Where everything I see reminds me of you, our loyal readers, and the rest of the mutineers:
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Category Archives: Arts and Entertainment
This post has nothing to do with the Kama Sutra
A couple of you (thanks Eric) have sent us an article out today in the New York Times that follows up on the incident of the women police officers beating up on canoodling couples in an Indian park. At first I hesitated to even blog that story because it seemed like on of those “only in India” type off-beat news stories. Apparently though, it has caused a national uproar:
From the political right and left came condemnation of the police action. Brinda Karat, the most prominent woman representing a coalition of leftist parties in government, denounced the police for pouncing on courting couples while violent rapes remain unsolved. Sushma Swaraj, a legislator from the Hindu nationalist opposition Bharatiya Janata Party, took the podium in Parliament and called it a product of “a sick mind.” [Link]
Former SM pin-up girl PG writes not about the story, but about the headline of the article in the New York Times:
This appears to be the rare occasion on which I can criticize the NYT’s India coverage before any of the bloggers at SM does.“Is Public Romance a Right? The Kama Sutra Doesn’t Say”
has got to be one of the stupidest Orientalist headlines I’ve seen on the Times. The actual content of the story, written by Somini Sengupta with additional reporting by Hari Kumar, mentions absolutely nothing about the Kama Sutra.
Well PG, with Manish (our anti-Orientalist headline critic) out of the country we are glad that you caught it. I wonder if the Times keeps stats on whether it gets more hits on news stories that have “Kama Sutra” in the headline.
India: A Million Slush Pile Rejects Now
In a tongue-in-cheek sting operation by the Times of London, major publishers recently rejected two Booker-winning manuscripts submitted anew, one by Sir Naipaul. It shows publishers are terrible judges of talent… or does it?
Publishers and agents have rejected two Booker prize-winning novels submitted as works by aspiring authors. One of the books considered unworthy by the publishing industry was by V S Naipaul, one of BritainÂ’s greatest living writers, who won the Nobel prize for literature…
Typed manuscripts of the opening chapters of NaipaulÂ’s In a Free State and a second novel, Holiday, by Stanley Middleton, were sent to 20 publishers and agents.
None appears to have recognised them as Booker prizewinners from the 1970s that were lauded as British novel writing at its best. Of the 21 replies, all but one were rejections. [Link]
Naipaul even got the dreaded cold shoulder by form letter:
“We . . . thought it was quite original. In the end though I’m afraid we just weren’t quite enthusiastic enough to be able to offer to take things further.” [Link]
Naipaul got in his usually cranky licks against the critics, but in this case he earned it:
“To see that something is well written and appetisingly written takes a lot of talent and there is not a great deal of that around. With all the other forms of entertainment today there are very few people around who would understand what a good paragraph is.” [Link]
Intersections
Yesterday in Sevilla, I saw Christopher ColumbusŽ purported tomb and learned that locally, ‘las Indias’ means the Indies, i.e. the Americas. Only ‘la India’ qualifies as the name of the country. ‘Indio’ means Native American, while ‘Hindú’ is the word for desi, even if you aren’t. That man was confused, confused, confused.
(I also learned that the cityŽs Plaza de España was used in Star Wars Episode 2, but that will excite only a few of you. A scary few to be sure 😉 )
Today I checked out La Alhambra, the Moorish fort built by Berbers from Morocco when they ruled AndalucÃa. It is a totally wild mashup of Spanish colonial and Islamic styles. Think Spanish tile roofs, square, unadorned towers and boring crenelations on the outside, arches, Arabic carvings and geometric patterns on the inside. Think Spanish coats of arms surrounded by verses praising Allah. Think Dehli’s Lal Qila meets Taco Bell. If I didnŽt know it was done that way on purpose, I’d think the Arabic brush strokes were steganography snuck in by marbleworkers held hostage.
Most major innovation happens at intersections. The 2nd gen process that some deride as ‘confusion’ is actually tremendous cultural innovation. And itŽs preciously short-lived, too– as the wheel of assimilation inexorably grinds away, this Cambrian Explosion too shall pass.
and,
Nothing is entirely original. The aesthetic I instinctively recognize as Indian is Mughal, i.e. Islamic by way of Turkish and Irani influence on Mongols from what is now Uzbekistan. The traditions saffronists claim are ‘native’ to India– those, too, came from some intersection, some borrowing, some adaptation somewhere.
P.S. Nobody looks at a brown man in Spain and guesses American– not even fellow Americans. I had the funniest conversation just now with a white woman who spoke fluent Spanish, and then all over again in Amrikan English. So the converse is true too, sometimes.
Related post: O Henry Continue reading
‘The Inheritance of Loss’
Quickie book review – I’m-on-the-road edition
Kiran Desai’s new book, The Inheritance Of Loss, soft-launched last month, and I picked up a copy at Barnes & Noble. It’s a good tale with a globalization undercurrent connecting IndiaŽs Nepal border with New York City.
Her previous book, Hullabaloo in the Guava Orchard, was a well-written magically realist vignette on the line between a novel and a novella. Despite the fruitarian title, it was excellent. Her new one is far more ambitious. Rushdie has a highly complimentary but generic blurb on the back of the new one, which I take to mean he hasn’t read the new one yet. Only having read her mom Anita Desai’s Booker-nominated work Fasting, Feasting so far, IÂ’d say I enjoy her writing more than her motherÂ’s (whose work I also enjoy).
She also gets in a bunch of wicked jabs at non-vegetarians, Brits, upper-class New Yorkers, 2nd genners and so on, sheÂ’s not playing safe here. ItÂ’s mutinous that way, just like The Red Carpet: Bangalore Stories by Lavanya Sankaran.
(Desai is a far better show-not-tell writer — I liked Carpet because itÂ’s sassy, and I could completely relate to all the jabs at 2nd gen dating; itŽs like an American version of Life IsnÂ’t All Ha Ha Hee Hee. Also, sheŽs an ex-WSJer and seems to be a conservative, which I mention only to boost sales in the Vinod – Razib segment. SankaranŽs biggest f*-you goes out to Mumbaikars who look down on Bangalore, but sheŽs riding the outsourcing publicity wave, so it isn’t quite the declaration of independence it seems.)
My complaints:
- The usual gender one — I often like male authors better, they move plot faster (Vikram Chandra, Rushdie); this book lacks motion, and is sometimes PG-rated where it should be R (a scene where an auntie receives the mildest of insults from a guerilla chieftain) and R where it should be PG (explicit booger jokes)
- Like just about all American 2nd genners, the thrust of the story focuses on the motherland on the assumption that thatÂ’s the biggest market; sheÂ’s borderline 1-1.5 gen, so she has a small excuse
- Which editor allowed through the hundreds of sequential question marks and exclamation points???!!! Makes the editing look amateur and is a pain to read.
Otherwise, highly recommended. Flippant, funny and mutinous as all hell. Sometimes a treatise rather than a novel, but much less so than Carpet, and that makes it all the more entertaining– frankly, there’s a lot to be said.
Desai is reading in Manhattan Feb. 1 at the Rubin Museum of Art, a major Himalayan art collection (via SAJA). Continue reading
There is no place to hide it in India
The New York Times today examines Playboy’s designs on India in greater detail. In order to penetrate the Indian market they must tread carefully. There definitely isn’t going to be any kissing on the first date but I’m sure the end goal will remain the same.
…there is another story behind Playboy’s discovery of India. The magazine once saw itself as America’s gateway to a sexual revolution. Now, with that revolution won and its societal impact fading, Playboy has a chance to renew itself as a magazine of high living in a country that celebrated sex in antiquity, then grew prudish, and is now loosening up again.Ms. Hefner has said that an Indian version of the magazine “would be an extension of Playboy that would be focused around the lifestyle, pop culture, celebrity, fashion, sports and interview elements of Playboy.” But the magazine would not be “classic Playboy,” she warned. “It would not have nudity,” she said, “and I don’t think it would be called Playboy.”
In the U.S., Playboy Magazine’s fortunes have been declining for quite some time because their content isn’t considered “daring” enough anymore. Americans aren’t really shocked by anything on the pages of Playboy when compared to its raunchier competitors. If they want to find success with this magazine in India I would think that the name “Playboy,” and all the heritage the name carries, would help it compete with Maxim India and some of the filmi magazines which are already fairly risque. If there is no nudity then what can Playboy offer besides its brand name? Therefore, it makes no sense to me why they would name the magazine something else in India except to fool the censors.
Indian law prohibits the sale or possession of material that is “lascivious or appeals to the prurient interest” and that is without redeeming artistic, literary or religious merit. Soft-core pornographic magazines are available in India, but are taboo. They lurk behind other publications at newsstands, available only by whispered request. They also attract few lucrative advertisers.Continue reading“There would only be a few brands that would look at these magazines,” said Paulomi Dhawan, who runs advertising for Raymond, a leading Indian apparel maker. “We would probably be more in the business or news magazines or the male-oriented serious magazines.”
There is another problem: if you are 26, living with prying parents, where do you hide your stash?
California Dreaming
Author Gurmukh Singh is set to release his new book this month titled: California Dreams – India shining in the land of Hollywood:
Four British Army Sikh soldiers who landed in San Francisco April 5, 1899, were the forerunners of a massive wave of Indian migration to southern California – the region that is home to a staggering 200,000 of the over 1.5 million Indian Americans in the US.It is in southern California that people like Dilip Singh Saund began the Asian struggle for equal rights; it is there that Indian mystics and yogis like Paramhansa Yogananda and Jiddu Krishnamurthy started preaching the wisdom of the East; it is there that transcendental meditation and yogis gained global recognition.
“California Dreams – India shining in the land of Hollywood” (British Columbia Books) traces this magical journey as author Gurmukh Singh skilfully chronicles the contribution of 24 Indian Americans in propelling the Sunshine State to a major economic powerhouse within the US. [Link]
One of the selling points of this book seems to be that it is filled with lots of pictures (some rare) which would make it a good coffee table book even after you’ve finished reading it.
“The inspiring life stories of these most remarkable Indian Americans are a testament to ever growing enterprise and ingenuity,” notes Stanley Wolpert, professor emeritus of South Asian history at UCLA, in his foreword to the 208-page, profusely illustrated book priced at $20 (Rs.999 in India). [Link]Continue reading
Appreciating anew
Reentry can be disintegrating. I’ve lived London but reminders are for thanks giving: London’s public face, its point of initial contact, is desi, from the cleaners to the flight attendants and ticket agents to the young passport control dude asking fresh questions about my New Year’s plans with a wink in his eye. Did Southall grow up around Heathrow or was it waiting to yield up lovely X-ray screeners barely out of their teens? No matter, there are countries I love for their culture and hate for their food– being vegetarian in Spain means picking bits of ham out of hard, dry baguettes. Good food can only enhance the emotionality of a place, Italy obviously, and I might like Thailand. London Delivers. Samosas, aloo tikkis, paneer wraps, mango lassi at any old cornershop. God shave the queen.
There were raucous desi b-boys in pimp threads and bling bling swigging straight from the bottle on the tube last night. An English couple opposite stared, fascinated and appalled, their dining room gossip secure for the week. Cute Asians in bobs yelled ‘Happy New Year!’ in twee, drunken accents. Uncle types stole courtesy kisses from French strangers. The Eye of London turned Eye of Sauron with fields of slowly drifting sparks, world-ending grandeur, anime. It beat the gracious fountains of fire in Rome, high on a hill above the Piazza del Popolo, set to classical, the best I’ve ever seen. Rome’s crowd was friendlier, dancing arm-in-arm, a big public party; Barcelona was football aggression; but London had an excuse, it started to pour. Continue reading
Macho Meesha’d Men
I get a daily email from Rediff.com. Usually I don’t have time to skim it for Sepia-ness, but tonight, I finished your 55s with time to spare so I gave it a cursory cook. 🙂 Near the bottom of the tailored-to-my-preferences Rediff-o-gram were the following words: Top Malayalam Actors 2005. Like I could pass THAT headline up. 😉
Before the page even loaded in a foxy new tab, I knew I was going to spy with my round eye either Mohanlal or Mamooty. Survey says? The man to the right, Mohanlal. I found myself wondering, “Sheesh…ARE there other mallu phillum actors besides those two??”
Browsing through the pictorial essay taught me that Manoj K Jayan (Anandabhadram), Dileep (Chaandupottu) and Suresh Gopi (Bharat Chandran IPS) also act in the sort of films my Aunt and Uncle sigh over as they eat their kappa and karrimeen (washed down with kappi, natch). I don’t join in, mostly because I hate kappa and meen. 😉
Perusing all this coconut-flavored photography, all I could notice was moustaches. Malayalee men are devoted to them and I was actually shocked when I noticed that one of the men pictured (Jayan) did NOT have one. It weirds me out as I pause and grok that I NEVER saw my father without a meesha. Same with the majority of my uncles. Meanwhile, I loathe facial hair, goatees included. No wonder I’m not married. 😉 Well, it’s either that or because I’m on the wrong team. Continue reading
The Man on ‘Black’
Sanjay Leela Bhansali fan and Time film critic Richard Corliss just named Black to his top ten movies of 2005. Here’s the catch: like that famous Aishwarya Rai cover, the list is only for Time Asia. The same spot on the U.S. list is occupied by Caché.
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Rani Mukherjee in Black |
This is an unofficial remake of the 1962 U.S. film The Miracle Worker, about the deaf-blind child Helen Keller and her teacher Annie Sullivan… This is an unusual film for India: no songs, a running time under 2 hrs. and most of the dialogue in English… Amitabh… harnesses gravity and humor to his magisterial machismo in what may be his greatest role… In so many Indian films the deepest searches are for romantic ecstasy and for reconciliation with the father figure. By addressing both these needs, Black is more than a noble weepie; it is the ultimate Bollywood love story. [Link]
Heh, ‘unofficial remake’ 
Corliss may still be smarting over the collective global yawn over Devdas:
I wished Devdas had been in the competition for the Palme d’Or; it bested the Festival winner, Roman Polanski’s The Pianist, in verve, visual acuity and the hero’s sanctified suffering… it could also be the most visually intoxicating film ever[Devdas] could also be the most visually intoxicating film ever…Continue readingMy devotion to Devdas was a minority opinion at Cannes. The pack of international critics is usually a tolerant one; I might say they share some of the Devdas hero’s self-flagellating tendencies, since each May they sit obediently through dozens of mopey minimalist movies. (This year’s prime example: The Brown Bunny, the notoriously painful American indie that only a handful of scribes walked out on.) Yet in 2002… exactly one critic — and by now you’ve figured out who — was there at the end… for TIME’s International editions, I went further, really too far, and named it the film of the year…
But you never heard of Devdas. That’s because no review appeared in the major New York or L.A. newspapers, or in most others, when the film opened last July. [Link]