Pranav and the Bee

pranav.jpgSomething smells down in Georgia and young Pranav Mahadevan is being forced to take a deep breath of the stink in. The Atlanta Journal-Constitution reports on an exclusive investigation which takes a look at the seedy underbelly of spelling bee competitions in this once great country:

Pranav Mahadevan, a serious speller since second grade, had one final shot at the state spelling bee, where a win would finally give him his ticket to the national stage in Washington.

In anticipation of the Georgia Independent Schools Association spelling bee in Macon last month, the Dunwoody eighth-grader pored over word lists and studied word roots in Greek, Latin and French. But he was eliminated when the judges said he spelled the wrong word. He spelled “ivy”; the judges were looking for “ivied.”

Pranav, a student at Our Lady of the Assumption School in north Atlanta, said he misunderstood the pronouncer. He spelled the word he thought he heard, a word he repeated for the judges before he started spelling. His mother, Kalpana Mahadevan, appealed her son’s dismissal immediately, as is her right under the bee rules. But she said the judges refused to replay the tape to see whether the pronouncer had clearly articulated the word. Instead, they ruled that Pranav was out and proceeded with the contest.

This is personal. First they screw us by misrepresenting Hindus in California textbooks and now they go after our kind in Georgia. Is it Pranav’s fault that Georgians can’t properly articulate the “-ed” at the end of their words? My personal advice would be to set up a commission to look into this. Scientists could come and quantify the acoustics of the competition room and speech therapists could assess the so-called “pronouncer.” Both could later testify as expert witnesses in front of the congressional committee which overseas these matters.

All hope is not lost however. After Hurricane Katrina, the city of Houston demonstrated its limitless generosity by taking in the vast majority of Katrina victims. On a recent trip to Houston, Pranav’s mom learned that the city was also known for taking in those abused by the Spelling Bee System and the incompetent federal and state officials who are responsible for its breakdown:

In Georgia, few students pursue spelling as diligently as Pranav, who has broadcasts of past National Spelling Bees on tape and can rattle off the winning words for the past several years.

His mother networked among parents in Texas, where the Indian-American community is very active in spelling bees. They advised her to move to Texas, saying that Georgia didn’t have a reputation of taking spelling competition seriously.

Georg…ia hates brown people. Continue reading

Marina Budhos reading today in Manhattan

Author Marina Budhos tackles the post-9/11 immigration crackdown in her new young adult novel Ask Me No Questions (thanks, Pooja and SAJA). She’s reading today in Manhattan at 6:30pm (note corrected time). Here’s the blurb:

For fourteen-year-old Nadira and eighteen-year-old Aisha, these are the words that define their lives. Nadira and her family are illegal aliens, fleeing to the Canadian border – running from the country they thought would one day be their home. For years, they have lived on expired visas in New York City, hoping they can realize their dream of becoming legal citizens of the United States. But after 9/11, everything changes. Suddenly, being Muslim means being dangerous. A suspected terrorist. And when Nadira’s father is arrested and detained at the border, she and her sister, Aisha are sent back to Queens, and told to carry on, as if everything is the same.

But of course nothing is the same. Nadira and Aisha live in fear they’ll have to return to a Bangladesh they hardly know. Aisha, once the academic star, falls apart. Now it’s up to Nadira to find a way out.

Budhos previously wrote The Professor of Light, House of Waiting, and Remix: Conversations with Immigrant Teenagers:

Jhumpa Lahiri and Marina Budhos

Marina Budhos was born in Queens, New York, the child of an Indo-Guyanese father and a Jewish-American mother who met in the 1950s when her father worked for the Indian Consulate in Manhattan…

She was a Fulbright Scholar in India, during which she wrote about the rise of Hindu fundamentalism in India for The Nation. She has also covered international news for Ms… [Link]

… Marina Budhos’s second novel, The Professor of Light, [is] a vivid account of a young American girl’s troubled relationship with her brilliant but disturbed Guyanese-Indian father.

Born and raised in New York City, Budhos is the great grand-daughter of indentured laborers who left India for Guyana about a hundred years ago… [Link]

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Waris X

Movie candyman A. Lane has just revealed more info about Waris Singh Ahluwalia’s part in Spike Lee’s new film Inside Man. He reports in the New Yorker that Ahluwalia plays Vikram Walia, a Sikh hostage in a bank heist who’s disrespected by the cops coming to save him. It’s his second character named Vikram:

Magazine photo shoot: two hours

Sauntering around armor room in a cape: priceless

The more it sags as a thriller, the more it jabs and jangles as a study of racial abrasion. A hostage is released, and an armed cop shouts, “He’s an Arab!” The hostage replies, “I’m a Sikh,” and you can hear the weariness at the edges of his fear…

Grand Illusion” offered the ennobling suggestion that national divisions were delusory, and that our common humanity can throw bridges across any social gulf. To which Lee would reply, Nice idea. Go tell it to the guy who just had his turban pulled off by the cops. [Link]

… the ethnic vaudeville is pure Spike…. in-your-face all the time: Inside Man resounds with stray assertions of irate identity like… “What the fuck–give me my turban!” The latter demand, delivered by a Sikh bank employee to the cops who are questioning him, readily segues into a diatribe against post-9-11 profiling, the onrushing complaint coming to an abrupt bada-boom when [Denzel] Washington’s partner (Chiwetel Ejiofor) dryly observes, “I bet you can get a cab, though.” [Link]

There are a couple of references to institutional racism and post-9/11 angst… [Link]

Imagine that, a caper flick which discards the cliché of only casting white or black actors:

Through the main protagonists and bank hostages, Lee presents a multi-racial panoramic view of New York at present. [Link]

It may seem like a predictable cliche, especially to the director’s detractors, that he so intently underlines the ethnicity of even the most minor characters; ‘What the fuck — give me my turban!’much is made of the rainbow brigade that constitutes the hostage group: the white woman who talks loudly on her cell phone; the young Sikh hostage who, when released, strenuously complains of being mistaken for an Arab; the glam Albanian sexpot who knows how to play her cards, and the young black hostage whose ultraviolent “Kill Dat N*” computer game gives pause even to Russell. [Link]

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Language Barriers

According to Karsh Kale, the London born and New York raised producer/dj/musician, the title of his third studio release (and most recent album) entitled Broken English, was based on the concept of trying to

“create songs in English, but to give them a sentiment and a sense of universality, so it works in places where English is not their first language. But at the same time, you still understand the sentiment of the songs. That was the original idea of Broken English (link).”

I must admit, I was really looking forward to this third album. To this day Kale’s debut Realize continues to be one of my favorites, and I love its remixed incarnation Redesign. I was however slightly disappointed with Liberation, the follow-up to Realize. For me, Realize had set the bar so high that no follow-up could have topped it. Don’t get me wrong, Liberation was good, just not great. Perhaps it was Kale’s departure from the familiar drum and bass and dance vibe that I was used to, or maybe it was that I thought the cinematic feel of the album was a reach.

In any case, I approached Broken English anxiously, mainly because I had found many recent diasporic desi releases to be trite and mechanical. I was hoping Broken English would be different, and different it was. Wait, is that innovation and musicanship I hear? When I first started listening, I heard hints of Nitin Sawhney through the innovative and non-overtly desi touches in the production, vocals, and instrumentation. Yes the album has Bollywood and Bhangra, as well as the tablatronica that Kale is known for, but it also incorporates hip-hop and rock. All of which work surprisingly brilliant together. While overall, the album presents an eclectic and lush soundscape, Kale stayed true to his roots and kept a few tracks purely South Asian, including among others, the nicely paced “Drive,” and the beautiful duet “Some Things are O.K,” featuring vocals by Sabiha Khan and longtime Kale collaboratorVishal Vaid.

This album is clearly no East meets West hybrid, and there is no American curry or other Indian food adjectives available to describe the sound. It is what it is: purely American in every complex way that makes an American, an American. You get that sense immediately with the opening track, Manifest (click here for free official download): where MC Napoleon raps alongside Vaid’s vocal, while a dhol loop echoes in the background. This is followed by one of my favorite record’s on the album, “Dancing at Sunset,” featuring Todd Michaelsen’s English vocals alongside Carnatic strings and an eloquently placed tabla break and Hindi vocal. Continue reading

All She Wants to Do is Dance…

rubiya203.jpg

…but if certain people had their way, she wouldn’t. Via the BBC:

The family of a young Muslim girl in India’s southern state of Kerala say they are being shunned by the local mosque committee (mahallu) because she is practising Indian classical dance.
VP Rubiya, 16, came first in Bharatnatyam, Kerala natanam and folk dance competitions at the recent Kerala School Festival.
She also won the dance competition at the Veeran Haji Memorial Higher Secondary School at Morayur in the Muslim-dominated district of Malappuram.

To me this is such a Mallu thing: twenty years ago when I asked for Bharatnatyam lessons, I was scolded so harshly you’d think I’d said “stripper” when asked what I wanted to be when I grew up.

“That is NOT a Christian thing to do,” my normally-very-chill Mother snapped. When she noticed my perplexed expression, she tried to explain her reaction.

“It’s not just a dance, it is religious. It is very Hindu, and as an Orthodox girl you should understand why you can’t participate.”

I was still perturbed.

No one in my family has studied it”, she concluded, as if that was the end of that.

Apparently, the local mosque committee agrees with my parent, and that’s why they aren’t showing this talented child love. Rubiya’s daddy calls them out on their bias:

“If she had won prizes in ‘oppana’ and ‘mappila pattu’ [traditional Muslim art forms], she would have been flooded with gifts by now. The mahallu leaders would never openly admit that it is her dance that makes them treat us as virtual outcasts,” says Mr Alavikutty.

The indomitable Rubiya has danced since age three; she has performed at over 50 temples, using the fees she earns to help support her family. Her dance gurus RLV Anand and Bharatanjali Sasi don’t charge her for her lessons or her costumes.

“I’m confident that she will bring us laurels. That’s all we need,” says Mr Anand, extolling the virtues of the rare find from a community that still fights shy of classical dances.

I’m not at all surprised by the following:

Rubiya is the darling of her teachers and friends at the Veeran Haji high school.

…when the girl drops wisdom like THIS:

“God is one. When I pay ritualistic obeisance through mudras [hand signs], I am imploring not just the Hindu gods but the supreme creator, which we call by different names,” she says.

Word. Continue reading

Dancing, not shuffling (updated)

A new Cartoon Network series, Minoriteam, aims to be a sendup of racism. But it’s not clear whether it’s mocking stereotypes or just profiting off them. I’m going to assume the humor just doesn’t come across well in print:

‘By chutney, you’re right!’

Created by Adam de la Peña, Todd James and Peter Girardi — all alumni of the ribald Comedy Central puppet series “Crank Yankers” — “Minoriteam” is a provocative animated show that sends up bigotry. It makes its debut tomorrow night on Cartoon Network’s late-night “Adult Swim” block of animated shows…

Non-Stop is the alter ego of Dave Raj, an Indian, former professional skateboarder turned convenience store clerk who is incapable of being killed by firearms. After having been shot 235 times during various attempted robberies, his skin is saturated with lead, which serves as a bulletproof armor of sorts; when necessary, his skateboard morphs into a flying carpet. [Link]

If you’re keeping score at home, we have one half-naked, turbaned Indian convenience store clerk on a flying carpet, one Chinese laundry owner with a thick accent, one Mexican gardener who can’t speak English, one angry, promiscuous black man and one avaricious Jew. How subversive.

The team’s leader, Dr. Wang, is an Asian, wheelchair-bound mathematical genius with a freakishly large brain. He speaks with a heavy Chinese accent and is in the laundry business…

Landon K. Dutton, a black man awkwardly teaching women’s studies at Male University, turns into Fasto, the world’s fastest man. His extreme rage propels him to travel at breakneck speeds. When not fighting crime he spends his time “studying” the opposite sex; during one episode, it takes him only seconds to satisfy a roomful of Thai prostitutes.

Richard Escartin, a Mexican oil baron, trades his tailored suits and silk ties for a giant sombrero and a leaf blower when he becomes El Jefe, Minoriteam’s hardest working member. El Jefe’s blower is no ordinary garden tool. It can suck and blow with deadly force and rip holes through time and space. His kryptonite? Tequila. “I think a lot of people can relate to that,” Mr. de la Peña said.

Neil Horvitz may be a wimpy mail clerk in his early 20’s, but his alter ego, Jewcano, is a muscle-bound 62-year-old who sports an XXXL yarmulke and has all the power of the Jewish faith and a raging volcano. Watch him shoot molten lava from his wrists (move over, Spider-Man)…

Surely someone will be uncomfortable watching a Jewish superhero get aroused while chasing a giant glowing nickel, they said. “But who exactly will it offend?” Mr. de la Peña asked. “I have no idea…” [Link]

Continue reading

S for Sample

Ignore, ignore, the flick’s a bore. V for Vendetta, an otherwise preposterous, pompous movie, does play an interesting Hindi remix over the closing credits, ‘BKAB‘ by Ethan Stoller. Listen here. Also check out a fellow Chicago musician, Arthi Meera of the luscious voice.

The track mashes up covers of ‘Churake Dil Mera’ from Main Khiladi Tu Anari and ‘Pardesi Jana Nahin’ from Raja Hindustani. It’s all set to a thrash metal beat straight out of a video game, or the video game called XXX which masqueraded as a movie. It reminds me of the Sanskrit track over the credits in Matrix 3, ‘Navras’ by Juno Reactor (thanks, WesternGhaat).

Adapting an earnest graphic novel requires a lighter touch than the Wachowski brothers can muster. Subtlety and allegory demand a fictional veneer. The movie assaults the abuses of Dubya, but it’s almost entirely literal: prisoners wear black hoods and orange jumpsuits, the Koran garners sympathy, there’s a Bill O’Reilly stand-in, the V is an upside-down anarchy symbol, the evil regime’s logo is St. George’s Cross in black. Its treatment of discrimination against gays and lesbians (but not transsexuals) is thoroughly and probably unintentionally camp.

The filmmakers talk down to the audience by dissolving from the present into identically-framed flashback and back again. It’s like those action shots repeated three times in Bollywood flicks, just in case you didn’t get it the first time. The dialogue is full of leaden, soapy howlers, and the audience was unforgiving. Some lines can only be pulled off in noir, not in a brightly-lit room by a Shakespearean fop in a pageboy wig and a geisha mask. A key plot twist is so ludicrous, it had the audience groaning. The action is minimal, V has no real super powers, Natalie Portman coasts on her looks. John Hurt goes way over the top as a raving, spittle-flecked dictator. Poor Hugo Weaving spends the entire film behind masks and prosthetics — scale plus ten for that one.

In the words of the film, these artists use badly-penned lies to show the truth. Like walking in on someone fisting his ham, that’s just awkward all around. It’s the W’s, those exhibitionists again.

Watch the trailer. Here’s the NYT review.

Update: Slate links (thanks, Michael).

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A Mutiny through Sound

For those of you into ethnic drum and bass, british-asian hip hop, or good live music in general, and if you are in New York this Friday night (3/17), I highly recommend attending the upcoming New York Sub Swara show featuring some of the top south asian musicians/producers around, including State of Bengal (best known for that Flight IC 408 track from Talvin Singh’s Anokha record), Navdeep of Mutiny fame, DK aka Bollygirl (Avaaz/Kollektiv), and DJs Bobby Friction and Nihal (BBC Radio 1), among others of course. Click on the image for more information, but rumor has it that pre-release copies of State of Bengal’s upcoming album, along with some of the most innovative in diasporic desi sounds will be available at the show.

The show starts at 10 p.m., is $15 in advance, or $20 at the door, and is @ Downtime, 251 W 30th Street (Between 7th and 8th). 21 and over.

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Incredibly off-k!lter

Last night I saw an odd Indian tourism billboard in Times Square. It read, ‘Get to know yoga from its mother,’ and the visual style reminded me of old-skool ‘An Ideal Boy‘ posters.

The blurb in an advertising publication says the ads aim for kitsch, but IMO they fall into the chasm between kitsch and cheese. The colors say ‘An Ideal Boy,’ the visual style is fun. But the elements don’t work together. The slogan is lame, its font evokes Dances With Wolves, and the tagline in ultra-serious Bodoni strip it of wit. Indian tourism needs to hire whoever’s penning the witty Citi ‘Live richly’ campaign. I hear Rushdie’s available.

Even the campaign description is off:

Prathap Suthan, national creative director, Grey Worldwide, explains why this campaign stands out: “The difference lies in the expression which, according to me, is very Indian. Where one normally uses photography for billboards, which is a Western expression, the style used to communicate in this ad is the kitsch look… Opting for the kitsch look is based on everyday observations from all over India. These images have been drawn from village folk art and common imagery seen across India, images that bring to mind the colours, uniqueness and diversity of India.” [Link]

Kitsch, like cool, shrivels in sunlight. Trying to explain it kills it. Reading about it in dorky ad pubs kills it. Nonchalant, off-radar irony is the point. Calling it ‘the kitsch look’ voids any street cred. It’s painful even to read. I’ve lost all my Williamsburg karma by writing this paragraph.

Chantal, book me for a fauxhawk. The three hundred dollar kind. Tell them I want highlights, I’m feeling verklempt.

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Get Your “Kundis” to the D.C. Meetup, 3/25

“Anyway monay, can I call you right back? I was in the middle of reports…”

“Ma? Please, really quick, ’cause I’m writing something?”

“Vat?”

Does kundi mean “ass” or “anus“?

Sigh. A deep breath is inhaled.

“This is for your website? Kundi is chunthi. Koothi means anus.”

“Let me be painfully careful– kundi and chunthi are like…the butt cheeks?”

“Yes, they are what I would like to kick right now, absolutely.”

“So, like, you could use kundi in the following context: “get your kundi on the dancefloor?'”

Another sigh is sighed.

“YES.”

“I knew it!” Continue reading