Love (don’t shoot) thy neighbor (updated)

Meet Joseph Cho, all Asian-American boy. Cho went to Yale undergrad, enlisted in the Army after 9/11, served 3 years and was given a honorable discharge [Link]. Now 31, Joe Cho is a law student at Penn. Thus far he sounds like the kind of good Asian kid that even the most xenophobic auntie and uncle would love to have over for tea. “He’s a good influence,” they might say.

However, earlier this month something went … wonky. Cho had a beef with some neighbors. That’s normal — I don’t like my next door neighbor either, he plays his shoot ’em up video games late at night and disturbs my sleep. Usual apartment building stuff.

Cho’s beef, however, was a bit different from mine. He believed his neighbors, two desi men, were actually terrorists and decided to do something about it.

Police said Cho,… suspected the neighbors – two Indian men studying biomedical engineering at Drexel University – of being spies. On Wednesday afternoon, he sought to confront them. When no one answered his knock on their door, he shot the lock off with his Glock pistol, walked inside, and eventually left. [Link]

Gulp! His lawyer says his client was off his rocker:

His lawyer, Peter Bowers, said the attack on the men he believed were terrorists … “appears to have been a mental health or emotional issue…” Cho, meanwhile, was described as an “outstanding young man,” Bowers said. “It’s really an unfortunate incident…” [Link]

You know, the words tourism and terrorism sound so much alike, it’s an easy mistake to make. It could happen to anybody, really.

The university provost said:

“the student has been temporarily suspended from the law school. The matter will be reported to the Law School’s Committee on Student Conduct and Responsibility for its consideration…” [Link]

I suppose that’s a good first step. I wonder what you have to do to get kicked out of law school.

Me? I wonder if he’s been watching too much 24.

Update 1: See comment #20 by somebody who knows him

Update 2: It was racial, at least in part:

Walker said the Penn student, a Korean American, accosted the Drexel students yesterday morning as all were leaving the building, … When the Drexel students told the Penn student that they planned to return to India after their studies, the Penn student accused them of being spies, Walker said. [Link]

One of the students was actually in the apartment at the time:

… around noon, the Penn student “decided to engage in more conversation” and banged on the Drexel students’ door, Walker said. When he got no answer, he got his 9mm Glock handgun and emptied it into the lock, police said. Then he stepped inside, looked around, and left the building. Unbeknownst to the assailant, one of the Drexel students was cringing in his bedroom about 25 feet from the door. [Link]

Another neighbor called 911, and officers found the 22-year-old Drexel student still cowering inside the apartment, said police. [Link]

Somebody on a bulletin board who claims to be a fellow law student said:

I think this guy has been involved in at least one other racially charged incident at the law school recently. [Link]

And the final indignity — the mere mention of terrorism has meant that police anti-terrorism officers have been notified:

Police said … that investigators will notify police terrorism officials about the reason behind the shooting. [Link]

Continue reading

Maximum absorbancy

Quite predictably, my inbox was blowing up this morning and the news of a bizarre love triangle at the workplace was the only thing people wanted to talk about. It was the first item at our weekly office meet-up (under the heading “safety”). At my workplace safety always comes first. So THIS is what they mean by a “water cooler topic”:

This is the story everyone’s talking about at the water cooler today. (Fortunately, I sit right next to the water cooler.) NASA astronaut Lisa Marie Nowak has been charged with attempted murder of another astronaut, who was in a astronaut love triangle with another astronaut. She also had on diapers so she wouldn’t have to stop on the drive. Okay, so attempted murder and kidnapping aren’t cool, but if they have to happen, I’m pretty happy that astronauts are involved. [Link]

First of all, if I was a rockstar I would totally name my band “astronaut love triangle.” It’s so edgy. If you click on my first link it will lead you to the arrest report which provides details about the steel mallet, rubber tubing, knife, pepper spray, large trash bags, wigs, and trench coat involved. I will spare you re-hashing the details that have been replayed on the news all day. This far into my post I am SURE you are all wondering “where is the desi angle?” Stay with me a moment.

Earlier this week Indian American astronaut Sunita Williams (see previous posts 1,2,3) set the spacewalking record for a woman. This is an amazing achievement that took many long hours of hard work in a dangerous environment!:

U.S. astronaut Sunita Williams has now spent more time in space [outside of a vehicle] than any other woman, setting the record on Sunday.

She and a crew mate upgraded the international space station’s cooling system.

Williams broke the previous female spacewalking record of more than 21 hours when she and Michael Lopez-Alegria completed the second of what could be a precedent-setting three spacewalks in nine days. The new record is 22 hours and 27 minutes. [Link]

So what do these two seemingly unrelated news stories have in common besides the fact that they both involve astronauts? Three words: Maximum Absorption Garment (MAG). Continue reading

Love in the time of Leprosy

vows.jpg

I hate the New York Times Vows Section. I hate how the couple is always young (or young-at-heart!), how the bride is always so quirky and brainy, how the guy is so creative in his wooing of her, how the article name drops schools, professions, connections, and associations as if the NYTimes were a paid fluffer for social ranking porn. And that’s before we meet the parents.

So I wouldn’t have stumbled across this gem if Gawker.com hadn’t brought it to my attention. At first glance, Frances Wu and Rommel Nobay appear to fit the profile:

Mr. Nobay, whose first language is Swahili…was named for a military leader, in his case Field Marshal Erwin Rommel. Mr. Nobay was born in New York, but spent most of his youth in Kenya, his parentsÂ’ birthplace, and also in Goa in India, where their ancestors originated. Eventually his family settled in the United States, where he learned English, graduated from Princeton and received a masterÂ’s in public health from Yale.

Ms. Wu is a Virginia-born Chinese-Japanese American, who speaks more Japanese than Chinese…Ms. Wu remembers feeling “immediately understood,” and she had little trouble grasping his sense of dual kinship with Goa and Africa.

Cosmopolitan, eccentric background, well-traveled, Ivied, quirky, polished professionals, romantic discovery of soul mate…All good, right? But wait!

As their dating progressed, Ms. Wu researched Mr. Nobay online and learned that in 1998 he sued Princeton, unsuccessfully, for defamation after the university notified medical schools he had applied to that his applications contained misrepresentations and altered his academic record.

What the hoo-ha? Rommel, is this true? I couldn’t believe that the brother would let browns down, so I decided to investigate further… by reading on. According to the AP in 1998 (also via Gawker):

The graduate, Rommel Nobay, had admitted he told numerous lies and half-truths in applying to Princeton and later to medical school. He claimed that he was part black and a National Merit Scholar and that a family of lepers had donated half their beggings to support his dream. … Nobay, 30, a computer science teacher from New Haven, admitted that he was not, in fact, a Merit Scholar and that a family of lepers had not helped send him to school. He also acknowledged that he doesn’t know whether he has any black blood.

Stand tall my friend Rommel. Stand proud. Military history (and the Sepia Mutiny)on this day salutes you. For within the hallowed halls of academia, and the gloried annals of the Grey Lady, I can think of none besides you who, for however a sweet and fleeting moment, got people to believe that lepers helped fund your schooling.

As for me, I think I just might read this section more often… Continue reading

Who nose the secrets of the stars?

Since we have been talking about California doctors I thought I would share a news item that just came to my attention. Do you knows which desi male is in such high demand in Hollywood for his magic hands? He’s not a yoga instructor or a masseur, instead he’s Dr. Raj Kanodia, surgeon to the stars!

What do Jennifer Aniston, Ashlee Simpson and Cameron Diaz have in common? When Aniston recently underwent rhinoplasty, she turned to Dr. Raj Kanodia, the plastic surgeon behind Simpson’s and Diaz’s new noses. [Link]

Would you trust a bald barber?

Not only is this a major nose job, but (surprisingly) it’s confirmed by Aniston’s own people:

Aniston’s rep confirms the operation. “Jennifer had a procedure done to correct a deviated septum that was incorrectly done over 12 years ago,” [Link]

While the official story is that she hated her original nose job and came to Kanodia for correction, nosy parkers insist that that a broken nose is just balm for a broken heart.

Am I the only one who finds it ironic that all these famous actresses are coming to a desi doctor to get demure little noses? I imagine him doing these operations with an cartoon angel on one shoulder and a cartoon devil on the other. The angel tells him to just do what the client wants, and the devil tells him to go ahead and do what he really wants – to give these women beautiful, majestic desi schnozzes instead. The poor doctor’s hands twitch, caught by conflicting impulses, until he leaves the room crying and his associates finish the surgery instead.

More on Kanodia: Champa And Tulsi Go to Hollywood

Our earlier post on him: Of Course…A Desi Doc on Dr. 90210

Continue reading

No One’s Perfect, not Even Indian Girls (updated)

Listen, my children to your Akka so old,
For she has a story, which today should be told.

Once upon a time, well over a decade ago
Akka received a call from a voice whispering lowÂ…

“Help. Oh my GodÂ…I don’t know what to doÂ…”
“Wait—Gigi? What’s happening to you?”

“Anneka, I can’t take it anymore; I just want to dieÂ…”
“Shhh, stopÂ…you’re a devout Catholic, I know that’s a lie.”

“WhatÂ…no smile? That’s hilarious, G. Laugh.”

But my own laugh faltered and fell back in my chest,
This was no cry for help, this didn’t feel like a test.

“Anneka, I love you, please always remember that,”

“You stupid bitch Geee, stop, take that back!”

“I won’t let you say Good-bye, this isn’t the end,
I refuse to let you take away my best friend.

I know you feel like you are already dead,
I know about the demons in your heart and your head.

But please, don’t do this, it’s a permanent answer
To a temporary—

She sobbed, “This is worse than cancer,”

“At least then people would feel sorry for—”
“Screw them, and if they judge youÂ…well, fuck them more.
I know; they and your past are impossible to ignoreÂ…


But I also know that I’ve never met anyone with a purer heart,
That you are spun from light and goodness, unlike this tart.

Gigi, where are you, I’m already in my car
Damnit, this is Davis, you can’t be that farÂ…”

“No, please, don’t. I’ve been enough of a burden to you—”

“Gee, I swear to God, I’m going to find you and slap you.”

“Anneka, please don’t hate me for what I’m about to do,
Promise me you’ll forgive me, I’m so sorryÂ…I love you.”


Click.

“GIGI!” I screamed in to an ominously silent phone,
yanking the german car she loved over to the shoulder, alone.

Redial, redial, redial, at least twenty times
Tachycardiac beats and my breath form rhymes. Continue reading

Girlfriends, Start Your Engines

To counterbalance my earlier post, I decided to blog about something more fluffy today. Reader Pauravi emailed this link to the bunker with the following message:

So finally, there is a calendar us South Asian women can feast our eyes on :). Enough of the gawking at scantily clad women, check this out!

I was swamped at work on Friday so I had one of the monkeys take a look to give me his expert opinion:

The calendar is SO worth a looksie…I went through all 50 men and honestly I don’t have any drool left yet.

So what exactly is this calendar, you ask? Asiana Magazine — a UK lifestyle and bridal magazine for Asian women — has a feature on the “ultimate 50 single Asian men in Britain.” Each man’s photo comes complete with an interview and biodata such as age, profession, car that he drives, and salary range. (Am I the only one who finds the last two kind of tacky?)

I’m all for the objectification of beautiful brown men (such as this one, this one, and this one). But in this publication, I found the interviews much more entertaining than the photos. Take, for example, the priceless interview with Rehan Bhatt:

Age: 28 Drives: Lotus & BMW Biggest turn-off: Women that judge a man by the car he drives. Your ex would describe you asÂ… The greatest real dream she ever had. She actually said that! Pulling outfit? IÂ’m not that vain but jeans, crisp shirt and my pink g-string never fails! Most outrageous thing youÂ’ve ever done: I got randomly attacked once so I chinned the guy, only the guy turned out to be a butch lesbian.

Translation: I want a woman to like me for me. But in case any of you are wondering, I drive a BMW. I’ve also beaten up a woman. Call me. Continue reading

55Friday: The “Number 1” Edition

The ping came from the right-most tab of my browser; soon, the unavoidable flashing would commence, alerting me to someone’s attempt to chat from within GMail. I avoid AIM like it’s meat, I don’t even have Yahoo or MSN screen names, but Google…ah, you still own a little bit of my heart. Just who was interrupting my intense reverie? It was one of you. 332000746_dc20193e2a_m.jpg

“Shawty… today is Friday.”

“?”

55s

“ah…watching Ronin. maybe it will inspire me…”

“Ronin!”

I hope it’s not a side effect of turning 32 (as my relatives in Kerala loved to point out– an unmarried woman in her 30s is a CRAZY woman), but I have had blogger’s block sum’n fierce for the past week, which is why I’ve been all Mathangi on your kundis. Unfortunately, Ronin didn’t provoke anything besides salivation over the prowess displayed by a certain M-propelled E34.

But, I miss you and I miss this exactly-55-words-thing we do, so I left “Freude am Fahren” behind and turned to what I should have in the first place for some inspiration– music. I grabbed my ancient shuffle and resolved to use whatever song played first as motivation. Et voila, Goldfrapp. It is an apposite choice and not just a random one; this is the first nanofiction orgy of 2007 and I concur with Alison when she sings, “You’re my favourite moment, you’re my Saturday”. I already told you that you were.

This Friday, collect 55 words and arrange them in to the shortest of stories; create nanofiction about your “firsts”, about digits, about whatever your number one might be. Leave your first-rate short-short in the comments below (or let us know where we should go, in order to find it). Happy new year, mutineers…here’s to much fiction and fun with my number ones in ’07. Continue reading

A loud boom from the bathroom

I was in the middle of a meeting at work this morning when a co-worker (a meteorite expert no less) forwarded me an article about the strange goings-on in a New Jersey bathroom. I knew that I would have to write a post about it before going to bed:

A hole in the roof, a bathroom full of debris and a strange, silvery rock near the toilet — the Nageswaran family soon realized they needed an astronomer, not a contractor, to fully explain what damaged their house.

Scientists determined it was a meteorite that crashed through the roof of their central New Jersey home more than a week ago.

While extraterrestrial rocks fall to the Earth with some regularity, it is rare for them to strike homes.

“The fact that something from outer space hit our house … it’s overwhelming,” said Shankari Nageswaran in an exclusive interview with The Associated Press. [Link]

Apparently the grandma heard sounds in the bathroom that didn’t sound like those she typically associated with her son:

On the night of Jan. 2, Nageswaran walked into his bathroom and spotted a hole in the ceiling and noticed small chunks of drywall and insulation littering the room.

His mother, who has been staying with the family, recalled that she had heard a loud boom and thought it was a post-New Year’s fireworks explosion. But that didn’t explain the mess in the bathroom. [Link]
Continue reading

As American As Amit, Aasif, or Barack

Like many other browns I know, my name seems to bring out the worst in other people. When I taught elementary school in Brooklyn, an older colleague insisted on calling me “Ms. R.” “I don’t mean to offend,” he explained, “but if I try saying your last name, I know I’ll just sound silly.” Well, now you just sound like an idiot, I thought. A similar encounter occurred during my first week of graduate school, when the Dean approached me and introduced herself. I told her my name, and she asked, “Why couldn’t your parents just name you Molly or Jane?” Yes, I know, Naina Ramajayan…so difficult to pronounce, that even I just call myself ‘The N.’ It’s all pretty ironic, actually; considering that I’m a southie Hindu, my name is about as simple as it gets.

Thankfully, the baggage that comes with my name is fairly harmless, and I’m able to laugh it off. No one has ever looked at my name and suggested that I be targeted for homeland security. Some of my friends from college, however, haven’t been as lucky. When my friend Rahul Shah introduced himself to his co-worker a while ago, she responded, “Like, as in, the Shah of Iran, that Holocaust denier?” (Oh yes, she did.) Another friend felt pressured to start using his middle name at work because his boss joked that his first name, Amit, sounded like ‘Ahmed.’ And so what if does? “Dude,” he explained, “Three of the 9-11 hijackers were named Ahmed.” Amit, Ahmed, Shah, Iran…looks like the code is finally getting cracked.

I used to think these issues concerning names were a burden only for us brown people. But then I learned that Senator Barack Obama of Illinois is in a similar predicament. CNN did a nice story a few weeks ago (you can view the clip here) on the “controversy” surrounding the Senator’s name. Since Obama rhymes with Osama, Barack rhymes with Iraq (and Chirac), and Hussein is his middle name, he’s evidently a newly-discovered threat to the United States. After watching that clip, I felt guilty for thinking my buddy Amit was just being paranoid of his boss all these years. In fact, now I’m even more paranoid than I ever was before. Of rampant stupidity, that is. Continue reading

Illegal traffik

It’s a story that I am sure will find it’s way to Bollywood soon. Two brown brothas, one desi and one latino, tied together by a common passion, risked everything to stick it to the MAN and got caught. Tipster RP alerted us to the story of “Kartik Patel and Gabriel Murillo [who] pleaded not guilty to felony charges Monday” in Los Angeles. Los Angeles is not going to be a fun place to drive… officials took the threat seriously

Patel and Murillo were members of a shadowy brotherhood, an organization I’ll bet you’ve never even heard of, called the “Engineers and Architects Association, ” a city union devoted to the dark arts of engineering and architecture. By going on strike, the union grabbed the city of Los Angeles by the golis. They warned:

“Los Angeles is not going to be a fun place to drive.” City officials took the threat seriously. [Link]

You bet your rims they took the threat seriously! The only things that Angelenos fear more are disruptions to its cocaine and its silicone supply.

These two men were the elite of their organization, the special ops as it were:

one a renowned traffic engineer profiled in the national media, [and] the other a computer whiz who helped build the system. [Link]

They executed their daring plan with steely nerves. This scene will need to be scored delicately, with a whole song written for it by A.R. Rehman:

Fearful that the strikers could wreak havoc on the surface street system, … [the MAN] temporarily blocked all engineers from access to the computer that controls traffic signals.

But officials now allege that two engineers, Kartik Patel and Gabriel Murillo, figured out how to hack in anyway. With a few clicks on a laptop computer, the pair … allegedly tied up traffic at four intersections for several days. [Link]

“Tied traffic up”?? No, dear readers, these two did far far more than that. They used an ancient technique known to brown people in India and Mexico to bring the MAN to his knees. They didn’t merely stop traffic at a few lights. No, they were far more subtle than that. Using their ancient cultural wisdom, they selected the most vulnerable locations in the city, its vital nerve clusters, and hit them with a strike that didn’t paralyze … it just slooooooowed everything down. Now traffic was moving like Bombay or Mexico city!

Continue reading