Easing Tension Through Music

The other day I was looking on YouTube for the famous version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” from the old Bollywood film, Purab aur Paschim, to amuse my kid. Instead, I found this:

It’s not just done for comedy, I think (though it is clearly meant to be funny for a South Indian TV audience). Actually, having the same English words applied to the different classical Indian musical styles is an instructive way of seeing the differences in the styles.

(Incidentally, what are the first two styles she uses?) Continue reading

Posh as Indian Bride Barbie? That’s Major!

posh for vogue india.jpg Well not Indian Bride Barbie so much as their November cover girl, but that’s totes what she reminds ME of (thanks, cookiemonsta):

Former Spice Girl Victoria Beckham graces the cover of Vogue India’s November issue, trading in her western outfits for a traditional Indian bridal sari.
“Posh” Beckham, the wife of British footballer David Beckham, chose several bridal outfits by Indian designers for the photo shoot, the magazine said in a statement. [linky]

She was also not overheard saying, “Can we hike these up a bit? I need people to see that I have replaced my seven-inch Loubys with swaggers. Aren’t they MAJOR?

“I have long been an avid admirer of the Indian fashion and lifestyle culture,” Beckham, 34, was quoted as saying. [linky]

She then stared dreamily off in to space for a second while fondly remembering that one time, with that proto-chav who made it rain with rupees at Glassy Junction. Ah, good times.

The magazine’s fashion director said Beckham was thrilled to experiment with Indian bridal wear.
“She absolutely loved everything about it — from the ‘maang tikka’ and ‘haath zeb’ (traditional Indian jewellery) to the gorgeous lehengas (traditional Indian skirt with embroidery),” said Anahita Shroff Adajania. [linky]

What fool wouldn’t? Indian brides get to wear the most gorgeous clothes in the world. I love Reem Acra but even her most show-stopping gowns fade away in the presence of Priya and Chintan’s most basic lehenga.

The cover is after the jump. Continue reading

“…on the internet I can be just as tall as you.”

Australian-based Boymongoose is back with another video gem from their 2006 album Christmas in Asia Minor. You may remember the 12 Days of Christmas song we posted back then. Here is the video to Single Girls set to the music of Jingle Bells. Make sure to play this at your desi Holiday party. It will definitely be spinning here at our North Dakota headquarters come December.

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Xenophobia Judo (updated)

Last week the Sacramento County GOP, which is the local party for the state capital of the most populous state in the union, had image below on their the official website!

If you had any doubt that the GOP was promoting the message “Obama = Arab = Muslim = Terrorist!” this should put your doubts to rest. (To their credit, the state level party quickly had the material removed but that doesn’t undercut the broader campaign.)

One minor personal consequence of this tactic is that I am unable to go canvassing door-to-door in battleground states for either campaign. Can you imagine the reception I would encounter knocking on doors for the Obama campaign in West Virginia? Or how about ringing doorbells for McCain in Missouri?

Sure, I might be able to overcome the xenophobia and fear of certain voters, but that would make the exercise more about me than the candidate, with each minute spent explaining who I am taken away from time avalable to make the case for a particular campaign. No, that would be immensely selfish on my part.

Unfortunately, this leaves me with only one option if I want to participate in face-to-face persuasion of voters. I could pretend to be working for the opposition.

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NYT Vows, Special Desi Unit. Episode 420, “Matrimonials Hijinks”

nyt siddharth wedding elephant.JPG
Sometimes the Desi couples in the New York Times “Vows” pages make one cringe. But the latest entrants in the reality show known as “I am so stylin’, I invited the damn New York Times to observe my wedding!” actually seem pretty cool. For one thing, they seem pretty normal, and Rahul Siddharth in particular seems to have a way with words:

“Unlike in Bollywood movies,” Mr. Siddharth said, “we fight. We are totally opposite, but she is mine.”

“New York can be a very cruel city,” he said. “There are days when it can eat you up and spit you out. Sapna is my private escape. I always love to come home to her knowing that she brings peace to my chaos.” (link)

(Unless I am mistaken, this is where some readers might swoon a little. Others may find it all too cheesy. To each, her own.)

The part I personally liked the best had to do with the way they met, twice, online:

Dr. Chaudhary, a specialist in family medicine in New York, had posted her profile online at an Indian introductions site. She first heard from Mr. Siddharth, an advertising executive and stand-up comedian, in June 2005, in a response that was impressively lively. But after she replied, he seemed to vanish. That is, until September, when Mr. Siddharth’s second e-mail message, nearly identical to the first, landed.

To that one, she replied: “Maybe you should try and keep better track — or maybe you were just so overwhelmed by my beauty that you had some short term memory loss.” (link)

Let’s get this straight. Guy sees picture of a lady on Shaadi.com and thinks, “Me likee.” He shoots off his generic self-introduction, which in this case is pretty good, because homeboy has, as we’ve already established, the gift of gab. She replies encouragingly, but now (presumably) he’s already preoccupied emailing someone else, and as a result he blows her off. The other thing doesn’t pan out, and three months later he sees the first profile again without realizing it (her new pictures are “sexier”), and shoots off the same generic self-introduction, albeit a little puzzled that Gmail already seemed to know her email address.

And three years later, they’re getting married in style (seriously, check out those pictures), and bragging about it in the Times.

One quick side note — I like that the Times reporter describes the site through which they met as an “Introductions” website, not a “Matrimonials” site. It seems to me that “Introductions” is a better fit than “Matrimonials,” a descriptor that would require an obligatory reference to the “exotic” Indian practice known as “Arranged Marriage” ™.)

Anyone else have interesting Matrimonials/Introductions website correspondence snafus? Continue reading

“Sikh Stand-up Comic” in Newsweek

narinder singh gotham.jpg
After my post last week on Hari Kondabolu’s “Manoj,” it seems fitting to discuss an actual stand-up comic who walks the delicate line between what we might call “self-deprecating good fun” and outright self-hatred, Narinder Singh (thanks, Colleen). Narinder Singh has three YouTube videos up: here, here, and here (as “Sikh Stand-up Comic”). I don’t love the videos — seems like he’s trying too hard — though admittedly the sound quality on them makes it hard to understand what he’s saying at times.

But Narinder’s “My Turn” essay in this week’s Newsweek is much more to my taste. The key section for me was this:

“A lot of people ask me why I wear a turban,” goes one of my jokes. “I tell them it’s because it contracepts my vices. But you know what, turbans are great contraceptives . . . I haven’t had sex in five years!”

I became more ambitious. I now wanted to show the entire audience that Indians, Muslims or brown people in general were affable and moderate. Because I received my first couple of threats from Sikhs, I had to convince myself that my fellow Sikhs were in fact also moderate. But it felt strangely exciting reading the verbal barbs posted on my first YouTube clip: I was having an impact.

I e-mailed some of the overzealous Sikhs and told them that I was making fun of prejudice against those who wear turbans, not the turban itself, which seemed even more sacred now. After 9/11, many Sikhs had cut their hair and stopped wearing turbans. The menacing looks and discrimination were too much. Our visible identity in numbers was dwindling in both America and India. Bollywood films had reduced Sikhs to fools and caricatures. In America we were being taken too seriously; in India, not enough. It sometimes made me feel compelled to conform and fit in, too. (link)

Seeing Narinder Singh say this makes me appreciate his approach to comedy more, in spirit if not in the actual performances I’ve seen. For one thing, though the reasons were different I too received my share of hate mail around the time I was first blogging at SM, (including an outright threat, from a fellow Sikh). I sympathize partly because I think the temptation is strong to “make an impact” and get attention with edgy statements — every writer, blogger, or comedian just starting out knows this — even if it offends some people and loses you some friends.

Still, I’m not sure he’s quite there yet in his actual comedy routine. What do people think?

To end on a positive note, Narinder Singh’s final quip might well be the funniest line he’s written:

Still, I completely understood my fellow Sikhs’ sensitivity and their fear of being marginalized further. I really didn’t mind the death threats and the heckling, as long as I continued not having sex.

Continue reading

Aasif Is Brown Like Us

Shruti’s facebook status earlier this week said that she was “certain that Aasif Mandvi is a regular reader of Sepia Mutiny and Ultrabrown.” I asked her what she meant, and she referred me to the following:

I know he never says that he got his references from the Mutiny, but I’m pretty sure we blogged about ‘What Brown Can Do For You’ and we definitely blogged the dancing little man video. And come on, you have to type in ‘brown’ before you can comment on the sites! He MUST have been talking bout us. The Mutiny has ‘brown’ literally trademarked!

I got the privilege of meeting Asif earlier this year (at a brown conference) and I know he’s a visitor to this site, so Shruti may just be right … How bout it, Aasif? Give the Mutiny a shout out on the Daily Show next time! Continue reading

If you’re male, you may not want to read this…

…lest you wish to spend the rest of the day with your legs tightly crossed, doubled-over with sympathy pain and terror (thanks, JTMoney!). Via our news tab: Kir Royale the betta.jpg

A 2cm long fish apparently found it’s (sic) way into the penis of a 14-year-old boy from India in a bizarre medical case.
The patient was admitted to hospital with complaints of pain, dribbling urine and acute urinary retention spanning a 24-hour period. According to the boy, the fish slipped into his penis while he was cleaning his aquarium at home.

Uh…I’ve either had or been around home aquariums since I was a toddler. I have never had a fish slip anywhere, while I was cleaning anything. Hell, I haven’t even had one of these bizarre pedicures.

Professor Vezhaventhan and Professor Jeyaraman, who treated the boy and later wrote a paper on the case, explained: “While he was cleaning the fish tank in his house, he was holding a fish in his hand and went to the toilet for passing urine. When he was passing urine, the fish slipped from his hand and entered his urethra and then he developed all these symptoms.”

Okay, mens. Here’s the part which will have you wincing:

After detecting the fish in the boy’s bladder, Vezhaventhan and Jeyaraman used a technique known as cystourethroscopy to insert a special set of forceps down the patient’s penis. Unfortunately, the fish was just too slippery to grip, so they resorted to using a rigid ureteroscope with a tool attached that is normally used for removing bladder stones.

Yeesh, even I am crossing my legs at this point. One of the most awesome aspects of being female is knowing what a speculum is, whether one is involved with medicine or not, and by awesome, I mean “atrocious”. Owww.

The fish the urologists removed, which Practical Fishkeeping believes to be a small member of the Betta genus, measured 2cm long and 1.5cm wide.

By the way, bettas aren’t just “Siamese Fighting Fish“, even though many people refer to the latter (a.k.a. Betta Splendens) by just its genus name. For those who may be wondering about it, the image enhancing this post is a picture of my dearly departed “Kir Royale“, a betta splendens who traveled to that great pond in the sky, earlier this year.

He was later admitted into counseling to help him overcome any trauma.

Speaking of trauma, aren’t you glad I didn’t play the caption game, with this one? 😉 Continue reading

Life is Stranger Than Fiction.

Twice a week, a very kind gentleman comes by with a nifty vacuum cleaner strapped to his back, to spruce up the floors. I say nifty because it looks more like a jet-pack or something a lot more fun than a mere appliance. Anyway, when he strolls in with his trademark, “Hell-oooooo!”, I know it is time to stand up and get out of his way. I usually just move to the other side of my desk and prepare myself for a minute or two of nothingness, but apparently, today will be…something. I hear a familiar voice, but I can’t make out the words above the din of the machine.

I turn around to see who is speaking to me. It is the one Pakistani man I work with, an uber-sweet coworker who likes to make halwa to bring to work, which he then guilts me in to eating—not the first portion, mind you; that goes to our other, “grown-up” coworkers. Oh, no—he comes by towards the end of mithai-madness and always authoritatively says, as he spoons at least three servings on to a paper plate he has helpfully brought with him, “I make you halwa. Eat.”

When I protest meekly, saying, “It’s too much!”, because I don’t want to waste food, he gives me the exact same look I get at home, from my Mom at the end of dinner.

“It’s so little. Why you make me put back in dish? If dish is empty, I can wash. Finish it. Be helpful. So I can wash. I not have all day.”

So, much in the same endearing, parental way he force-feeds me food which my tummy has no room for, he often comes by to “check on” me, the youngest brown member of the team (nine desis work here, total). To see, as he inimitably pronounces it, “how you arrrr DEW-wing!” When I moved away from my desk to facilitate vacuuming, he saw an opportunity and approached.

“Hallo En-ah!”

“Hi…Mm-…hi” I stammered, just barely resisting the urge to call him Uncle. I can’t bring myself to call him by his first name, which is Mohammad, so I just…well, call him nothing. Who cares if it’s a work environment? The man guilts and keeps tabs on me. Being on a first-name basis ain’t happenin’.

“How is your Mum? She in Kelly-for-nya? Or she visit home, maybe?”

I have always loved that: home. My heart immediately softens. No matter how many decades my late father lived in this country (three, if we’re counting), despite the American flag planted dramatically in our front yard, when he wasn’t communicating mindfully, he always said that about Kerala, too. Home.

“No, she is in California. She is well, thank you for asking.” Continue reading