Category Archives: Arts and Entertainment

Hello, this is M.I.A.

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‘Could you please come get me?’ M.I.A. says she used to work in a telemarketing call center selling software over the phone (thanks, Punjabi Boy). Could you get any more desi?

… she was working in a call centre selling computer software to people in Ohio. She’d once worked the same job in LA.

The strain of being so mainstream drove her into Compton

… having fallen in love with hip-hop, she was going to move to South Central LA and become a gangsta’s bitch. It was a move both rebellious and reactionary. ‘I’m glad I went that far into it. I was the best hoochie on the West Coast at the time. I had the best clothes ‘cos I was coming from England and really good at shoplifting. I had Versace on before Lil’ Kim started rapping about it ‘cos the only place I could steal at was Harvey Nicks, where it was sooo easy. So I studied, like, the whole thing out in Compton: how the best you could do is be there for your man, be really good at sex, throw barbecues in the park, have babies and keep that unit together with the money that you get.’

Sadly, her black audiences aren’t getting her — she’s not quite Maya Vanilli, but gangsta isn’t totally prêt-à-porter:

This audience don’t understand why she’s covered head to toe in a baggy Sri Lankan print blouse and billowy trousers with its flashes of green in the print, which turn out, on closer inspection, to be the Incredible Hulk’s fist.

But she does have compelling memories of poverty in Sri Lanka:

… malnutrition had left Maya without most of her teeth. One of her last childhood memories of Sri Lanka is having her gums cut open with rice grain. ‘They don’t even do it fast, it took 45 minutes. But I wanted teeth so bad … you don’t understand.’ She came to Britain waiting for them to grow in and would hold her lips over her gums, staring long hours at herself in the mirror.

I suppose ‘terrorist’ isn’t usually mentioned in the biodata:

… her mother met her father through an arranged marriage, having been told he was an engineer. ‘Ever since she was a baby she was raised to be the housewife that all Sri Lankan women are meant to be. She couldn’t play out the fantasy ‘cos she didn’t have a husband. Him going away was worse for her. All the women were like, “He didn’t even die? He just left you with two children, what’s wrong with you? Fuck him starting a revolution, he isn’t at home!”‘

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Not Your Mamma’s Muslim

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Bold strides by Muslim women this weekend. First Sania Mirza, now Hammasa Kohistani, who was just crown Miss England (thanks, Punjabi Boy!): SepiaMiss.jpg

Hammasa Kohistani, 18, said she was delighted to have been selected to represent England in the Miss World championships.
The brunette, who speaks six languages including Russian, Persian and French, looked ecstatic as the crown was placed on her head before a cheering crowd in Liverpool’s Olympia Theatre. [link]

Well, the BBC says five languages, but who am I to quibble. The Times of India deluged the poor girl in a typical purple gush:

LONDON: Move over our very own, Miss India. Miss England is on her way to Bollywood, the big time and beckoning stardust, now that a Muslim teenager with central Asian roots and a British accent has been crowned England’s most beautiful woman.

But stepped back for sociological analysis:

Kohistani, who was born in the Uzbek capital Tashkent, after her parents were forced to flee Afghanistan, is being touted in a less-than-overwhelmed Britain as the first Muslim to be crowned Miss England.

With beauty contests increasingly regarded as a politically incorrect and chauvinistic relic of a darker British age of cruising for seaside holiday entertainment, Kohistani’s victory has been kept off the Sunday front pages and the slender television news agenda.

But some commentators have expressed an interest in the social and ethnic change represented by Kohistani’s extraordinary win of the England crown, over and above 38 other peaches-and-cream complexioned ‘real’ English roses. [link]

sepiaMissjulia.jpg

Of course, this wouldn’t be a story about Islam without controversy somewhere:

Among those Miss Kohistani beat was another Muslim entrant, Sarah Mendly, 23, who was voted Miss Nottingham. Miss Mendly had been among the favourites but her entry caused controversy when Liverpool’s Islamic institute called on her to pull out because contestants are often scantily clad. [link]

If you squint, doesn’t Hammasa look a bit like Julia Roberts?

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How do you solve a problem like Maria?

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In a battle of 18-year-old millionaires, Sania Mirza lost to Maria Sharapova 6-2, 6-1, in what seemed like the world’s shortest match at just 59 minutes. Ouch. She couldn’t get her first serve in and relied on a soft second serve. Sharapova slashed that serve down the line for winners over and over, like a boxer who’s found an opponent’s weakness and just keeps riding it.

Mirza committed twice as many unforced errors as Sharapova. She didn’t do enough cross-court shots, sticking with lots of straight, fastball returns; Sharapova moved her all over the court. On the plus side, Mirza hit harder than Sharapova, who let lots of fast returns by her, even those within forehand range.

The uncle-commentator tried to put a positive spin on Sania’s showing after the match; meanwhile, I rocked back and forth: ‘ouch, Elliot…’ CBS showed a dorky fan sign straight out of Bride and Prejudice: ‘Sania: our precious Indian jewel.’ And man, the Sharapova squeal is annoying.

>> Watch the match
(196 MB DivX; you need a BitTorrent downloader: Windows, Mac)

Previous posts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine

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Mirza vs. Sharapova, 3:15 pm

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The Sania Mirza – Maria Sharapova match will be broadcast on CBS today after 3:15 pm (U.S. Eastern). Mirza’s last matchup of this caliber was against Serena Williams at the Australian Open. With Sharapova the #1 U.S. Open seed and #2 worldwide, Mirza is a classic underdog:

Sharapova didn’t seem too concerned about the occasion. She’s never seen Mirza play and doesn’t know anything about her. Though her father, Yuri, and hitting partner, Michael Joyce, have done some scouting, Sharapova said she’s unlikely to heed their advice. [Link]

Sharapova said she doesn’t know much about her opponent’s feisty personality or her game. (Note to Maria: Keep it away from Sania’s forehand.) Sharapova also can hit a pretty good forehand. When she strikes the ball with her racket, she puts an exclamation point on her velocity by making a screeching noise that resonates throughout Arthur Ashe Stadium. [Link]

The broadcasters have even gotten the memo on how to say Mirza’s name, though I heard ‘Mrrr-zuh’ a few times on Friday. The U.S. Open’s resident Eeyore mopes:

This first-time match up between two personality-laden and fiery youngsters could be a prelude to many great matches to come. Mirza owns one of the biggest forehands on the women’s tour… But Sania had bigger holes than Maria does: a mediocre first serve, questionable conditioning and movement and a general lack of decision-making. Sharapova has a much better serve, a more solid backhand and more experience in big matches.

The only way that Sania can win this match is if Maria has a very down day on her serve, because Mirza returns with incredible ferocity. Essentially, if Mirza zones early and often, she has a minor chance at an upset, but Sharapova will make mincemeat of Sania’s serves, own her from the backhand side and not give her a chance to breathe. [Link]
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Anarchy in the US?

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Sri Lanka is a tiny place. Maybe that’s given us a Napoleonic Complex, maybe we’re tired of being compared to snot. Throw in the war, the tsunami, the suicide rates…we know we can’t play with the big boys. Ain’t no way we can show them up.

sepiaNOhurricane.jpg Until now:

President Chandrika Bandaranaike of Sri Lanka, in China on a state visit, sent messages of sympathy to Washington while her government contributed $25,000 through the American Red Cross.

So sure, it might not seem like much to our corporate-dough-raking readers. (coughmyannualsalarycough.) But that would be missing the point:

In a turnabout, the United States is now on the receiving end of help from around the world as some two dozen countries offer post-hurricane assistance. Venezuela, a target of frequent criticism by the Bush administration, offered humanitarian aid and fuel. [link]

But Condi, FEMA and the Prez seem to have differing views on accepting the aid:

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With offers from the four corners of the globe pouring in, Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice has decided “no offer that can help alleviate the suffering of the people in the afflicted area will be refused,” State Department spokesman Sean McCormack said Thursday.

However, in Moscow, a Russian official said the U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency had rejected a Russian offer to dispatch rescue teams and other aid.

Still, Bush told ABC-TV: “I’m not expecting much from foreign nations because we hadn’t asked for it. I do expect a lot of sympathy and perhaps some will send cash dollars. But this country’s going to rise up and take care of it.”

“You know,” he said, “we would love help, but we’re going to take care of our own business as well, and there’s no doubt in my mind we’ll succeed. And there’s no doubt in my mind, as I sit here talking to you, that New Orleans is going to rise up again as a great city.”

As the news reports and first-person accounts roll in, it looks increasingly, incredibly clear that we have not been taking care of our own business well. Not well at all.

New Orleans Mayor Ray Nagin (who crossed party lines to support Bobby Jindal for Governor) exploded with frustration in a local radio interview last Thursday:

I told him [the President] we had an incredible crisis here and that his flying over in Air Force One does not do it justice.[link]

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Lord I never drew first, but I drew first blood

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As I’ve watched the news over the past week I’ve started to consider if I should purchase a gun.  I hate guns.  I’ve only held one once.  I have had one too many dreams where I was not only shot, but mutilated by gunfire.  I’ve convinced myself that I must have died from a GSW in my past life and so I’ve wanted nothing to do with them.  Indian families don’t really own guns.  Am I wrong?  Maybe I am just sheltered but I just don’t know any Indian families that own guns.  Most of my first generation relatives have never even mentioned gun ownership.  In India my family didn’t own a gun…well except for an air gun which they used to shoot geckos off the wall.  I could imagine that South Asian hoteliers, convenience store owners, and wannabe thugs are probably packing, but outside of that I’d be surprised.  How many South Asians do you know that either hunt or are members of the NRA?  Not many I’ll bet.  Recently I tried to talk my younger brother into buying a weapon.  In the state in which he resides you aren’t a man without a piece.  People wear them in plain sight on their waist he tells me.  Two weeks ago a man in a pick-up truck pulled up beside him as he walked along the road and asked if he was packing.  “No,” my brother replied.  “You should be,” advised the man.  It isn’t only bears and wolves but some crazies (everyone tells him so) where my brother lives that makes a gun a good idea.

So why aren’t brown folk strapped?  Part of it must be that many South Asian immigrants (and even those born here) don’t understand the technical details of the U.S. Constitution and the 2nd Amendment.  They didn’t need a gun in India so why would they here?  Why does it seem like we have a “duty” to carry guns in America?

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed. [Link]

The founding fathers in their infinite wisdom and fresh from the Revolutionary War, wanted to make sure that the populace had armed state militias that could rise up against the federal government if it made a move toward autocracy.  The phrase “well regulated Militia” however, was a loophole as wide as a football field and has led to the largest rate of gun violence in the world (guns do kill people).  The founding fathers also worked in another rule into the Constitution that also has bearing on this past week’s events in New Orleans.  Many people don’t know that the U.S. military is forbidden by the Constitution from acting (using their guns) within the borders of the United States.  A friend of mine who spent 8 years in the U.S. Army (and who was born and lived in India until she was twelve) asked me earlier this week why the military didn’t just take over down there.  I explained to her about habeas corpus (which is incidentally my favorite Latin phrase).

The right of habeas corpus has long been celebrated as the most efficient safeguard of the liberty of the subject.

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T-Bills & Louise

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My ridiculously talented corporate whore / playwright friend Anuvab Pal has managed to get a reading of Life, Love and EBITDA into the Public Theater’s festival of emerging artists. God knows what this’ll do to the size of his head. We can only hope the play lands with a thud so Anuvab continues to fit through Manhattan’s notoriously narrow doorways. But judging from past audience reaction, he’s taking the double-wide lift from now on.

Ruled from London by millionaire twins with workers toiling in India, the sun never sets on Gofuz Inc.-the world’s largest manhole-cover maker. But two women bankers have devious plans to reshape Gofuz and the future of global waste. [Link]

… investment bankers… I found fascinating because they were supposedly the cleverest people in the world, working harder than anybody else but producing absolutely nothing… I step on a manhole cover every day here in New York and it says Made in India… Every “corporate play” is always about men in suits… So why not a Wall Street play about women?… “A man’s his job,” I think Mamet told us in Glengarry Glen Ross. [Link]

Yeah, along with some other choice words now recanted

… it is easier to write a play about architects or poets because… everyone knows exactly what the end product is, a house or a poem for example… I have spoken to many senior bankers, been in the industry for many years, and they have no idea either, except it is something that pays for their kids’ colleges. [Link]

I’ve seen a reading of this play. It’s a very funny, wordplay-packed satire about the i-banking grind, the buying and selling of companies and, of course, sweet sweet lowe. Go see LL&E if you find wicked-smart women slinging finance and deconstructing romance hot.

Did I mention it’s free?

Previous posts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Life, Love and EBITDA reading, the Public Theater, 425 Lafayette St., Manhattan, Sunday, Sep. 11, 2 pm; 6 train to Bleecker St. or B, D, F, V to Broadway/Lafayette; call 212-260-2400 for free tickets
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A Desi by any other Name would smell like Me

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You either convert (atleast give yourself a nice hindu name on this blog) or stay out.

Would you actually be pompous and arrogant enough to suggest that Indian Christians (and there are quite a few of them) not post here unless they use a “Hindu name”? Sorry, rhetorical question. [linky]

Mind if I cut in, Eric? Thank you, you are too sweet.

Ah, the politics of nomenclature, a subject I am completely sick ofÂ…whether it involves self-identification or the process and meaning behind my own name, it all makes me so weary.

I wonÂ’t delve into the former, but I will heroically belly flop into the latter. My name isnÂ’t good enough for anyone. Malayalees wonder why I have my “house” name, since apparently thatÂ’s uncommon among my “I-have-two-to-three-first-names-but-no-surname” cohort, people who arenÂ’t Brown wonder why I have an “American” or “Western” name, when IÂ’m obviously part of a more exotic faith and non-Mallus, especially Northies for some bizarre reason, wonder what my REAL name is, because it canÂ’t possibly be Anna, even if I am a Jesus-freak from the dirrrty South (of India. Y’all).

The best situation is when I am rebuked for my “obvious”, self-hatred. Predictably, the disapproval usually comes from non-Desis but I once notably received similar treatment from two recent South Asian immigrants. Here’s what a convo with the unBrown sounded like:

“No, really, what’s ‘Anna’ short for?”

“Nothing.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, just tell me. ‘Anna’ can’t be your REAL name.”

“I’m not, I have nothing TO tell and I promise you, it is.”

“Come on…you shouldn’t be ashamed of who you are.”

“Do you do this to White people named ‘Anna’ as well? I’m massively curious…”

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The spy who loved me

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My first memory of Brit Asian actress Archie Panjabi is of her in East in East and pigtails, kicking a soccer ball around the back yard. I next saw her burnishing her Asian cred as the bride in Bend It Like Beckham. So it was a pleasant surprise when she popped up in The Constant Gardener, a John Le Carré thriller adapted for screen by the director of the wonderfully fluid City of God.

Like Sarita Choudhury in A Perfect Murder, Panjabi plays yet another desi Tonto. Her character Gita, a member of the British High Commission in Kenya, is sidekick and confidante to Tessa Quayle, played by lovely, googly-eyed Rachel Weisz in a mummy suit. Ralph Fiennes’s self-effacing diplomat spends the movie decoding his wife Tessa’s secret life and eventual assassination. His British accent turns ‘Gita’ into the German ‘Gitte’; in the screen credits it’s massacred again as ‘Ghita,’ acolyte of ghee. Aside from the appellation snafu, Panjabi gets to turn up in a sari and plays the vulnerable diplomat quite serviceably.

The movie itself suffers in comparison with City of God. It’s just as long (around 2:10) but not nearly as light on its feet: blame the patient English for that. It’s a Big Pharma conspiracy theory intercut with an ad for Africa aid. Several passages are filmed in grainy Primer green with buzzing fluorescent lights and very un-starlike blood and grime. Other passages are stylistically familiar, filmed in extreme close-up with a shaky, handheld camera, the colors supersaturated and grainy. Fernando Meirelles turns a lake bed into red and blue abstract art. The couple-play is as natural as can be expected when the stiff English mate in a Calvin Klein linen closet; unlike Meirelles’ earlier film, by the end the protagonists have been thoroughly sainted.

Also unlike the kinetic CoG, this one takes the notion that movies should start with a bang and turns it on its head. The rest of the film keeps up that languid pace, so all the ad blurbs claiming it to be a thriller are overblown, to put it kindly. On one level, the über-boring title is truth in advertising; slack pacing is the enemy at these gates. On another, this is a visually inventive and deeply serious movie about the cat’s cradle between Western governments, African corruption and MNCs, with ordinary Africans caught in the middle — not to mention a posthumous, detective-story romance.

· Â· Â· Â· Â·

Ithought of the movie when I heard how a femme fatale penetrated the British High Commission in Islamabad:

Britain has removed its defence attaché in Pakistan… Red-faced and tight-lipped British officials said they were not ready to provide any details… Durcan had been recalled because he had been “tricked into a close friendship by the attractive woman”… But it described the woman as a “defence academic” who was “also believed to be an undercover agent for rogue elements within Pakistan’s intelligence services”. [Link]

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South Africa out of Sunali’s Nose! (slightly updated)

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Philadelphia, September of 2002.

“OhMyGod”, was the greeting my mummy blurted out instead of her customary, “Hi, mone”. “When did THAT happen?”

“Two weeks ago, Ma.”

“But…why?”

I shrugged. “Felt like it.”

“You know that’s not something a Christian girl should do,” she replied, eyebrows undulating with disapproval and consternation.

“Only Hindu girls can get their noses pierced?”

“Only Hindu girls SHOULD get their noses pierced.”

“Pashu tatti. It’s a cultural thing, Ma. Not religious.”

My mother snorted before telling me where I could store my opinions on culture and religion. “It IS a Hindu tradition. Maybe even a Muslim one. Try it with someone dumber than your Mother, edi.”

Anne Martin, the principal of Durban Girls High School in South Africa should have called my mom when she needed an expert opinion on whether piercing one’s nose is a “culturally-based rather than religious” practice. 😉

Who is Anne Martin? Why should she defer to my almighty Mom? Read on:

Sunali Pillay, 16, took her case to the Durban Equality Court claiming that she was being unfairly discriminated against by her Durban Girls High School which was not allowing her to wear a nose ring in accordance with her religious beliefs.

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