55Friday: The “How Soon is Now” Edition

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I am glad that this song is now so old, I can cop to liking it without wincing from the “trendiness” of it all. You see little minnows, in 1988– which is when ancient me commenced high school –if someone random noticed a Smiths bumper sticker on a Spanish text book (ahem), it wasn’t surprising if they exclaimed, “OMG, I LOVE that ‘sun and air’ song, you know?” Mmm, yeah. I know.

Like all bands, The Smiths had one song which everybody knew; I always gnashed my teeth at the fact that it had to be this one. After all, I needed this one, damnit. But when you’re 13 and a painfully shy freshman in high school, all you’ve got is your indie/goth cred. So I’d just nod and be all like, “Yeah.” Then they’d leave me alone, lest they be seen with the weird kid and have their ranking on our school’s popularity index decline dramatically.

It always makes top-whatever lists (lyrics, songs, guitar tracks) but I think the real significance of How Soon is Now lies in its status as an anthem for the alienated. Beyond that, HSiN has the greatest intro ever, as far as I’m concerned. Goddess bless Johnny Marr, for his oscillating wildly. But I digress. Then again, that’s just what I do, innit?

Today is Friday and last week, we didn’t have a nanofiction orgy. I wanted to make sure that we got right back on that uber-short story riding horse, lest we all forget how delightful it is to zip up an entire tale in a mere 55 words. Our theme is “shyness”, but as always, you are free to digress…it’s only fair, if I get to do it…

I know I’ve built this flash fiction tradition around the songs that saved my life, but this one is extraordinarily special; it’s akin to breaking out the big guns, to battle the forces of evil. I woke up to some awful news in the wee hours of this morning, so I think it’s okay to dust off the greatest cannon in my canon. Leave your brilliance in the comments below; it’ll get my mind off of casualties, senseless violence and collateral damage, thanks. Continue reading

Spiderman 3, Officially Released in Bhojpuri

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Ravi Kishan, Voice of Spidey

Though Hollywood films currently only take a modest slice of the Indian film market, Hollywood studios are working harder than ever to “colonize” Indian film audiences. The latest strategy is to move past Hindi dubbing — and release films dubbed in regional languages as well as Hindi. This is the fruition of a long process of evolution, beginning with the “unofficial” dubs back in the day. Then, as more Hollywood films were being released in India, blockbuster films started getting officially dubbed — the peak of which might have been last year’s hugely successful Hindi version of Night at the Museum (Museum Ke Andar Phans Gaya Sikander, which is actually much catchier than the non-rhyming western title). And the Hindi release of The Incredibles also made waves a couple of years ago, when it was announced that the “dad” character’s voice was going to be dubbed by Shah Rukh Khan. Now, Spiderman 3 is getting the official dubbing treatment — in Bhojpuri. The Bhojpuri film industry is the fastest growing segment of India’s different, language-based film markets. Last year, 76 Bhojpuri films were released, which is still less than other languages (245 Telugu films; 225 Hindi films), but with a captive audience of 100 million+ Bhojpuri speakers in UP and Bihar, the fan base is vast. Here Spidey’s voice is being dubbed by Ravi Kishan (pictured right), a “Bhojywood” superstar responsible for hits like Panditji Batayie Mera Byah Kab Hoi. The budget for the dubbing alone was $250,000 (Rs. 1 Crore), which is about three times the entire budget for a regular Bhojpuri film, and Ravi Kishan says he spent 12 days doing it (on his normal films, he normally does all vocal dubbing in a single day). Kishan seems to have a sense of humor about his dubbing work:
“No, this isn’t a nightmare. I’m dubbing for ‘Spiderman’ in Bhojpuri.”

The last such film from Hollywood to be dubbed in India by a star was “The Incredibles” in which Shah Rukh Khan gave voice to the main character.

“Well they don’t call me the Shah Rukh of Bhojpuri cinema for nothing. I’m doing this because I wanted my Bhojpuri fans to enjoy ‘Spiderman’ in the voice that they love – mine!

“Wait till they hear me saying ‘Hum makad manav hain, ud kar aayab aur tohar tetuwa dabaa deb’
(I’m Spiderman, I’ll fly to you and throttle you).” (link)
Well, at least he’s not shy about it. Continue reading

“Obhangra”: In pursuit of the desi voter

I’d been waiting for this Evite from SAFO-DC for over a month now because I’d been tipped off that it was coming:

Host: South Asians for Obama (SAFO)
Location: Karma, 1919 Pennsylvania Ave NW, Washington, DC
When: Friday, May 18, 8:30pm
Phone: 202.331.5800

South Asians for Obama (SAFO) would like to invite you to our first official OBHANGRA!!

As you may have guessed, Obhangra is a clever combination of Obama and Bhangra! Bhangra fever has taken over the country and we want to give you an opportunity to learn and dance at Obhangra! So whether you support Senator Obama or are still undecided, we hope you will join us and many others to learn some Bhangra moves and dance the night away!

I must say that I am REALLY worried about the appropriation of bhangra for use in overtly partisan politics. In the same manner that K-street lobbyists are corrupting our political process by lavishing money on politicians, I believe that soon our desi customs and food will be used as a cheap tool to battle for the attention (and money) of the pivotal South Asian vote. Let me just give you all a glimpse of the future. It is scary:

Jalebis for Giuliani: A fundraiser organized by “Law-and-Order” browns.

Henna for Hillary: A fundraiser organized by feminist browns.

Raas for Romney: A fundraiser organized by Gujarati Mormons.

Bindis for Biden: A fundraiser organized by 7-11 and Dunkin Donut employees.

Katha for Kucinich: A fundraiser organized by religious browns who want a “Department of Peace.”

Masala for McCain: A fundraiser organized by Independent (maverick) browns who love good curry.

PLEASE, let’s not participate in any attempts to use our culture, traditions, or food to raise money for politicians.

Hmmmm. I wonder if there will be any cute, politically active, single women at the Obhangra. Balle Balle.

<a href="http://sepiamutiny.com/blog/2007/05/03/obhangra_in_pur/#more-4407" class="more-link">Continue reading <span class="meta-nav">&rarr;</span></a>

Paging Mango Pickle…I Need Mango Pickle.

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[NB: Men, small children and intellectuals- pretend to look elsewhere and feign a lack of interest, even though I know you’re going to read every esoteric word.]

Well-maintained humans, I have a problem.

I hate my tweezers.

I have every right to, they came in one of those awful pre-filled manicure kits that no one deserves to receive for Chrismukkah, no matter how evil they’ve been. I have been able to “get by” because I only used them once in a while. That’s why I never really noticed how worthless they are. How is this possible, you wonder incredulously? I have a shameful secret which is so hideous, none dare to believe it once it is revealed.

I have no eyebrows.

No, I didn’t over-tweeze like we all did when we were eleven. I didn’t lose them in an unfortunate smelting accident, nor did I singe them off while learning how to use that stove thingy with the…fire…and stuff. Uh-huh, I was born with no eyebrows, courtesy of my dear Father’s genetics, though considering everything else he gave me, I guess I’d be an ungrateful little shit if I dwell on this for too long.

My father had sparse eyebrows but he also started to grey at 30, so by the time I could even notice his brows, he was in his early 40s. Bare as they were, white hair on dark brown skin is ultra-obvious, so he wasn’t affected by his browlessness. I on the other hand, have had my chin grabbed and my face ruthlessly examined by Auntie after Auntie, who if I’m lucky, muttered something about how I once looked a bit like Hema Malini before I got all black and if I’m REALLY lucky…well, they declare something about how a face is useless unless the eyes are beautiful and the eyes, they are the worthless as the Manolo would say, without the brows. “Sho! Kashtam. No wonder you aren’t married.”

So I haven’t had to use tweezers all that much and whenever I did, I’d just borrow my Mom’s because hers worked. But now…I don’t know if mine have gone dull or if my hand-eye coordination is poo; they don’t grip a thing. I just can’t see the point of getting my brows “done”, not when they barely grow in the first place. In the picture you see above, which was taken during the only trip to Devon Avenue I’ve ever made, I got threaded.

Why? I was caught up in the brownosity of it all; Devon Avenue seemed way more desi than University Avenue, though it wasn’t quite Jackson Heights. After buying a new sari and bangles, eating fantastic chaat and drinking far too much good stuff, I wanted to experience the only part of the street I hadn’t thus far– the beauty parlors. Much like the first time my awe-stricken kundi trudged through Queens, I was amazed at the fact that there were salons that were staffed with and served just desis; as a righteous and deprived thenga, I found such a concept inconceivable.

So, in I went and when I requested getting my brows threaded, the woman pointedly asked, “Why?”. “Please,” I implored “I have to go to an engagement in two hours!” and she shrugged. After all, an idiot and her rupees are soon threaded. And a few seconds after this shot was taken, she stood back and announced, “done!”

I had felt a little something and noticed no discernable difference, but I was tickled anyway. Threaded! I got threaded! I finally, fleetingly felt at one with the South Asian “experience”.

So, unless it’s an adventure in beauty like that was, I’m not getting my brows done and that is why I need new tweezers. Now quit holding out on me– what do YOU use? Share your wisdom, so that other clueless fur balls will find it when they google this embarrassing topic in the years to come. 😉 Continue reading

Should DC Meetup on May 19th or 20th?

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…because one date or the other, it’s going to happen. In solidarity with the twangier mutineers who are going to paint the dirty dirty all Sepia and whatnot, DC will be hosting its sixth meetup on the very same weekend. If you missed the last one, you are lucky because that means you didn’t laugh so hard that you wet your pants a little and really, who wants to smell like soo-soo? That’s a trick question; you TOTALLY do. I’m practicing my Sunny Leone-impersonation right now, just so I can treat everyone, new and old, brown and white, pre-pubescent and post-pubescent to the goodness of PORN.

You have the choice of Saturday, May 19th or Sunday, May 20th. If it’s the former, we’ll probably do thayir sadham and sambar vada (and MADRAS COFFEE!) at Amma’s; if it’s the latter, brunch at Heritage sounds nice enough to do thrice. Unfortunately, Heritage India only does brunch on Sunday or we’d be contemplating just one venue and two dates.

I’m open to other suggestions beyond Amma, but if you hate on that venerable font of Malayalee goodness, when I give you your inappropriate hug at the meetup, I’ll cut you. So be nice. And just so you know– I stick with these two places not because of the food, but because they are the most indulgent of rowdy-kundi’d mutineers and they have always treated us so graciously.

You may not realize it when you’re sitting there, giddy from giggling and happily making new friends, but doing so would be much more challenging and far less fabulous if we were constantly getting interrupted or badgered to shut up or, well, leave. After hosting nearly a dozen of these in three different cities, I can truly appreciate how special such a chill attitude towards us is (ahem…La Lanterna in NYC) and I want all of you to stuff your pretty faces and be worry-free…that’s how these six-hour marathon conversations work best.

So, vote for your preference in the comments below. 12:30 pm on either May 19th or May 20th (or much later on a Saturday), what do you-all say? Continue reading

Mango Nationalism

This mango business is no joke! Despite my best efforts and those of my fellow mutineer Ennis to steer the whole mango conversation in absurd and salacious directions, it seems that out among the high and mighty, the triumphal return of the Indian mango to the American market is proving to be a very serious deal. Mango Diplomacy is being discussed at the White House, courtesy of none other than

Raghubir Goyal of the India Globe held up a basket wrapped in colored cellophane. “Mangoes from India arrived, and here is a basket for President Bush,” the reporter offered. “My question is: What message does mangoes bring, as far as India-U.S. relations are concerned?”

In return Snow had only this:

For one of the few times during the briefing, Snow smiled. “I don’t know. It is my first mango-related inquiry,” he admitted.

Undaunted by this callous official indifference, however, Mango Nationalism is, um, ripening among proud Indians and Indo-Americans here, if submissions from Fareed Zakaria, David Davidar, and Shashi Tharoor to SAJAforum are any indication. Apparently Tharoor thinks that American ignorance of true mangoes, while surely just as grave as our ignorance of cricket, is a more redeemable condition:

After years of penury, where what passed for mangoes in American supermarkets was a travesty of the term, we at last have the real thing! I used to believe that true mango lovers could sue American groceries for false advertising — the tasteless, fibrous, tart and flavor-challenged fruit they sold did not deserve the name of mango. Now we should urge every American we know to try a real Indian mango. They’ll never think of mangoes the same way again.

Full quotes from all three eminences plus a comment thread here. Mango pride is sweeping across the land. Will there be a backlash? Continue reading

Do you know the importance of a skypager?

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I know I should probably save this for either Sunday or Monday, when you are all hung over, exhausted, grumpy or all of the above, but I am in a playful mood and can’t resist.

According to an Anonymous Tipster on our news tab, picture number four in Fortune magazine‘s online exhibit of photographs which starred in an offline exhibit in Manhattan entitled, “Fortune Celebrates India” is “awesome”. I wholeheartedly concur with that sentiment; I couldn’t stop smiling after seeing the image to the left. What a fantastic capture!

These pictures got some well-deserved (especially in this case) attention in preparation for the 10th Fortune Global Forum, which will be held in New Delhi later this fall. But none of this matters, because you are all well aware of why I have posted this picture. Wot? You have no idea? Of course you do! That’s right ladkas and ladkis…it’s time to play the “caption” game.

While the two desis in this photo aren’t as glamorous as Karan Johar and Preity Zinta, the stars of our last episode, I find them infinitely more interesting. 🙂

How ’bout you? Leave your impressions of what’s going on in the comments below. If you’d rather see the rest of the photographs in the exhibit– I believe there are almost two dozen– click here. And if you want to suggest pictures for future editions of the caption game, then click here. And if you want further relief from ennui, deadlines or constipation…well, I have nothing for you to click (thanggawd!). Continue reading

Have you seen my enriched uranium anywhere?

According to the BBC [thanks, Sena X], the following ad is running in several major Urdu-language newspapers in Pakistan:

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BBC translates as follows:

The adverts urged members of the public to inform officials if they found any “lost or stolen” radioactive material. They were published in major Urdu-language newspapers in Pakistan.

A spokesman for the nuclear authority said that there was a “very remote chance” that nuclear materials imported 40-50 years ago were unaccounted for. (link)

That’s right — they don’t even know whether the material described in the advertisements is actually even missing. Which should make us even more confident that they know what they’re doing, right?

But officials say they need to heighten public awareness of nuclear issues to ensure that decades-old nuclear material is fully accounted for.

“This could have been before the creation of Pakistan, and may relate to nuclear material that could not be taken under our charge,” Zaheer Ayub Baig, information services director of Pakistan’s Nuclear Regulatory Authority, said in a letter to the BBC.

Mr Baig said that the adverts were merely a public awareness campaign to make people aware of the dangers of radiation from material that might have been used in hospitals and industrial plants.

He said the advertising campaign was being expanded.

“There is nothing to worry about,” Mr Baig said. (link)

Thank you, Mr. Baig. I feel very reassured that you don’t know about an unspecified quantity of radioactive material that might have potentially gone missing at an unknown date, and which might now be in unknown hands — or even, for that matter, mixed into the cup of chai some guy is drinking at this moment in Lahore.

Thank you very much, indeed. Continue reading

Miracle of science or antiseptic travesty?

Growing up, I never understood why some people found it necessary to use a bagel guillotine. It’s easy enough to cut a bagel with a sharp knife, and it avoids squishing the bagel the way a slicer does. Part of my rejection of the tool is probably New York Jewish snobbishness (coupled with fear that if I ever embraced such a shanda, I’d be required to return my virtual circumcision and fountain pen). But it also comes from a sense that using such tools makes the whole process of bagel eating less sensual and more antiseptic.

As such, I’m agnostic about the Oxo mango slicer until I actually get a chance to try one out for myself. On the one hand, if you watch the video below, you’ll see that it makes very quick work of a mango, turning it into two halves and the seed in no time flat. And honestly, I’m better at and more interested in mango eating than mango cutting.

On the other, I wonder if the tool exists because of the big deal that non-desis make about how messy mango eating is. I remember once somebody on the radio solemnly intoned “mangos should only be eaten naked and in the ocean.” My mother scoffed and replied “White people don’t know how to eat mangos, otherwise they wouldn’t make such a mess.” Sometimes I lose the fruit under all of the “exotic” subtext going on and I don’t know how much of this machine’s appeal lies in this myth of the messy, untamable mango.

Will any of you admit to having used a tool to (ahem) split the mango? If so, did it increase or decrease your pleasure?

Related Posts: Mmmmmmmangoes!, Flesh for Fantasy

Continue reading

Flesh for Fantasy

mangonyt.jpgWhat “luscious, incomparable mangoes” you have! Now people can “go mad for the beautiful, supple flesh,” which we have “denied [ourselves] too long.” The subtext of articles and quotes from restaurateurs and political dignitaries about the re-legalization of U.S. imports of Indian mangoes is positively… fruity.

On less sweet a note, it seems that between production and transportation costs and the stranglehold exercised by Mexican mangoes (how dare they!) on U.S. distribution channels, Alphonsos may cost up to 10 times more than the plebeian mangoes currently available at your local yuppie food mart, tropical store or bodega. The pleasure of the Indian mango, it seems, shall be known by elite mouths only. Continue reading