces, some to partly fill the gaps, others to extend the composition.

I remembered that IÂ’ve struggled, albeit in small ways.

The sound filling me still, I remembered: the possibility of tiles, the necessity of stitches. Continue reading →

Jingoism in the blogosphere

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For a while now I have been meaning to write about a topic that has been of great concern to me (I am pretty sure most of my co-bloggers are as disturbed by it as I am). I have noticed that the blogosphere, with its ability to confer an anonymous voice to anyone, is often the venue for ignorant and naked jingoism. A blog like ours, which mostly covers items about, and of interest to North Americans of South Asian origin, offers a particularly unique window into what I am referring to. All of the bloggers who write for SM live in North America. Some were born here and some were not. The resulting mix of loyalties, the perception of mixed loyalties, our readers expectation of mixed loyalties, or our readers anger at a lack of loyalty toward the lands of our “origin,” results in a perfect storm. SM and a few other sites like it are being viewed by some as a sort of virtual ideological battlefield where the hearts and minds of several thousand readers hang in the balance.

Jingo: (n) One who vociferously supports one’s country, especially one who supports a belligerent foreign policy; a chauvinistic patriot. [link]

In its traditional use the word “jingo” (a pejorative term) means something far different than the word “patriot.” A patriot loves their country or geographic region and is ready to defend it…but is not above questioning it or beyond introspection. A true patriot is willing to defend against all enemies both external and internal. A jingo is the worst kind of nationalist (even worse when mixed with religion). They lash out at the tiniest hint of criticism directed at “their own.” A few days ago a reader commented on what he saw transpiring on our News Tab:

Off topic, but also in a strange way, slightly related to this topic, is the way in which the news tab here on Sepia Mutiny is used as a repository for anti Muslim chauvinism. This goes beyond the legitimate posting of stories on Muslim extremism and runs to the extent of posting articles from the RSS newspaper, posting about Little Green Football style documentary screeds about ‘The Truth About Islam’. I have noticed how these posts amazingly get large numbers of ‘Interested’ clicks in a short amount of time. Amazing!

Amusingly, someone has now posted a ‘Trouble with Hinduism’ article in response to this bigotry as a means of showing how it works both ways. Good. Chauvinists are using the news tab for their bigoted agenda. You should at least be aware of it. It is so tedious to see these monomaniacs waging their campaign and abusing what is an open and useful facility on SM. [link]

Yes, we are well aware of this phenomenon and will work to stamp it out as best we can. You can accuse us of censorship if you’d like but this isn’t about censorship but about remaining true to belief that communication is more important than simply being heard. A few weeks ago Anna sent her co-bloggers the following email:

Subject: I find the popularity of this news item a bit disturbing

The article linked reads like a SpoorLam rant…except it’s not funny.

That was one of the most popular articles in terms of number of votes we had that day…and it was little more than anti-Muslim propoganda. Continue reading →

As British as Chaz Singh

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Come the Fourth of July, I often wonder what my life would be like if I was British. My father worked in the UK before he came to the US for graduate school, his only brother still lives in Zone 2, London. As a result, I have both literal and metaphorical cousins across the pond.

“Chaz Singh” as St. George

To their credit, Brits are the only westerners who assume that I must be one of them rather than a foreigner. When I’m travelling abroad (outside of India or the UK), British travellers will go out of their way to say hi, while Americans look right through me. In the London, I’ve had people make eye contact with me when they rolled their eyes in disapproval at the noisy tourists who just entered the tube. “Boy, aren’t those foreigners noisy” they telegraph silently to me, while I try to keep a straight face and signal back proper stiff-upper-lip sympathy.

In that vein, I bring you “Chaz Singh” [I suppose that is his real name] who I discovered via DNSI.

Chaz Singh is one of the recipients of the BBC Breeze bursaries that has enabled him to … a collection of images that portray his identity as both Sikh and British. The verses also reflect the image as a verbal translation.[Link]

The St. George photo is my favorite of the lot. The verse … well, it’s in rhyme, and I don’t find it quite as interesting as the photos. More examples of his words and pictures below the fold, including his paired compositions concerning being both “Chav and Goth”.

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Colonized clothing

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When I was in India last, I acquired a new pet peeve, one that irritates me far more than it should:

Why is desi clothing called “ethnic” in India itself?

In the USA, sure, we’re different, we’re quaint, we’re ethnic. Salwar Kameez/Kurtas/Saris/Lehngas/Sherwanis are our traditional ethnic (read funny-looking)dress. We’ve all had this conversation with a non-desi at a desi wedding:

“Why is the bride wearing red?”
“Well, some brides wear white, but for others, wearing red or pink is our ethnic tradition.”
“Oooooh, that’s so exotic”

Ethnic means we’re different from them.

But in India, why are Indian clothes called ethnic? Ethnic connotes the other, the habits of the minority, things that are unfamiliar to mainstream society. None of this applies in India for Indian clothing. There is no them to be different from.

Why not call it “Western” vs. “Indian” clothing? Or (although this is not accurate) “Western” vs. “Traditional Clothing”? Or, if you think the term ethnic refers to the fact that various types of clothing have regional roots, why not say “Gujarati Lehngas” and “Punjabi Salwar Kameez” etc? Better yet, why not just say Sherwanis rather than “ethnic Sherwanis”? I just don’t get it.

Then again, if you consider the breadth of my ignorance about fashion, the fact that I don’t understand this one little thing is really the least of my troubles

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An Ode to My [Least] Favorite Auntie

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I always ran into you on the days I least wanted to. You knew how to cut to the core of me, of everyone, of the weak- and strong-willed alike. Your bullshit detector was unsurpassed.

Foolishly, for a time, I thought I could anticipate your moves and quickly learned I would never be fast enough: you were always one step ahead. I tried valiantly to dodge your never-ending stream of inquisitions over standardized test scores, cumulative grade point averages, class rank, college major, graduate school, first job, starting salary, rent payment, home purchase, and potential spouse — I always failed miserably, stuttering, shot down and wounded on topics I would have never even thought to imagine. Like how much my student loan payments were. It always seemed easier to surrender immediately to your poison bite than to fight it and prolong my own demise, snared and tangled in a weak web woven of my own lies.

I always suspected you knew the color of my underwear, how much I’d paid for it and strongly disapproved.

I avoided Indian functions my entire senior year of high school because of you… Continue reading →