She says

Lasagna is an objective good

2007-10-06T05:52:00.000+05:30

I made about a metric ton of lasagna on Wednesday night for no good reason, and boy are my cold, leftover vittles tasty.

I feel numb.

My jade plant, in kitschy faux-Ming vase, just fell off the window ledge. The pot broke. I don't feel well enough to sweep up the dirt.

I've been dizzy all day.

My phone is ringing. It's my mother and I won't answer it. I don't want to answer any calls. I don't want to talk to anyone. I don't want to listen to weeks-old voicemails, or see the annoying message notification on my phone, or really do anything but suck on a lime in between shoveling pasta into my gullet.

What do I do now?

Ay dios mio!

2007-09-21T10:59:00.000+05:30

So, I'm going to be an aunt. Again.

Yup, my eldest sis is preggers, which will bring her count up to three. My other sis just had her bebe, Charlie, and at three weeks old, he may be the cutest and most advanced boy I've ever seen (I swear to god he sighed "Oh yeah" as he was nursing the other day). Dennis and Emma, Misty's kids, are also suitably adorable.

In Oregon, and leaving for NY again on Sunday. Didn't realize just how much I missed the Northwest, but...surprise. I do. The trees and the clear air and the sheer awesomeness of Powell's Books. Hrm.

Also, my parents have really great cable. In honor of fall premieres, watch the season 2 opener of Friday Night Lights. Sigh over the cuteness of Matt and Julie. Relive the awkwardness of high school. Enjoy! http://www.tv.yahoo.com/falltv2007/friday-night-lights/show/38958/videos

Update!

2007-09-08T18:43:00.001+05:30

Whoa.

It's been a super-long time since I posted here. Part of this is a function of having a life (I no longer come home and blog; instead, I take walks, or call friends/fam, or go slumming at Goodwill), and part of this is related to some nasty comments left here and elsewhere that weren't great for my frame of mind; I was also trying to keep the India theme alive, which is difficult when the news source closest at hand is so abysmally poor at covering the subconty. (Really, a critique of the "Kerala model" of development on your front page, NYT? That's sooooooo 2002.)

Then I went through a phase of trying to create a new blog, rebrand myself, etc., but all the good names were taken (leaving me with, oh, I don't know, SexSluuuut825642.blogspot.com). Then I got preoccupied with hummus and mozzarella, then I forgot about everything, and then I realized a month had gone by and I should get off my ass.

So here we go again. Last weekend, we went to Coney Island, so you get a picture of that. I don't know whether this is going to be a personal journal sorta thing, or a roundup of interesting news stories about topics I'm interested in, or some agglomeration of both, but I suppose we'll see. As time goes by.

(Also, an anecdote from Overheard in New York that well illustrates why I love Queens:
Female barista, scrubbing floor boards: I hate doing clean sweep 'cause I get all sweaty... Especially in my butt crack.
Male barista: You should employ the butt tissue. Just slip a paper towel in there at the start of the shift, and then just toss it at the end.
Female barista: I already do that.
Customer: Now that's legendary service.

--Starbucks, 67th & Queens Blvd)

I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore

2007-08-09T07:31:00.000+05:30

Umm, in case you haven't heard, a tornado hit New York. What the bloody Jesus?

It took me three hours to get from the hovel to the office -- and then when I got there, I was one of only five or so people in my department resourceful enough to navigate the wild, wild world of thousands of stranded subway users, fighting for a bus heading for the Midtown Tunnel.

I did walk about two miles, snicker at a woman trying to vanquish a foot of standing water with a small mop, invite myself to share a taxi with three people who had only limited English skills, and lost my leg to the jaws of the 7 train at the Jackson Heights station, but so be it. Delhi crowds prepared me well; whereas claustrophobic Americans were hysterically imploring fellow riders to "Act like human being, not animals!", I was smugly listening to Golmaal Golmaal ... Everything's Gonna Be Golmaal and wiggling around frenetically, my eyes glazed in bliss.

That said, I thought I would stop dealing with woefully inadequate infrastructure when I left the "third world." So much for conventional notions of modernity and backwardness ...

It really IS a Wallyworld

2007-08-07T07:26:00.000+05:30

After months (years?) of speculation, it's official -- Wal-Mart is setting up a B2B joint venture with Bharati Enterprises to enter to the Indian market.

I'm not sure what the impact will be, but one of the most interesting things to watch may be how W-M's reputed supply chain organization will link small farmers and manufacturers to retailers. (It's estimated that 30%-40% of India's food rots in the fields or spoils in transit due to insufficient infrastructure.) It's not an incredibly sexy topic, but it certainly could have an incredible impact.

An endnote: I have to say, I have to delight in the thought that in the near future, whether in sleepy old Sonora or dusty Delhi, people like my grandmother will be able to unite in pursuit of an ever-better buy (Grandma: "Why would I spend $70 on a pair of jeans when I can get them for $12.99 at Wally World? Are you crazy?")

Scenes from a company picnic

2007-07-31T16:22:00.000+05:30

Co-worker's new husband to my beloved S: "So, you're with IT?"
S: "Ummm...no, I'm married to her. She works with your wife."
Co-worker's new husband: "Wait, so you're not in IT?"
S: [perturbed silence]
S to me: "Is there something wrong with this guy?"
Z to group: "Hey, don't worry about it folks, he's doing something better than IT -- he's unemployed!" (Ba dum ching!)

Big fat Sikh wedding (Get it? Sikh and Greek rhyme, and there was that movie ...)

2007-07-31T16:04:00.000+05:30

The Delhi Sikh Gurudwara Management Committee is urging the Sikh community to make weddings more modest in a bid to end female foeticide, on the precept that the burden on the woman's family to pay for such celebrations is driving the community's sex ratio down.

Their suggestions? No meat, no alcohol, and festivities finished by noon.

It's an interesting suggestion, and certainly one that I might support (if I knew slightly more about the political machinations surrounding the proclamation); however, I don't think it will do a whit of good, based upon an informal poll of my husband.

"No kebabs? Lamb roast? No rara ghost? Why else would I go to a wedding?"

(Addendum: I know that the reporter probably didn't insert the helpful callout box on Sikhism ["Sikhs are forbidden from drinking, smoking or taking drugs and should not cut their hair," "Every male should add Singh after his name and every woman should add Kaur," etc.], but bejesus. If people are interested in learning about the religion, isn't it more effective to do a little informed Googling than to spout four or five platitudes alleged to represent an entire system of belief?)

Picture: My modest (and modern) wedding to a Sikh.

Forgive me, fam ...

2007-07-29T20:02:00.000+05:30

... but this is simply too good not to blog about.

My grandfather has decided, for reasons unknown, that he wants to be baptized. Which is cool, you know, I respect his decision, and he wants it done on our family property (through which the Tuolumne River runs), so I suspect it will be a rather beautiful occasion.

But he was talking about it with my mom (Grandpa: "Daughter, would you also like to be baptized?" Mother: "Hell no!"), and my stepdad, a former Mormon mucky muck of some repute, steps into the conversation. "You know, when I was in the church, I used to do that; maybe I could be of some help."

So now, my stepdad is officially baptizing my grandfather. As if I needed MORE to talk about in therapy.

The displaced subconty celebrates in style

2007-07-26T08:37:00.001+05:30

This weekend? Midsummer Masala, Six Flags Great Adventure. Rock to the sounds of RUDE (Rutgers University Dhol Effect, totally in the running for Z's inaugural most awesome acronym award), eat Udupi dosas, slurp up Kwality ice cream, and then try not to puke when you plunge 155 feet on the Great American Scream Machine.

Yeah, it sounds corny as all get out, but it would be an interesting place for sociological observation. It's authentic India as interpreted by what is presumably a bunch of Americans of Indian heritage, presented as a galvanizing community event at a ridiculously overpriced, plastic family-fun factory. There's a lot to unpack there.

The absurdity relativity theorem

2007-07-26T08:15:00.000+05:30

I used to roundly mock the government-run ads in India's print media -- the bad Photoshopping, the hilarious art, the poorly written copy, the absolutely nonsensical causes being championed/events being celebrated ...

And then I opened The Village Voice and noticed a lovely pink display telling me I could feel confident again. Hm, I thought, I am rather lachrymose right now ... what could be the cure?

Apparently, female genital surgery, including labia reduction and beautification, so I can "wear tight clothes comfortably." (Obligatory link to the NYUI Female Genital Surgery Center, so you can explore should you be genuinely interested.)

Yes, the laws of absurdity are the same in one system as in another system in uniform motion relative to it.

Uncomfortable conversations with a recent immigrant

2007-07-25T16:49:00.000+05:30

Partygoer: So, S, you've just gotten here from India. How do you feel?
S: Well, it's still a little overwhelming, you know. I'm fresh off the boat -- only been here for a few weeks.
Partygoer: (Uncomfortable silence)
S: Great to meet you!

Z to S, in hushed tone: Ummm ... so Americans are a little more PC than that.
S: What do you mean?
Z: It might make people feel weird because you're talking about your recent immigrant status in what could be construed as a derogatory way. Wikipedia says, "The term "FOB" has been used with offensive intent, often to those with a foreign accent or ethnic style of dressing. Depending on the person's attitude to the culture in question, he or she may or may not take offense at these statements. The term may also be used by people who themselves were immigrants years ago, in a way turning the insult once hurled at them onto the new arrivals, and in so doing emphasizing their own progress in assimilation or improved language skills."
S: Can't we just tell them to fuck off?
Z: ... And never the twain shall meet.

Little India in NYC

2007-07-24T16:54:00.000+05:30

At the behest of, well, just about everyone, S and I finally made a trip to Jackson Heights to see what all the fuss was about. Verdict? Not much.

Sure, Patel Brothers is great. We got lots of spices and made aloo mattar last night, which we mopped up with some precooked aloo parathas, since I am categorically unable to get the hang of traditional breads. And there are lots of stores glistening with ostentatious jewels of all kinds, and there are curry-a-minute shacks a grotty as those found in the back lanes of Old Delhi, but for some reason, some how, it just doesn't ring true.

In Chicago, when I went to Devon, it felt like I was stepping back into the insane traffic of the subconty; it felt like an outpost of civilization in a otherwise upturned world. In New York? I spent hours gazing at the RED palak paneer (red? since when is spinach RED?!) waiting for the buffet-hungry consumer in its ubiquitous chafing plate, feeling outside, outside, always outside. I know that yes, I'm technically not Indian, and yes, maybe I should feel like an outsider, but ... I can't put my finger on it; something just felt wrong to me there.

Any suggestions? Places to go for a delicious, authentic slice of South Asia? Or am I just being fussy, projecting my suspicions that Little Italy is really a tourist's playground, onto other supposedly "ethnic" (a term I don't particularly want to employ here, but so be it) neighborhoods?

A victory for Indian women?

2007-07-23T07:53:00.000+05:30

Figurehead position or not, congratulations are in order for Pratibha Patil, the new president of India. Patil is India's first woman president (though the subconty is not unfamiliar with women leaders, such as Indira Gandhi and Sonia Gandhi).

(And, of course, obligatory mention of how ironic it is that India is by and large perceived [in the U.S.] as oppressive to women, while we Americans struggle to wrap our heads around the potential election of Hilz and default to either calling her a bitch or a lesbian.)

Salivating in anticipation

2007-07-19T08:37:00.001+05:30

I love burritos, I love crepes, I love manicotti, so it's no surprise that I love another log-shaped delight, this one South Asian: puttu, a cylinder of steamed, compressed rice sprinkled with flakes of coconut and usually served alongside kadala, a spicy chickpea stew.

I've only had the dish in Kerala, but apparently, it's popular in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka -- or so holds The Village Voice, which tipped me off to a must-visit venue: Bownies, 143-05 45th Ave., in Flushing, Queens; they note, "Sri Lankan food in Queens at this luncheonette, serving the broding, spice-laced 'black curries' (pick lamb); mellow, coconut-laced fish curries (pick kingfish); and breads like appams (weekends only) and outsize rotis that make Ceylonese cooking delightfully unique."

... I think I know where I'm headed this weekend. Smell ya later, Colombian bakeries of Sunnyside! I need a little spice in my life!

NYT: Telling us things we should have known about a year ago

2007-07-16T17:07:00.000+05:30

Only three months after the Indian embassy announced that the first consignment of mangoes exported from India to the U.S. was on its way, The New York Times is reporting the trend.

And they offer such enlightened reportage such as Nandu Patel's observation, "My customers are really happy." Patel is the manager of Patel Brothers, a grocery in Jackson Heights that is capitalizing on the desire for a taste of home by selling a box of 10 mangos for $30. (When I left Delhi, mangos were about Rs 60 [~$1.50] a pound.)

Brava, NYT. Good thing you waited three months to get the story right.

In other breaking news, Vice President Dick Cheney shot a man in the face.

Ads by hand

2007-07-16T16:38:00.001+05:30

I know it's an ad, but I love this hand-painted sign nonetheless (found in Brooklyn, perhaps Williamsburg, if I recall my weekend meanderings correctly). It lacks the vibrant colors of the Limca and Coke visuals defining the urban imagination in India, but olde tyme fishing with a whiskey bottle? Words can't describe how awesome I find this.

That said, India isn't averse to eye-catching billboards for booze. Attaching a picture of one of the ubiquitous mountain billboards for Himachal Pradesh fruit wine; I love how the juice bar is requesting a bit of a tipple (god knows it's cooler than hippies here requesting a shot of wheat grass in their damned bougie pina colada smoothies!).

Words can't express ...

2007-07-12T06:33:00.000+05:30

... how hard I laughed when I saw this image in the latest issue of The Village Voice.

Mr Zoey adds:

Bhaaji aa ki?

Should I be enjoying this ironically?

2007-07-12T05:56:00.000+05:30

The other day at work, someone started a long yarn about how she saw a restaurant the other day that served rice pudding. And only rice pudding.

I half thought she was joking (still getting accustomed, again, to the American brand of wry cynicism) until, when taking the inimitable husband on a whirlwind tour of the Lower East Side, we chanced upon Rice to Riches.

What I suppose are considered tongue-in-cheek flavors -- Sex Drugs and Rocky Road? Corner of Cookies & Cream? -- seem a bit pat. It's novel, yes, that the proprietors can support themselves by selling a product that frankly probably isn't that great by merely appealing to the fact that if you build it in a cool neighborhood, hipsters will come; at the same time, are we really so post-everything that people will pay $6 for a cup of pudding topped with fruit?

Hugs for all! (Love me? Please?)

2007-07-07T05:59:00.000+05:30

Hugs for all, courtesy Amma.

(Although I, humble little Zoey, promise to give you hugs if you help me figure out my life. Or even just my blog. Yes, that's right -- India, Kerala, and my new life in New York, all coming together. With the loving wisdom of a mother. Maybe we'll do a darshan together?)

So what if there are human bones in his medicine?

2007-07-03T06:48:00.000+05:30

... he IS wooing New York, you know.

That's right, at his camp in the U.S., Swami Ramdev attracted more than 1,000 guests.

(Compulsory link to controversy here.)

I'm just saying ... I went to look at an apartment the other day, and I mentioned that I had lived in India for two years, and my potential landlord was all, "Oh! India! I have a friend who's spent time there, and he has a number of gurus. And we talk about it a lot, but I can't pick which guru is right for me."

You know, if you can't figure out which guru you want to follow, perhaps you shouldn't follow one at all.

Threads

2007-06-29T15:54:00.000+05:30

Earlier this year, it was all about the Rural Olympics (or, as some know them, the Kila Raipur games in the grand state of Punjab). Bullock carts were raced, cars were pulled with teeth, and heavy sacks of grain were loaded and unloaded from carrier trucks with characteristic aplomb.

In Dharamsala, we contemplated boycotting the 2008 Beijing Olympics. Free Tibet! Free!

This weekend, my aunt is competing in the 2007 Senior Olympics -- swimming a couple events in the 55-59 category.

As they say .... one is an exception, two are anomalies, and three is a trend.

(This goes right along with the ridiculous symmetry of now working in the Manhattan building in which I originally met the son of the man who hired me to lecture in his Indian journalism school.)

It's a hell of a town

2007-06-26T15:28:00.000+05:30

That's right, I'm coming at you live from Sunnyside, Queens -- NYC at its finest. Not even a last-minute bout of gastroenteritis could keep me from my motherland, and now that I'm here? Pleased as a little pea.

But don't fret -- this blog won't die, it will simply be repositioned. Not only will I be trying to discover the city, I'll be exploring from a somewhat skewed perspective: I'm an insider in that I'm American and I've spent a bit of time in New York in the past (local vs. express trains? I'm all over it), but I'm an outsider in that living in India (not to mention marrying an Indian citizen) has shifted my perception of my identity.

For example, coming home from work yesterday on the 7, I was reminded of Delhi's notoriously crowded buses; unperturbed by squishing myself between a Hispanic woman and a coochie-cooing couple, my ears instantly pricked: I heard Hindi.

I turned to my left, and there were two men, holding hands (a custom which I imagine baffled some of my fellow travelers), discussing which station to get off at. I cocked my head toward them, considered interrupting, then remembered the power that passing under the radar can grant you sometimes -- so I smiled, turned away, and jumped off at my stop.

On the way home, I passed a Japanese/Nepalese restaurant.

I think I'll like it here just fine.

Picture is from Union Square, February 2006. Apologies for the crappiness.

India's parting shot!

2007-06-21T17:22:00.000+05:30

I was supposed to be on a plane today. Five hours from now.

But instead, I've postponed my flight until maybe Saturday, maybe Sunday, all due to the wonder that is gastroenteritis. I'm weak, I was on an IV for four hours, and worst, I'm sad and frustrated. I haven't been able to blog because I'm just in over my head, and all I want to do is get to my new home and new life.

I'm a sad, sad animal right now.

Development porn

2007-06-18T22:01:00.000+05:30

If I weren't so insanely occupied with my impending (72 hours!) relocation to NY, I would be blogging about something lots of other people on the Interwebs have been commenting upon of late: the preponderance of white Western males as photographers of the developing world and the corresponding effect of this upon the way in which mainstream media depicts poverty, community building, etc.

Boing Boing has an excellent discussion of it here. I don't have much to add in theory, but I must say that the way in which people respond to me, a white woman trying to capture images of life in the subconty, vastly differs from the way in which they respond to my esteemed third-world photographer husband.

Perhaps a good project for him would be to chronicle New York as what people may assume to be a tourist. Somehow, though, I don't think it plays the effect back in the same way. Back to the drawing board.

Patiala ka photos

2007-06-17T20:11:00.000+05:30

Things I will miss about India, No. 2

2007-06-14T21:33:00.000+05:30

There just aren't enough ads about preventing mosquito-borne diseases in U.S. newspapers. Particularly sponsored by rock-star-like politicians who cater to a regional language (I mean, when did the New York Times last run a dengue-awareness ad in, say, Czech?).

And, in Zoey's culturally insensitive break of the day, I will also miss tittering at signs that would be inappropriate in an American context: UTI (urinary tract infection?) Bank, STD (sexually transmitted disease) phone booths, and drivers with names like Beer Singh and Manmeet (Do you like man meat? Dude, I can't get enough of it!).

I'm sorry, god. I had to get this off my chest.

I raise a glass to Willie Nelson (or, umm, Nikhil Wadhwani, or something)

2007-06-13T21:03:00.000+05:30

Anheuser-Busch has entered a joint venture in India; if I travel to Hyderabad or Mumbai, I'll be able to dedicate this Bud to you by July.

And that's not the only good news for hops lovers -- in the same article, an Economic Times reporter notes that Crown Beer will roll out a brew called Armstrong. Carlsberg will also enter the subcontinent with Palone, a Polish brand.

I don't know; Kingfisher and Cobra are both still pretty satisfying to me. Can the power of an American brand overwhelm the brew's overwhelming taste of urine?

Masala Mickey

2007-06-11T20:14:00.000+05:30

Content localization is the name of the game, and Disney knows it -- just one reason its recent partnership with Yash Raj Films is such a watershed. Yash Raj will create Disney-branded films, voiced by Bollywood actors, according to The Wall Street Journal; the paper notes that India has more people younger than 14 than the U.S. has total population.

Possible titles:
Steamboat Shiva (the plucky adventures of a young god traveling down the Ganga)
Saraswati and Saath Hijras (an abandoned girl child takes refuge in a colony of eunuchs)
Ganesha (Shiva and Parvati welcome their child to their world...only it has an elephant's head. Can our hero's mischievious ways save him from a life a ridicule?)
Rama Against the Rakshasa (which is harder to keep in line -- your wife, or the forces of evil?)
101 Rabid Stray Dogs (a power-mad Delhi clothier attempts to cull the unruly beasts of his neighborhood to build his business selling faux fur stoles to the Capital's upwardly mobile)
Ashwati in Wonderland (one girl's sojourn to find the perfect Manali hash)
Nataraj's New Groove (who needs designer togs when you're the lord of the dance?)

Spam on my phone

2007-06-10T21:26:00.000+05:30

In addition to frequent inducements to view pictures of "EXOTIC & SEXY BABES!!!," I've now started to receive very strange SMSes from people purportedly on Yahoo! Messenger.

From hard_ik2002: "hi there honi any plans to rock sat nite?"
From masti_masti2000: "how are you doing? the indian sardarni?"

Is this really a new service Yahoo! India is offering? Or is this a virulent (and obnoxious) new form of spam? I don't recall ever putting my mobile number anywhere on the Internet, much less on any Y! site ...

Good news for the impending relocation

2007-06-08T22:46:00.000+05:30

Let us all bejewel ourselves and gyrate lewdly in time to the dulcet tones of a man who sounds like he may have a sinus infection, for Bollywood movies will now be available on demand in the U.S.

That's right, Cox Cable and Time Warner have both rolled out services that will offer viewers 24-hour access to such gems as Krrish, Don, and Jaan-e-Maan.

I'm a little late to the party, I guess, because I now see press releases about this from last November, but no matter. I never before had the palpable prospect of being deprived of Shah Rukh Khan or the beloved Amitabh; just one more reason to believe that the transition back to an orderly American life will be somewhat less jarring than imagined.

OMG11!!!!1;2!

2007-06-05T18:49:00.001+05:30

Mike Tyson is reportedly in talks with Firoz Nadiadwala to star in a Bollywood movie -- and to stimulate interest, he's starring in a music video to promote the very filmi Fool n Final.

Yahoo reports:

"[Tyson said] 'I was, anyway, in that phase when I didn't mind trying out something different ... The script seemed very interesting, with lots of excitement thrown in."
I totally think Hindi script is interesting too. All those curves, at that mysterious line from which all the characters hang! Fascinating! Thrilling!

"Tyson said there are similarities between acting and boxing.

"'In both the fields, in order to survive and triumph, you need focus and to be highly disciplined and determined,' he said."
He failed to add that in the rider for his film, he promised not to bite off Amitabh Bachchan's ear. Unless the producers found it necessary for his character's development.

The importance of being on trend

2007-06-04T16:12:00.000+05:30

Not only is it necessary to flaunt Louis Vuitton bags and Chanel shades -- now, even your snack food can be your ticket to a better life.

Or so seems to be the message from SM Foods, the makers of such classy nips as Peppy Cheese Balls and Simba Chipniks ("Rrroaring with taste!"). When it comes to their tortilla chips, the company's Web site boasts, "Senor Pepito range is very popular with the teenagers, the young and happening crowd and the beer guzzlers. More importantly, Tortilla Chips are very trendy and considered a status symbol."

That's pretty big talk for packaging that has a cartoon sombrero on it. Unless the secret of their nacho cheese flavoring is a light dusting of gold (24 karat, natch), I think I'll pass.

Wound up

2007-06-03T17:20:00.000+05:30

I'm too exhausted to do anything but drink lemon soda. My recipe to keep you cool in the 45-degree-Celsius heat:

1/2 tsp. salt
2 tsp. sugar
3 lemons, quartered and squeezed

Create a decoction of these three ingredients in a tall glass; when the syrup is well mixed, fill the glass with club soda and enjoy!

(I'm still in denial about leaving the subconty. We have the greencard/immigration interview tomorrow morning, and we're slated to leave in less than three weeks. I'm afraid; Delhi feels more like home than anywhere else ever has. What to do?)

Ole!

2007-06-02T15:33:00.000+05:30

An interesting observation from a birthday party held at TGI Friday's for one of my co-workers: The American chain (so American that it does, in fact, serve deep-fried macaroni and cheese) offers Cuban cigars on its menu. Now if I was Thomas Friedman, I would exclaim about the wonder that is globalization, but instead, I think I'll just puff, puff, and pass.

Just a staffer

2007-05-30T20:21:00.000+05:30

Or, running commentary on "They are not foreigners, just staff" from today's edition of The Hindu.

"A German candidate essentially forwards a prolonged CV running into five or six pages whereas a Frenchman prefers a short, handwritten one. Russians indulge in detailed biographies and the Chinese present numerous recommendation letters to back them up. An Austrian candidate invariably lands up in highly formal attire, irrespective of the weather, while Americans are casualness personified. Australians display right attitude traits like honesty and straightforwardness at an interview and the Finns prefer to showcase their teamwork skills rather than their technical abilities. A Canadian aspirant waxes eloquent on his accomplishments while the British focus on competencies and competitiveness.

"To top it all, a Swede will definitely turn up with a trade union representative in tow.

"Contrary to what it may appear, this is not a satire on the individual job search idiosyncracies of different nationalities. It merely presents a window for recruiting foreign applicants in keeping with global trends. Yes, looking across the country's borders for fresh talent is no flash-in-the-pan."

The reporter neglects to mention that they must look beyond the borders because Indian applicants present lengthy CVs from headhunters' templates, then call every person they've ever met asking for internal company contacts, which they next proceed to hound for weeks until the HR department tells the applicant that the company will call the police if the person doesn't stop bugging its employees.

"At the time of hiring, it is necessary to understand the cultural background of the applicant apart from a comprehensive review of his qualifications. They should be made aware of issues pertaining to management of employees, peers, suppliers and others from local cultural issues. This calls for cultural sensitivity training to sensitise them to the nuances of customs, ethnicity and language."

Things I wish I'd been told before I started working in India: 1) It's not necessary to speak Hindi (or Kannada, Tamil, Bengali, or Marathi), but it's quite advantageous. People don't talk about you all the time in the mother tongue, but you'd be surprised at what they'll say when they think you're not listening. It's sort of like being a superhero. 2) It doesn't matter how hard you work -- if you're not sitting at your desk, it doesn't count to your manager. 3) Everyone wants to know who you are, how much you make, why you're here, and why you left the land of the free. If you don't want to narrate your entire life story, you'll probably be considered pricey and aloof.

"Employing foreigners calls for a higher payout rate. The employers have to offer cost of relocation, higher salaries, special perks and leaves at par with the country of their origin."

Really? Why didn't anyone tell me?

"A multicultural workforce can stir a hornet's nest too. The domestic employees may view 'the outsiders' as a threat or be peeved. Cultural differences may set the stage for tussles and misunderstandings."

In one of my favorite Indlish aphorisms, cultural differences and misunderstandings are there. But if there's one thing I've learned from my time in Dilli, it's beneficial for everyone if you come into the office with humility and an open mind. Don't be afraid to explain misconceptions, but be sure to hear what other people are saying -- there's a tremendous opportunity to learn about and improve yourself if you spend time with people who differ from you, so long as you don't imagine that you are superior by dint of the geographic serendipity of your birth.

Making men of gods and gods of men

2007-05-27T11:21:00.000+05:30

The advertising industry thrives on provocation -- exploiting the exotic, titillating the senses, etc. Often, this manifests in pictures of scantily clad women or beefy men, selling themselves as part of the product.

But sometimes, the ad execs go a bit further. This week, stories have broken about two high-profile campaigns that have prompted riotous uproar (on the Internet and on the streets).

The first is Saatchi & Saatchi's abortive attempt to highlight the longevity of Doc Marten's shoes by depicting fallen rockers donning the treads. Kurt Cobain perches atop a cloud in the stompers, a hangdog expression, above the company's logo and the word "forever." Doc Marten's has since fired the ad agency and pulled the series.

The second is the Times of India's shill for its SMS dating service, which features the god Krishna as a dating guru, using his mobile phone to attract devoted gopis by the dozen. The Hindu Janjagruti Samiti has staged protests in Mumbai, claiming "'dating' is a social vice. Those advocating this concept are launching an attack on our culture. Persons responsible for this issue, detrimental from the social and religious viewpoint, should be severely punished."

Perhaps I'm just a rabble rouser, because I think both ads are fairly intriguing. If we acknowledge that advertising is 1) about selling product and 2) sales do not depend upon quality and product features, but also are a consequence of novelty, buzz, etc., then these are both fairly ingenious ploys to evoke a response. Some people will find the shoe ads tasteless and give up buying the boots; but in fact, many of the people who still wear the grunge-era staple may find the campaign caters to their self-image as rebels, brigands, outliers on the social spectrum not obligated to conform with social and cultural mores.

Furthermore, within India, phone applications are becoming so ubiquitous that companies must at all costs find a way to stand out -- lord knows I immediately delete the viral Hutch ads SMSed to me, promising hot blondes and sexy babes if I just log on. TOI is tapping into an overpenetrated audience, and sometimes they must pull outrageous stunts so their service makes it into the news -- it's all the better for them if a group of morons sets up a microphone in Dadar and starts screaming about Hindu morality. They can then run a story about the youth's reactions, affirmations of a new identity, a hip counterculture, that doesn't need to conform with their parents' views of the world. Some people will see the service (and TOI) as an objectionable intrustion, but others will find a social space they may not know have existed -- and they'll be able to (bingo!) become a part of it by exchanging money for street cred.

I suppose my conclusion is that content isn't just about content; it's about the reactions it incites and the way in which people base identity upon a perception of being with or against the larger social system. I'm not "for" or "against" either of these ads, and for me, to attach value statements to either is beside the point; what is most fascinating is the way in which advertising becomes a means of consolidating identity in opposition or in alignment with particular commercial entities. Fascinating.

Things I will miss about India, No. 1: Snakes in a stadia

2007-05-23T21:22:00.000+05:30

There are about a million things in the subconty that completely flummox me. But there are also a million things that bedazzle me, that make me thankful to have experienced a life other than the American way.

Earlier this year, a Malaysian soccer team played the Indian soccer team in a match at the biggest stadium in Asia, Yuba Bharati Krirangan. During the match, play stopped for a few minutes when a large snake was found on the field.

FIFA is now investigating the stadium's maintenance practices, but I find the stadium supervisor's response entirely fanciful: "It is not possible for us to find out from where the snake sneaked in. And the snake was not at all poisonous. So, there is nothing for us to worry about."

In the U.S., I have a sneaking suspicion that CNN would give this 24-hour coverage (Python Interrupts Game at Madison Square Garden! At 10, How to Python-Proof Your Apartment in Less Than $10! And coming up next, Lax Officials: What Can We Do About Them, and Who Will Save Our Babies?! More, after the break!). It gives me enormous satisfaction that, although things get out of hand and people burn straw effigies of Richard Gere, a snake is sometimes just a snake, not an eerie premonition of impending doom.

Grand opening!

2007-05-20T13:18:00.000+05:30

It's official: S's show is on. The opening last night went off with nary a hitch, but that's not to say that getting to the point of having pictures on the wall was an easy task.

When we showed up on Friday, the previous artist was nowhere to be found, but his paintings and photos were still sprinkled throughout the gallery. There were a few crumpled price lists, some cellophane, and a few gallery hands, but no sign of the genius who was offering a blown-up print of a packet of Maggi Dal Sambhar noodles for nearly 2 lakh rupees (about $5,000). S, I, and a gang of well-wishers were ready to start hanging, but the portly, balding artist didn't see fit to wrap things up until around 3 or 4 a.m., at which point some handymen began puttying imperfections in the walls.

We unwrapped all the images and made a mockup of their sequence; however, as we were doing so, we discovered several problems with the framing -- wrong-colored mounting, scratched images, and so on. After tiring myself by fashioning a ball of duct tape and other packing material (applied art!) then batting it around the hall, I crashed in the gallery's lobby on two chairs pushed together; S buzzed throughout the night, returning home only for a quick two-hour nap, before spending all of Saturday chasing down the framer, fixing captions at the printer, and calling friends to remind them to attend. The last picture hit the wall at 6:30 p.m.; guests began arriving at 7 on the dot, uncharacteristically subverting the law of Indian Standard Time that dictates "punctual" means "three hours late."

There was a fair crowd, including some of our nearest and dearest friends -- as well as some typical Page 3 people, trailing the scent of success, glamour, and ... what was that? Burnt cocaine?

The most entertaining guests of the night, though, were undoubtedly the journalists, a great swarm of men who make a habit of attending every opening -- not because they are aesthetes, but because there is invariably free (albeit second-rate) whisky in the offing. They enter, make a quick chakkar, and then mill around for the remainder of the show, proffering limp handshakes to every bonny young lass as they explain the importance of a free press.

One such gem was a freelancer, a crooked, nearly bald man with a garland of hennaed hair ringing his dome. He haunts the Habitat Centre's openings, and I've met him before no fewer than three times; nevertheless, he doesn't remember me. "Hello, miss. You are with the gallery?"

"No, sir; my husband is the artist." I scan the room for S, hoping he'll intervene, but he's posing, fist against his chin, as he leans against one of his photographs for someone with video equipment.

"Ah, the artist, yes!"

A waiter approaches with a tray of drinks, and the man exchanges the glass in his hand for a fresh tumbler. He takes three big swallows, and then turns to me.

"Yes, yes. I am always talking to your husband. I have just given him my card. He is a great man, a very great man."

I nod, my eyes glassy, and excuse myself to oversee the sale of catalogs and ensure no one vandalizes the guestbook. He carresses my hand, then follows me to the table, requesting a press release about the show. I reluctantly hand him a catalog, and he sets to inscribing the register with his immortal words. After he puts the pen down, he approaches another waiter, downs another drink, and heads out into the stormy night. Curious, I scrutinize the guestbook, and find his scribbled hand.

"Perfection in all ways."

Indeed, indeed. There were many missteps, but for all the drama, it was a lovely event, refreshingly quirky and magical in its flaws.

Bookin' it

2007-05-20T11:42:00.000+05:30

I was thrilled to read that Katha, an Indian publishing house dedicated to culture and literature as a means of empowering the poor, was launching a book club -- and better, an online book club, which I'll be able to track regardless of the hemisphere I'm in. I particularly covet their collections of short stories translated from the panopoly of India's mother tongues -- I can't read Malayalam or understand Bengali, but these books take me to people and places I would otherwise remain ignorant of.

The only problem with the book club? Although they've apparently written a press release for it (which The Hindu, the Press Trust of India, The Times of India, and Zee News have faithfully transcribed), there is no mention of the club on their Web site. I know my initial five-year membership will cost Rs 500, and I know my money will benefit slum children in Delhi and Arunachal Pradesh, but I have no idea to whom I give the money or how to transfer it to them.

The only site that even broaches the question of how to get involved (why would anyone want contact information if a story is about a service being provided or an event being held?) is TOI, which directs readers to e-mail directmarketing@katha.org for membership information.

If you're trying to stimulate interest in a new program, isn't it of the utmost importance to eliminate every possible entry barrier? I'll still probably find a way to sign up, but if the goal is to bring the best of translated India to the masses, shouldn't it be ... a little easier to participate? And if it's really an online book club, shouldn't priority No. 1 be creating online infrastructure?

Polio vaccination, or delicious cod?

2007-05-17T18:43:00.000+05:30

While I love to brag about how much I save buying my prescription meds in India ($5 for a month's supply! Which used to cost me $500 a month in the U.S.! And I'm not dead yet!), the health-care system is far from perfect. Actually, on the fucked-up-edness spectrum, it's probably closer to "Now totally taking on the eradication of cholera, which you may remember from the Apple IIE classic, The Oregon Trail."

I was reminded of this when I opened my copy of Hindustan Times and encountered a story about how a the parents of a patient at a hospital in Kerala gave the doctor their morning catch (five kilograms of fresh pearl spot fish) -- which the harried pediatrician stacked inside a freezer in the pediatric operation ward of Kottayam Medical College. (A pharmacist discovered the fish when he restocked the freezer.)

It's not just gross negligence in hospitals; it's a lack of basic hygiene facilities for a vast proportion of the country, water shortages, inappropriate drug delivery systems, insufficient oversight to address health threats encountered by manual laborers, and grinding poverty that makes it necessary to, for example, sell one's kidney to get out of debt.

As much as people are talking about medical tourism, it seems -- as with so many other things here -- that adequate care is reserved only for the elite. I'd gladly pay more for my pills if that could, in some alterna-perfect world, help India's less privileged afford essentials like protection from mosquito-borne illnesses.

Just another reason I love India

2007-05-15T06:43:00.000+05:30

So yesterday was a rather stultifying day of red tape; I spent 10 consecutive hours at the Ministry of Home Affairs, primarily being 1) told to wait, 2) laughed at, or 3) asked why I didn't want to be a housewife. But let's put that aside for awhile. Bitterness is so passe.

The new black is belligerence, which I would like to illustrate with a short conversation shouted between a visa seeker and a visa officer.

Officer: "Why are you here again?"
Seeker, a middle-aged balding man, his rumpled purple Oxford shirt unbuttoned to reveal a delightful mass of gray chest hair: "I am needing visa! I am from Italy!"
Officer: "But you haven't followed any of the visa protocol!"
Seeker: "I have seen India! I have seen enough of India! No more!"
Officer: "One by one, you have violated the rules of the visa protocol! There is visa protocol!"
Seeker: "I WILL WAGE WAR ON INDIA AND CHINA!"
Officer: "We will put you in jail! You will be behind bars!"
Seeker: "I don't want JAIL, I want a visa! I hate your country! War!"

What surprised me most, perhaps, was that rather than being trucked off to Tihar, this individual was given what he wanted. Five hours before they addressed my concerns. I think the best thing for me to do is to stop trying to make sense of this utterly chaotic, irrational place.

Got vagina?

2007-05-13T10:05:00.000+05:30

Then P.RM Travels has a job for you.

In the classified section of The Hindu, I happened upon a rather hilarious ad, which I will recreate below:

Singapore-Walk-In
1. Mechanical Engineers - 5 yrs exp in rotating, static, PPM skills, planning and scheduling with SAP R3 knowledge. Cost estimation etc ...
2. MEP-Coordinators - able to do electrical / mechanical maintenance work in building, petro- chemical industry
3. Process Technicians - Petro- chemical exp must
4. Female (exp not essential)
5. QA/QC-Inspectors - precision industry experience must
...
To apply, to know salary & nature of job log on to our website. www.jobonhand.com

Does this strike anyone else as extremely shady? They're not asking for an executive assistant or an administrator, and experience is explicitly unnecessary. So what, dear friends, could the job profile for this female be?

(And, OK, if you go to the Web site, they do request a "female operator." However, I fail to see why they couldn't put this in the ad, if they're going to list details about the other jobs -- apparently targeting men -- that are a bit more salient than specifying desired genitals.)

Literature and performance art in Delhi

2007-05-10T22:17:00.000+05:30

Just heard over the transom about what sounds like a cool event:

Earlier this year, the British Council Delhi had organized a Spoken
Word Series featuring performances and workshops by UK and Indian
poets such as Anjum Hasan, Jeet Thayil, Lemn Sissay and Patience
Agbabi. This culminated in an open mic evening at Sarai, where those
of us present felt the necessity for more such spaces, which give an
opportunity to poet performers to explore how performance and poetry
can be brought together, spaces where words can come alive on the
stage through ways and means ranging from music to rhythm to dance and
beyond.

Introducing "Open Baithak", a space to experiment with words, enjoy
them, delight in them and do risky and innovative things with them. A
space where poet performers coming from different linguistic, literary
and oral traditions can find and learn from each other. A space where
new poets can try out their verses and voices.

The first five sessions of Open Baithak are being sponsored by the
British Council Delhi. Come to participate, or as audience to good
poetry and to daring, dazzling performances.

WHEN: 18 May 2007, 6.30-8.30 pm
WHERE: The Attic, 36 Regal Building, Connaught Place (see theatticdelhi.org)

To sign up, email openbaithak@gmail.com or show up at the Open
Baithak. Email the same if you have questions!

*OUR THREE RULES*

1. You get 7-8 mins on the mike. A bell will signal when your time is up.
2. Bring new material at every Open Baithak. You can perform the same
material twice max, if you wish to try it in a different way.
3. You can bring poems or prose readings in any language.

I'm not one for reading my work, and let's be honest: I haven't written anything I'm proud of in a long, long time. But it's great to see someone's trying to cultivate a more stimulating literary scene than book launches that are more about P3Ps than prose.

There's no justice like mob justice ...

2007-05-10T21:42:00.000+05:30

... especially when a newspaper publishes the results of a survey that you find dissatisfactory.

Tamil daily Dinakaran wrote a story summarizing the poll, which, among other things, apparently touched on who would be the political heir to Karunanidhi (who you may know as the guy in the sunglasses in the ad I just blogged about). Karunanidhi has three children, one of whom was pegged the overwhelming winner -- which so insulted the Dravida Munnetra Kazhagam (a political party) that brigands burned the offices of the newspaper, as well as Sun TV, ultimately killing three people. (Hindu story on the incident.)

Why? Why do these things happen with such frequency? I'm glad that (from reports I've seen) the rioting was rather isolated; then again, am I really finding a silver lining in a totally senseless act that ended up costing lives? How does one try to reconcile the image of multibillionaire technocrats with the embers dying out in the Dinakaran rubble?

So self-serious

2007-05-10T18:42:00.000+05:30

I know I'm supposed to be saluting a great true politician, but I can't stop thinking this is a promotional for Half Baked. (Click on the image for my witty [puerile?] reimagining of the ad, which ran in several national English-language newspapers.)

What marriage means to me ...

2007-05-08T19:53:00.000+05:30

... according to people interviewed in the city section of Hindustan Times:

"A lifelong free pampering session and someone to pay for that laser treatment." -- Pooja
"Unlimited sex and that too with social sanction." -- Vishal
"No more waking up at five in the morning to fill the water tank." -- Nitin
"Funding my MBA course." -- Arati
"My partner can take my pets for a walk and I can workout in the gym." -- Rahul

Ah, romance. So sweet and meaningful. How I abhor those crass people who marry for companionship, intellectual stimulation, and emotional support!

Don't let the sun go down on me

2007-05-07T19:48:00.000+05:30

IE has an interesting story -- currently, India has only one time zone, Indian Standard Time; the Parliamentary Standing Committee on Energy has just put forth a proposal to create a new zone for northeastern states in the hopes of potentially saving power consumption.

The reporter explains, "The logic behind the argument is that owing to early sunset in the North-East, lights have to be switched on in offices in the evening, leading to excess consumption of power. This can be avoided by advancing the clock by one or one-and-half hours so that offices close before sunset."

Wikipedia weighs in on the subject, and at best, the argument is debatable. But it certainly is an interesting topic -- and I thought daylight savings time was just a plot by shadow governments to undermine the focus and resolve of the American public by continually disturbing their biorhythms!

Shameless husband promotion!

2007-05-07T19:32:00.000+05:30

It's THE exhibition of the Delhi art year! Come one, come all, to the Visual Arts Gallery at the Indian Habitat Centre; opening night is May 19 at 7 p.m., and the booze will be freely flowing.

S's exhibition offers a peek behind the scenes of India's burgeoning fashion scene. From hair stylists to models, the ramp to an aspiring designer's barsati, the hub attempts to capture the image-conscious industry off guard. Dr. Alka Pande curates the exhibition, a culmination of more than four years of work that began while S was a grunt photographer at an afternoon tabloid in Delhi.

The show runs through May 24, and the gallery will be open from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. daily. If you're lucky, you can hobnob with the artist himself -- or, even better, his lovely firang wife!

Nation and identity

2007-05-05T19:42:00.000+05:30

Despite its tremendous linguistic, cultural, and ethnic diversity, the image of India one draws from the media (particularly outside the subconty) is usually of the northern plains -- bhangraing Funjabis or colorful Rajasthanis, usually accompanied by a camel or two.

So I quite enjoyed this week's Outlook, which had two passable articles on Indian identities to which less attention is paid: Franco-Indians living in Pondicherry (and preparing to cast votes for either Sarkozy or Royal) and young people from the Seven Sisters (an increasing presence as employees in the capital's hippest shops and cafes).

On a related note, I just finished Pavan K. Varma's Being Indian. It's interesting, in that it tries to debunk some of the myths that have been created about India. Varma writes:

"The Indian reality is transparent and opaque simultaneously. What is visible is as much a part of the truth as what remains unseen. Foreigners see what is overt, and conflate it with their preconceived notions of 'the great Indian civilization.' In the process many assumptions evade critical scrutiny, and a great dmany inferences are either incorrect or only partially true. But foreigners can be forgiven their errors. Not so the Indians. Over the years the Indian leadership, and the educated Indian, have deliberately projected and embellished an image about Indians that they know to be untrue ... What is worse, they have fallen in love with this image, and can no longer accept that it is untrue.

"The image has been created by a quantum leap of logic, an ideological sleight of hand that derives an untenable ought from an undeniable is. India has been a parliamentary democracy since Independence in 1947; therefore, Indians are undeniably democratic by temperament. Several important religions were born and flourish in India; therefore, Indians are essentially spiritually in their outlooks. People of different faiths have found a home in India; therefore, Indians are basically tolerant by nature. Mahatma Gandhi defeated the British by relying on ahimsa; therefore, Indians are peaceful and non-violent in temperament. Hindu philosophy considers the real world as transient and ephemeral; therefore, Hindus are 'other-worldly' and unmaterialistic in their thinking. India has nurtured a great deal of diversity; therefore, Indians are of an eclectic and catholic disposition.

"India is much too important today, and its potential far too significant in the coming decades, to be held hostage to this simplistic myth-making."

Although there are points within Varma's narrative with which I disagree, this excerpt fairly accurately reflects the relationship I've embraced as regards explaining India. People want quick and easy answers, a 30-second soundbite about how spiritual and loving and wonderful my two years here have been. The thing is, they haven't been. Certain moments fall into these categories, but to generalize -- to try and synthesize a country of more than a billion people into neat little boxes -- is simply impossible.

Booze basics

2007-05-05T16:40:00.000+05:30

Aspiring Indian oenophiles, take heed: Tulleehoo wants to "enhance your alcohol experience."

It sounds vaguely menacing to me -- so formal! -- but apparently this company offers training in the fine art of tasting, appraising, and appreciating foreign and domestic wine, beer, and whiskey. In addition to product info, there are also cocktail recipes, including India-specific delights such as "tar-booze" (a play on tarbooz, or watermelon).

They also seem to be trying to build a booze-centric online community, which (in my humble opinion) is far superior to the scrapping about who made out with whom and why on Orkut. But sometimes, they miss the mark.

The pub rating system for users to vote on local bars is entirely incongruous. People can typify the experience at the city's most glamorous hubs, from Tuskers to Tabula Rasa, as: 1) Five orgasms in a row; 2) One orgasm; 3) Hand jive; 4) Coitus interruptus; or 5) Like getting sodomised by all the Harlem Globetrotters.

Umm ... is that really necessary? I don't really think the categories are cute or hip, which is what the site seems to be aiming at, and I somehow think that their clientele -- the city's elite -- might be somehow beyond sophomoric college humor. Then again, what do I know? Maybe sodomy is the new black!

Begging for a visual

2007-05-03T07:44:00.000+05:30

In Kalagram, Chandigarh Tourism has opened what appears to be the country's first "condom bar" -- a themed watering hole/disco where pints are served in condom-shaped mugs and prophylactics festoon the walls. Free condoms will be distributed to patrons, and rather than returning loose change, customers will be given a handful of rubbers.

Aiming to spread awareness about HIV/AIDs and to destigmatize the usage of condoms, I applaud this new effort -- stories about which have been run in every major English-language newspaper in Delhi.

But conspicuously absent? Any accompanying visual. Is an image still too taboo for a morning read, or (as all these stories appear to have been ripped directly from a press release) was there simply no camera-ready art?

Copywrong

2007-05-02T21:09:00.001+05:30

On Monday, the Bush administration announced that it had put 12 countries -- including India -- on a "priority watch list" for failing to sufficiently protect U.S. producers of music and movies from piracy.

I'm not sure whether they're targeting cheap pirated CDs and DVDs or the larger issue of intellectual property rights, but I certainly hope they're not going to lead a crusade against masala-fied adaptations of Western culture. Because really, where would we be without silver screen gems such as Fight Club: Members Only (Fight Club), Mere Yaar Ki Shaadi Hai (My Best Friend's Wedding), and Deewane Huye Paagal (There's Something About Mary)? Whither the dulcet tones of Pretty Woman (originally by Roy Orbison) or Saiyan Dil Mein Aana Re (Spice Girls, who I realize are not technically American, but potato, potahto)?

Dance dance revolution

2007-05-02T19:42:00.001+05:30

You simply must watch this video (which has been spreading across the Internets like a global wildfire) of an Infosys account manager dancing -- nay, shaking a leg, getting down, gyrating, vibrating on a completely different plane.

And lest you think this is some kind of divine setup, let me assure you: I have witnessed even more horrendous acts than this, including an 8-year-old son of an executive assistant singing "Smack That" (unedited) while wearing leather pants and grabbing his crotch. Nightmares, my friends.

Great moments in copyediting

2007-05-02T19:15:00.000+05:30

One of my guiding principles for journalism? The more monkeys, the better. But if you're going to slap a chimp licking an ice cream cone on the front page of your metro section, you've got to get the details down.

The Indian Express has failed us. Because check out the caption (lower right corner): "While mourning for the brother of a former Hizbul commander, this militants."

Obviously, in lieu of the full stop, the sentence should have continued, "... contemplates the politics of identity, mulls the implications of terrorism in the subcontinent, and contemplates the merits of butterscotch over chocolate chip."

The third way

2007-04-29T14:42:00.000+05:30

In "White Skin, Brown Soul," an HT reporter takes on an interesting phenomenon -- white, natural-born citizens of India (primarily "the children of foreign immigrants — missionaries, social scientists, businessmen — who came to India in the 1950s and the 1960s").

Reporter Riddhi Shah exposits, "Much has been written about the NRI experience -- their conflicts, their battles, their struggle to come to terms with their mixed identities. But the stories of these reverse NRIs -- white on the outside and brown on the inside, 'white chocolate' to the NRI's 'coconut' -- have gone largely untold."

The story itself leaves a lot to be desired -- it's only about 300 words and attempts to synthesize the narratives of five or six people, all without really offering context or relaying the particularities of any one person's situation. Still, the topic poses interesting questions about identity and belonging in a world in which traditional boundaries are increasingly blurred. It stings when I hear people calling me gori and firang, and when children point, laugh, stare, sing songs. But I can only imagine how it would feel to have grown up in the subconty, to consider oneself Indian, and to experience the same day in and day out, endless explanations of life never quite either here nor there.

A life less ordinary

2007-04-28T11:11:00.000+05:30

Internet has been down here for awhile, and I've been taking the opportunity to do some reading. Just finished A Life Less Ordinary, an autobiography of Baby Halder, a domestic worker (it was originally written in Bengali and published [in Hindi, I believe] as Aalo-Andhari).

It's a quick read and a powerful story -- she offers a glimpse of the life a woman who was married and a mother by 14 who, after years of harassment from her husband and the community, picked up everything and disappeared to Delhi; after a few bad jobs, she found herself working for a man who caught her looking at the books on his shelves and, rather than remonstrate her for slagging off on duty, gave her a pen and a notebook and told her that she should think of reading and writing every day as one of her daily chores.

I don't have a coherent perspective on the writing/execution/style of the book (largely because I find myself confounded by the tension between literature as literature and literature as therapy or social tool), and I haven't read a great deal of other subaltern autobiographies, so I'll just highlight two passages I found particularly compelling:

"One thing that had become clear to me by this time was that man or woman, everyone was basically concerned about themselves and about having enough to eat. Had I understood this wisdom earlier, I would not have had to suffer so much."

"I like cooking for people and feeding them and even when I was with my husband, any time I made something new, I would share it with everyone around. Perhaps that was what made him so unhappy with me! I also liked looking at cookery books as much as I liked reading books and poems and stories. Reading the newspaper had become like an addiction and everything that Tatush read to me or told me about was a new discovery for me. Perhaps this was why I waited at the gate every morning for the papers to come."

Juxtaposing them, I guess what I like is that, despite an absolutely bleak outlook on the state of humanity, she still finds something, some way, to make her life positive. I've been accused of being an incurable cynic, so to try and capture some of this attitude in my life would probably be beneficial; shitty things happen, and sure, people are jerks, but there are too many good things to get caught up in feeling sorry for myself.

Better health through impoverishment!

2007-04-23T18:50:00.000+05:30

India's Ministry of Health has just debuted a Web site promoting awareness about health. While I applaud them for providing information on disease prevention, nutrition, and healthy lifestyles, I'm a bit disturbed by some of the content I found in a section entitled "Indian values."

Next to a picture of women carrying earthen urns on their heads, text reads: "The glory in carrying an urn, Health through carrying an urn These women rarely developed cervical spondylosis. They were physically active and many of today's diseases were thus prevented."

Then, by a woman grinding wheat on a millstone, comes this reproach: "Health through grinding your own flour in glorious India. These glorious Indian women never developed a frozen shoulder. They were physically active and home ground pure whole grains were being consumed which are very healthy to the body. Health was through eating whole grains, health through physical activity through their daily chores."

The key message seems to be right on -- physical activity is good. But the subtext seems to be that women, in embracing urban lifestyles, are dooming themselves to unspoken tragedy. This wouldn't bother me so much if there was also a section on how men should return to the agrarian life, say, urging them to embrace manually sowing fields, but there isn't. Instead, it is presumed that women should stay in their traditional places, shunning convenience for the sake of slaving over an open fire to provide the family endless freshly made rotis (and, of course, waiting until the men finish their meals before serving themselves leftovers).

My 'Ind'cyclopedia

2007-04-22T18:36:00.000+05:30

In the Times of India today, Shashi Tharoor introduced an intermittent series, "A glossary of Indianness." Today he highlighted India exemplified by the letter A: for example, Ambassador (car) and Amitabh (star).

Inspired, I decided to take a quick alphabetical stab at how I perceive India.

A: Autowallahs -- they're aggravating, uncouth, and often outlandish, but their buzzing buggies are so typically India that green-and-yellow plastic rickshaws are hot sellers in the tourist trap that is CP
B: Bureaucracy -- wait in a line for four hours to have a simple yes or no question answered, then be openly mocked by the attending counterperson; infuriating and byzantine, and yet, the system (somehow, mostly) works
C: Caste confusion -- a code I can't parse; trying to sort out Yadavs, Patels, Nayyars, and Chatterjees feels like trying to read Ulysses without Cliffs Notes by my side
D: Dilli darshan -- constant exploration of the seven cities; there's always something new to see
E: Excreta -- even in Defence Colony, it's the nalla that defines the sweet smell of succes
F: Family -- the bonds are immutable, at times overwhelming; at times, I envy the uncomplicated allegiance S has to his bawdy clan
G: Gol gappas -- the best street food I've ever encountered, a complete explosion of the senses (sweet, salty, sour, crispy, wet, messy, addictive); so popular, it's inspired a nouveau cocktail including at an upmarket Delhi restaurant, featuring flavored vodka and a Kingfisher chaser
H: Hot hot heat -- when I read Ruth Prawer Jhabvala's Heat and Dust, I imagined it was dramatization. I guess this web-footed Oregonian should have watched the Weather Channel before she left the balmy Northwest for the Deccan plain
I: Izzat -- honor is paramount, and crossing the line can lead to some unhonorable consequences
J: Jewels -- rubies, emeralds, pearls, gold, all my wedding ornaments all in a row
K: K serials -- ludicrously overwrought, my co-workers can't seem to stop gossiping about these trashy soaps
L: Love -- I came, I saw, I met my husband!
M: Mystery -- regardless of how long I live here, I suppose there will always be something new to learn, an air of the unknown hanging as thick as the smog around the towering Qutab
N: Natkhat -- possibly my favorite Hindi word in terms of mouth feel, it's also the preferred moniker for my catty-kin
O: Overcrowding -- in a country of more than a billion, it's inevitable that one will sometime feel the crunch; on the bus, on the street, in chaotic lines, at the grocery store, out for dinner, it feels almost decadent to imagine asking for peace, quiet, or personal space
P: Page 3 people -- obnoxious social climbers in bejeweled, overpriced, ostentatious outfits; they're in TOI and HT, and they get lots of free drinks, but conversation begins and ends at dropping clues about how fabulous they are
Q: Qutab -- World Heritage in my backyard, but no one really knows the original purpose of the Qutab's construction -- mosque, watchtower, tower of victory?
R: Railways -- on the Shatabdi or trying to sleep in the dodgy classes on an overnight ride to Faridkot, riding the rails in India provides a glimpse at a broad slice of the subcontinent
S: Shanti -- overwhelming traffic got you down? No one will renew your visa? In laws asking when you're going to produce a son? Shanti, shanti, shanti
T: Touts -- no, I don't want your chess set; no, I don't want a squeaky puppet; I'm not interested in a slithering wooden snake, I have no use for a rudimentary copy of a Mughal miniature, and for god's sake, I don't need any Punjabi suits or cashmere stoles
U: Unbelonging -- no matter how hard I try, I'll never fit in. And that's precisely why it's so wonderful to live here; it pushes me, forces me to confront what I don't like in myself and others, and requires that I actively pursue change
V: Vexatious -- my time here has been high on character building, which is good in the long run, but in the moment? Absolutely frustrating. But, in the words of one of my journalism profs, "Bad for me, good for the story"
W: Weddings -- whether glistening five-star affairs or my own disaster-riddled court ceremony, India certainly is a land of romance
X: X marks the spot -- for a significant slice of India's population, illiteracy is still a plague, and thumbprints count for signatures
Y: Yamuna -- it's a stinking, filthy cess pool that used to be a pristine river; nonetheless, it is (or was) lifeblood for disparate communities -- drum makers, food vendors, families, Hindus, Muslims, and more
Z: Zed -- somewhat sweeter than "zee," adapting to a different ending for the alphabet song is just one of the myriad adjustments in my life in the last few years; once I embraced the Oxford comma, I knew my life would never be the same

Happy shaadi, Abhiash!

2007-04-21T15:22:00.000+05:30

The subconty can finally calm down: The knot is tied, the deed is done, and, with any luck, the compound "Abhiash" will fade from our collective conscience.

That's right, the "world's most beautiful woman," Aishwarya Rai, married India's "most eligible bachelor" (and heir to the throne of Big B), Abhishek Bachchan. There was hand-wringing about the horror of Rai being a manglik, there was invitation drama, there was even a woman who slashed her wrists outside the Bachchan residence on the day of the wedding, claiming that Abhishek had slept with her and promised to wed her.

I give up -- there's not much more to say, other than that it was an affair entirely befitting this pair of Bollywood blockbusters.

(At left, an overleaf advertisement for Loreal, for which Aishwarya is a spokesperson. It was wrapped around the Times of India, with a message inscribed on its reverse: "Hearty congratulations and best wishes to Aishwarya as she begins her wedded life. Aishwarya Amber is the shade that she had chosen for her beautiful occasion. It's a limited edition shade specially designed by Loreal Paris to bring alive the brilliance of the gorgeous bride ... Because she is worth it." Nothing quite so romantical as kissing your husband with lips that are bought and sold for a few paltry rupees ...)

Intolerance rears its ugly head

2007-04-17T11:45:00.000+05:30

I keep hoping these stories will become less frequent, but they just don't: certain parties of the Indian polity appear preternaturally threatened by any divergence from what they presume is the norm, and they're willing to become violent to express their discontent.

Exhibit A: At a high-profile event to raise money for AIDS awareness, Richard Gere hammily kisses Shilpa Shetty on the cheek. News outlets, high on the scent of Bollywood/Hollywood celebrity, print the picture and replay the event ad infinitum.

Rather innocuous; he's not kissing her on the mouth, he's clearly showboating, and it's exactly the sort of overdramatic, I'm-a-hero blockbuster crap that should go unnoticed, or, at worst, ridiculed for being unnecessarily cheesy.

Not so in the delightful subconty; no, Gere is being harangued to tender an apology, people in Mumbai are burning effigies of Shetty (and, apparently in some cases, screaming "Death to Shilpa!"), the BJP insists that "Such a public display is not part of Indian tradition" (what about kisses in Bollywood movies, though?), and the Shiv Sena describes the event as "an attack on India's cultural ethos," and the involved parties are explaining that it was just, you know, a thing that happened, certainly not obscene or meant to harm anyone's sensibilities (on target, misguided, or otherwise)

Exhibit B: Members of the Hindu Rashtra Sena in Mumbai attacked the offices of Star News in protest over their coverage of a Muslim and Hindu girl eloping. An executive editor is injured; the property is damaged, and more than 40 cars are smashed with hammers and iron rods. While the news channel certainly may have "glorified the love story" (what channel doesn't exploit ANY story they see as capable of driving ratings?), I fail to see how this can be construed as "anti-national," as the Hindu Rashtra Sena claims.

There are certainly many people who think these reactions are insane, overwrought, and completely unnecessary, but the fact that the BJP is once again gaining political power (e.g., regaining a simple majority following the Municipal Corporation of Delhi elections earlier this year) is a bit unnerving when they appear to be tacitly (or explicitly) promoting a sort of close-minded provincialism.

I suppose what it comes down to for me is how flummoxingly protectionist people can be about a culture that is persistent, resilient, and vibrant as India's, while at the same time boasting about how strong India is, how it will become the world's next superpower, &c. It seems like simple logic that if India is to influence hundreds of countries across the globe, it will have to witness some things that are a bit "foreign" to its storied history, as well. It happens in the U.S. as well, lest we overlook examples such as (successful) attempts to legislate about the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman. Am I being too optimistic, assuming that eventually people will come to their senses and acknowledge that, although it might not be the path one individual might choose, another individual still has the right to live his or her life as he or she chooses, sloppy kisses and all?

Visual culture in South Asia: Hindu nationalist greeting cards

2007-04-16T19:01:00.000+05:30

I blogged earlier about the fellowships at Tasveer Ghar, so it's only fair I point again to a new feature on their Web site: user-contributed galleries and essays re: art, technology, and visual culture.

The first, by Christiane Brosius, is "Celebrating More Than the New Year: The Hindu Nationalist Greeting Cards." A concise essay accompanies eight images of cards, primarily by the artist B. Highly recommended.

For information on applying for the fellowship (last date to submit? April 30! Hurry!), go here.

Weekend reading

2007-04-15T17:22:00.000+05:30

I'm recovering from food poisoning (damn you, resto-bars of Gurgaon!), so chew on this: A nice story from the south about a group that's trying to stamp out bribery.

A snippet of the longer story:

In the secret language of corruption in India, an official expecting a bribe will ask for Mahatma Gandhi to “smile” at him. The revered leader of the independence movement is on all denominations of rupee notes.
With rampant dishonesty ingrained in the bureaucratic culture, an anticorruption group has decided to interpret the euphemism literally by issuing a zero-rupee note.
A direct copy of the 50-rupee note, including Gandhi’s portrait, it is designed to be handed out to officials who demand backhanders.
In the place of the usual promise of redemption by the central bank governor, the new pledge is: “I promise to neither accept nor give bribe.”

(The group behind the drive is 5th Pillar, an NGO dedicated to fighting corruption.)

Anda ke funda

2007-04-11T19:39:00.000+05:30

A few weeks ago, I decided I needed new shoes. NEEDED them, and not just any shoe would do. They had to be special, and no, I didn't want to go to South Ex or Khan Market or anywhere else I had already seen; I wanted a clean slate, a totally new experience.

So S took me to Shahpur Jat, an "urban village" that also features a number of hoity-toity shops, such as The Shoe Garage, where I bought what can only be classed as hooker heels. But that's neither here nor there, because what I really want to write about is the place there where we had lunch.

Pam's Breakfast & Food Center is a fairly nondescript little joint -- clean, minimalist, festooned with posters highlighting the excellence of eggs. The day we visited, in fact, they were having an omelette festival; we ate something called a "pillow omelette," which was OK, if a little gooey, presumably because they had to stuff the eggs with a mass of processed cheese the size of my closed fist to make the dish look like a pillow.

Anyhow, you know, not the best breakfast I've had, but certainly not the worst, particularly in a city where it's damned hard to get a "Western" (i.e., not puri/sabzi or paranthas) breakfast anywhere outside of Hippieville (also known as Paharganj, where most backpackers/budget travelers stay). With our check, we were presented a comment card and a pen, the waitress hovering expectantly as I dutifully rated the food, service, and ambience.

And then I made a fatal error: I wrote down my real e-mail address, in addition to some candid remarks S urged me to record ("The omelette was alright, but it was a little ... wet."). The following Monday, I logged into my e-mail account, I was confronted with this message:

Dear Zoey,

Thank you for visiting PAM's for the Omelette Festival with TWIST.

You liked the PILLOW omelette, but, found the inside too wet and gooey. Well we have gone further and developed a mix veg omelette where we keep the cheese minimum and not all that gooey whith veg and tomatoes and cheese altogether.

We look forward to seeing you again with your friends and family. However, please ask the Table Waiter to ask the chef to make the omelette not wet inside.

Regards

Capt. Jatindar P. Shad

Whoa. Now THAT'S service. I now receive spam from them at least once a week, but at least it's inventive and mildly hilarious. And the proprietor seems to be a most intriguing man -- on the Web site, Pam's advertises free services, including individual counseling with Capt. Shad ("There is no problem of life that you cannot discuss with Capt. Shad and after you have spoken to him - you will find a new meaning to life. So let it be a difference with your associates, your boss or for that matter with your spouse, you siblings, your parents - any one - come and discuss this openly with him and find how simple it is to Be Happy."

Confronting abuse

2007-04-10T19:40:00.000+05:30

The Ministry for Women and Child Development (supported by Save the Children and UNICEF) has just released the results of an empirical national study on child abuse that spanned 12,500 children and 4,800 young adults in 13 Indian states. And it's a blockbuster: It asserts that two out of every three children have been physically abused and more than half of the respondents were subject to sexual abuse.

I'm a bit skeptical, primarily because none of the stories I've read have defined the exact boundaries of physical or sexual abuse, nor have they addressed the issue of methodological rigor. Prayas, the NGO that did the data collection, offers some insight on its methodology on its Web site, but a little more clarity would be nice. Statistics conceal as much as they reveal (or, in the words of Andrew Lang, "He uses statistics as a drunken man uses lamp posts -- for support rather than illumination"), and everything, from the phrasing of questions to the people deployed to collect information, can distort reality.

Regardless, this report seems like an excellent opportunity for some thoughtful follow-up reporting -- whether to broach the reliability of such surveys, to address the issue of gender as it affected the findings, to discuss ways of raising awareness and bucking the trend, &c. Will any media outlets take up this challenge, or are they content to simply project images of young girls playing barefoot in the dirt under headlines such as "Girls want to be boys"? I'm not so optimistic, but perhaps someone will prove me wrong.

For once, I'm on the side of the 5-0

2007-04-10T18:44:00.000+05:30

Today, in a quote rail accompanying a story on the Delhi Police's crackdown on routine traffic offences, Pawan Kumar quibbles:

"The new fines are highly unfair. I earn Rs 2,000 a month, so how can I possibly pay a fine of Rs 600?"

It would be a much more defensible position to take if he hadn't just run a red light. See, the point is, modify your behavior, or spend one-third of your monthly income on a traffic fine. Don't do the crime if you don't want to do the time, jerk! (Furthermore, this anecdote stinks like patchouli -- Kumar is characterized as a "marketing executive." Now, I can't tell if he's lying about his income to dramatize his plight, or if there really *are* such woefully underpaid execs, but come on. Something just doesn't add up.)

And seriously; is taking personal responsibility for one's actions that out of fashion? Like when the copy machine runs out of paper, and there's a stack of paper sitting on the desk to the right of the copy machine, is it that much to expect for someone to simply load the tray, instead of calling IT and asking them to fix it. Or when I want to go to the bathroom and everyone is avoiding one stall like someone who used it experienced severe gastrointestinal distress, when really the stall's simply out of toilet paper, is it that insane to expect that someone will grab the readied roll, conveniently resting on a shelf for just such occasions? Ay yi yi.

Enchanting eateries

2007-04-08T19:15:00.000+05:30

Not since spelunking through Bangkok and Cambodia have I been so entranced by wayside eateries. (Perhaps it's because I've thrown dieting to the wind and could thus enjoy plates upon plates of momos and thick slices of Tibetan brown bread slathered in butter.)

The Moonlight and Sunrise cafes are flush with one another and seem to serve exactly the same menu (chai, omelettes, what have you). But no, my friends, don't be fooled: The Sunrise Cafe actually serves -- I kid you not -- "the best chai in Asia." It sounded like a gauntlet, and S and I were eager to disprove the haughty man at the grill, but I'd be a lying, sinful blogger if I said my cuppa wasn't among my top five chais of all time.

I suspect that we could have had an excellent brew at the Tea O'Clock Cafe, but the shutters festooned with flyers about finding my chakras and learning traditional Tibetan massage perhaps indicates that the proprietors of the Sunrise Cafe ran them out of town in some sort of West Side Story-esque turf war, punctuated by an extravagant Lhamo operetta. That's OK; at our flat in Delhi, it's always tea o'clock, and we won't even glare at you if you malinger or start singing along to the Bob Dylan playing on a loop.

Sidewalk sellers of the ubiquitous fried/steamed momos were plentiful, and we availed of their goods no fewer than thrice. These men were selling freshly made spinach momos, though they weren't as chipper as some of the women in the lane, chatting and joking as they despatched the steaming plates. Nonetheless, and despite what all the fast food chains say, the food tastes just as good without service with a smile.

Although Chuki's Restaurant was being renovated, and we thus could not sample their earthly delights, the establishment wins my vote for best exterior decoration. However, some Googling indicates that the food is every bit as good as the vibrant political statement being made.

And thus concludes our abbreviated tour of McLo gastronomique -- it's round about tea o'clock, and a soothing mug of Kangra green tea is calling my name.

TOi's new editorial policy: A triumph over capitalization!

2007-04-08T15:08:00.000+05:30

'So where did i go wrong?'
'Coming as i do from a family of government servants ...'
'Like the government, i'm all for kiranawallas.'

I'm not sure how long it's been going on now, but it seems the Times of India is fighting a scourge worse than communalism, casteism, and sexism combined: the capital I.

Tongue firmly in cheek; still, I would really love to understand the rationale behind the consistent lowercasing of the of the personal pronoun (which, at this time, seems confined to the editorial spread). I can't write it off to poor rapporteur -- clearly, Shashi Tharoor and Gurcharan Das are aware of the rules of the English language.

So is it a conscious decision on the editorial board's behalf, perhaps a silent rebellion against the strictures of an imperialist tongue? A sweet subversion of society's myriad norms? Can someone PLEASE tell me what's going on?!

Tashi delek!

2007-04-08T14:23:00.000+05:30

Just returned from a short jaunt to Dharamsala/McLeodganj, better known as the seat of the exiled Dalai Lama. Peaceful, restful, restorative; much off-roads rambling transpired, as did considerable and indiscriminate photographing of hand-painted signs, which is becoming something of an obsession.

At left, the old Nowrojee store, established sometime in the mid-1800s. Still sells sundries -- primarily newspapers and magazines, but also saw evidence of colas and candies being peddled; more interesting is the store's interior, which is dappled by ancient signs, dusty glash shelves, and long-expired provisions, such as several dented vat-like cans of shelled peas. Certainly an interesting visit, and a good place to meditate upon the confluence of culture, old and new, tradition, modernity, and finding a fine balance.

More to come ...

Delhii Heights (the extra "i" is for illiterate!)

2007-04-03T20:55:00.000+05:30

According to the annual Mercer Quality of Living survey, I reside in the world's 148th most liveable city (by measures of criteria related to health, sanitation, recreation, schools, housing, &c., and out of a total of 215 locales). Bottom of the heap, unsurprisingly, is Baghdad.

Take that, Chennai (no. 177)! Suck on it, Mumbai (no. 209)!

Possible city mottos, in recognition of this tremendous feat? Let's see...

Delhi: Proudly in the Third Quartile!
Delhi: Up Two Whole Places!
Delhi: Poor Waste Removal and Sewage Systems, But at Least the Americans Have Only Invaded Khan Market!

Breaking news from Bihar: shiny techno toys NOT a solution to corruption or poverty

2007-04-02T21:20:00.000+05:30

In an effort to cut out the middleman paying workers governed by the National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme, the Central Bank of India debuted a biometric ATM -- essentially hoping to democratize access to banking by finding a way for illiterate people to interface with financial institutions.

Problem, though? Probably not a good idea to roll this bad boy out in Bihar, where the local honcho is refusing to deposit wages into the bank, because "it's a complicated process."

The story about it in the Indian Express was a bit heartbreaking for me, especially reading about the daily wage earner who took part in a ceremony to celebrate the introduction of the new ATM; after flashing his thumbprint, a Rs 1,000 note was dispensed -- and then promptly recovered by the bank, because it was only for show. '“Since then, I have been waiting to use the machine again, but the mukhiya doesn’t let us,” [the daily wage earner] said.'

Sometimes, the strangest things make my heart hurt.

Fashion schmashion -- I want pasted-on eyebrows

2007-04-02T20:49:00.000+05:30

Another one bites the dust -- yes, friends, Lakme India Fashion Week Spring/Summer 2007 has come to a close.

I could wax philosophic about the nascent fashion industry in the subconty, rant about the irony of Fashion TV being banned during fashion week, discuss the rise of the consumer and the urge toward luxury brands, or perhaps even gossip a bit about how cool it would be if Tyrant Banks brought her unholy prote-bitches to walk for a show in Delhi.

But I'd much rather let one iconic image speak for itself: Behold the unusual stylings of Vikram Phadnis, who sent an army of models down the catwalk that were attempting to bring sexy back by hearkening to the halcyon days of the Marx brothers.

Nothing says "that's haute" quite like two caterpillars pasted onto a beautiful woman's (transexual's?) forehead.

Sex in the subconty

2007-03-30T18:31:00.000+05:30

Here in the land of the Kama Sutra, I have been INCREDIBLY disappointed with how people in general -- and the media in particular -- broach the subject of sex. The debate is pretty polarized, with people either prudishly denying impulses exist ("Karnataka says no to sex education") or superficially embracing prurient matters with a smattering of jingoistic verbiage ("India's cricketers put sex appeal before six appeal").

So I generally avoid the topic altogether, unless the reporter appears to have taken more than a cursory interest in some of the issues at play. At least, that's the general rule: Today, I couldn't help but read the cover story of Times of India's weekend supplement, What's Hot, which features a callout box on "What Women Want" that is so ludicrous I simply MUST cite it here in its entirety:

Women who live between the Ganges and the Yamuna do not like 'lusty practices' like being bitten or having men dig their nails into them.
Those of Baluchistan like to be physically struck by their men.
Women of Maharashtra like their men to use foul language while making love; however, women of Varanasi abhor men who do that.
The women of Patna are demure.
The fair sex of Avanti (central India) loathes being kissed.
Women of Punjab can be won over by oral sex.
Women of Oudh (Uttar Pradesh) make great love potions are are also impetuous in their desire.
The fair sex of Andhra is very 'voluptuous' in its taste.
Source: Kama Sutra: The Art of Making Love to a Woman, Pavan K Varma

I really can't make heads or tails of this. Apart from the grossly inadequate assumption that women of certain geographies have uniform sexual preferences, what the hell do some of these comments mean? Are the women of Andhra sapphic, or do they just like fat men? Why (why, why?!) do the women of Baluchistan like to be physically struck by their men, and is it really responsible to assert that they do when, in fact, they may not enjoy it so much as have been conditioned into accepting the practice?

Kya bakwaas hai.

(On a side note, somewhat-but-not-really related, I sometimes call my cat "little Lula," because I give everybody and everything annoying pet names. After about three months of doing so, S informed me that in Punjabi, lula means "penis." Woops. When I told my beloved mum this story, she exclaimed, "But that's what they called your stepsister when she was little!")

Innovations in South Asian journalism

2007-03-27T12:46:00.000+05:30

From Sacred Media Cow (an independent postgraduate collective on Indian media research and production spearheaded by students of SOAS at the University of London):

"Don’t trust the Indian news media? Then stop buying the newspapers and 24X7 channels. Hire your own embedded journalist to do the job for you, a private eye.

If you pay for the trip and expenses as a collective donation, I will go out and report directly to you, on this website and your cellphone by SMS. You will also have control (within reason), via sms or comments, on what I should do next.

75% of what you pay will be spent on the job at hand, and the rest are my earnings.

State your choice of place and amount donated below in comments.

Your three choices this week:

1. Nandigram, West Bengal
2. Jantar Mantar, New Delhi
3. Choose a destination"

The journalist being sponsored is DJ Fadereu, who cites this and this as similar projects.

I have to say, I'm absolutely flummoxed, but perhaps someone with a few more paisa than I would be interested in a little direct research?

Hillary, Barack: Take note

2007-03-27T11:22:00.000+05:30

An independent candidate in a Delhi election, backed by his local resident's welfare association (RWA), has a new campaign tactic: Annoying the hell out of his constituents.

RP Gupta, being unaffiliated with any traditional party, needed to choose iconography with which his constituents could connect -- the Congress' symbol is an open hand and the BJP uses a lotus, which serves to allow even illiterate villagers to select the party that most closely reflects their values.

Gupta decided on a whistle, presumably because he could physically utilize it in his electioneering. The Indian Express reports, "The whistle seemed like an odd option till we hit upon an innovative way to campaign in our constituency .... 'Each time I go out for campaigning I start blowing my whistle getting people to come out of their homes. They all know me as the old man who blows a whistle outside their windows,' [Gupta] says."

I suppose it could be worse: he could have chosen a can of mace and sprayed the vile liquid in his constituents' eyes, or perhaps his gimmick could have been a leg -- his attendant action could have been kicking the people in his neighborhood in the groin.

Six degrees of expat separation

2007-03-26T19:06:00.000+05:30

You know, you'd think there'd be more variety in a country of a billion people.

Imagine, if you will, a young American expat's birthday party on a balmy Saturday night. Said expat is Miss Y. Your humble blogger? Miz Z.

Miz Z brings her husband, Mr. S., to the party, who promptly identifies Miss Y's paramour as "a guy who looks like my friend R," who indeed turns out to be his friend R (with a slightly different haircut).

Miz Z also brings her friend Big D, a freelance journalist, to the shindig, because, you know, Americans gotta stick together. Big D immediately begins talking to Miss Y, who works for a human rights foundation in Delhi that is TOTALLY Big D's "No. 1 favorite human rights organization."

Miss Y, consequently, is working for the organization in India on a fellowship that Miz Z just discovered is run by the son of Miz Z's former employer.

One of the girls also in the fellowship program (and at the party) is Easy E, who has brought her fiance to the fete. The fiance went to LaHell, the private Catholic high school located in Miz Z's home town (she went to the downmarket Milyucky).

There are two fine young people who also attended a rather exclusive Holi party attended by Miz Z et al.; another attendee is studying the '84 Sikh riots, which Mr. S did a photo essay on last year.

I could go on, but seriously, six degrees? Try one or two. It's a small world after all.

Unfrozen Sudoku champion?

2007-03-25T11:54:00.000+05:30

At left: The Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer (played by the late Phil Hartman), of Saturday Night Live fame.

At right: The six representatives of "Team India," bound for the World Sudoku Championship in Prague on March 27. Presumably, they're helmed by the dashing man in an incongruous black shirt, who may or may not have fallen into a crevasse during the Ice Age only to be discovered by scientists in 1988 who reanimated him.

I know the picture is a bit fuzzy, but I can totally imagine our plucky friend addressing the audience at the penultimate Sudoku championship ceremony: "Ladies and gentlemen of the audience, I'm just a caveman. I fell on some ice and later got thawed out by some of your scientists. Your world frightens and confuses me! Sometimes the honking horns of your traffic make me want to get out of my BMW.. and run off into the hills, or wherever.. Sometimes when I get a message on my fax machine, I wonder: "Did little demons get inside and type it?" I don't know! My primitive mind can't grasp these concepts. But there is one thing I do know -- when a large media group offers you hundreds of prizes for putting some numerals on paper, and they also offer to fly you to Prague, you seize the opportunity. Thank you."

Close encounters of the politico kind

2007-03-24T16:35:00.000+05:30

I was at Khan Market this morning, dallying, mostly (and looking for a new pair of jeans, a quest that sadly went unrequited), when I noticed that a new store had opened: Good Earth.

I peeped curiously through the darkened windows, lingering a bit and wondering whether I could get a free glass of champagne or something if I entered -- garlands were strewn all around, and it was apparently the grand opening. I hemmed, hawed, contemplated, and ultimately decided not to be presumptuous -- when who walks out but the Chief Minister of Delhi, Sheila Dikshit.

OK, so she's not exactly a celebrity, but she is an immensely powerful and influential woman. She was wearing a khaki silk sari, and she looked much as she looks in her pictures; she wasn't doused in makeup or drizzled in gold, just a normal woman, escorted by several security men and a glistening Amby. For some reason, I wanted to ask her for her autograph.

I didn't. But I was awed by her presence, for better or for worse. However, it does beg the question: Why is she spending her time gracing the opening of posh stores, rather than helping alleviate widespread poverty, etc.? Granted, you can't be on all the time, but why are high-end home furnishings more important than highlighting the importance of, for example, eliminating tuberculosis or securing a safe water supply for all Delhiites? (I cite these examples because earlier this week there was an emphasis on both in the newspapers, presumably, for example, because it was World Water Day.) I don't envy politicians, in that they have to flatter a variety of stakeholders, but can't her support extend beyond token appearances?

Don't mix drink with drive

2007-03-22T16:51:00.000+05:30

According to this Web site, the Mumbai Traffic Police have started disseminating these coasters (at left), which are printed with a type of red ink that only appears when wet.

Thus: Order a frosty beer; enjoy the mug, glistening sweat; finish draught; admire mugshots of people with what appear to be head wounds.

It's gruesome, shocking, tasteless, and a little bit fantastic. I love it when art and technology collide, particularly in such a public forum.

That said, I have absolutely no idea of the back story for this; when S and I were in Mumbai, we certainly didn't notice any of these while we were quaffing innumerable pints. There's also little buzz about drunk driving in recent media, so the catalyzing event for this macabre exhibition will remain a mystery for me.

Save the cheerleader ... ignore the credibility

2007-03-22T13:50:00.000+05:30

(Or, another stunning derivation into India as portrayed by American pop culture.)

So one of my favorite guilty pleasures is Heroes, mostly because it's airing nearly in real time with the U.S. -- meaning I can visit all sorts of obnoxious time-wasting Web sites where people discuss the relative hotness of Milo Ventimiglia et al.

HOWEVER -- and this is a big however -- I'm really annoyed by the depiction of Mohinder Suresh (Sendhil Ramamurthy), who is the narrator and is following up on the work of his father, who discovered what are essentially genetic mutants and was subsequently killed for reasons unknown but presumably connected to his work. Anyhow, the plot doesn't matter too much, but what DOES matter is that Mohinder is supposed to be from Chennai. And...umm...every time he comes on the screen, S starts shrieking, "There is just no way any Tamil would name their kid Mohinder! The names don't go together! This is a travesty! Blargh!"

OK, maybe that's quibbling, and it does rest on a neatly smoothed bed of assumptions (that because he's from Chennai he's Tamil, etc.). There's room for error there. Perhaps more disturbing is his absolutely absurd accent, which, while sexy, is certainly not one I've ever heard in the subconty. As one Web poster notes, "I thought he was definitely cute, but the accent gave me the heaves. Being Indian myself and having extended family that fits both the 'Indian raised in India with English medium schools' as well as those 'raised/educated in Britain' profile, I can say that his accent is nowhere near either of these categories, if that indeed is what his character is supposed to be." Another rants, "Mohinder must be trying for a call centre job here in India with that pseudo-British accent he's doing. Producers, please do some basic research. If a guy is supposed to be from Madras, please get him to practise a South-Indian accent. And don't give him a completely North-Indian name like "Mohinder"."

And then the show follows Mohinder (gah!) back to Chennai when he has a crisis of conscience.

Seriously, it's like the producers/writers just gave up. One, it's clearly set on a sound stage in California; havelis, though lovely, do not make the depiction of the city more credible. (Note the accompanying picture, which is allegedly Kanyakumari; the characteristic Kumariamman temple is TOTALLY Photoshopped in there.)

Two, unlike in Japan, where everyone is speaking Japanese and they give them subtitles (even one staple character, Hiro, primarily speaks Japanese and gets that treatment), in Chennai, everyone is speaking English in a variety of accents. Granted, many people in India speak English, but in bazaars, in normal middle class life, most lapse into the vernacular -- Tamil or Marathi or Gujrati or Hindi or Malayalam, whatever. These small inconsistencies? Chipping away my soul. My tortured, tortured soul.

Americans are uninformed enough about other cultures. When I tell (American) people I've lived in India for about two years, the most common questions I get are about bride burning and tantric yoga. I may be making a mountain out of a molehill -- after all, it is just TV, and who said the media is obligated to depict the world as it exists? -- but wouldn't it be nice if someone acknowledged that, just as there is no one "America," there is no one "India"? That trying to generalize one billion people and as many opinions, hearts, and minds, into one Funjabi, masala-fied mess is kind of insulting -- to both the culture and to Americans who are deemed incapable of understanding that the subconty is anything beyond chicken tikka masala?

(For your reading pleasure, a nice chat on cultural hegemony; I'm currently hopped up on painkillers because my ear feels like an alien is going to burst out of it, and thus am incapable of making prescient observations about issues of culture and domination and media, but I really feel what this woman is saying.)

Coincidence? I think not.

2007-03-20T19:22:00.000+05:30

Left: Steve Carrell in The 40-Year-Old Virgin.

Right: Strapping young employee of the Delhi government's department of trade and taxes.

Something about this ad had been bothering me for days; I think now I've figured it out.

Noble effort

2007-03-19T18:43:00.000+05:30

Picked up a copy of Insight ... creating awareness, a new magazine based in Delhi that allegedly is looking to spread enlightenment about sundry social issues.

Unfortunately, the whole project just seems a bit off. I can't quite gauge the forces at play here -- perhaps its backers have vested interests, or maybe they are simply incapable of translating their thoughts into suitable English -- but their stated intent conflicts a bit with the magazine's contents.

Let's take, for instance, their covery story, "Women: Freedom With Caution." It starts out promisingly enough, with the reporter narrating three instances of crimes against women. And then you turn the page.

Which includes such gems as, "Late night parties are a big hit these days, as life has become busier and women have become career oriented they usually do not find time to enjoy life, and late night parties serve as a good option for them but while going out for such parties it should be made sure that venue for the party is safe and proper arrangements have been made. All such parties should be ended at a reasonable time so that it do not pose any unwanted situations or danger for anyone." (Suffice it to say, [sic], [sic], [sic].)

Or this: "Studies show that the concept of woman liberalization and empowerment was highly misunderstood. Late night parties, drugs and immoral dressing were tagged as freedom of women. What we forgot was that this is not our culture and this is not even what our women wanted." (One: What studies? Two: What kind of dressing is "immoral"? Three: What is your culture? Four: What DO your women want?)

Once more, with passion: "Though not completely, but somewhere women too are responsible for the indignities hurled upon them. ... Though what one wear's is a matter of personal choice but still woman should be prudent enough to decide clothes according to the place and occasion. Traveling in public transport wearing skimpy clothes is a direct invitation to trouble. ... Dressing sensibly safeguards one from inviting unnecessary trouble. Clothes not only reflect one's personality and state of mind but they are also associated with respect of family and elders." (Wait, so there are women who wear, I don't know, string bikinis on DTC busses? Most I see are in saris or salwar kameez ...)

Tips for the workplace: "A woman who is more frank with her male colleagues is often termed as cunning and easy going and they are on a look out for an opportunity where they can take an undue advantage of her. It makes her an easy prey and everyone wants to use her when ever possible. Many a times, their frankness is interpreted in wrong sense. Her conduct is often misunderstood as an invitation and she has to face unwanted situations. So while conversing with a male she should make sure that her respect is intact." (My respect is definitely not intact, if this is the measuring stick.)

In-depth sociological observation: "Women are more emotional than their male foil." (THAT explains the crying fits!)

Now, I'm a glutton for punishment, so I actually sat through all that dreck without flinging the magazine out the car window on my commute home today. And I found that I agree, to some extent, with the reporter's penultimate point: "The aim of liberalization is to incorporate independence and self-confidence among women. It's an attempt to provide them with equal opportunities to show case their talent. They should realize that whatever they do they have to safeguard themselves from being a victim."

I can buy into that. I think too many people pass the buck, shirk responsibility, etc. But the rest of the article seems to say, "You know, we think equal rights are nice and all, but you need to find some way to enjoy them without crossing the lakshman rekha." For a publication that bills itself as one that "will come out with topics on how to reforms our society in various spheres and dimensions," it certainly seems to have a rather regressive view of the world.

Then again, perhaps I'm projecting my Western mores on something I don't understand. How do I unravel all these threads?

Gods in blue

2007-03-17T16:16:00.000+05:30

India's first match in the cricket World Cup is tonight, and the subconty's gone (even more) cricket crazy.

Exhibit A: A man in Chennai who set up a temple about six years ago has been drawing throngs with his eleven-headed god (eleven heads to represent, of course, the eleven players on the cricket pitch) and two Ganesh idols depicted bowling and batting. According to The Hindu, "Even as the temple was under construction, [the man] had prayed to Ganesha during an India-Australia match at Kolkata following which India from the verge of a collapse, made a miraculous win ... He said in that particular match, not only India won but also several records were created. Sachin Tendulkar crossed his 10,000 runs in test cricket, Harbajan performed a hat- trick besides V V Lakshman scoring 281 and Rahul Dravid 180."

Exhibit B: Ubiquitous billboards for Reebok, featuring India's cricketers -- and enticing taglines alluding to diarrhea. (OK, I know more people here associate the phrase with cricket than with gastrointestinal distress, but when it screams in 1,000-point font that someone's "got the runs," I can't help but dissolve into a fit of immature warbling.)

Exhibit C: Tihar jail, one of Asia's largest prisons, will "relax TV watching norms" and play commentary on the match over their PA system (if that's not cruel and unusual punishment, I don't know what is).

Exhibits D, E, F ...: Reuters reports that weavers in West Bengal are making saris featuring Sourav Ganguly, in Orissa a man videotaped himself trying to play cricket underwater, and a restaurant in Ahmedabad is offering a cricket-centric menu, including "googly pasta" and "century noodles."

Lock up your daughters, folks, it's going to be a wild few weeks.

Innocent until proven guilty, but still probably an asshole

2007-03-15T20:10:00.000+05:30

This week, Indian celebrity fashion designer Anand Jon was arrested and charged with six felonies, including rape and lewd acts on a child.

Now, I'm not jumping to conclusions, and in America, it's innocent until proven guilty (unlike what is sometimes rougher justice here -- as when alleged killer/rapist/cannibal [?!] Mohinder Singh Pandher had the shit kicked out of him when he exited a court earlier this year). But I feel pretty secure calling foul on this statement by Jon's defense attorney, Ronald Richards:

When you have people desperate to be in fashion, they get upset when you don't place them where they want to be. When you deal with a large number of women, you're going to have potential false allegations made against you.

Way to take the high road. A pure class act. Because you know that every young girl is dying to be known as having been sexually abused, or to have her name associated with rape and lewdness the world over.

Case studies from adventures in social networking

2007-03-15T19:27:00.000+05:30

For reasons unknown (even to myself), I have a MySpace account. Usually I forget about it, but occasionally, I see fit to log in and check out what the aam admi is saying.

Recently received messages:

Nameless schlub 1
Subject: Liking
Message: I like you
(Accompanied by a friend request)

Nameless schlub 2
Subject: hi
Message: u look cute....can u sspeak hindi? r u in india?
(Accompanied by a picture of Scott Foley and a friend request)

Nameless schlub 3
Subject: note
Message: I'm thinking of coming to India sometime in the near future. Do you have any Indian friends that look like you? I just want an Indian girl that looks like you!!!! That way I don't have to have brown babies. haha
(Accompanied by semi-pornographic images)

Another excellent hub of social networking shenanigans is Orkut (which is quite popular in the subconty and was recently in the news for potentially offering the Mumbai police access to information about people who have started an "India hate" group).

Nameless schlub 4
Scrap: hi i am from delhi north side can we friend
(Accompanied by picture of man lifting shirt and rubbing six pack)

Nameless schlub 5
Scrap: hi
myself working as senior research officer in reputed hospital in Delhi, well educated, smart, hdsome, gd looking, fun loving, broad minded, respect feelings, easy going, loving and caring. like ur profile very much. like to have honest, trustworthy friendship and enjoyable time with u if u r interested in friendship. if u like my profile then reply on "xxx" directly and also let me know ur separate ID so we can contact directly for quick responses. i am transparent in my friendship . whatever u want to know more about me, i will glad to reply u and we will become good friends then see where the things go. rest is on u now.
(Thankfully, not accompanied by any further evidence of his academic accomplishments)

Let the rain fall

2007-03-12T21:11:00.000+05:30

Tuesday forecast: 71 degrees Fahrenheit (22 degrees Celsius) high, 55 degrees Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius) low.

That's right. It's March, and I haven't once been compelled to switch on the air conditioner (guiltily, trying to conceal my heat weakness from the hubby). I wore a jacket when I walked to the place where I get picked up for my carpool. There was a light mist in the air, all my co-workers were miserable, and I had the hugest smile on my face.

Take that, statistically average March max of 88 degrees Fahrenheit (31 degrees Celsius)! I don't care if my normal life has been thrown out of gear, I'm loving it.

Ahead of the trend curve

2007-03-11T20:23:00.000+05:30

As I've rambled about before, it seems 419 fraud isn't what it used to be -- in fact, it's having a large effect on India, whereas one might imagine that the scammers would target more affluent nations.

The Hindustan Times validates my hunch, reporting:

The 419 scam is best known for the ubiquitous spam offering jobs or money in return for small advance payments that crowd everyone’s cellphones and computers. India is becoming increasingly entangled in this network. Besides becoming a target for 419 conmen, India is becoming a hub for 419 fraud activity in two other ways.

First, India is home to an increasing number of rings that operate the fraud in other countries. ... This year’s Ultrascan survey of 419 fraud estimates there were at least seven rings based in India last year, up from three in 2005. The seven rings probably had a little over 100 individual operatives.

Second, some small Indian call centres are being used to handle the information gathering that victims are often asked to provide to collect their supposed reward. For example, a call centre will be hired to ask the victim for his name, fax and phone number to lull him into believing these are from a legitimate organization. Engelsman recommends: “Call centres should check if their client and his company really exist. Google the names of both together with the word ‘scam’.”

Hilarious and intriguing as I find this entire thing, the way the story has been reported in the Indian media leaves something to be desired. The "Nigerian" is on the verge of becoming a hulking bogeyman, not only waiting to defraud naive businessmen, but also corrupting the youth -- supplying drugs! To raves! That our children have been duped into attending! Granted, I fully condemn international drug trafficking, but if the police are basing their investigation on one Nigerian having 10 grams of cocaine and "[leading] a lavish lifestyle suggest[ing] he might have some links to the Pune bash," the connection seems tenuous, at best, exploitative at worst.

Bottom line, again, folks: There's no such thing as a free meal. What's the appropriate Hindi idiom for that?

(Note: Photo is from the notorious scam baiters at 419 Eater. Read, laugh, awesome.)

Mixed messages

2007-03-09T20:31:00.000+05:30

The media scene in India is such that new publications seem to appear every other week; one of my favorite pasttimes is to wander through markets and stop at the nearest newsman, paw through the titles, and select one I've never seen before. (Which explains why I've read the Indian Maxim and other hideous "lad mags" -- sociological research, my friends!)

Despite its hideous branding, which looks suspiciously like that of Circuit City (the American consumer electronics player), I decided to give City Cheers a try. Hoo boy, what a waste of Rs 30.

Exhibit A: "Corporate Mannerism," which counsels, "How to greet a lady is a million dollar question. Certain rules should be followed: Greet according to her position. Don't try to be too friendly, as an overfriendly attitude easily annoys a female. Guys, mind your handshakes, they should be brief and firm. Avoid long greetings."

Umm...what? "Greet according to her position" -- i.e., if she's a secretary, don't waste your breath? Am I missing some cultural coding? And, if you feel like being a ludicrous ass about it, why should this type apply only to men greeting women? "Don't try to be too friendly" -- i.e., staring at her breasts is liable to annoy her? I just don't get it. Not at all.

Now all they need is an orchestra

2007-03-09T07:33:00.000+05:30

The Indian government just ratified an intergovernmental agreement that envisions a trans-Asian railway network; along one corridor, India would be connected to Bangladesh, Myanmar, Thailand, and China; along the other, it would be connected to Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, and Bulgaria.

The timeline, as yet, seems unclear, and this may all prove to be a pipe dream -- indeed, by all accounts, this project was first envisaged in the 1960s. However, this does seem a positive development, and rail enthusiasts (such as myself -- longest train trip thus far has been three days, from Delhi to Kerala, but I'm itching to hit the Trans-Siberian Railway and ride the rails in China) should be eagerly anticipating its construction.

What with at least two huge bombings of trains (on the Mumbai passenger rails and on the Samjhauta Express to Pakistan) in India in the last year, one would hope that some sort of statement on preventing terrorism &c. is forthcoming. How does one balance the increasing need for connectivity when regional politics are somewhat unstable? ...

... And, furthermore, should I really be wringing my hands over a PR announcement that will likely amount to a hill of beans?

A whole DAY for people with vaginas?

2007-03-08T18:50:00.000+05:30

It's International Women's Day, an event I hardly knew existed when I was in the U.S., but one which is widely acknowledged in the good ole subconty. If you do one thing to commemorate half the world's population, perhaps it should be visiting the Blank Noise Project, which is a blog/activist group committed to intervening on the behalf of women in India.

Alternatively, you could check out information from the Indian Ministry of Women and Child Development, or head to a seminar held by the National Commission for Women entitled "Mentally Ill Women: Is Destitution the Only Answer?"

Despite the somewhat exploitative/outlandish title, I wish I had been able to attend this colloquiom. Although I don't explicitly address it that often any longer, mental illness is certainly an issue close to my heart, and living outside "my" society has only highlighted the fact that it is only a fortuitous confluence of circumstance -- gender, geographic location, parentage, historical era -- that has allowed me to study, marry, travel, and thrive.

On this (perhaps constructively) manufactured holiday, I'd like to acknowledge the strength of the women in my life, past and present. To, first and foremost, my mother and grandmother, who have modeled for me what a woman should be -- intelligent, independent, feisty, caring, and driven. To the lovely Rita, for accepting so wholeheartedly as a daughter; to all the women of S's family for being thoughtful and involving me in all the family's gatherings. To my best girlfriends from "home," Dina, Mandi, Janessa, and Elaine; and to my most excellent women colleagues (and our single male team member!). There are miles to go before we sleep, but we have, indeed, come a long way.

[Mush aside: Lots of interesting coverage in the news in relation to gender, &c. A short selection of the panoply of articles ...

"Women Struggle to Find Place in Modern India" (DNA)
"Two Steps Forward, One Backward" (Inter Press Service)
"Only 14% Women in Top Management in India" (Rediff)
"Mumbai Taxi Service: No Men Allowed" (CNN)
"Tiny Steps to a Women's March" (Times of India)
"Women to be Kept Off Combat" (Hindustan Times)
"Veet Celebrates Women's Day With Launch of Indian Website" (Indiantelevision.com)]

Star-whats?

2007-03-06T19:57:00.000+05:30

Sometimes I want a grande caramel macchiato with skim milk so bad I'd cut my left arm off for its treacly goodness, but unfortunately for me, Starbucks won't be setting up in the subconty until well after I return to the homeland. Cafe Coffee Day and Barista are passable imitations, but it'll always be those calorie-packed Frappucinos and eerily ubiquitous half-naked mermaids that warm MY cockles.

Still, I may be in luck -- if Shahnaz Hussain's latest wacky venture looks to play on something more than the Starbucks brand name. Yes, the hoary beauty buff has announced she's starting a chain of 25 cafes called "Starstrucks," and the folks in Seattle are none too happy about her decision. Hussain's rebuff is that everybody pulls this crap (a fair statement in a land that also boasts a "Starbeans"), and she holds that her chain will feature movie posters and other utterly fabulous/glamorous items.

Politics, lawsuits, and other shenanigans aside, if Starstrucks can manage to whip up, oh, I don't know, a gold-encrusted mug of melted Sugar Daddies, there will be no objections from this party.

Rants and raves

2007-03-05T20:36:00.000+05:30

So the big news from Holi is that a rave party outside Pune was busted and nearly 300 people were arrested.

I'm thinking that the palpable outrage would be somewhat subdued if these kids (or, according to the nut graf of The Hindu's front-page story, "250 youths, including 27 girls and 7 foreigners") hadn't been arrested for drug (from most accounts, ganja, hashish, and charas) offenses on a festival long known for its association with bhang, the equivalent of a pot milkshake -- there's even a government-sanctioned bhang shop in Jaisalmer.

I've just had to shut NDTV the hell off, because their nonstop coverage of the incident is insipid at best. Seriously, folks, what does it even mean if 91% of your viewers at 8:49 p.m. think that the rave and drug culture is taking hold among India's youth? It seems a bit counterproductive to try and extrapolate what this event means for a country of billions -- millions and millions of whom live on less than $2 a day, and millions and millions of whom could care less about the hip young BPO professionals and flight attendants, when they can't afford to buy onions because inflation is a bitch.

Amit Varma on the India Uncut blog makes a good point about how the news is being coopted to potentially punish a Web site (or Web sites) on which information about the party was available. And I think his argument can be made even larger: Although this could perhaps raise an interesting discussion on drug policy, the tension between "traditional" use of drugs and the commercialization of the drug trade, &c., it seems that people have found it more convenient to drone on and on about those wasteful, disillusioned youth seeking to tear down society by any means necessary. In case you haven't been following along? It's old hat, tiresome, sort of like listening to Thomas Friedman babble on about how flat the world is.

Holi moley!

2007-03-04T16:16:00.000+05:30

HOLI HAI! S and I, quite a few bhangs in. We celebrated at a party at the Art Room. Lots of colors (the dress I was wearing was cream colored in the morning), lots of merriment, lots of foreigners. And LOTS of bhang thandai.

NYC: No visa needed

2007-03-03T16:47:00.000+05:30

That's right, upwardly mobile India: Why visit one of the world's greatest cities when you can live in it -- without even straying from the Mumbai-Nasik Highway?

Hindustan Buildwell Pvt. Ltd. assures us, "Plot purchased by many film/TV stars." Well, thank god for that -- I wouldn't want to share my living space with someone who hadn't appeared for an eight-second cameo in the item number of box-office bomb.

And can those five boroughs; this New York City includes a helipad, mini golf course, a "gymnasium equipped with the latest tools to keep you in shape," and an "entertainment club."
Frankly, this whole thing looks a lot more like someone's wet dream of a stripmall in small-town USA. I'm just saying, if anyone tried to get a hipster from Brooklyn to book a flat in this development, I think he'd run screaming and impale himself upon the razor-sharp edge of his acerbic wit.

(And, moreover, why do we have to build up this myth of America as the promised land? Most of my Indian friends and loved ones say that Americans have rather distorted views of what India is -- bride burnings, poverty, tie-dye -- but this certainly isn't an accurate depiction of a rather flawed land, either.)

A quick and dirty guide to whipping up sentiment, illustrated by West Bengal governor Gopalkrishna Gandhi

2007-03-02T07:42:00.000+05:30

First: Pick your tragedy.
(For GG, the death of 10-year-old ragpicker Susmita Sarki, who died while she was sifting through garbage and a landslide of filth buried her.)

Next: Dig up your purplest prose.
(According to The Hindu, "Mr. Gandhi regretted that a 'rose like life' had been 'smothered under a load of filth generated by humans.' The girl ... was 'martyred to our callous excesses and neglect.'" Later in the same store, he adds, "We live for the present moment ... and leave this beauty spot having drawn everything Darjeeling has to offer, but giving nothing to it in return. Except empty packets of crisps and gutka, apart from the water bottles and other plastic containers.")

Then: Wait for newspapers and bloggers to parrot your story.

Finally: Smile in smug satisfaction that you have safely skirted actually addressing the problem by talking about martyrdom and introducing similes equating life to some thorned flora.

Contribute to digital network of South Asian visual culture

2007-02-28T19:31:00.000+05:30

Tasveer Ghar has put out a call for proposals that sounds interesting:

"We are pleased to invite proposals for short-term fellowships involving the collection and documentation of unique forms of popular visual arts of India with a focus on "Gender, Nation and Spaces for the Everyday", resulting in the digitization of the collected specimens and their virtual exhibition on the website of Tasveer Ghar at the end of the fellowship.

...

Indian streets and public spaces are full of a variety of popular art forms such as posters, prints, calendars, advertisements, hoardings, religious iconography, photo portraits, cinema images and so on, that reflect the changing aesthetics of the urban popular culture. Most of these art forms are rather transitory – you see them one day, and they disappear or transform the next day depending upon the changes in the lifestyles of the people, as well as the available techniques of image-making and duplication. There is an urgent need to collect/document these and study the context in which they are produced and used."

This is utterly fabulous. I have half a mind to apply with my documentation of hand-painted signs, but it is neither exhaustive nor specifically focuses on gender. Still, I'd encourage anyone interested in gender, media, and India to get involved in this project, which seems uber-exciting. Surprise me!

(Disclaimer: I'm not in any way involved in this collective, but I am on a mailing list that received their appeal.)

Making the Metro

2007-02-28T18:27:00.000+05:30

Some enterprising chap created a list of the top 11 (I like, I like -- now THAT'S thinking out of the box) transit systems around the world. A good list, but I'd like to think that in a few years, it might benefit from the inclusion of Delhi's Metro train.

Granted, the network is still in its infancy, and parts of it are still being built. But it has the potential to revolutionize the city -- it's fast, cheap, and shockingly clean (particularly in comparison with the DTC busses streaked with paan spittle).

However, it's not without controversy, and the final extension from Delhi to Gurgaon is particularly fraught with problems. It would take a long time to sort through all of them, but they touch on themes from the environment (construction could cut through a large portion of Delhi's protected forest area) to historical preservation (a monument from the 18th century, Dhauli Pyau, was destroyed earlier this month to make way for the transit line) and half-assed nincompoopery (a mall that was destroyed last year to make way for the Metro was not completely razed and now represents a public health threat).

I look at the whole issue as an outsider: Gurgaon has mushroomed as an O&O hub, and though many companies have moved their offices to what was essentially a village 25 years ago, the road connecting the capital and its little sister is pretty insufficient. Official numbers widely vary, as they are apt to, but according to a report cited here, about 800,000 people travel between the two cities everyday -- and that's on one main road, NH-8, which has two to six lanes (depending upon how you count them). To contextualize, I live in south Delhi and commute to Gurgaon every day; in the mornings (before rush hour) it takes about 45 minutes, and in the evenings, 60 to 90 minutes. If it rains, or if there are multiple weddings being held at the farmhouses that dot the connecting road, double those figures.

It seems, from my dispassionate, liberal, Western (bitchy? cold?) perspective, that improving transportation should trump political pandering -- it'll encourage investments and make life easier for people looking to travel the 20-odd miles between the two locales. But will this destroy Delhi's heritage, or should "progress" come at any cost?

Life or death choices: Thursday

2007-02-27T19:45:00.000+05:30

A diverse set of media performances on self-propelled carts at the Mediawala Festival ...

OR

... 100 snake charmers in Delhi's Central Park?

I don't know how I will ever choose.

Red, red (err...poultry colored?) wine

2007-02-27T18:56:00.000+05:30

I've always wanted to be an oenophile, but this might be going too far: chicken wine from Darjeeling.

HT reports: "The non-veg wine that comes for Rs 250 [about $5] a bottle sure gives a kick but people of this hamlet also swear by its medicinal values -- they believe it cures cough and cold."

Well, if I wasn't a veggie, I'd say, sign me up! No more flu vaccine for me!

Do they stomp on the breast, roast it whole and puree it? The article continues, "Thapa said they take a dressed chicken, remove the legs and head, make a slit in the middle and empty out the liver, intestine and the stomach. Ghee and garam masala are stuffed into it before wrapping it in a fine cloth. It is then brewed in a special container called Fonshi, which is otherwise used to brew Rakshi, the local beverage. Half the container is filled with Janr (millet bear) and tightly closed. The contraption is then heated by placing it on a wooden fire. 'The Janr evaporates and condenses once it hits the upper part of the Fonshi. The condensed liqued collects inside another vessel called Odhan. This distilled fermented liquid soaks in the chicken and more Janr is adden. The chicken wine or Kukhra-ko-Rakshi is ready."

I still can't quite picture it, but I do think they should offer innovative packaging -- perhaps a bottle featuring a beak?

(Image from here.)

"Tits and bits" from the weekend office retreat

2007-02-25T19:45:00.000+05:30

(By the way: Seriously, it's more common to say "tits and bits" than "tidbits" here. Is that an Indlish thing, or are Americans isolated in their sophomoric mockery of any phrase including a synonym for "breast"?)

I was feeling quite trepidatious about the office retreat this weekend. I already spend about 50 hours a week with these people, and now you're asking me to take 12 hours on a Saturday to sit around at a country club, in a city of malls, with access to no alcohol save for a meager supply of Kingfisher beers, being compelled by a Hateful Administrator to participate in potato sack races for no remuneration other than a half-melted bar of Cadbury's? You have to be kidding.

But because I am now an Office Elder, and because it's been said that I'm "willfully isolated," I decided that the best revenge is living well. I belted my morning coffee with a cupful of Kahlua, grabbed a pair of fabulous sunglasses, and slapped a smile on my face.

Shockingly? Not that horrible. By that I mean horrible, but hilarious, kitschy, and mortifyingly ironic in retrospect. And I'll never forget when the 9-year-old son of one of the most proper aunties in the office began singing "Smack That" (bend over and let me smack that, all on the floor, smack that, give me some more, smack that, 'til you get sore...oOoOOOOoooo), complete with lewd hand gestures and pelvis grinding.

Open, mix, and eat!

2007-02-25T19:00:00.000+05:30

I saw this new product -- Haldiram's Bhel Puri, in an"one-the-move pack" -- and, despite skepticism, decided to take it for a trial run.

I suppose it tastes OK, but that's not the point. Bhel puri is a pretty quintessential street snackie, and this sanitized, hygenic, festooned-with-yellow-flowers form simply does nothing for me -- or for thousands (millions, billions?) of others weaned on the gritty mix of puffed rice, peanuts, imli chutney, chopped onions, tomatoes, spices of various persuasions, and, of course, the all-important green chillis.

The ingredients the bhel puri-wallah doesn't list, and which Haldiram's CERTAINLY would not look too kindly upon, are heaping helpings of dust, oil that's been seasoned, sizzled, and reused as various component parts are fried in preparation for the mix, dirt, and other detritus. It's the unwritten list that makes other expats shiver in anticipation of contracting cholera, but even those that have had a bout or two of Delhi belly know that sometimes, the greasiest, grottiest street food is worth a day in bed. When I was in Kila Raipur, for instance, after a few hours of shooting, I suggested we get a drink; S pointed at a man making fresh OJ, and I immediately knew that I would be sick for the rest of the day (which may have been intuition, or it might have been the fact that the man grinding kinoos had a wracking cough). I drank a glass, its rim thoughtfully wiped clean after the man before me finished his quaff, sat down for a few minutes, and spent the rest of the day vomiting. Que sera sera.

So thanks, Haldirams, for giving us this option, but I prefer my street food from, well, the street.