Midget Pakistani zombies in time for Halloween

Just in time for Halloween, SM commeter “Red Snapper” left a link on our News Tab to a new Pakistani zombie flick titled “Zibahkhana” (Hell’s Ground). From the movie’s website:

Five urban, contemporary Pakistani students plan to drive out of the city for an open air rock. On the way they cross some angry demonstrating victims of turbid, diseased water along the way and arrive in an area inhabited by a clan time and technology has long forgotten. Two worlds collide as the city youths take a fatal turn and land up in a quagmire shrouded in evil where the only fight is the one to survive. [Link]

Does anyone know what an “open air rock” is? If so, our next LA meet-up should be an open air rock too. Variety has more on the flick:

“Zibahkhana” (Hell’s Ground) might not be Pakistan’s first horror movie, but it’s almost certainly the first featuring midget zombies and produced by an ice cream mogul.

A co-production between U.K.-based video label Mondo Macabro and Pakistani production company Bubonic Films, “Zibahkhana” is directed by first-timer Omar Khan, a Pakistani film historian and the owner of a chain of ice cream shops in Lahore. Producer is Pete Tombs, an expert on Asian horror and exploitation movies whose Mondo Macabro video label has released such titles as Indonesia’s “Lady Terminator” and “Virgins From Hell…”

We don’t have songs or comedy sequences, none of the prerequisites of the South Asian film,” says director Omar Khan. “It’s a complete ripping up of what’s expected from local productions…” [Link]

Well thank God for that last promise! Bollywood’s attempts at adding song and dance sequences to horror flicks have failed miserably.

If these film-makers are smart they will slip some incisive social commentary into this film in much the same way that the makers of Battlestar Galactica use a sci-fi vehicle to launch a devastating commentary on the Iraq war. For example, take a look once again at the synopsis of the movie I quoted at the top of the post:

Two worlds collide as the city youths take a fatal turn and land up in a quagmire shrouded in evil where the only fight is the one to survive.

Sounds like parts of the Pakistani/Afghan border to me. But enough serious talk. Let’s take a look at some of the movie production stills shall we? Continue reading

I speak more Punjabi than Amharic

Despite declaring that I do not imbibe by myself last week, tragic times call for pathetic measures; I spent the greater part of my Sunday afternoon intoxicating at Tryst, alone. I was all dressed up in black (though sadly, I did not resemble an erotic vulture), like some flashback to 1989, right down to the eyeliner-as-eyeshadow-tactic for that extra corpse-y effect.

271009556_328658be36_m.jpg My favorite way to waste a lazy Sunday is with one fat newspaper and several cups of milky coffee. After a phonecall from home bearing bad news, those props were replaced by this iBook and several pint glasses of milky coffee + alcohol, on the rocks. That was one slightly bright spot on an otherwise bleak day; what I was chugging was delicious and that’s because it was by my design. Sort of. Okay fine, the drink that I want to take credit for right now is but a slight variation on the powerhouse “Martin Blanco” cocktail I’ve been fond of forever at Tryst (iced vanilla vodka + espresso + kahlua + amaretto + milk…shaken violently). Amaretto di Saronno was my Father’s favorite liqueur and I didn’t want to taste it on a day when I was already glum. I improvised.

“Would it be possible to get Bailey’s instead of the Amaretto?”

My waiter paused and then smiled, as if he suddenly approved of such a manoeuver. “SURE.”

Later, when one of his co-workers asked me what I would call this elixir I was re-ordering for the third time, I tipsily blurted out “Martin O’blanco!” and she loved it. So there you have it. Since one of my goals in life is to get something on a menu either named after or otherwise attached to me (I’d totally settle for getting a mention in a menu “description”, which is something I think Tryst does), I take my barely-witty nomenclating of half-creative cocktails seriously enough to torture you with it.

As satisfying (and veg-happy) as Tryst’s menu is, I craved something different. I had devoured Amsterdam Falafel earlier in the day for lunch; I was suddenly consumed with memories of the fantastic gobi I had enjoyed there and I wanted more. I’m like that; if I dig something I will eat it over and over and over (PB + J, every day, grade 1-12) again. I do that with movies, too. And books. Especially suitable ones. Amsterdam it would be. I told the purveyor of O’blanco that I’d be back in 30 minutes and I left.

Though I have learned my lesson and no longer wear anything remotely cute while on 18th street, lest I encourage the invasive jerks who plague my new ‘hood with their assault attempts, all my modest, flesh-concealing layers were barely adequate for the autumn chill. I keep forgetting that it’s October and that I should expect to shiver accordingly. Or, you know, wear a jacket.

“Ay, Mami…where you going? Come on in.” Three confused desi promoters speak Latin to me half-heartedly. It’s Sunday night and the strip is dead. I think they’re more bored than serious. I smile as I pass them, right before one of them asks the other, “Was she Indian?” That’s the question of the day, apparently. Continue reading

Sepia Destiny Part II: Dating while Desi

Much like the girls on Sex and the City would get together to dish, my girls and I will get together and dish about the dilemmas of Dating while Desi. Yes, girls do talk, far more than we blog about. And Dating while Desi ain’t easy, as the mutiny has informed us on Sepia Destiny Part 1. In these talks, we girls will touch on questions such as, “Do you date desi only or non-desis or anyone but white boys? Do your parents sneak around behind your back with biodata and pictures? Do your parents give out your numbers to guys that call and don’t leave messages – from obscure area codes? Do your parents even know that you date? Where do you find desi guys that haven’t gone back to South Asia to get their bride already?” These questions (and more) are indicative to the plight of the single, 25 yr.+, independent-thinking desi girl and is why I love to find solidarity with my single desi sisters – whether over chai, or virtually by reading my favorite desi gal bloggers ( Rupa, TheBarMaid, Chick Pea, brimful, SP, to name a few).

Saturday night while I was surfing on YouTube alone in the North Dakota bunker, I came across this episode of Desi OC – after watching the video I thought to myself, maybe I’ve been playing the game all wrong…

The Desi OC episode above comes out of production company Raising Desi, and one of the film maker is Los Angeles comedian Tarun Shetty. (You may also recognize the gal pal from Timberlake’s Senorita music video.) All of Tarun’s addictive mini-movies are far more polished than the typical YouTube video, but the thing that struck me about this episode in particular were the rules they had for Dating while Desi. We all know the general “Dating Rules” — Wait three days before calling back, never talk politics or religion on a first date, and never say yes to a guy that asks you out the day of.

But I realize now after watching the video, that there are a whole different set of dating rules set aside for Dating while Desi. Who would have known? I certainly didn’t know the rules changed between dating desi, and dating non-desi. So, to summarize what I have learned so far…

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Gregor Samsa Singh

This morning, while I was tying my turban, I was thinking about All Mixed Up’s postcard from a few weeks back. In particular, I was trying to figure out why I didn’t understand the basic conundrum that people were wrestling with… that is, why I couldn’t imagine that being white would make me like everybody else.

Let me explain with a Gedankenexperiment. Imagine that I, as a teenager, had awoken one morning to find that myself a person of pallor. I was now pink rather than brown. Who would I be?

I would like to think that I would be the guy on the left. To be honest, I was never as cool as he was. I never dressed like a Nihang, nor did I travel around India at that age. Still, I’d like to think that’s who my white doppleganger in an alternate universe would have been, even if I had been dorkier.

Now imagine that a decade later, the machine that had transformed me reversed polarity, flooding me with extra melanin. Perhaps this is my melanin plus a decade of interest. Or perhaps it is sucked from somewhere else – from some other poor soul who wakes up paler than when they slept. It doesn’t matter.

Now, all of a sudden, I’m not white but black. In this case, I’d like to think that I would be like Sri Chand Singh on the right. Sri Chand is not a convert – he (and his twin brother) have been Sikhs their whole lives. Again, I doubt I’d ever be as cool as either of them [Look at the photo of Laxmi Chand beating the Nagara drum below the fold for a photo of a supercool Sikh], but I hope I would try.

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The Brownz Yearbook

I now have a new goal in my pseudo-internet-life — to somehow get my picture into the new addictive blog, Brown People. What is this “Brown People Blog”? Why it is almost the best form of wasting a Friday work day ever (second only to creating 55Friday Fictions.)

random photos of brown people.

(thats it. that’s the concept.)

How you use it up to you. . .as a reminder that different brown people are doing their thing, use it as detox from reading 17 magazine, use it to find ideas for a haircut, to remind yourself you’re not an invisible freak, to procrastinate on your postcolonial studies paper…whatever you please.)(this is of course not one of those stupid rating things though.). [link]

The bloggers on this site are anonymously fabulous in their selections of brownz ranging from the SM (in)famous Kal and Parminder all the way to the non-famous brown faces on flickr. Our very own ANNA has even made an appearance to the site. I liken this site much to a desi version of the high school yearbook — you never quite know how to get your picture in the yearbook, but you know it’s significant to your popularity when your photo is in it.

Come on, it’s a Friday. Check out the site. They source all of the pictures so it has a real potential to suck you into hours of brownz web surfing. To quote Ismat, how are you going to use this site?

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The (Babes in) Arms Race Escalates

It isn’t quite North Korea versus the world, but the celebrity arms race between Angelina and Madge escalated this week, as Madonna and hubby Guy Ritchie visited Malawi to launch a charity for orphans that will base its activities on Kabbalah. Actually, the better analogy is the Cold War: just as the United States and Soviet Union did in their time, the celebs are collecting the allegiance of various third-world countries, which gain publicity in exchange for putting up with the antics of their new patrons. Ethiopia and Cambodia, the native countries of her two adopted children, are in Angelina’s sphere of influence. Now Namibia, which provided seclusion, and guard against paparazzi for the birth of Shiloh Nouvel earlier this year, is firmly lodged in her column. Now Madonna and Guy have made their own Southern Africa play.

Of course, they can’t just start up a charity for those poor Malawian orphans; they have to have one of their own! The lucky son-elect is David Banda, age 1, whose mother died after his birth. David’s father is in the picture, and has given the adoption his blessing:

“They are a lovely couple. She asked me many questions. She and her husband seem happy with David. I am happy for him. Madonna promised me that as the child grows she will bring him back to visit,” he said.

And the Malawian High Court has awarded Madonna and Guy an exemption from the country’s law against cross-border adoptions:

Malawian law does not allow for inter-country adoptions, and generally requires people who want to adopt to spend 18 months being evaluated by Malawian child welfare workers. But it seems even this is no obstacle for the Material Girl after Malawian officials, who refused to elaborate, indicated that such restrictions would be waived for the couple.

The best part of this is that the government of Malawi is going to send its own social workers to check on the child’s well-being:

“Government in this instance will use our Washington office (embassy) to monitor the progress with the couple (Madonna and Ritchie),” said Andrina Mchiela, spokeswoman for the Ministry of Women and Child Development.

“And also government will appoint a welfare officer from Malawi to liase with our Washington embassy and make visitations to where the child will be,” she added.

For more serious analysis of celebrity adoptions from Africa, check out this article from today’s Washington Post. Continue reading

Breaking News: Kiran Desai Wins Booker Prize

Red Snapper advises us that Kiran Desai was awarded the MAN Booker Prize for her novel The Inheritance of Loss just moments ago. Here is the official press release:

Chair of the judges, Hermione Lee, made the announcement at the awards dinner at the Guildhall, London, which was broadcast live on the BBC 10 O’ Clock News. Harvey McGrath, Chairman of Man Group plc, presented Kiran Desai with a cheque for £50,000.

Hermione Lee comments,

“We are delighted to announce that the winner of the Man Booker Prize for 2006 is Kiran Desai’s The Inheritance of Loss, a magnificent novel of humane breadth and wisdom, comic tenderness and powerful political acuteness. The winner was chosen, after a long, passionate and generous debate, from a shortlist of five other strong and original voices.”

Over and above her prize of £50,000, Kiran Desai is guaranteed a huge increase in sales and recognition worldwide. Each of the six shortlisted authors, including the winner, receives £2,500 and a designer-bound edition of their book.

The judging panel for the 2006 Man Booker Prize for Fiction is: Hermione Lee (Chair), biographer, academic and reviewer; Simon Armitage, poet and novelist; Candia McWilliam, award-winning novelist; critic Anthony Quinn; and actor Fiona Shaw.

The press release reminds us that Kiran Desai is 35 and the daughter of author Anita Desai. Also, according to the release, Kiran is currently a student in the creative writing program at Columbia. I’m sure her classmates aren’t intimidated! Salman Rushdie calls Kiran “a terrific writer,” which is more than he had to say about John Updike.

Seriously though: Warm and sepia-tinted congratulations to Kiran Desai and let’s all run out and read her book. Continue reading

Brangelina in Trouble? [Updated]

Pitt and Jolie in Rickshaw Drama!
Jolie-Pitt Photog All Choked Up!
India Gets a Jhalak of Brad & Angelina!

The news wires are all abuzz with desi-related gossip about the couple we love to hate, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

Pitt and Jolie, along with their three children, are in India to shoot scenes for the upcoming movie A Mighty Heart, in which Jolie stars as slain journalist Daniel Pearl’s widow, Mariane. Pitt’s Plan B production company is coproducing the film…Relentless paparazzi coverage of the Jolie-Pitt clan’s visit has led the couple to remain holed up in Pune’s Le Meridan Hotel almost nonstop since they arrived by private jet late last week. [link]

Brangelina starring in The Great Rickshaw Escape

Brangelina in India has created all the frenzy that the Hindustan Times Page Six thrives on. First, we had Angelina Jolie wishing she were filming in Pakistan instead, where Daniel Pearl’s abduction had originally taken place.

Meanwhile, Jolie says she and Pitt are disappointed they are not shooting the film in Pakistan. Security concerns there caused officials to suggest they work elsewhere. So with the exception of a few background scenes shot in Pakistan, A Mighty Heart will be made in Pune.

“I am disappointed that we could not shoot the film in Pakistan, a country that I love and have visited three times,” said Jolie in a statement issued on Saturday by Trevor Neilson, an adviser to the couple.

“They talked with people from all levels of the Pakistan Government and there’s certainly no hard feelings. But it became clear that it was preferable to film in India,” Neilson said. [link]

Now, we have Brangelina’s security with an (almost) killer choke hold…

A bodyguard for Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie manhandled a British photographer as he tried to take their picture at a hotel in western India, an incident caught on video by an Indian television station. On Saturday afternoon, when Pitt and Jolie tried to leave the hotel, one of their security guards caught a British photographer trying to take their photo, grabbing the man by his neck and verbally abusing him. [link]

And the infamous rickshaw escape…

The couple were chased by photographers, cameramen and reporters, forcing them to turn back after a 20-minute ride that took them past stores in downtown Pune, in western India.[…] Several traffic signals slowed their short rickshaw ride. At every red light, security men traveling in a rickshaw behind jumped out and surrounded the three-wheeler to prevent the media from snapping pictures of Pitt and Jolie. [link]

Oh, Brangelina. Welcome to the motherland. I’m placing bets that the next baby in their internationally adopted clan is going to be desi. Any takers?

Update: You can watch The Attack of the Brangelina Security Guard here! (Thanks, Manish!).

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Battlestar Galactica is desi friendly

I apologize in advance for the geekery that may ensue on this website but I feel obligated to a certain segment of our readership to point out that tonight (Friday night-when all the cool people will be out) marks the season premiere of Battlestar Galactica, a show that one Newsweek writer recently called “indisputably, hands-down and without question, the best show on television.”

About a year ago, I tried to pitch NEWSWEEK’s arts editor on a “BSG” story. He said something along the lines of “Get out of my office, nerd,” which neatly sums up the challenge of getting other people to watch it. The title unfortunately evokes its predecessor, a 1978 “Star Wars” clone that presented humanity fleeing through space, pursued by robots with the same blinking red LEDs that was later adopted by the talking car in “Knight Rider.”

I was never a big fan of the original, but I became an instant convert to the Sci Fi Channel version…

At the center of the maelstrom is the ethically challenged Colonel Tigh, the show’s biggest hawk and best character. In his portrayal of the squinting Tigh, actor Michael Hogan brilliantly channels Donald Rumsfeld. Tigh despises all things soft, and anything that smells of compromise or weakness. When he’s told in this week’s episode that a suicide bomber will inflict many casualties, both human and Cylon, he barks: “Don’t avoid them. Send a message. There are no boundaries for the Cylons and there are no boundaries for us!”

Beyond the Rumsfeldian Tigh, the show blatantly co-opts the visual imagery of the current conflicts in the Middle East. Prisoners are marched into jails with hoods draped over their heads and sit alone in cement block cells–shades of Abu Ghraib. [Link]

I am sure many of you are still wondering why I am writing about this on SM. Well, for one thing the show’s opening credits are Hindu friendly, set to…the Gayatri Mantra. Also, late last season Indo-Canadian actress Rekha Sharma joined the cast as Tory Foster, an aide to outgoing President Laura Roslin. I am expecting to see her role grow this season. Or she may be killed off like the President’s former aid. This ain’t like Star Trek, even the non-randoms gets whacked.

And for the record, I won’t be home tonight. I have TiVo.

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