Meat without murder?

May’s issue of the journal Tissue Engineering featured a report (paid subscription required) that could potentially change the lives of Hindus, Jains, and Vegetarians everywhere.  The report titled, “Commentary: In Vitro-Cultured Meat Production,” by  Edelman et. al. looks at artificially produced, real meat:

Most edible animal meat is made of skeletal muscle tissue. The idea that skeletal muscle tissue-engineering techniques could be applied to produce edible meat dates back at least 70 years, but has been seriously pursued by only three groups of researchers. Their efforts can be divided roughly into scaffold-based and self-organizing techniques. 

In scaffold-based techniques, embryonic myoblasts or adult skeletal muscle satellite cells are proliferated, attached to a scaffold or carrier such as a collagen meshwork meshwork or microcarrier beads, and then perfused with a culture medium in a stationary or rotating bioreactor. By introducing a variety of environmental cues, these cells fuse into myotubes, which can then differentiate into myofibers. The resulting myofibers may then be harvested, cooked, and consumed as meat. van Eelen, van Kooten, and Westerhof hold a Dutch patent for this general approach to producing cultured meat. However, Catts and Zurr appear to have been the first to have actually produced meat by this method.

A scaffold-based technique may be appropriate for producing processed (ground, boneless) meats, such as hamburger or sausage. But it is not suitable for producing highly structured meats such as steaks. To produce these, one would need a more ambitious approach, creating structured muscle tissue as self-organizing constructs or proliferating existing muscle tissue in vitro.

Wicked!  It’s like Franken-food.  Oh come on.  You guys are curious to see what it tastes like too.  The Guardian has more:

According to researchers, meat grown in laboratories would be more environmentally friendly and could be tailored to be healthier than farm-reared meat by controlling its nutrient content and screening it for food-borne diseases.

Vegetarians might also be tempted because the cells needed to grow chunks of meat can be taken without harming the donor animal.

Experiments for NASA, the US space agency, have already shown that morsels of edible fish can be grown in petri dishes, though no one has yet eaten the food.

Mr Matheny [of the University of Maryland] and his colleagues have taken the prospect of “cultured meat” a step further by working out how to produce it on an industrial scale. They envisage muscle cells growing on huge sheets that would be regularly stretched to exercise the cells as they grow. Once enough cells had grown, they would be scraped off and shaped into processed meat products such as chicken nuggets.

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Who gave the orders?

Kuldip Nayar (long time advocate for the victims of the 1984 pogroms) reviews the Nanavati Commission report and finds that it does not go far enough:

I find that the Justice G.T. Nanavati Commission Report on the 1984 anti-Sikh riots is not a fair document. The judge traces events more or less accurately, yet he does not come to the obvious conclusion.He goes as far as to say: “The systematic manner” in which the Sikhs were killed indicated that “the attacks on them were organised”. But he holds back when, as a judge, he should have gone further to probe who organised these systematic attacks. [cite]

Nayar illustrates how Nanavati illuminates the role of powerful political actors in setting the 1984 Delhi pogroms into motion, but he does not inquire as to who these political actors were.

Nanavati says there is evidence to show that on October 31, 1984, the day Mrs Gandhi was killed, “either meetings were held or the persons who could organise attacks were contacted and were given instructions to kill Sikhs and loot their houses and shops.”  Nanavati also says that attacks were made “without much fear of the police, almost suggesting that they were assured that they would not be harmed while committing those acts and even thereafter.”

On that command, hundreds of people went to the streets of Delhi with weapons and inflammable material like kerosene oil, petrol and white powder. According to the Nanavati report, “the male members of Sikh community were taken out of their houses. They were beaten first and then burnt alive in a systematic manner. In some cases tyres were put around their necks and then they were set on fire by pouring kerosene oil or petrol over them.”

Jagdish Tytler, Sajjan Kumar and Dharam Dutt Shastri, named by Nanavati, could only be operators. At worst, they could have conveyed instructions. But who gave the instructions? Who were the ones who did it? Where did they gather to hatch the plan? Who were these shadowy figures, behind-the-scenes, confident that their instructions would be carried out? [cite]

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Blessed review: mangal ho

The NYT smiles upon Mangal Pandey: The Rising:

“Mangal Pandey: The Rising” … [has] important messages about global trade, corruption and martyrdom… the film takes you somewhere, teaches you something and inspires smiles in a way that few retellings of the anti-imperialist revolts of 19th-century India ever have before…

The crux of the epic is Mangal’s on-again, off-again alliance with a Glaswegian military officer who is in the employ of the East India Company… They both comprehend the fraud that the mercantile class perpetrates, and they both abhor the bigoted ugliness embodied in one British soldier who indulges in prostitutes and lies about it in polite company, who uses the power he has over servants to unleash some deep-seated cruelty…

At times, the racial hatred seems rabid and cartoonish, the political discussions of the opium trade become preachy, and the romance feels more like a cause for dance-offs… But the movie meets its grand incongruous aims with the exaggerated smiles and scowls of two gifted principal actors.

The camera drinks in gorgeous landscapes and trawls through high-end bordellos… [Pandey’s] biography is the basis for this spectacle of splash and meaning… “Mangal Pandey” proves that warfare mixed with winking sexpots can be a bloody good show. [Link]

I enjoyed the movie, will post a review later. The Friday late show in Times Square was completely sold out. Lines of dejected buskers tried to buy spare tickets off showgoers. The last time I saw that was with Kabhi Khushi Kabhi Gham, and never before in Manhattan.

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Finding her match

Some time ago we posted about a young woman, Pia Awal, who needed a bone marrow donor to fight her leukemia. A 20-year-old Pakistani woman from London matched and saved her life.

Awal and her fiancé, Apratim Dutta, just had their long-delayed wedding. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through in the meantime. The NYT reports:

On June 30, 2002, Mr. Dutta’s 31st birthday, Ms. Awal was feeling feverish and bone tired. They went to the emergency room at Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan, expecting that she would be given some antibiotics for the flu… she was found to have acute myelogenous leukemia…

… weeks before their July engagement party, Ms. Awal’s doctor said the leukemia had returned… Mr. Dutta began searching for a South Asian donor whose white blood cells were a genetic match for Ms. Awal. He started a Web site, matchpia.org, to find donors. He made a DVD about Ms. Awal’s situation and tried to get television stations to broadcast it. Finally, through an international donor registry, they found a match in a 20-year-old Pakistani woman living in London.

Mr. Dutta, who loves steaks and red wine, began to eat vegetarian meals with Ms. Awal… As part of her recovery this time, she started eating meat, which gave her the sense of being fully fused with Mr. Dutta…

They were finally married on July 30 in Manhattan at the Tribeca Rooftop… Ms. Awal, who cannot have children because she has had so much chemotherapy, is working on a children’s book about cancer.

Congrats to the newlywed couple.

Click here to add yourself to the South Asian bone marrow registry. There are several booths at India Day parades in the next ten days. In NYC, go to 27th & Madison on Sunday, Aug. 21, from 12-6pm for a simple, painless blood test.

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‘I’m brown… and messin’ with your head’

Some desi guy posted a hilarious rant to Craigslist on dealing with suspicious looks from fellow passengers while riding the DC metro (thanks, midnight toker):

… after the London subway bombings, i have been getting “the look” on public transportation and at airports. To put it mildly, my days of picking up girls on a plane are over…

I don’t have an accent, a dot or a large cobra wrapped around my head (except on Tuesdays). I’m your typical poser hipster Indian living in DC, trying to get my hands on as much smoke, beer and ass as i can. But step on the metro… and suddenly i transform into Allah-kazam bin Laden…

… open your book bag at least 3 times. As soon as you reach for the bag, look at their reactions. Kodak moments all over the place.

My dream is to go on a plane, act crazy suspicious… basically inviting some white folk to beat the shit out of me. Then when they open my bags, it will be full of Bibles and medicine for sick children. Then i’ll sue all the muthafuckers and go live on some island with all my money and broken bones. Now that’s the American dream.

… i gotta deal with this bullshit everyday on the metro… It’s not even a cool subway like NYC or in Paris. The lame ass DC metro.

The DC metro reminds me of BART. The New York subway is to DC’s what a fastback is to a station wagon: it isn’t wide and cushy, but it’s a hell of a lot faster.

Read the whole thing. See Anna’s related post here.

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Grind me down sugar salt

Standup comic Aziz Ansari recently did a sketch about how the ‘gasam blew him off at her Knitting Factory show. He re-enacts several far-fetched scenarios about what he wishes had happened instead:

M.I.A.: ‘Actually, I have a lot of experience with hard disk recoveries on Macs…’ (Lowers eyes seductively) ‘Maybe tomorrow I could come by your place…’

It’s a cute schtick, but overly long as a video. On the other hand, it’s the first time I’ve heard Tamil spoken in a comedy sketch and the first time I’ve seen a tall, pasty white guy stand in for Aziz’ ‘Sri Lankan princess’

Does Ansari merely want to jump M.I.A.’s bones, or is it also a great publicity gimmick? I surrender. Watch the low-budget video. Here’s the site.

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…if your mind and intellect are ever focused on Me

The one who remembers the Supreme Being exclusively even while leaving the body at the time of death, attains the Supreme Abode; there is no doubt about it. (8.05)

Remembering whatever object one leaves the body at the end of life, one attains that object. Thought of whatever object prevails during one’s lifetime, one remembers only that object at the end of life and achieves it. (8.06)

Therefore, always remember Me and do your duty. You shall certainly attain Me if your mind and intellect are ever focused on Me. (8.07)

Bhagavad-Gita

Phrases like “senseless tragedy” just never seem like enough.  Bagels 4ever sends us the type of tip we hope to never receive:

He began each morning with prayer and meditation before a small shrine in his southwest Houston apartment. During the workday, he might step outside for a moment of silence and calm, his friends and co-workers said. They believe the 28-year-old Hindu community leader was meditating in a park near his office when he was shot and killed Thursday. Chopra may have been so deeply concentrating that he did not notice his killer, said Ramesh Bhutada, president of Star Pipe Products, the company Chopra had worked for since 2002. “I think after lunch he went there for a moment of quietness,” Bhutada said. ”

… He probably didn’t hear it.” Star Pipe employees held a Friday morning memorial service for the young man many had come to view as family. The workers, some of whom talked of preparing feasts for his birthday and marveled at his commitment to faith and community service, placed yellow roses on the bench where Chopra died…

Chopra had a gunshot wound to his left temple and a bullet appeared to have grazed his forehead. His wallet was missing and no gun was found at the scene, Torres said. At the time of his death, Chopra’s life in America had just started falling into place, friends said. [Link]

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Buzzword bingo

Abhi posted earlier about The Bollywood Beauty. If you’re in the mood for a light, pulpy read, here’s what’s currently on the chick lit shelves at my local bookstore. While we’re at it, let’s play Orientalist buzzword bingo!

Bollywood Confidential by Sonia Singh

Raveena isn’t having much luck in Hollywood as an Indian beauty, so when her agent nabs her a starring role in a Bollywood film, she jumps at the chance and relocates to Bombay.

The Village Bride of Beverly Hills by Kavita Daswani. Exotic!

… Priya… finds herself the one chosen for matrimony and life across the seas in Beverly Hills… Luck lands her a position as a receptionist at the tabloid Hollywood Insider, and her exotic politeness wins over the red carpet community.

Singh previously wrote Goddess for Hire. Curry-scented!

A hip chick from Newport Beach… discovered she’s the incarnation of the Hindu goddess Kali… Saving the world, though, may prove to be a curry-scented breeze compared to dealing with her extended Indian family.

Daswani also wrote For Matrimonial Purposes. Cardamom-flavored!

… the Prada-loving fashion publicist still finds herself “oddly drawn to the age-old system of arranged marriage…” The only flaw in this heady, cardamom-flavored confection is the rushed happy ending…

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An OED to desis

All my bindaas desis, both words just made the dictionary of record for the Queen’s English. U-S-S-A-A! This is the giant dictionary every would-bee spelling prince and princess lugged around as their sole form of exercise. It was the only one which had all the words in it, and at $50, nine inches thick and 30 lbs, it was a sizeable investment.

On Wednesday, the Oxford Dictionary of English… revealed its new cache of linguistic treasures, including ‘bindaas’, ‘tamasha’, ‘ mehndi’, ‘desi’ and ‘lehnga’. Lollywood… finds honorable mention. So does ‘kitty party’, the chaat-and-chatter mainstay of bored Indian housewives for decades.

It even includes feather-to-dot crossover:

The dictionary’s co-editor Catherine Soanes told TOI she was particularly pleased to have been able to include the Indianism ‘tom-tom‘, defined by the ODE as “verb (chiefly Indian) proclaim or boast about.” [Link]

The Statesman points out words still missing (hello, Mumbaikars? Bindaas sans jhakaas?)

“What’s your good name?”… “Let’s go have some chai-vai” (tea, obviously, with snacks thrown in) or, “There’s a lot of this fighting-witing happening here every day…” A proud mother announcing to all and sundry about her ladli beti getting “cent per cent” (meaning 100 per cent) marks in math or an executive having to “prepone” his meeting… “business-baazi” or “cheating-giri…” “freak out…” In Kolkata, “enthu” replacing enthusiasm is old hat as also “sentu” for sentimental… “Funda” for fundamental, “intro” or “appo” for appointment are freely used… “Tux” has no relation with the tuxedo — who wears it in our country, anyway? — but with a baldie which must have originated with the Hindi word “taklu”… “timepass” for whiling away the hours… “hawala” (illegal financial dealings), “badla” (revenge) or “eve-teasing”… [Link]

And those already added:

India-origin words have dotted the English language for a long time. Words like bungalow, cashmere (from Kashmîr), cheetah, coolie, cot, cummerbund, cushy (from the Hindi khush), dinghy, dungaree, juggernaut (from Lord Jagannath’s huge rath-yatra, perhaps?) jungle, khaki (dusty), loot, punch (the drink made from paanch or five ingredients), pajamas, shawl, verandah, etc. In the latest Oxford English Dictionary, words like Angrez (Englishman) and Badmash have already figured. Earlier, it had added adda, bundh, dal puri, bandobast, chutney, bandana, chamcha (aren’t we familiar with them!) neta and dhaba. [Link]

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A Bollywood Beauty down-under

We just don’t show enough love to our peeps down-under.  SM reader Sibyl sends us an excited tip about first time author Shalini Akhil, a Fijian-Indian living in Austrailia who’s just had her first book published. It’s titled Bollywood Beauty.

Kesh: born and bred in Australia: drinks at the pub; studies feminist theory; a fun-loving gal of Fijian-Indian background.
Rupa: born and bred in Fiji; scared to leave the house; makes own roti; the full-on ‘Bollywood Beauty’.

When Rupa comes to stay with her cousin Kesh, it’s a complete culture clash. And, the chai hits the fan when Rupa has to decide between new-found passion and the ways of the past.

In this delicious and highly spiced novel, Shalini Akhil dishes up tears, laughter, music and food, with a truly scary dinner dance thrown in . . . and a final scene to make you laugh and cry.

What got Sibyl especially excited was that not only did a draft of Akhil’s novel win a state literary award, but Shalini has two blogs.  In addition to the one on her website she has this more personal one on blogger, much of which catalogs her experiences as a newly published author. 

…last week thursday, mid mid-afternoon-browse i spied a copy [of my book] in mary martins southbank’s australian fiction section. i yelped audibly (the sales person near me turned around suddenly, presumably to see if i’d stepped on a chihuahua, or turned into one) and ran out the store bellowing ‘mark! maaark! come here!’. then i pointed at the shelf from across the store. he went over, knight in shining armour that he is, and fetched it off the shelf. my knees were seriously jelly… i blushed and ran to hide behind the greeting card shelf in a move i later recognised as cheap imitation of a classic bollywood over-reaction. then the bubbles subsided, and in a moment of classic mood-swingery, a voice in my head said:

hang on! one copy, spine-out? does that really warrant a bollywood duck-and-cover?

then the knight came through again, gathered me up in his muscular arms and whispered, i found the other four. face-out, new release section. and that was it, i had to leave.

Ahhh yes.  I think someday many of us working class bloggers would want to see the above scene play out in our lives (without the Bollywood ducking of course).  The story doesn’t end there.  Shalini is also a stand-up comedian:

In 2003 she entered ‘Raw Comedy’, run by radio station Triple J, and went on to become a national finalist.
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