Boriqua in the Ghar

175452__deevani_l.jpg

Last week, the Daily News (thanks Dave) had a fascinating article about Deevani, the Hindi singer on the Daddy Yankee hit “Mirame”. Details about this singer were always shrouded in mystery, at least until she granted her first interview and cleared up the fact that Deevani (née Adalgisa Inés Rooney) was actually not Indian or even South Asian at all, but a Puerto Rico raised Dominican who fell in love with her first husband’s Bengali language and culture.

Normally I’d want to snark all over something like this. But I can’t. The woman is just too impressive. I think she’s single now, so let me pass on her biodata:

  • She is a 31-year-old mother of 3 kids
  • She has an MBA in finance
  • She is the CEO of her brother’s (Luny, of superproducing duo Luny Tunes) company Mas Flow
  • She taught herself eight languages – Chinese, Japanese, Bengali, Hindi, Urdu, Gujarati, Punjabi and Arabic. So with her native Spanish, and English, that makes ten.
  • In an industry crammed with female “divas” and all the cliches that the term engenders, she is refreshingly comfortable presenting a low-key, domestic image:
    “I’ve just written this song for [new artist] Nicolle,” she says, passing her iPod across the table. “The melody came to me when I was dusting my house.”

Ughhhrrr…on most mornings, I’m lucky if I can find a pair of black tights without holes, and leave the house with my glasses still on my face. And she records hit songs while she’s dusting. F*ck! Maybe I need to step it up a little…

Rooney also appears to be a driving force behind the electrifying (should be if “Mirame” was just a teaser) Bhangra-Reggaeton fusion known as Bhangraton: Continue reading

“Herewith, Some Names To Learn”

I don’t need to tell y’all that brown people are taking over the world. Hell, desis been taking over for a minute now. One place where you would have thought this would be apparent is here in New York City, where our people are running things across the board, from academia to media to cinema to art to finance to medicine to law to activism to philanthropy to — oh, yeah, fruit vendors and taxi cab drivers (but we do not speak of these). And yet, there remains a class of benighted New Yorkers who have yet to recognize the ever-browning brownitude in which they bathe.

Who are these poor souls? Why, they’re the readers of the New York Observer: the pink-papered weekly with the highbrow preoccupations and the arch headlines and the Upper West Side noblesse oblige; the original fount of the Candace Bushnell column that begat Sex and the City; the paper that crows to advertisers that it “delivers the top of the market: a well-educated, affluent audience of highly influential consumers.” Indeed, according to the sales kit, median household income among Observer subscribers is $162,500; median net worth is $1,546,200; the average numbers are much higher.

Well, in what must be confirmation that we have finally arrived, this lofty set has been officially advised of our existence as of the current issue of the Observer, which features a series of short profiles penned by Nicholas Boston, under the (highly original!) title “India, Inc.” The reduction to India of a group that actually mixes FOBs (or whatever we’re calling them now), ABDs, 1.5s, and people of Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani and even half-Dutch origin is but one of the various conflations that y’all sensitive types might bridle at but that, let’s face it, shouldn’t really matter all that much given that we all look the same.

Anyway, now that we exist, at least as some kind of highly literate brown blob, we also need a name. What would it be? Desicrats? Macacarati? No! We are… the Bollypolitans! “A Bollypolitan elite is the newest creative class to kick into New York with art, fashion, literature,” the subtitle announces. And in the first sentence we meet our leader:

In 2000, the Indian-American Jhumpa Lahiri won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction with The Interpreter of Maladies, making her the first South Asian—and, at 33, among the youngest of any ethnicity—to be named in that category. She appeared on The Charlie Rose Show, wearing crimson, her hair gelled back into a chignon.

Charlie Rose! Crimson! Chignons! Shit, this desi thing must be for real. Indeed:

Ever since then, twenty- and thirtysomethings of South Asian descent—that would be Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan—have emerged in a very public way on New York’s cultural stage, and we’re not talkin’ Kaavya Viswanathan. Art centers have been chartered, dance ensembles formed, fashion companies founded—and many more books, both fiction and nonfiction, written and published. Herewith, some names to learn.

So, quick: If you had to pick 12 desis-you-need-to-know in the New York “creative class” (and don’t pick Cicatrix or myself, that would be too easy :P), who would you choose? You can compare your results with Mr. Boston’s incredible advanced sociological sampling analysis here. Discuss! Continue reading

Cricket: No Play and Yet, He’s Not Salty

Wot’s this?? Apparently, boycandy Sreesanth will not be part of India’s opening line-up at the World Cup (damn you, Khan, Agarkar and Patel…damn you all!).
My Baby Daddy Sreesanth.jpg

Paceman Shanthakumaran Sreesanth looks likely to miss out on a starting place for the World Cup but said that could be the best thing to happen for him.
…”I like it this way,” he said at a team net practice near Port-of-Spain on Wednesday. “I like to struggle and get something rather than get it easily. I’m sure I will get the opportunity.”[Reuters]

I dig a good chase too, but if my sweet little neyyappam ain’t playin’, suddenly, I am way less inspired to impersonate Mandira Bedi poorly. Many of you might recall that my fling with Cricket commenced with a post which celebrated Sreesanth’s glorious obnoxiousness towards Andre Nel:

After hearing about Mallu hotness Sreesanth (thanks, DTK), I had to visit ye olde YouTube to find out about this right-arm fast-medium-pace bowler, who is a right-handed tailender. Apparently, excessively lippy South African Andre Nel questioned Sreesanth’s heart/courage/skillz after Sreesanth evaded something called a bouncer. Sreesanth responded by hitting Nel for a six and then performing a dance I’d normally associate with an end zone. Oh, that was just brutal to write. I can’t imagine how many men I’ve just annoyed. 😉
I may not know a damned thing about what is arguably the most popular sport in all of South Asia, but I know the art of trash talk well and if anything could get me to fall in love with this very Brown game, it’s the video I’ve posted…[SM, biatches!]

Continue reading

A Note on Inter-Immigrant Solidarity

csket.jpgIn the very interesting New York Times article that Naina discusses below, about relations between African-American and immigrant Muslims in the city, virtually all the immigrant voices are desi and Arab, with scarcely a mention of the city’s growing African Muslim community from countries like Senegal, Guinee, Ivory Coast and Mali. The lack of mention felt a bit odd coming in an article published at the very same time that the city was reeling from a major tragedy that put West African Muslims front and center in local news.

As many of you know there was an accidental fire in a house in the Bronx last Wednesday night that killed ten people, nine of them children, all from an extended family from Mali. Excluding 9/11, it’s the greatest loss of life in such an event in the city since the nightclub fire in 1990 that decimated another immigrant group, the Garifuna. There has been quite an outpouring of support in the city, from public officials, churches, synagogues, and businesses: for instance, the New York Yankees are covering expenses for the five victims who have been buried in the U.S., while Air France was covering repatriation of the five other bodies to Mali.

I’ve spent much of the past few days covering the story for work, and attended community gatherings in the Bronx and Harlem over the weekend and also the funeral on Monday, at the Islamic Cultural Center on East 166th St. in the Bronx that has served as the mourning and family gathering headquarters since the fire. On Monday afternoon several thousand people packed the low, storefront-ish masjid and the streets outside to mourn and pray as the eight hearses pulled up and the ten small, plain wood caskets were unloaded for a brief service. The crowd was mostly West African but there were Latino and African-American people present too, along with a host of public officials. Mali’s foreign minister flew in on Saturday, and ambassadors from other African countries paid respects as well.

It’s a sidebar to the main story, but there was a desi angle here that really struck me. There is a lot of talk in situations like these about the affected community coming together in solidarity, which they very much have — in a moving, almost beautiful way. And there is also much talk about the city uniting, “ordinary New Yorkers” pitching in money and other support, and all of this too is very much true. What can get a little lost in the narrative is how much inter-immigrant solidarity we also witness at times like these. Continue reading

Purple Reign

Shilpa and the Queen.jpg

Shilpa Shetty blah blah racism blah reality show winner blah. 😉

…Shilpa was in London to meet Elizabeth II at Commonweath Day on Monday, celebrated at Westminster Abbey.
The actress delivered a speech on — you guessed it — racism.
Shilpa — reportedly wearing an intricate purple velvet Tarun Tahiliani sherwani — curtseyed before the Queen, and then almost slipped in her high heels. Apparently Prince Philip smilingly told her to be careful about the shoes, averting the fall. [linkypoo]

In other news, yesterday, Pakistan should have stuck with spinners, but decided otherwise. 😉

In other other news, Since I don’t talk cricket walk cricket and laugh cricket, I have no clue what the previous statement involving Pakistan means. I’m just shamelessly flirting with all you cricket-fiends.

Finally, for those of you who might be wondering why on earth I posted this if I was obviously sooo not interested in it, it’s really just because I thought sherwanis were for boys and I wanted to consult my kitchen cabinet. Well? Continue reading

Proof of Life

Over the last three years SM has slowly gained in readership, and other news sources and blogs often link to us. These links are one part of the formula that search engines like Google use to rank pages for relevance. That means that very often when you search for a desi related story, celebrity, etc., you’ll end up here at our humble site. Sometimes the people we write about love that fact! It is free publicity for them from a source whose intelligent (yes you!) readership they $value$. Other times we get celebrities threatening to sue us for embarrassing them (see our FAQ as to how we respond to those emails). I won’t mention which celebrities save one. Indian born fashion designer, Anand Jon.

Almost two years ago our Anna, a fan of ANTM, mentioned him in a blog post. In fact, she quoted from an article over at Nirali Magazine (link is broken) in which former ANTM contestant Julie Ann Titus made some rather disparaging comments about Mr. Jon. Here is a quote by Ms. Titus from Anna’s post:

I respect him as a fashion designer. But he was very, very rude to some of the girls. He seemed so boring to me. I asked him what part of India he was from, and he asked me, what part of India are you from? So I said I’m from Kerala, and he looked at me kind of crazy. He’s Malayalee , too. He asked me if I knew any Malayalam, and I said I only knew the bad words. Then he says, “Shouldn’t you be serving us or something?” [Titus and the other cast members had to serve four of the girls who won that week’s model challenge.] So I walked away, cursing at him in Malayalam. He said, “Oh, so now you know it?” And he smelled bad. The girls looked at me and were like, are all Indian guys like this? And I was like, nope, just this fool right here. Later, my parents told me that they know him through family friends.

Well, it turns out that one of the top Google hits on “Anand Jon” was our site…describing how he smells bad. “Jon,” or someone pretending to be him emailed us about a year ago, begging that Anna’s post be deleted. His mother had seen it and people were unfairly talking smack about his sister as well. Anna would have none of it. If a celebrity can’t take a little bad press then they shouldn’t be celebrities Anna gently (and correctly) explained to me. Always trying to be a good boy however, I told Anand that we would not delete Anna’s post but I would delete some of the especially nasty comments that followed the post, corroborating that he did in fact smell (allegedly). Partly as a joke however, I told him that he had to prove he was the real Anand Jon and not a prankster. “How,” Jon asked. Well, I once saw a movie starring Russell Crowe as an ex-SAS soldier whose new job was to become a hostage/ransom negotiator, and if need be, a hostage rescuer. When a person is kidnapped the first thing you do is to ask the kidnappers for “Proof of Life.” Typically, this is a picture of the victim holding the day’s newspaper. That way you know he/she is still alive. Since I’ve always thought of myself as a bit Russell Crowe-ish (Gladiator not Insider), I asked Jon for very specific “Proof of Life,” before I would delete the nasty comments. See below:

<

table id=rp_picture_table style=”border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-top: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-bottom: 0px; border-collapse: collapse; border-spacing: 0″>

Anand Jon, posing with the day’s news. That is SEPIA MUTINY on his screen.

Now, I promised Jon that I wouldn’t post this picture of him reading his favorite website, and I know I will burn in the fiery pits of Mt. Doom for this. But…we here at SM can confidently say that allegedly smelling bad is no longer the worst of Mr. Jon’s problems. See after the jump.

Continue reading

Phagwah in New York

This last weekend saw the Indo-Guyanese Phagwah/Holi celebration in the neighborhood of Richmond Hills, Queens. It’s a big deal:

The Phagwah parade in Richmond Hill is one of the biggest celebrations in North America. If it’s a warm day, some 25,000 people are expected to join the 2007 parade, according to reports. [Link]

Of course things were a bit different than they were in Guyana. Here you can only get messy in a designated area, not on the street:

Freedom in Guyana means color everywhere. In Queens, powders and dyes are restricted to the park. During the parade, police officers eyed the crowd warily, ready to confiscate bottles and packets of the rule breakers, of whom there were many. [Link]

Even this restricted celebration is a compromise on the city’s part. At one point,

… the city threatened to cancel the parade fearing that someone could introduce anthrax into the Johnson’s Baby Powder (the city did not say why someone capable of producing weaponized anthrax by the bucketful would want to kill a bunch of Guyanese). Richmond Hill community leaders protested, and a compromise was reached: people marching in the parade could douse each other but not the spectators along the route. [Link – note, that’s Preston!]

Using fears of anthrax in baby powder to forbid phagwah is around as reasonable as using fears that terrorists will spike green dye with toxins to forbid St. Paddy’s day. I’m glad somebody was able to talk the NYPD down from that ledge.

Preston has some great photos from the 2004 celebration, including the one below. You can see photos of this year’s celebration at the NYT.

Continue reading

Google Hearts Cricket


Wicked Google-y, originally uploaded by suitablegirl.



…just like most of you do. Me? I heart Google Doodles, those logo variations which Googler Dennis Hwang wittily creates to celebrate holidays or significant events. It takes very little to thrill me. Close your mouth, darling…flies will make a home there…that and it’s not polite to be so shocked. 😉

This doodle wasn’t on the Amreekan search page (desi, please*), oh no. Obviously it was on Google.co.uk as well as Google’s Indian page. Interestingly enough (though I’m sure there will be a hugely obvious reason as to “why” which I will be edified with via comments in, oh, four or five minutes) Google’s pages for Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka were not so festive.

Since I famously and rather foolishly promised to attempt to cover the World Cup, I thought I’d commence this mutinous cricket mania with an easy post; besides, my cricket tutors have all been wayyy too busy to field my frantic and stupid questions. 😉 Continue reading

Pac Picks Manny

Pacman's brown lawyer.JPG

I work with twenty people, eighteen of whom are men; recently, I’ve been privy to outrage and debate regarding the following scandal (when I’m not ignoring boasts regarding bracketology, that is). I didn’t realize that there was a Sepia angle to the Adam “Pacman” Jones controversy until Anantha kindly alerted us to it, earlier today. I’ll get to that, but first, let’s catch up other non-ESPN-addicts with what the hell I’m going on about:

It’s Feb. 19 in Vegas and, two miles from The Strip at a club called Minxx, the three-day party that is the NBA All-Star Weekend is about to end.
With gunfire.
According to witnesses, Adam Bernard “Pacman” Jones sits in a VIP booth with seven acquaintances, six of them women, the other his bodyguard. They’re drinking Dom Perignon champagne and Patron tequila, which goes for $600 a bottle. Pacman watches as Cornell Haynes Jr. — America knows him as the rapper Nelly — and music producer Jermaine Dupri (whose girlfriend is Janet Jackson) “make it rain” dollar bills for several songs. Jones, the Tennessee Titans cornerback who considers himself a major player, wants a piece of their action. Pacman asks an employee to convert $3,400 in larger bills into smaller denominations and approaches the stage. Wide-eyed, almost childlike, he showers fists full of dollars on the dancers.
What happened next, in the context of the law, might not be determined for months, if ever. But when the gunshots ended, a security guard, a former WWF wrestler named Tommy Urbanski, was on the ground with his spinal cord shattered by a bullet. Two others, another bouncer and a female patron, were also shot.

To be clear, Las Vegas police consider Jones a WITNESS, not a person of interest; the trouble-magnet of an athlete claims he’s not the one. The club owner says he made threats and knows the gunman, who has yet to be found. But just in case…

Even though he hasn’t been charged, Jones hired an attorney, Manny Arora, from the same Atlanta-based law firm that defended Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis on charges of murder and aggravated assault in 2000.

The entire ESPN article is a fascinating read and I say that as someone who is almost entirely bored by sports (unless it’s something else fascinating…like cricket). I’m not saying I have any sympathy for Pacman (who got his nick because of the enthusiastic way he housed bottles of milk when he was a wee thing) or the devil for that matter, but after reading a backstory like this:

Misfortune is something that has touched Jones early, and often. His father, Adam, was shot in the back of the head and died when Pacman was 5. His mother, Deborah, spent three years in prison. An uncle died from a knife wound. He’s seen some of his peers die. He was raised chiefly by his grandmother, Christine Jones, and she died of cancer after he graduated from high school.

Continue reading

Cut That Ghee! Cut That Ghee!

pyetonsweet16.jpg

I am not, I repeat not, calling him a ho. Hey, $200,000 to me sounds like a perfectly fair price to make an appearance at a Sweet Sixteen birthday party. Even when you’re already on a $100 million contract with a $34 million guaranteed signing bonus. Yeah, yeah, I know, maybe the dough wasn’t that much, and maybe it all went to charity, or something. But that gets us to the more important question: Who the hell spends that kind of money on their daughter’s 16th birthday party? And if Peyton cost two hundred grand, what was the total bill for the event considering that Cedric the Entertainer and Mallika Sherawat were apparently also in the house?

Either way, the whole thing was lampooned yesterday on both PTI and ATH on ESPN; you can find the video by digging around here. The consensus view was: Tacky. Offer your own thoughts on the matter here, or if you prefer a more down and dirty environment, check out the comment threads at Deadspin (which broke this story) or AOL Sports, where the proportion of terrorist and camel jokes is actually refreshingly low. Continue reading