Barista-gate

A ToI reporter showed up to a small Delhi blogger meetup several days ago under an assumed name and did a Page Six/Page 3-style takedown of our very own TTG:

Most mainstream Indian papers are glorified scandal rags.. the active blogging community in India is a shockingly tiny group… Their preoccupation nevertheless continues to be slamming and analysing a very wide variety of things in an attempt to display their intellectual might… Their favourite pastime remains MSM (blog speak for mainstream media) bashing, often without caring to provide substantiations and taking cover behind free speech platitude…

… the 3rd annual Delhi bloggers meet just proved how big (or small) is the Indian blogosphere. Just four bloggers attended it, counting the host… ”I have booked the entire section of the restaurant,” he added, pointing at the empty sofas reserved for an army of bloggers that he had expected…

The Indian blogosphere has a long way to go before it even comes near to achieving the influence of the American bloggers… We are yet to see the Instapundit of India or an Andrew Sullivan. And this is not lost on them. ”We are the elite bloggers of India,” announced Tarun… [Link]

There’s no law against snark, but the aggrieved organizer says the story is full of inaccuracies:

Barista is not a restaurant. I hadn’t booked the “entire section” of it. And there was ONE sofa, which could hold 2 people, and ONE chair that was empty…

I SAID I WASN’T one of the ELITE bloggers of India, and went on to roll off a list of all the A-list dudes…

Now I know how celebrities must feel when they see their quotes in print. Is anything in the paper the truth? [Link]

Continue reading

Slow Down, Be Careful

pavaam kochu.JPG Once I finally decided to get my license at age 17, I made up for lost time with a vengeance. I had an amazing car and that alone seemed like a mandate to drive as if I were preparing to audition to be a stunt driver in movies like this. My father, who in thirty years of driving NEVER got a ticket or caused an accident, who thought cruise control was for dilettantes with poor muscle control, who regarded driving as one of the most serious responsibilities a person had, was predictably livid by the evidence of my passion for velocity; beyond the interesting wear pattern on my tires and my underwhelming fuel efficiency, the ever perceptive service staff at my dealer let him know that his daughter was certainly enjoying herself.

He was unable to impress upon me how vital it was to slow the fuck down until one day, while making me anxious by inhabiting the front passenger seat, he exhorted me to drive as if he weren’t in the car at all. Like every other teenager, I tended to drive as if I were in the car with a DMV official whenever a parent was with me. “Spare me your bullshit discipline, edi. I know you don’t really drive like this.” Smarting, I sulked for a moment instead of devoting all of my attention to the four-way stop we were atÂ…I had given a cursory look to my right and left and my lead foot was approaching the accelerator, to zip through the auto-free intersection.

I can still barely recall what happens next, and that is astonishing, considering my freakish ability to recount information like what my best friend “Eileen Perfume” was wearing during our Senior-year broadcasting class in high school, when we found out that LA was burning after the Rodney King verdict.

I still hadn’t mastered the art of accelerating without causing people’s heads to snap backwards in to the headrests, so I know the car must have lurched forward, thanks to a lethal combination of my impatience and an uber-responsive engine.

My father, who had a voice so powerful he never needed a microphone when he was up on the altar, shouted “STOP!”, the noise of his command more overwhelming than usual since we were in such a small space. I still shake and go weak when I think of what would have happened, had I made the same mistake my little sister made ten days in to HER career as a driver, when she accidentally hit the gas instead of the brakes at a stoplight. It’s so easy to do, especially when you are young, all the more so when you are in a panic. The lead foot landed in the middle of the floor, not the right and the familiar Antiblockiersystem pulse was as apprehensible as my own at that terror-filled moment. We lurched forward before being thrown back, seatbelts locking so tightly I felt like I was being strangled. Continue reading

Ghosh on anti-Sikh riots

Amitav Ghosh penned a harrowing essay on the organized anti-Sikh riots of ’84 (via DesiLit Daily):

The first reliable report of Mrs. Gandhi’s death was broadcast from Karachi, by Pakistan, at around 1:30 PM. On All India Radio regular broadcast had been replaced by music… The motorcade of Giani Zail Singh, the President of the Republic, a Sikh, had already been attacked by a mob…

A stout woman in sari sitting across aisle from me was the first to understand what was going on. Rising to her feet, she gestured urgently at the Sikh, who was sitting hunched in his seat. She hissed at him in Hindi, telling him to get down and keep out of sight. The man started in surprise and squeezed himself into the narrow footspace between the seats.

Minutes later, our bus was intercepted by a group of young men dressed in bright, sharp synthetics. Several had bicycle chains wrapped around their wrists. They ran along beside the bus as it slowed to a halt. We heard them call out to the driver through the open door, asking if there were any Sikhs in the bus. The driver shook his head. No, he said, there were no Sikhs in the bus. A few rows ahead of me, the crouching turbaned figure had gone completely still…

Continue reading

The default smear

As you know, Indian-American city council candidate Tom Abraham was smeared as a potential terrorist for being desi.

It’s ba-a-ack. We now know what the default political smear is going to be for Americans with brown skin for the next quarter-century. Hint: it’s identical to racist insults spewed by yahoos in 4×4’s:

Fliers that denounced [Prospect Park, NJ] Councilman Mohamed Khairullah as unpatriotic and a criminal were anonymously sent to borough residents last week… The message, delivered in a white envelope with no return address, was written in English and Spanish. It characterized Khairullah, a Muslim, as “a betrayer living among us” who would “try to poison our thoughts about our great country” and had ties to people responsible for the terror attacks on Sept. 11, 2001. [Link]An anonymous attack flier claimed a Muslim candidate was ‘a betrayer living among us’ with 9/11 ties

The mailing said Mohamed Khairullah “should not be living in our clean town…” [Link]

Khairullah [is] a Syrian native and former Saudi Arabian resident… Arab-Americans and Muslims make up about 15 percent of this half-square-mile borough’s population of nearly 5,800; Hispanics account for about 40 percent, with Caucasians and African-Americans representing most of the remainder…

He said the flier… misrepresented… comments he made at a pro-Palestinian rally in Paterson last year in which he said American Muslims need to do their part to affect change in the Middle East, either through political activism or economic boycotts… [Link]

This is exactly the same smear an American shell company tried to use to prevent Jet Airways from flying to America. And it sometimes works. A desi candidate in another NJ town was smeared last year for being foreign-born, a classic political tactic. You get the sense that outside California, where that was never explicitly made a political issue with (cough, cough) Governor (I can never keep a straight face) Terminator, politics are pitched to the reptilian sub-brain and argued with the subtlety of a junior high playground fight:

The mailing is similar to one that went out the night before the 2004 election to voters in Bedminster, accusing township committee candidate Zaheer Jan and his running mate of being funded by “foreign nationals, not local residents.” Jan, who was born in India and grew up in Pakistan, said it was a scare tactic designed to make people fear he might have terrorist ties; he lost the election by 14 votes out of nearly 3,600 cast. [Link]
Continue reading

Home rule

The Great Bongmeister chronicles the sexual revolution on Indian cable TV with the fondness of a grandfather sharing his stash of classic Playboys:

Sushma Swaraj, Minister of Virtue

The cable revolution of the early 90s came as a blessing from heaven (or hell) for the raging hormones of my generation who were henceforth liberated from the oppressive censorship of state-owned television… ladies with Sachin Tendulkar shoulders and Ramesh Krishnan waistlines heaved and thrusted away. As a result, Silk Smitha, Nylon Nalini and the other goddesses of the wet sari pantheon became part of our nightly vocabulary… [Link]

Alas, the uprising was choked nightly by a minister inappositely named Swaraj:

In the north rose a fell presence, an evil Eye that never slept… minister Sushma Swaraj.. launched a war against flesh tones on the airwaves! Soon she was passing one dictat after another–Star Movies censored all their sugar and spice, Sun TV followed suit… [Link]

One frustrated victim of fowlstrangulum interruptus commented:

Uff, Sushma Swaraj… how we cursed her… [Link]

But the sexing up of daily media soon made blue channels and pr0n sites irrelevant:

People stopped going to websites for their porn–instead they started making them themselves armed with… camera phones and webcams. School kids in respectable institutions were shooting their own sex videos and marketing them through auction sites… Who would go to Desibaba [a porn site] to watch digitally morphed pictures when people like Tanushree Dutta were going topless in songs in reality…

Indians were being sexed up too fast and Desibaba was now a relic of a more innocent bygone era… I would like to believe that Desibaba is still alive–spread out over thousands of hard drives where pictures and stories from it have been downloaded over the years… there is a little bit of Desibaba in each of us–in the memories we carry. [Link]

Related posts: Delhi sex clip portends sexual revolution?, Baazee.com CEO arrested over sex clip

Continue reading

No Bollywood for You!

HemaMalini3.jpg

I have watched phil-ums that made me want to gouge out my eyes with hot forks of displeasure, but I’ve never felt homicidal because of celluloid. According to my beloved Beeb, I OBVIOUSLY have nothing in common with Somali militia men:

Calm has returned to the Somali capital Mogadishu after 11 people were killed and 20 wounded in weekend fighting.
The clashes pitted militia belonging to the Islamic courts against owners of cinemas showing dubbed Bollywood films.

Obviously this horrible violence has nothing to do with the quality of a flick, but an extreme culture war over the qualities of the films and the activities related to them:

The Islamic courts have been attempting to control the activities of the cinemas – accusing them of fuelling crime, drug abuse and immorality.

Somalia has essentially been lawless for 14 years. What’s a little more immorality on top of THAT?

Last month, the court’s militia stormed a studio where Bollywood films were being translated and destroyed equipment.

I’m not quite sure what the honorable chairman from the state of fundamentalism means by the following quote:

Sheikh Sharif Ahmed, the chairman of the Islamic courts, says they open from early in the morning showing “scandalous movies to children even not allowed by producers in their home country”.

First and last of all, what scandal? The flouncing around gardens, peeking out from trees, getting close enough to sniff your dance partner but not kissing them even though the cut to a flower blooming might suggest exactly such fornication? Sheikh, please. Continue reading

A South Asian Bess

Mahajan: The South Asian Soprano
I can hear you asking, is the opera even mutinous? Well, when one of the main characters is played by a South Asian, I guess it starts to fall into that category. Soprano Indira Mahajan is making her debut with the Washington National Opera, in its production of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, playing the lead female, Bess. This is the final week of the show which is playing at the Kennedy Center, and has been receiving reviews, which seem to be mostly positive [link via DCist] thus far. For those of you that don’t know, here is a bit more about Porgy and Bess…
“Welcome to Catfish Row. In this poignant tale of love found and lost, the disabled beggar Porgy wins the beautiful but troubled Bess from her macho thug boyfriend Crown only to lose her to “happy dust” and the bright lights of New York.”

This isn’t even close to Mahajan’s first big-time performance, and I am a little surprised we hadn’t heard too much of her until now, although I guess opera circles are a bit different than ones many of us belong to. Here is some more on Mahajan from her bio

Acclaimed for her portrayal of Musetta, she appeared in the Opera Omaha production of La bohème conducted Hal France and returned to Dallas Opera in the Garnett Bruce production which was conducted by Claus Peter Flor. Recognizing her command of the role, the soprano was invited to perform “Quando me’n vo” in the prestigious Richard Tucker Gala at Lincoln Center. Having performed Mimi for the first time in the Dayton Opera production, Miss Mahajan was invited to repeat the role at Royal Albert Hall marking her opera debut in the United Kingdom. The production was directed by three-time Olivier award-winning director Francesca Zambello and conducted by David Parry. Following her debut, Miss Mahajan was recognized for her “substantial voice” in The London Sunday Times. She will reprise the role at Royal Albert Hall in spring 2006.
To hear an mp3 of what the South Asian Soprano sounds like, click here. Sadly, for those of you wanting to see one of the remaining shows of Porgy and Bess, it seems three nights have already sold out (11/15, 11/18, 11/19), so if you are interested, grab your tickets quickly.

Continue reading

The Da Vinci Cook

What might have happened if Columbus got it right…

This next post is going to be difficult for people to believe. It was difficult for me. The very fact that I am writing this post may put my life in danger. Many things that I do for our readers puts me in danger though, so that is okay. Somewhere in the heart of Oregon lies a secret society restaurant. Witness:

Anyone who is familiar with secret societies such as the Freemasons, Priory of Scion, Knights Templar or has read Dan Brown’s book The DaVinci Code will be familiar with the concept of sub rosa. What goes on here, stays here.

The Sub Rosa restaurant began in a cottage on our property that was once the caretakers quarters for a 90 acre orchard here in Dundee. It remains primarily a workshop for Talisman Stoneworks, a stone carving studio though we do whip up some tasty meals from time to time.

During the day when the workshop is humming, you can drop in from noon on for a bowl of spicy soup; an onion tart; some tasty dessert; a beer or a stiff shot of grappa. Dust flies. Music pulses. Food smells waft into the air creating a exotic blend of workshop meets hole-in-the wall cafe meets underground radio station and WiFi hotspot.

At night – well, the ‘restaurant’ is rarely open. This is an invitation only gig. If you know us or know someone who knows us – you’re in. Otherwise you just get to read about us on this web site.

I just got the shivers. It is actually kind of sadistic what these people do. They prepare virtual menus that will bring tears to your eyes, and perhaps affect your nether regions with the skills of the Merovingian. Your tongue is not allowed to taste however:

You can download recipes and music and order a t-shirt but that’s about it. We’re more a state-of-mind than an actual place to eat.

Then why, dear God why, did they send the following menu/recipes into my inbox? This is beyond even my considerable culinary skills.

Thanksgiving Dinner:
Appetizer: Curried Nuts
Greens: Gujarat Green Beans
Starch: Horseradish Mashed Potatoes
Curried Yams with coconut milk
Turkey: Cumin and Coriander spice rub
Condiments: Cranberry Chutney
Cucumber Raita
Stuffing: With raisins, cinnamon, almonds, celery and of course, bread
Dessert: Chiffon Pumpkin Pie with crystallized ginger galore
Garam Masala – Classic Indian spice mixture

Continue reading

It’s over

I haven’t felt this empty inside since the last months of 2000, when many of us saw the dark clouds gathering on the horizon and knew that our country was headed in a direction that we feared. It’s over folks. The results of the Florida recount are in. Don Sherrill is the declared winner. The Orlando Sentinel reports:

Orange City’s heated City Council election ended on Thursday with a handshake and a smile after a recount failed to change the outcome.

The Seat 4 contest between incumbent Don Sherrill and Tom Abraham has been shadowed by disparaging comments Sherrill made about Abraham’s Indian ethnicity.

After the general election Tuesday, Sherrill led Abraham by 19 votes. Orange City’s canvassing board granted Abraham’s recount request despite the fact that the election was not close enough to trigger an automatic recount.

On Thursday, the four-person canvassing board recounted the 746 votes cast in that race. Abraham did pick up one vote, from a wrinkled ballot that was apparently not counted on Tuesday. That reduced Sherrill’s margin of victory to 18.

“I conceded the election and he wished me good luck,” Abraham said after the results were read out loud and he shook hands with Sherrill.

What a class act Abraham has been throughout all of this:

During the one-hour recount, Abraham and Sherrill sat next to each other at a table watching the process.

The men spent much of the time talking, laughing and cracking jokes and appeared to be getting along despite Sherrill’s earlier inflammatory remarks.

Abraham said he had still not received an apology from Sherrill, but that even if he did get one, it would be too late.

It’s hard for most people to admit when they are wrong, and even harder for old people set in their ways. The Orlando Sentinel hasn’t felt moved to act by many of us that wrote in about their euphemistic reporting style, but the Daytona Beach News-Journal does carry an editorial that blasts the race and its outcome:

…And yet: Does Sherrill’s display of racism and ignorance disqualify him from office? Does it make the case for a recount? In both cases, the answer is — unfortunately, but legally and fairly — no. Voters in Orange City have had their say. A recount is legitimate in and of itself, but should have nothing to do with the tenor of the race just ended. And what this vote says is clear enough. The voters of Orange City are comfortable enough with a person of Sherrill’s racist sensibilities on their city council. Shame on them.

But shame, too, is no disqualifier of public will. Elections are free. They’re no guarantee of decent representation. In that sense, Sherrill’s victory is hardly unique.

How true.

Continue reading

Proud of ‘Prejudice’

Did you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your timing? From the first moment I met you, your derivativeness made me realize you were the last movie in the world I could ever love. But I’ve come to make confession: you have bewitched me body and soul.

I entered the new Pride and Prejudice movie with extreme prejudice and exited a believer.

Nimbooda in a wig

As cultural crossover, the new flick has outdone Mira Nair: it’s the new Vanity Fair, it’s British Bollywood. It’s truer to the form than Bride and Prejudice, which was preoccupied with Stiff White Guy and tongue-in-cheek cultural mashup. Namely this: A family with five daughters must spend its time snaring men. One daughter’s elopement means utter family ruination. Musical interludes. Cheesy picturesque cliff scenes. Melodramatic mom. Full-on bawling. No kissing. Its own Johnny Lever. All it needed was an item number.

The producers were going for Gone With the Wind, but they ended up with Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. It’s the same Bollywood lighting, the same night scene with the romantic leads sitting before water, lit in gold. British group dances were like dandia raas and served the same virtuous end, hooking up the young’uns. The dance scene was like that amazing, flirty song in in HDDCS, Aankhon Ki Gustakhiyan.’ Keira is sharper, Aishwarya prettier. Rai with that John-Cusack-lookalike-in-a-wig would have been ideal.

HDDCS was more emotional, but this was definitely lump-in-throat territory. I rarely see intelligent romantic sparring any more, the last was Clooney and Zeta in Intolerable Cruelty. And the gender role inversion at the end is delicious. The beseechers and hand-kissers are not whom you’d expect.

Elna Bannat and Dharsi sahib

This film left me misty-eyed despite the ’70s Bollycheese: the man walking through morning field in fog, a near-kiss with sunrise strategically positioned between the lips. It had showy, fluid camera work reminiscent of Brian De Palma. Its memorable piano theme was repeated in variations through the score, another Bollywood signature. Balle balle, they’ve out-Bollied Bolly! I rarely feel anything human in mainstream Hollywood flicks, they’re afraid of mashing the emotional buttons. This movie pulled me out of my life entirely.

Someone stop me before I play some South Park Chef.

Watch the trailer. Here’s the A. Lane review, less snarktastic than usual.

Related posts: Ivy jive, No runaway ‘Bride’, Fisking the ‘Bride and Prejudice’ campaign, The UK crowns a new Queen, ‘Bride and Prejudice’ trailer

Continue reading