Aisee Taisee Out of Nowhere

This gem was buried in my twitter feed right before bedtime and was too good not to share immediately. Found, of course, through the tweet worthy Manish.

With a west coast sound and a music video on my favorite skating beach, I’m super surprised I haven’t heard of this cat before. Turns out his home base is the Bay Area and he went to SF State, which figures with Bay-ish lyrics like those. His name is Mandeep Sethi, and the above track was produced by Sikh Knowledge. I am diggin’ how in a world of hip-hop pseudonyms, Mandeep Sethi is keeping it real with his name. He’s keeping it real in other ways too.

Representing San Francisco Universal Zulu Nation as well as the global Hip-Hop scene, Mandeep Sethi is a young yet seasoned emcee/DJ from that has shown and proven his ability to rhyme and freestyle with the best. An Afrika Bambaataa appointed member of Zulu Nation, Mandeep was raised by the 5 elements of hip-hop: emceeing, djing, breakdancing, graffiti, and KNOWLEDGE. For Sethi, the microphone represents a catalyst of change, rhyming about social consciousness as well as cultural awarenesss while remaining true to the undefinable essence of hip hop’s versatility. [vivalahiphop]

Follow his twitter @mandeepsethi to get some of that knowledge. Check out the rest of his music too – you can download his latest digital EP The World’s Gone Mad for free (or for a donation.)

<a href="http://mandeepsethi.bandcamp.com/album/the-worlds-gone-mad">Illusion [produced by Povan Beats] by Mandeep Sethi</a>

Here’s an Ultrabrown post on Mandeep. Good find, Vij. I feel like I’m hella late to the game and need to catch up. All the rest of you, what do you think? Continue reading

Saxophones and Seduction

One of my favorite film songs of all time is “Roop Tera Mastana” from the 1969 Hindi film [Aradhana](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aradhana_(1969_film). The song appears just before a dashing young Air Force pilot, Arun (Rajesh Khanna), spends his first night with his new bride, Vandana (Sharmila Tagore, with her bouffant and perfect liquid eyeliner ). Arun and Vandana have just been married by a priest in a small temple because Arun has to leave to fight, and they’re in a rush to get married before he leaves. Unfortunately now it’s raining, and they’ve been drenched, so they huddle together in a rustic wooden cabin for warmth. Because they’re married, their isolation shouldn’t be a problem. But they’ve jumped the gun by getting married without their families’ presence. And now they’re getting closer and closer, to the point of no return…

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Rani Taj beats the hell out of “Rude Boy”

Three of you sent me this video, so I get the feeling that you want SM to post about it. 🙂 If only I hadn’t spent my entire Friday in meetings…you Left-coasters could’ve enjoyed an all-natural jolt from something besides your morning coffee. Better late than never, I always say. Type. Whatever.

I was confused by the video until about 15 seconds in; that’s when the performer suddenly transforms Rihanna’s “Rude Boy” from a song I rolled my eyes at to a joint which made me sit up straighter in my office chair. Do your thang, gurl, do your thang:

None of you knew who this fierce female was, so I scrolled through 281 YouTube comments— never, EVER doubt my fortitude or devotion to the Mutiny– and saw a name which I googled for a bit. I discovered this:

My name is Rani Taj. I am the first professional British-Kashmiri female dholi, trained by the Dhol Blasters and Azaad dhol where I am a senior player. I also dance with the Bhangra Blasters and love playing the dhol, especially at public events.

That’s from her criminally under-loved Facebook fan page. Really, world? Only three of you “like” Miss Taj? Forget desis needing to support Manoj Shymalan no matter what pap he may proffer, y’all need to fan the Queen of percussion. Yes, I said “y’all”. I already did. While it’s still public, toggle through her profile pics on Facebook; she channels David Bowie while in Desi clothes. All that flavor and she’s got the beat? Got damn, Batman.* Continue reading

I’ll Have a Pint of Your Finest

What do Argentinian soccer legend Diego Maradona and Indian cricket master Sachin Tendulkar have in common, besides being gods?

They’ve both sold themselves.

In 2009 – at around the same time that Tendulkar was uncomfortable with fans touching his feet – Kraken Opus announced that their next project would feature Diego Maradona:

The first 100 copies of the latter book will contain a sample of Maradona’s blood and his hair. Inside there is a depiction of his DNA. “Not only are we telling you the story of your god; we’re taking you inside the icon,” Mr Fowler said (The Sunday Times).

This year it’s Sachin’s turn.

Luxury publisher Kraken Opus mixed in a pint of Mr. Tendulkar’s blood with paper pulp to create the signature page for a book celebrating the renowned batsman’s career. The 10 limited-edition copies, which comes out in February, cost $75,000 each and have already sold out (Wall Street Journal).

As revolting as I find the idea of a publishing house “telling you the story of your god,” I can’t say I have much sympathy for the ten people who spend 75k on it either. But I suppose that’s just an example of how disposable income can exaggerate the deification of celebrities.

As I read this, I couldn’t help thinking about how appropriate such a venture would have been for M.G. Ramachandran, Tamil film star-turned-politician who has been similarly deified, and whose speeches and addresses began, “En Rathathin Rathame,” or “blood of my blood.” Perhaps the introduction to his Opus would have begun, “En Rathathin Rathame, itho en ratham!”

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My coffee name is…

coffee-cup.jpg

For those of us who absolutely hate hearing mangled versions of our names, the simple act of ordering coffee at a certain ubiquitous chain can be unnecessarily stressful.

It turns out that we are not alone. The Village Voice’s Shefali Kulkarni recently had this revelation:

…I realized that I wasn’t the only one who had tired of being asked how to spell a name that people find difficult to handle, at least in the super-busy moment of a Starbucks line.

So, like other people, I came up with a “coffee name.” Something simple that a coffee jockey can scribble on a cup without thinking. And, after taking a survey of the local scene, it’s clear that many others have come up with a similar solution.

At the Starbucks on Eighth Avenue, a grande iced caramel macchiato for “Sean” was really meant for “Chan,” short for Chandani.

“I never, ever give out my name,” Chan says. “And they still don’t get it right, but, hey, it’s what everyone calls me.”

Is anyone surprised that both the author of the article and the first person quoted both have desi names? And do any readers use a nom de cafe while in coffee shops or restaurants? I never do, primarily because I am afraid that I will forget my alias and never get my $4 drink. Continue reading

Beautiful, Binky’d Baby

Via my guiltiest pleasure, “ohnotheydidnt“– behold, Ikhyd Edgar Arular Bronfman (click to enlarge):

Maya and Ikhyd.jpg

I can’t believe Ikhyd is so big! He is almost 18-months old. The last time we showed you a picture of him, it was almost exactly a year ago; Abhi, alarmed by Ikhyd’s onesie, was ardently pleading with PETA to take on the cause of albino ladybugs. No word on whether PETA has made any progress with that, but there are plenty of words about Mathangi’s new album (mixed reviews) and cute offspring (certified hit). Continue reading

Desi Say What?!

From the folks at Cherry Sky Films, here is a video for you. There’s a cameo at the end by a Desi (Neil Sehgal) (h/t to Salil).

Cringe-worthy, no doubt, this short video reflects an inter-racial sub group struggle in self-identity versus external community identity monikers. In other words, the use of the word “nigger”. I thought the video was smart in that their use of the word “ninja” as replacement word and Asians as the replacement community really shifted the perception of the use of the “N word.” Plus, the video was hella funny.

What I loved most is when a brown kid saunters up on the basketball court to a group of Asian dudes and says, “What’s up my Ninjas!” The guys look like they are confused as to whether to accept him or not. But after a quick look to each other, they give him the bro-man hug and you hear “It counts.” As a South Asian, he may not be accepted immediately, but he can be accepted into the “in” group since South Asia is kind of Asian, if you stopped to think about it. Marginalized, a little bit, he can be accepted in the end. It was a simple interaction, but reflective so much of society’s deeper of inter-racial issues I’ve seen in the Desi meets East Asian communities.

As an activist in the Asian American and Pacific Islander movement, this attitude is something I see often, though a lot less brash and satirical as seen in the video. The South Asian community is often accepted into these AAPI space as an after thought, or even worse, as a token. Continue reading

Weird Kitchen Science

IMG_2187.JPGSome old friends of mine were recently in town and came over to make dinner. N, whose family is from Andhra, does lots of cooking stuff differently from me, and it was fascinating to hear her talk about it. We (okay, she; the other two of us mostly chopped and helpfully tasted) made three dishes. One: a South Indian-style daal with veggies in it. (I’ve long plopped frozen spinach in my paruppu, but tomatoes for some reason never occurred to me.) Two: chana with mushrooms from a recipe that we found on the Interwebs… And three: the piece de meat resistance, lamb curry.

We ate and drank and made merry and curry. It was fun, and I learned a lot from watching N. She has a deft hand with spices, and the curry aged well, too. So well, in fact, that I was moved to try some experiments. Continue reading

Indivisibly Yours: Part I

finalcover1-692x1023.jpgThere’s a new collection of poetry out, and it’s the first of its kind. Indivisible: An Anthology of Contemporary South Asian American Poetry has poems by 49 American writers who trace their roots to Bangladesh, India, Nepal, Pakistan, and Sri Lanka. In its preface, the editors write that they chose the title–that word you might recall reciting daily as part of the U.S. Pledge of Allegiance–“in order to reflect some of the tensions that exist” between unity and pluralism. The anthology’s editors, Neelanjana Banerjee, Summi Kaipa and Pireeni Sundaralingam, also agreed to take a few questions; I’ll post their responses in Part II.

Before attending one of the Indivisible readings in San Francisco, I wasn’t sure what to expect because the annual Artwallah festival is the only venue where I’ve heard readings by desi poets. As it turns out, some of the poets included in the anthology are familiar from that arts festival, from fiction, and past SM posts on poets. The contributors come from a variety of academic and professional backgrounds and include award-winning writers with well-established careers in literature or poetry as well as contributors who work in other fields like medicine, education and journalism. I tried to find interesting links for each writer to share below, including personal sites, samples of their poetry, videos of readings, or other general information. Continue reading