Epsilon's Worldly Possessions
Oleander Girl—A Sneak Peek
by Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan
by Chitra Divakaruni
A Lingering Simplicity—Leh by Kavita Kanan Chandra
Mistress of Emotions april 2013 • vol. 27, no .1 • www. indiacurrents.com
Mira Nair cinematically frames the gritty realism of Mohsin Hamid s book, The Reluctant Fundamentalist
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by Geetika Pathania Jain
Sandberged and Prototyped facebook.com/IndiaCurrents twitter.com/IndiaCurrents 1885 Lundy Ave, Suite 220, San Jose, CA 95131 Phone: (408) 324-0488 (714) 523-8788 Fax: (408) 324-0477 Email: info@indiacurrents.com www.indiacurrents.com Publisher & Editor: Vandana Kumar publisher@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x 225 Advertising Manager: Derek Nunes ads@indiacurrents.com Northern California: (408) 324-0488 x 222 Southern California: (714) 523-8788 x 222 Marketing Associate: Raj Singh marketing@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x221 Graphic Designer: Nghia Vuong EDITORIAL BOARD Managing Editor: Jaya Padmanabhan editor@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x 226 Events Editor: Mona Shah events@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x 224
COLUMNISTS Dear Doctor: Alzak Amlani Films: Aniruddh Chawda Forum: Rameysh Ramdas On Inglish: Kalpana Mohan The Last Word: Sarita Sarvate Zeitgeist: Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan
Dear Sheryl Sandberg, I do sometimes hate you. Not for your success in the business world, not for your success in the book-writing world; neither for your immense wealth, nor for your resources and opportunities. You say, “I walk out of this office every day at 5:30 so I’m home for dinner with my kids at 6:00, and interestingly, I’ve been doing that since I had kids.” I hate your use of the word, interestingly. That word, interjected at that location, in that sentence, bristles with innuendo. It tells me that you believe one of two things: that working women have the power to, yet rarely take advantage of the opportunity to eat dinner with their kids; or that once they have kids, working women are likely to fall into a pattern of family-work imbalance. Interestingly enough, I look at the same clock that you do and find that my short hand moves much faster than yours. When I get home at 6:00 p.m. I have to contend with one kid at softball practice, the other at theater rehearsal and a dinner I have to quickly prepare for the staggered arrivals. Weekday family dinners are hasty and hurried and no matter how much I “lean in” to my family life, that’s not going to change. Lean in, you say, but like the famed tower in Italy, which has an “unintended
tilt” due to an inadequate foundation, let’s be aware that leaning in could have unclear consequences, if the family foundation were not strong enough to support that angle of ambition. You clarify that that the choices we make must bolster that foundation. Marry wisely, you recommend, and negotiate the equitable distribution of household duties, just like you have done. Or, outsource those pesky details of childcare, laundry and cumin-grinding, just like you do. You tell us to model our behaviour after yours. I do admire your success. I respect your sage counsel in telling us to reach for our own opportunities. Mostly, I am grateful that you have forced a national dialog about the limited liability of kids within the powered auto-focus of conference rooms. But, I beg to differ from you. I’m not sure that if I were to retread my tires, I would avoid the same potholes you did, even knowing the benefits you’ve reaped. It is an interestingly unassailable fact that there is only one Sheryl Sandberg, and try as I might, I cannot have her fortune or her fate. I cannot be you. Jaya Padmanabhan
Contributors: Jasbina Ahluwalia, N. Balasubramanian, Monica Bhide, Dilnavaz Bamboat, Sudha Chadrasekaran, Kavita Chandra, Chitra Divakaruni, Jeanne Fredriksen, Malar Gandhi, Geetika Jain, Kanniks Kannikeswaran, P. Mahadevan, Rajee Padmanabhan, Mimm Patterson, Naresh Rajan, Sandip Roy, Raj Oza, Sanket Shah, Cover Design: Nghia Vuong.
Mira Nair on set. Photo by Ishaan Nair. Copyright IFC Films INDIA CURRENTS® (ISSN 0896-095X) is published monthly (except Dec/Jan, which is a combined issue) for $19.95 per year by India Currents, 1885 Lundy Ave., Ste 220, San Jose, CA 95131. Periodicals postage paid at San Jose, CA, and at additional mailing offices. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to INDIA CURRENTS, 1885 LUNDY AVE, STE. 220, SAN JOSE, CA 95131
Information provided is accurate as of the date of going to press; India Currents is not responsible for errors or omissions. Opinions expressed are those of individual authors. Advertising copy, logos, and artwork are the sole responsibility of individual advertisers, not of India Currents. Copyright © 2013 by India Currents All rights reserved. Fully indexed by Ethnic Newswatch
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INDIA CURRENTS april 2013 • vol 27 • no 1
PERSPECTIVES 1 | EDITORIAL: Sandberged and Prototyped. By Jaya Padmanabhan
Southern California Edition www.indiacurrents.com Find us on
23 | RELATIONSHIP DIVA: Newly Wed Blues. By Jasbina Ahluwalia
7 | A THOUSAND WORDS: Epsilon’s Worldy Possessions. By Ragini Srinivasan
20 | ANALYSIS: Diamonds Are Forever. By Sandip Roy 22 | ON INGLISH: Is That My Karma in the Envelope? By Kalpana Mohan 28 | TAX TALK: Sale of Property in India. By Sanket Shah 30 | COMMENTARY: Political Doublespeak. By P. Mahadevan 38 | OPINION: The Lone Traveler. By Dilnavaz Bamboat 58 | DESI VOICE: A Mother Grows Up. By Sudha Chandrasekaran 42 | PERSPECTIVE: The Scorpion’s Diet. By Rajee Padmanabhan 64 | THE LAST WORD: New America Media. By Sarita Sarvate 2 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
15 | BOOKS: A Review of Oleander Girl. By Jeanne Fredriksen 18 | BUSINESS: The Entrepreneurial Way. By Rajesh Oza
6 | FORUM: Was Yahoo! Justified in Removing Telecommuting Options? By Rameysh Ramdas and Mani Subramani
8 | POLITICS: Hillary Clinton’s Support for Gay Marriage. By Sandip Roy
LIFESTYLE
36 | MUSIC: Musical Tastes. By Kanniks Kannikeswaran
10 | Mistress of Emotions Mira Nair cinematically adapts Mohsin Hamid’s book, The Reluctant Fundamentalist. By Geetika Pathania Jain
52 | REFLECTIONS: Counting Peas. By Monica Bhide 54 | HEALTHY LIFE: Foot Reflexology. By Mimm Patterson
14 | Feature
60 | RECIPES: A Clarified Taste—Cooking with Ghee. By Malar Gandhi
The Mystique of the Past— An intriguing excerpt from the book, Oleander Girl
63 | DEAR DOCTOR: Accepting Racial Identity. By Alzak Amlani
By Chitra Divakaruni
34 | Films
A Review of Kai Po Che! and The Attacks of 26/11 By Aniruddh Chawda
56 | Travel A Lingering Simplicity—Leh By Kavita Kanan Chandra
DEPARTMENTS 4 | Voices 5 | Popular Articles 26 | Ask a Lawyer 27 | Visa Dates 59 | Classifieds 62 | Viewfinder
WHAT’S CURRENT 46 | Cultural Calendar 50 | Spiritual Calendar
www.indiacurrents.com | 3
voices
A Supplementary Diet
The cover article (“The Supplement Cocktail,” India Currents, March 2013) laments the lack of adequate Food and Drug Administration (FDA) regulations for food supplements and so-called nutraceutical supplements. However, since these supplements are made from natural or unpatentable ingredients, no company can afford to invest millions of dollars in controlled clinical trials to prove their safety and effectiveness. Therefore, any FDA regulation that treats these supplements like drugs could effectively shut down much of the supplement industry. Moreover, FDA approval is an imperfect bureaucratic process that provides no guarantee of safety. Studies show that over 100,000 Americans die each year from adverse reactions to FDA approved drugs that were prescribed by a doctor and used as directed. Thus, although any death caused by a supplement is a tragedy, let us not fall prey to Joseph Stalin’s perverse logic that “a single death is a tragedy, but a million deaths is a statistic.” The author’s advice to supplement users to consult a doctor is also somewhat impractical. Most American doctors learn very little about nutrition in medical school or during their medical practice. More importantly, they are not trained to think in terms of dietary causes or remedies when diagnosing or treating a disease. Therefore, it may be better to consult a good diet and nutrition counselor for expert advice. Ultimately, the best approach is for everybody to get more educated about their own health and nutrition. However, since expert opinions about diet and supplements vary widely, it is better to be conservative in the use of any supplement. Ideally, people should get all their nutrition from natural and minimally processed foods, using supplements only as a last resort. For example, if you are vegetarian, and you can’t get enough vitamin B-12 or omega-3 fatty acids from your diet, consider taking B-12 pills or fish oil capsules. Or if you are dark-skinned, and can’t get enough exposure to sun in winter, consider taking vitamin D3 pills. As a further precaution, don’t take very large doses of vitamins, and avoid pills that contain additional supplements you don’t need. Vijay Gupta, Cupertino, CA
4 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
A Greener Goal
Sujatha Ramprasad’s article, (“Greener Gifts, Please!,” India Currents, March 2013) resonated with me. I, too, struggle with burden-value vs. image-value vs. utility-value of a gift. Over the years I have slimmed down my gift options to: checks, food, email/letter and recently, hand-made crafts. I stock up on desi-style check-in-envelopes and repurpose fabric scraps and greeting cards into usable gifts (baggies, bookmarks, gift tags) I didn’t grow up with trash bins, but have three in my condo. I can’t do without them. I throw out more trash than my mom did, but much less than my neighbors. Sujatha inspires us to be more conscious consumers. Minimizing the footprint of stuff one has or causes others to have is dharmic, it is a noble enterprise. Mala Setty, Long Beach, CA
Music for Life, Love and Joy
Teed Rockwell has written an excellent, objective and scholarly article (“Islam and Music,” India Currents, March 2013). Music has crossed borders, inspired diverse nations and spread the message of peace and love for centuries. Yes the Koran and many top Islamic scholars have nothing against music. The art flourished for generations in many Muslim countries. In Pakistan, despite Talibanization of the country there are lovers and creators of music who rise above the politics of murder, and believe in the message of life, and not death. Sadly, now many of the Pakistani musicians flourish in India than in their own country. It’s sad that these Kashmiri girls had to give up their calling. The state of Jammu and Kashmir has a very old tradition of patronizing music, literature, and other fine arts but now our people are being deprived of these art forms by those not competent to judge the finer things of life. Of course, opposition to music is also old. During the rule of the Mughal king Aurangzeb—a devout Muslim—music was banned. The story goes that once Aurangzeb saw a funeral procession passing by and asked who had died. The reply was: “It is music, Sir.” Aurangzeb’s response: “Bury it so deep that it will not come out ever.” Do Muslims who have enriched our lives through the Arts deserve a fatwa by heartless, soulless and mindless bigots whose interpretation of religion and life is not for the living? It is simply not acceptable. Yatindra Bhatnagar, San Leandro, CA
Changing Habits
Ragini Tharoor Srinvasan’s article on cursive writing was a nice read. (“Signs of Our Time,” India Currents, March 2013). I definitely think the “touch era” is irreversibly changing habits that are there for a reason. Rangaprabhu Parthasarathy, online
Stick To What You Do Best
On Kalpana Mohan’s article, (“A Guru Minus a Halo,” India Currents, March 2013) I guess some writers are good at writing and not at talking. I had a similar experience listening to the musician A.R. Rahman “talk” at a gathering, a few months back. He felt at a loss for words and so started crooning instead, which was more enjoyable than his “talking.” I remember reading a quote by the famous mathematician G.H. Hardy, “The function of a mathematician is to do something, to prove new theorems, to add to mathematics, and not to talk about what he or other mathematicians have done.” Sumana, online Regarding Kalpana Mohan’s article, (“A Guru Minus a Halo,” India Currents, March 2013) sometimes, it is best to leave things in ones imagination. In the mind, they remain unfettered and appropriately embellished. The moment that figment is grounded with reality, the accoutrements vanish. I am reminded of the time I was eager to take my wife to the village where we would spend our summer vacations. I had fond memories of the frolicking, the river banks, and the lush paddy fields. Upon reaching the locale, the river banks were slushy, the paddy fields were hot and filthy. I wish I had not taken my wife there. I probably would still be describing the bucolic environs of the village to her today! Prakash, online
SPEAK YOUR MIND! Have a thought or opinion to share? Send us an original letter of up to 300 words, and include your name, address, and phone number. Letters are edited for clarity and brevity. Write India Currents Letters, 1885 Lundy Ave. Suite 220, San Jose 95131 or email letters@indiacurrents.com.
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Most Popular Articles Online March 2013 1) A Guru Minus a Halo. Kalpana Mohan 2) Supplement Cocktail. Arpit Mehta 3) Flavored with Fenugreek. Prba Iyer 4) Brown Karma. Ras H. Siddiqui
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5) Signs of Our Time. Ragini Srinivasan 6) Infinite Wisdom. Rujul Potha 7) Private Access, Public Domain. Jaya Padmanabhan 8) Oscars—The Final Frontier. Zenobia Khaleel 9) Leopard Skin Pillbox. Ranjani Mohanty 10)The Feminist Illusion of Girls. Sarita Sarvate
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forum
Was Yahoo! Justified in Removing Telecommuting Options? By Rameysh Ramdas
By Mani Subramani
No, Yahoo! was not justified
Yes, Yahoo! was justified
Y
A
Rameysh Ramdas, an SF Bay Area professional, writes as a hobby.
Mani Subramani works in the semi-conductor industry in Silicon Valley.
ahoo’s CEO Marissa Mayer recently ordered all employees to work on site at Yahoo’s premises. “To become the absolute best place to work, communication and collaboration will be important, so we need to be working side-by-side,” stated her memo, according to press reports. “That is why it is critical that we are all present in our offices.” For many of us in the high tech industry, especially in the Silicon Valley, the concept of a defined workplace or workday has long been obsolete with many of us tethered to work via phones, mobile devices and laptops accompanying us, enabling us to work global work hours. The mobile revolution fueled by smart phones, iPads, Tablets and remote collaboration tools such as Webex and MS Live Meeting, has made many of today’s workers stay perpetually on the job and connected to each other regardless of time and place. Let us get it straight—working from home is not a perk or a benefit today—it has become a necessity because work/life balance is not what it used to be decades ago. For example, I tried, really tried, very desperately tried, to get to my work site—all of last week since we had a major project run into issues, just as it was about to go live. I failed to make it to work, since my work day literally began at 5 a.m. and went on My work day often follows till past midnight. Much as I would have loved a global time zone, with to interact and banter little consideration for the with my team at the cofPacific Time zone where I fee counter—I could not since most of my team is live and work! in Asia and in particular, India. My work day often follows a global time zone, with little consideration for the Pacific Time zone where I live and work! This is not an unusual experience for many of us operating in global teams across time zones. According to TeleworkNetworkResearch.com, telecommuters increased the number of multiple days per week by 73% between 2005-2011. The same study also says that if those with compatible jobs worked from home just half the time, a typical employer would save $11,000 per employee per year, the oil savings would equate to 37% of Persian Gulf imports, and the greenhouse gas reduction would be the equivalent of taking the entire workforce of New York off the roads. A synthesis of over 500 studies by Global Workplace Analytics on flexible telecommuting has revealed many tangible benefits for employers ranging from recruiting top talent, reducing attrition, increased employee productivity of 35-40% and loss avoidance of over $600 billion a year in workplace distractions. Not all jobs can and should be done remotely. However, having a flexible work at home policy is a win-win for both the employer and the employee and today’s mobile connectivity and collaboration tools make that possible. n
6 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
ccording to the Bureau of Labor, 2.1 million workers were laid off by companies in 2009. In 2012, Bank of America and Hewlett Packard announced layoffs of 25,000+ employees each. And companies have been laying off workers every year in between. No blame is pinned on executives of the companies when these layoffs occur. But, as soon as Yahoo’s CEO Marissa Mayer announced in a company-wide email that employees were required to come in to work, instead of working from home, dozens of articles critical of her decision were unleashed. Talk shows were abuzz with ridicule. Why is it okay for companies to layoff people in relative anonymity while asking employees to meet at work is met with disdain? I don’t know the inner workings of Yahoo! or what ails the company. But I do know someone who does. And that is Marissa Mayer. She is trying to prevent layoffs. By now, she certainly knows—or should, what needs to done to fix the company’s products and resuscitate its flailing stock. Innovation or lack thereof has to be at or near the top of that list. While much is made of the globally, multi-connected workforce, innovation does not happen in a vaccum or in the ether space of the internet. If it did, no startup company would rent office space. ... innovation does not Face to face contact is an essential ingredient to happen in a vacuum or in the movement of ideas. the ether space of the inIn fact several thinkers, and notably Thomas ternet. Friedman in the New York Times, have complained about the lack of innovation in the United States since the information age started in the 80s. Clearly, the information technology that we are wedded to is neither necessary nor sufficient to innovate. For all the publicity surrounding flexible work schedules, according to a recent study, only one in six workers say they work at least one day a week from home. This shows that only sustaining and routine tasks and highly specialized individual contributors can get work done when not present physically at work. Further, such routine tasks have typically been outsourced to lower cost regions leaving behind a very lean workforce in the United States. It is not only physical presence that is important for collaboration and innovation but mental presence. We live in a world of distractions. It takes an extremely disciplined and engaged employee to put in his/her full potential from home, let alone collaborate and innovate! There are many social connection tools and other gadgets that could potentially take up mind space. Unless, there is systematic oversight, these distractions could reduce productivity. So more power to the Yahoo! CEO in trying to change things up. While change can be maddening, doing the same thing, and expecting different results is insanity. n
a thousand words
Epsilon’s Worldly Possessions By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan
W
her nicest saris, the bright colors and silks. Now, she is giving them e come with nothing, and we go with nothing. Or so they away to her sisters, trading them for simple cottons, with thinner say. and thinner borders. Already her wedding album is lost in the catMy daughter is not due for another two months, and filled home of a widowed sister-in-law, who has no recollection of already she is the owner of plenty of stuff of which she has no knowlit. Her sketchbooks are gone. Taken by a well-meaning niece, they edge. Well before the purchase of legally required items (read: car were nevertheless thrown out during some clumsy house cleaning. seat) and despite her great-grandmothers’ cautions against gift giving On my last trip to Chennai, I walked into the open hall of Patti’s before baby’s birth, she has for some time now been the recipient of house and suppressed a yelp when I realized she’d even given away various tokens and accoutrement. As of mid-February, Epsi (short for her couches, her chairs, given away an ottoman that the dog used Epsilon—“a small quantity”—the fetal name chosen by my mathemato sleep on when no one was looking. The ottoman was filthy and tician husband) could claim the following worldly possessions: a green worn, and I never sat on it because of the dog, but it belonged to my cloth Frisbee from an ultimate-frisbee-playing uncle; a small silver tree grandmother and so I was disturbed to see it gone. An armoire that from friends in India; a large pink pig from my college roommate; a previously stored photo albums had been replaced with a low plastic tan cloth hat resembling a dunce cap; a pram quilt from a great-aunt; table, its contents nowhere to be seen. I blanched, seeing my grandthimble-sized cloth shoes from a trendy Kochi boutique; a book of bimother in a neighbor’s ration sari, sitting in a near-empty room on lingual children’s poetry; and a newborn’s onesie, so tiny it might fit in a plastic chair better suited to a political rally or gana mela, but she utero, with a rainbow-lettered, reassuring message for her dissertationjust covered her toothless mouth and laughed. filing father (“my daddy is a math Now, my grandfather-in-law, superhero”). having decided to move himself And that was it, all of it. EveryShe’ll articulate preferences, if only in into a retirement community, is thing she owned in the world. We pictured her, in onesie and dunce spittle and tears, and we’ll jump to re- doing the same thing. He’s calling up friends and relatives and cap, green shoes unlaced, dwarfed spond with the purchase of more stuff, asking us to loot what we will by the stuffed pig and hardback his two-story home, so that book, sitting on her dandelioned some of which we’ll keep for other ba- from he can lighten his load before quilt, toothless gums gnawing on cloth Frisbee, the quintessence of bies (not necessarily our own), some of moving on. “Come; please take something,” he called his grandminimalist existence. One day, we which we’ll box for memory’s sake, and son, my husband, who has too thought, she will find herself in an stuff as it is and no place apartment full of books, clothes, some of which will go the way of the much to put it. But his grandson said and shoes, and gadgets plugged yes, and gave instructions to his soiled diaper. into walls and other gadgets strewn father to pick out something of about (never enough plug points), Grandpa’s we can keep: somea stocked pantry, something gothing small, some little thing, but not nothing. ing bad in the fridge, quilts and throws, a microwave, car keys, Grandpa is ready to let go of the material things of his life, but toothbrush, tissues, and tea. That day it will be impossible for her to not ready to let go of the idea that they carry the traces of his living, imagine a time when all she had were these barely-somethings—not the signs of his time. His wife’s silver. Their antique player piano. nothing, but few enough items to check-out at a grocery store express And why should he? Epsi’s things, things she doesn’t even know line, little enough to describe in three lines of prose. about and will likely never remember, are already imbued with her That was February. Just six weeks later, Epsi boasts a dozen outfits future presence. Wordlessly, they speak an owner they currently have and is acquiring gadgets and accessories at an alarming rate. Once only in name. she’s born, she’ll grow out of these cotton skins even faster, necesI touch the Dr. Seuss footed sleeper her body is to fill and can’t sitating the purchase of next sizes and latest versions. She’ll articulate believe the input from my fingers. There is something there; there preferences, if only in spittle and tears, and we’ll jump to respond with will be someone here. She will inherit a world of stuff. She will parthe purchase of more stuff, some of which we’ll keep for other babies take of and contribute to what philosopher Hannah Arendt termed (not necessarily our own), some of which we’ll box for memory’s sake, “the human artifice.” She will read this book. She will wear this and some of which will go the way of the soiled diaper. Before long, hat. She will play with this Frisbee. And then one day she will look Epsi will have so much stuff she’ll require what Virginia Woolf once at everything around her and call out to longed for—a room of her own—and despite our best academic efforts someone dear. “Come,” she’ll say, “and take and socialist impulses, she’ll open lips to pronounce that possessive something.” n “mine.” She’ll grow older. She’ll acquire more things. And, if we’re fortunate, to paraphrase poet Kay Ryan, things won’t be “so hard.” Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan is a doctoral canHer life will leave “deep tracks.” Her things will “keep her marks.” didate in the Department of Rhetoric at UC Meanwhile, my grandmother is in the process of giving away all Berkeley. that’s hers. Like many widows, Patti has long since stopped wearing www.indiacurrents.com | 7
politics
Hillary Clinton’s Support for Gay Marriage: Too Little, Too Late By Sandip Roy
I
n 1996 Bill Clinton signed the Defence of Marriage Act which defined marriage as being between a man and a woman, a signature that gay rights activist Michelangelo Signorile called “an indelible stain” on his presidency. Earlier this month, Bill recanted in an op-ed in the Washington Post. He said his motives had been noble. He actually wanted to protect lesbians and gays from a “constitutional amendment banning gay marriage, which would have ended the debate for a generation or more.” But he admitted the law itself had ended up being “discriminatory” and he urged the U.S. Supreme Court to overturn it. Barely a week later, his wife Hillary came out in full-throated support of same-sex marriage via video. Gays and lesbians are “full and equal citizens and deserve the rights of citizenship. That includes marriage,” she said in a five-plus minute video for the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender (LGBT) lobbying group, the Human Rights Campaign. This announcement was not regarded as a stroke of political hara kiri. Instead it’s being interpreted as the opening salvo of a possible 2016 presidential bid. Democrats had once gone to their traditional constituencies—unions, black churches and the NAACP, Latino groups—to make the big speech that signaled higher political ambitions. Or they had made a foreign policy speech to give themselves some presidential gravitas. Now wooing the LGBT community has emerged as the takeoff point for a presidential campaign. “I’m sure she’s been there for awhile now, and politically it’s imperative for a Democratic Presidential aspirant,” Democratic consultant Steve Murphy told The Washington Post blog, “The Fix.” This was not true, even four years ago. When Barack Obama ran for president in 2008, Proposition 8, a measure to ban samesex was on the ballot in California. Candidate Obama walked a fine line. He opposed that proposition as “divisive and discriminatory” but didn’t come out in favour of marriage equality. It was the classic Democrat gay dodge—their version of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. If you asked them about marriage, they told you about civil unions. Obama didn’t 8 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
make any production out of his announcement either. He just stated his support for gay rights in a letter to the Alice B. Toklas LGBT Democratic Club in San Francisco. That letter was simply read out at the club’s annual breakfast meeting. Hillary’s splashy video shows that just as four years ago no American politician, serious about running for high office could afford to publicly support same-sex marriage, now for a Democrat it has become a requirement. The video, is indisputably, a sign of how far America has come and how quickly. Yet it’s also telling that the reaction to what once would have been seen as a landmark statement of moral courage, has ranged from a yawn—“I kinda forgot that Hillary Clinton wasn’t already for gay marriage,” tweeted Josh Barro—to outright snarky. “Outside the annual Christmas messages from Queen Elizabeth to the Commonwealth, you will struggle to see a more regal broadcast than the video of Hillary Clinton released today, announcing her conversion to the cause of gay marriage,” sneered the blog Lexington’s notebook on The Economist. The problem isn’t what Bill Clinton faced during the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell debacle when he tried to end the ban on gays in the military—breast-beating about the end of civilization and cultural wars. At the rate we are going same-sex marriage might well become part of the “family values” platform soon. Hillary’s problems lie elsewhere. Timing, timing timing. She has, as The Economist puts it, arrived “late to the wedding party.” Several potential contenders for the Democratic ticket in 2016 have long been out about their support for same-sex marriage. Her successor as Secretary of State, John Kerry is open about his support and it was not an issue in his nomination. Now even a conservative Republican senator Rob Portman has done a U-turn on the issue after his own son came out. The Republican National Committee has said his decision will not affect his financial support from the committee “at all.” Hiding in a video. By issuing a video, rather than doing an interview, she sounds as if she doesn’t want to deal with tricky questions like what she had meant in 2000
when she said “Marriage has got historic, religious, and moral content that goes back to the beginning of time and I think a marriage is as a marriage has always been, between a man and a woman.” Hillary said, like many others, that her views have “evolved” on this issue. But a Rob Portman can point to a gay son for his change of heart. Barack Obama can say watching gay parents of his daughters’ friends have changed his mind. Politicians look charmingly human and personable when they admit to learning from their children. But Hillary can hardly hide behind the long-supportive Chelsea. So she pointed vaguely (and rather self-importantly) instead to “people I have known and loved, by my experience representing our nation on the world stage, my devotion to law and human rights and the guiding principles of my faith.” Her announcement now just feeds into the notion that she’s being opportunistic because the numbers have changed. A Washington Post/ABC News poll shows support for marriage equality at a record 58 percent among Americans, up five points from even last year. Among 18-29-year-olds, that support climbs to 81 percent. As the Supreme Court weighs the issue, Signorile writes that with “mainstream America embracing gay rights”, many in the Republican Party secretly hope that the Supreme Court will just “take the issue of the table entirely” by just “giving gays full equality.” Whatever happens with the court, two things are clear. The days of gays as whipping boys to rally the conservative vote, is increasingly a strategy of diminishing returns. It also means that the fight against antiquated sodomy laws, whether in Washington D.C. or in New Delhi, is inevitably the first step in a long journey towards equality in all spheres. And when that happens we can stop talking about gay marriage as if it was some special sub-species of marriage. It will just all be about marriage, as it should always have been. n Sandip Roy is the Culture Editor for Firstpost. com. He is on leave as editor with New America Media. His weekly dispatches from India can be heard on KALW.org. This article was first published in Firstpost.
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Mistress of Emotions By Geetika Pathania Jain
Mira Nair on set
Mira Nair has often chosen to work in the realm of hazy and blurred emotional landscapes. Nair’s forthcoming film, an adaptation of Mohsin Hamid’s book, The Reluctant Fundamentalist, highlights the “other” casualties of 9/11, those for whom “a side was chosen.” Once again, Nair provides us with a moving perspective replete with immediacy and conflict.
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ira Nair’s 1998 film Salaam Bombay! firmly established her in the pantheon of great film-makers. The film’s gritty realism can be seen as the legitimate cinematic ancestor to contemporary preoccupation with slumdogs. Several of Nair’s recent works have dealt with cultural identity, and both Mississipi Masala and The Namesake grapple with issues of immigrant acculturation and assimilation. Misplaced trust is another theme that runs through much of Nair’s work, from Krishna (Shafiq Syed) absorbing the thievery of Chillum (played masterfully by Raghubir Yadav) in Salaam Bombay! to the sense of anguish experienced by Changez in The Re10 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
luctant Fundamentalist. Yet those who have their hearts broken also break other hearts. In Salaam Bombay! Krishna spurns Manju (Hansa Vithal) for Solah Saal (literally, Sweet Sixteen, played by Chanda Sharma). Changez lets down his mother by breaking his promise of secrecy to her, a scene brilliantly depicted by Nair. “Dil jalaane ki baat karte ho,” (you have caused a burning in my heart) the lyrics intone, as the hurt registers on the expressive features of Shabana Azmi’s face. These interpersonal betrayals also set the stage for betrayals between nations and peoples. While the subject matter of betrayal, by those we trust the most, is not new, the freshness of
the depiction in this film-maker’s hands is transforming.
A Conversation With Mira Nair
9/11 has become part of the shared collective memory of this nation. Most people can pinpoint exactly where they were and what they were doing when the planes struck the Twin Towers. Many can recollect their shock as news of the devastation sank in. In the days that followed, emotional accounts filled the airwaves. Our hearts contracted painfully as we heard of farewell messages left by those who perished in the Twin towers, and of children who remained uncollected from daycares, even as casualties
mounted. The nation seemed united in a way that would have been difficult to believe just a few short weeks earlier. The enduring legacy of such a monumental event unfolds slowly. In 2007, Pakistani author Mohsin Hamid’s book animated the voice of those for whom this was a palpable reality. Mira Nair’s film, based on this book, serves similarly to highlight the casualties of an unchosen war. Geetika Pathania Jain caught up with Mira Nair in a recent interview. Geetika Pathania Jain: Mira, thank you so much for making yourself available for an exclusive interview for India Currents readers. My first question is why you chose to film The Reluctant Fundamentalist. Mira Nair: My father was raised in Lahore, and as children, in modern India, we were raised Lahori, even in Orissa, where I was born. We spoke in Urdu, and the poems of Faiz, ghazals of Noor Jehan, Iqbal Bano, all this was a daily part of my life. And as a kid in modern India, one didn’t go to Pakistan, and it was only in 2005 that I was invited there, and I actually visited Pakistan. When I first got to Lahore, it was a deeply moving experience, because it was very familiar: the culture, the music, the language, people, everyone looked like my uncles and aunts. It was certainly so different from the Pakistan one reads about in the newspapers. Indian directors have often made stories about the Partition in Pakistan, but not really about modern-day Pakistan. I was inspired by that trip to make the
modern-day tale, and it was about six months later that I read Mohsin’s novel in manuscript and I immediately reacted to it. It not only gave me a chance to show contemporary Pakistan, but it was also a dialogue with America. And both these situations with the sub-continent and America, are worlds that I know intimately, and love intimately, and so, immediately, I thought this was the one. The other reason was that being in the phase we are in now, there are so many films, post 9-11, about Americans going to Iraq or Afghanistan, and returning in body bags, fighting for freedom in this unknown place and so on, but there’s never a film about the other side, of where they drop their bombs, or who is the Iraqi woman who loses everything in the name of freedom. The mantra of my work and my life is “if we don’t tell our stories, no one else will.” So The Reluctant Fundamentalist gave me the chance to tell not just only our stories, but helped formulate a bridge-making dialogue with the West. That is why I shot it. Watching the wedding scene in The Reluctant Fundamentalist reminded me of Monsoon Wedding, and I kept thinking about the common culture in these neighboring nations of Pakistan and India. Going back to some of your other films, identity is a theme that comes up frequently. So, would you say that just as in The Namesake, this story is about returning to one’s roots after all that inter-racial experimentation? Of course. A book is a springboard for a director’s imagination—Mohsin used to joke
Sharing a laugh with Shabana Azmi
with me as we were writing the first two drafts of the film in Lahore—because I wanted to bring to the film a real sense of family life. And I like the naach gaana, tamaasha, fun, and the humor, too. That’s the flavor I wanted to give to the movie, because that’s how we lived. We’d spout poetry often. And Mohsin would ask me, what are we doing here—Monsoon Terrorist? This was because of the sense of life that I was very committed to depicting. If you don’t humanize the places and characters; if you don’t humanize the Liev Schreiber character, for instance, he becomes just a cardboard cutout of America. He has to be as multiple, as complicated, and as nuanced as the protagonist in the film. So that’s what I strive for. It’s to give that multiplicity to a character or situation, and to destroy the idea that we are the Other or you are the Other. What is the Other? That is what makes a viewer see us not as Islamic or otherwise, but really, really see us. So that’s the effort I make in this movie, to humanize the details, in a flesh and blood kind of way. That is my intention. Is it too fanciful to suggest that the relationship between Changez and America is mirrored in his relationship to Erica? I mean, he loves her, but she has a hard time loving him back. And he wants so much to be accepted by her, but eventually feels rejected and disillusioned? Is that too fanciful? No, Actually, that’s the way Mohsin intended it in the book. But we changed Erica, and made her into a struggling artist.
With Liev Schreiber, explaining a shot
Yes, there are variations from the book in the film. It was not just Erica who betrays him in that way. She was just one of the many things that happens to him. So he feels betrayed by the very people, he assumed, who did not consider him as the “other.” It is a series of encounters that finally disillusion him. But I feel it’s the Turkish publisher and his talk of the janisteris that finally wakes him up. www.indiacurrents.com | 11
You are referring here to how Haluk Bilginer, the Turkish publisher, mentions the janisteri, Christian boys who were enlisted by the Ottomans in the Islamic army, to serve their adopted empire. Janisteris were taken as children, and were sent to betray and kill their own people. Another theme of betrayal. Yes, we come back to the theme of betrayal in so many instances. His mother is betrayed by him because he does tell his father about his involvement in the wedding expenses. It reminded me so much of Salaam Bombay, where Krishna betrays Manju because he is in love with Sola Saal, and is in turn betrayed by Chillum, who is an addict who will betray anyone to get a fix. That was done so well—I was really carried away by that. Glad to hear that. It did resonate so much with me when Changez Khan says “a side was chosen for me” because after 9/11 there has been so much hatecrime, so much surveillance and profiling of people of a certain category. I do think this was a really important film to make for the “other casualties of 9/11” as you call them. You have not been afraid to tackle difficult topics in your films, but was there anything in this film that you thought was too edgy, or were you concerned about how it would be received? Well, it’s obviously tricky stuff, but the world is a complicated place, and for me, one of the great models is Gillo Pontecorvo’s The Battle of Algiers, where he speaks for both
sides, the French and the Algerians, and deals with both sides with equal intelligence and equal love. And for me, that is the model. I did not want to undermine the American side over the Pakistani side or anything like that. They have to be approached with that complexity, that nuance, and that love. I trusted myself in that respect, to be unflinching, about Changez’s reaction to the plane flying into the tower. We took a lot of care with that moment. We’re not going to tame it, in that it was complicated. It was complicated for most of the world. But if I place it in a context that the audience can trust, then it becomes valid. But if I just make light of it, if I reduce it in any way, then it’s wrong, because it was a terrible thing that happened. It was a shocking thing. We took great care with that moment. I really enjoyed the film, and I am delighted to bring your message to our readers. We finished the movie in August 2012, and then we have had a spate of festivals, and it was fantastically received, and then I had to put a lid on it, and do a release. We have been getting fantastic responses from the critics. That is so heartening. n Geetika Pathania Jain is a Bay Area resident. She teaches in the film and television department of a local community college. She is an unabashed fan of Mira Nair’s work. All photos in this article credited to Reluctant Films II, Inc.
On set with Riz Ahmed 12 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
The Trajectory of Racism THE RELUCTANT FUNDAMENTALIST. Director: Mira Nair. Players: Riz Ahmed, Kate Hudson, Kiefer Sutherland, Liev Schreiber, Om Puri, Shabana Azmi, Haluk Bilginer. Music: Michael Andrews. Screenplay, William Wheeler, Mohsin Ahmed. Produced by Lydia Dean Pilcher.
A
fter an Ivy League education at Princeton, Changez Khan joins the ranks of the prestigious Underwood Samson as a financial analyst. He meets Erica, a photographer. The American dream is within his grasp, and he strives to ascend into the social class in New York that his parents were falling out of back in Lahore. But just as his spot in the elite cadre of New York society is crystallizing, 9/11 happens, shifting forever the trajectory of his career and life. Anyone with a beard and turban has become vulnerable, the Sikh taxi cab drivers tell him. And as fear takes over the country, unleashing something dark and primeval, Changez is buffeted by the force of this maelstrom. Profiling, arrests, slashed tires, and full body searches lie in store for him. Racial slurs are hurled in his face. And however loudly he proclaims that he is a lover of America, it appears that America has a hard time loving him back. n
www.indiacurrents.com | 13
feature
The Mystique of the Past An excerpt from Oleander Girl By Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
T
he household at 26 Tarak Prasad Roy Road has been abustle since daybreak, preparing for Korobi’s engagement. The maid has ground the spices for lunch and chopped a mountain of vegetables. The yawning cook has cut up the rui fish and marinated it in salt and turmeric. In the Durga Mandir, the family temple established over a hundred years ago, Old Bahadur yells threats at the gardener boy until the cracked marble floor is mopped to his satisfaction. Sarojini, Korobi’s grandmother, hurries in to arrange lamps, camphor holders, incense, sandalwood powder, marigolds, large copper platters, fruit, milk sweets, rice grains, gold coins and multicolored pictures depicting a pantheon of gods. Is she is forgetting anything? She loves the temple, but it also makes her nervous. Too many memories lurk in its sooty alcoves. On one side she unrolls mats for the priest and for her husband, Bimal Prasad Roy, retired barrister and proud grandfather of the brideto-be, on the other she has placed four low chairs for the Boses, family of the groom-tobe, because they are very modern and elegant and thus unused to sitting cross-legged on the ground. Re-entering the house, Sarojini is swept into a sea of commotion. The milkman is rattling the side door; the phone rings; on the Akashbani Kolkata station, the newscaster announces the date: Feburary 27, 2002; Cook berates the neighbor’s striped cat for attempting to filch a piece of fish. Bimal summons Cook in querulous tones. Where on earth is his morning tea? His Parle-G biscuits? Cook replies (but not loud enough for Bimal to hear) that she doesn’t have ten arms like the goddess. The commentator on Akashbani is discussing the growing tension between India and Pakistan since the testing of the Agni missile. Then he is interrupted by a news bulletin: over 50 people dead in a train fire in Gujarat. So many disasters in the world, Sarojini thinks as she climbs the stairs to Korobi’s bedroom. A pity that one had to happen today, a day of more happiness than their family has seen in a long time. She opens the door to Korobi’s room, to help her granddaughter get ready for the ceremony. There’s the girl, dawdling on the verandah in her thin nightgown for all the world to gawk 14 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
at! Sarojini is about to scold her, but, leaning sleepless thread of his breathing. But this is no time for morbid thoughts. over the rail toward the row of oleanders that Anu had loved, Korobi looks so like her Luncheon smells rise from the kitchen— dead mother that the words die in Sarojini’s khichuri made with golden mung and Gopal throat. Not her face or fair skin—in those Bhog rice from their ancestral village, sauteed Korobi resembles Sarojini—but that posture, brinjals, cabbage curry cooked with pure ghee that troublesome yearning toward the world, and cardamoms. Sarojini will have to supervise that radiant smile as she turns toward her the fish-fry. Last time Cook, who is getting old, scorched the filets and collapsed into tears. grandmother. In any case, Sarojini is no good at scolding. But first Sarojini must get Korobi dressed. Bimal has always complained that she spoiled The child is always dreaming. Listen to her the girls—first Anu and then little Korobi— now, singing with abandon in the bathroom and thus did them a disservice. Sarojini admits as though it were a holiday. Sarojini knocks on the bathroom door. he has a point; girls have to be toughened so they can survive a world that presses harder “Hurry, hurry, so much to be done. Sari, hair, on women, and surely Bimal does a good job makeup, jewelry. The mustard-seed ceremony of that. But deep in a hidden place inside her to avert the evil eye. If you’re not ready by the that is stubborn as a mudfish, Sarojini knows time Rajat’s party arrives, your grandfather she is right, too. Being loved a little more than will have a fit.” While Korobi was away at school, all year necessary arms a girl in a different way. “Come on now, Korobi, bath-water’s Sarojini would hunger for winter break, when icicles hung from the eaves of the old school getting cold.” Not that Sarojini had much of an buildings and the children were sent down to opportunity to spoil Korobi. As soon as the the plains. But somehow when Korobi came girl was five, Bimal made arrangements with home, the two of them never got to do the that boarding school in the freezing mountains. things Sarojini had planned. It seemed that Sarojini begged to keep the child at home. She whenever she tried to teach Korobi how to even wept, which was uncommon for her, and make singaras stuffed with cauliflower, or layer mortifying. After Anu’s death she had vowed the woolens with camphor balls to save them from moths, Bimal called the girl away to play to keep her griefs to herself. “Look what happened the last time I chess or accompany him to the Book Fair. Only at bedtime did Sarojini get her granddaughter listened to you,” Bimal said. A rejoinder shot up to her tongue. Whose to herself. “Tell me about Ma,” the girl would fault is it that my daughter’s dead? At the whisper in the dark, the forbidden request last moment she pulled it back into herself. forging a bond between them. Sarojini would If the words had crystallized into being, swallow the ache in her throat and offer her s h e c o u l d n’ t h a v e continued living with Bimal, she couldn’t have borne it. But she didn’t know any other way of being. Also this: she loved him. His suffering stung her. Yes, he suffered for Anu’s death, though he would not speak of it. Even now he startles awake at night with a groan, and lying next to him Sarojini hears—sometimes for an hour—the ragged, Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni Photo Credit: Murthy Divakaruni
something innocuous: a childhood escapade, a favorite color, a half-remembered line from a poem that Anu liked to recite. “Why did she name me Korobi?’ “Because she loved oleanders so much, shona.” “But they’re poisonous! You told me so. Why would she name me after something so dangerous?” Sarojini didn’t know the answer to that. Now Korobi is getting married, leaving Sarojini struggling under the weight of unsaid things, things she had promised Bimal she would never speak of. She pushes the thought away, unfolding the stiff pink silk sari she had bought, so many years ago, for Anu. She tucks it around her granddaughter’s slender waist, admonishing the girl when she fidgets, making sure the pleats show off the gold embroidered border. When she is satisfied, she starts on the jewelry—her beloved dowry jewelry. She pins the gold disc in the shape of a sunburst to Korobi’s braid and stands back to evaluate. The girl has lovely hair, not that she takes care of it. Mostly it’s left untied, a mass of tangled curls cascading down her back. The long necklace with a crescent-shaped diamond pendent, the earrings so solid they have to be supported by little chains that hook to Korobi’s hair. Each piece has its name: mantasha, chandra chur, makar bala. Not many people know them anymore. Sarojini had tried to teach Korobi, but the girl wasn’t interested. It was Rajat, though, who surprised Sarojini. Last week he had come to take Korobi for a ride in his new BMW, but he ended up sitting on Sarojini’s bed for a half hour, touching each piece, listening to its story. That disc belonged to my widow aunt, who left it behind when she ran away. My father gave this necklace to my mother when my oldest brother was born. My great-grandfather the gambler won the snake-band from a neighboring landowner while playing pasha. That evening when Korobi returned from the ride, Sarojini said, “You’re lucky to get him for a husband.” “Excuse me? I thought he was the lucky one!” S a ro j i n i l a u g h e d a l o n g w i t h h e r granddaughter, but secretly she hoped Rajat would cancel out all the tragedies that had piled up in the girl’s life already. n Chitra Divakaruni teaches Creative Writing at the University of Houston. Her latest novel is Oleander Girl. In 2011, along with Salman Rushdie, she received a Light of India award. She invites India Currents readers to join her at http://www.facebook.com/chitradivakaruni for literary conversation.
books
Poison and Panacea By Jeanne Fredriksen
OLEANDER GIRL by Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. Free Press, a division of Simon and Schuster, Inc., New York. $24. 304 pages. freepressfiction.com; chitradivakaruni.com; Available in hardcover and for digital readers.
C
hitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s new novel, Oleander Girl, could have been a charming tale of sweet-girlgets-engaged-to-wealthy-boy-but-needs-tofind-herself-first. However, it’s not. It is, in fact, a showcase for the best-selling author’s ability to maintain her signature, beautifullycrafted prose while creating a complex set of deceptions, ruses, and lies, exposing the dark side of human nature. Twists and turns, suspense and revelations are plentiful, resulting in a novel that cautions the reader to expect the unexpected, for the easy road is never the one taken. Seventeen year old Korobi Roy is the title character who, despite her sheltered life, makes this a novel of strength, will, and love. Orphaned at birth but much-loved and raised by long-respected, traditional grandparents, she aches to know everything—anything— about her parents. Her grandfather long ago had instructed her never to bring up the subject of her mother and told her that her father, too, was dead. When she accidentally finds an unfinished love letter written by her mother, Korobi is no longer the only evidence of their existence, and she keeps this clue to herself. Engaged to marry Rajat Bose, the son of a wealthy businessman and a high-end art gallery owner, Korobi’s life and sense of self completely change when her beloved grandfather suddenly dies. Family secrets surround her like thick fog. A long-concealed financial crisis is uncovered. A dream of her mother pointing across the ocean disturbs Korobi and compels her, five months after 9/11 and against the will of her family, to begin a solo journey to America in search of answers and resolution. While in America, Korobi faces a series of obstacles, but Korobi pushes forward, and her quest for her parentage unfolds like the opening of the beautiful but dangerous oleander flower for which she is named or if she is mired in a sea of poison from which she must extract herself. As she navigates avenues strewn with miscommunications and misunderstandings, the reader might wonder if Korobi is the
poison her name implies. Meanwhile, the Bose family experiences its own dilemma at home. The comfort of the privileged is shaken by the distress of workers in the turbulent times of early 2002. Religious fighting, union unrest, and the inability of both classes to trust or communicate with each other combine to add another layer of conflict that will keep the reader turning pages to the very end. “2002 was important,” Divakaruni said in our e-interview. “It was the year of upheavals in the United States and India—United States in the wake of 9/11 had created Homeland Security laws that were to affect people of Indian origin, among many others. A pall of uneasiness and suspicion shrouded the country, and Korobi must face that. 2002 was significant in India, in terms of this book’s themes, because of the religion-based Godhra riots, the fallout from which affect people in the novel even though they are across the country in Kolkata.” Skillfully crafted, the novel is a bouquet of collisions that illustrate how choices we make affect more than just ourselves. The past and present clash, as do secrets and truths, needs and wants, old and new India, East and West, wise and unwise decisions. Subplots span two continents and families, and double back on themselves. What Korobi ultimately discovers as she crisscrosses America will force her to confront that which she could never have imagined. The book, adds Divakaruni, “… underlines how, once we move away from truth into secrecy, the way back becomes very complicated indeed.” Intrigued by this literary suspense novel, I asked Ms. Divakaruni how the idea of Oleander Girl came to her. “I had been thinking for a long while about two issues,” she explains. “[One,] the clash between the old ways of life and the new, changing, globalized views in India and [two,] how can people of different beliefs, faiths, values, get along, be friends, care for each other, etc. Also I was haunted by an image of an old mansion in Kolkata … an actual old home which I saw one day, driving past it with my mother on my way to a relative’s home in North Kolkata, which is the oldest part of the city. They all came together in this book, and the setting seemed right for a character who was sheltered from the world and yet filled with courage when the moment came for her to step out into that world.” Characters vacillate between their likeable www.indiacurrents.com | 15
and unlikeable qualities, which adds to the tension and validates their behaviors in terms of human frailties and power. They reveal themselves in dualities. Korobi is ignorant of the ways of the world but strong enough to do what only she feels is right. Rajat is a modern, moneyed free spirit who cares about and respects elders and tradition. Asif, the Bose family driver and one of the most enjoyable characters of all, is a loyal employee, yet he is tempted by money and community. Korobi’s grandfather, the person she loves most in her world, is tender and gentle to her despite having obliterated all proof that his own daughter ever lived. The book’s dedication page states, “And for my grandfather, whose life inspired this story.” I asked her to tell me what she meant. “I loved my grandfather dearly—he was my favorite adult while I was growing up, more so than my parents,” she related. “But at a certain point I was shocked to discover that although he was always very loving to me, he had in the past been extremely harsh with some of his own children. In fact, he disinherited [two] of my uncles. This dichotomy in his character is something that bothered me a lot and ultimately influenced my creation of Korobi’s grandfather.” Many difficult decisions are made over the course of the story, all exceptional in their own ways: decisions about family, business, home, the future, actions taken, relationships. From Korobi to each of her grandparents to her fiancé and even Asif the driver, I wondered whose decision the author felt was the most complicated. Most diplomatically, she responded, “Each of them has a uniquely difficult decision to make.” However, truth always wins. “To me,” she continued, “Korobi’s choice is the hardest because I think she grows and learns the most, and her world and her vision of her world changes because of that.” In her interview with Girija Shankar (India Currents, 4/2010), Divakaruni said, “I write about a theme that I consider important.” So what does she see as that important theme in Oleander Girl? “The most important theme in the novel is love—humanistic love, spiritual love, romantic love. The book examines the necessity and the cost of love.” Perhaps if it all boils down to love, then Divakaruni has found the antidote to a world languishing in its own cauldron of poisons. The oleander, you see, is much, much more than it appears. n Jeanne E. Fredriksen reads and writes from Wake Forest, North Carolina, where she is happily at work on her young adult novel. 16 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
Q&A with Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni
T
he title is so simple and, after reading the book, so perfect. Where there other titles that had been considered that were more (pardon the pun) flowery? (SMILE) Without getting into spoilers, how did you decide on the title? I always obsess over titles. So although I started with this one, I spent a long time thinking about other possibilities. At one point, I had a whole page of them. My agent, who is very smart, told me to stick with this one! I think it’s the right one because the novel is focused on Korobi (oleander) and on her learning who she is, learning why her mother, dying in childbirth, had given her that name. One of my other titles was: Till Shadows Have Eaten the Moon. It’s from a poem by William Butler Yeats on the complex nature of love, which is also one of the themes of the novel. (I finally used lines from the poems as the epigraph, so I got to keep it as well!) Oleander Girl is built on many lies, deceits, and misunderstandings, whereas your previous novel, One Amazing Thing, was built on sharing truths—difficult truths. Was one easier to write than the other? What challenges did this present in writing Oleander Girl? Each book presented its own challenges. In each book, characters are in search of truth. In each book, some find it more difficult to face … Part of the effect of Oleander Girl depends on discovery. I hope readers will find certain portions of the novel suspenseful and surprising. With which character do you most identify and why? I identify with them all. Otherwise I can’t write them! That said, I found myself developing a surprising fondness for the driver Asif, who was originally supposed to be only a minor character. Rajat is a rich young man who never had to work, and his friends fall into the same category. Yet Rajat is different from his friends. Are you commenting on the moneyed class of today’s India? I’m examining different lifestyles. Even within the same social class, there is bound to be difference, and the writer needs to show that if she is to avoid stereotyping. I hope I’ve managed to do that! You’ve created a family of, figuratively,
four generations (Korobi’s grandparents; Rajat’s parents; Rajat and Korobi; and, because of the age difference between siblings, Rajat’s eleven year old sister Pia). Each generation represents a different social viewpoint. Was this a conscious effort, or was it a result of the process of writing? It came about naturally, as the story unfolded, but I was happy to have these generations because I think it adds to the texture of the world since each generation thinks differently, often about the same issues. In Oleander Girl, you chose first person point of view for Korobi but third person for everyone else. It would, of course, be a very different story if it were all from Korobi's POV, but I'm curious about this vs. third person for the entire story. How did you settle on this dual POV for the book? I wanted Korobi’s voice to be the closest and most immediate in the reader’s mind. I wanted her feelings to be the one they identified with more. The others, I wanted more distance—I wanted a little irony in places, especially since the other POVs are sometimes in conflict with Korobi’s understanding of the world or of how she needs to respond to the situation (such as Rajat and Korobi) and sometimes they are in conflict with each other (Rajat, Asif). What would you like your readers to take away from reading Oleander Girl? I hope they will relate to and/or think about some of the issues the book raises. I hope they will feel the characters’ dilemmas as their own. Are you working on anything new yet? I’m working on a novel about the Ramayana, told from Sita’s point of view. n
www.indiacurrents.com | 17
business
The Entrepreneurial Way A conversation with TiE President, Venktesh Shukla By Rajesh C. Oza
B
ack in 1992, in Silicon Valley, if you said “TiE,” some would respond, “Isn’t that what those stodgy IBMers wear?” Fast forward two decades, and the response might be, “Yeah, I’m on my third startup, and I’m going to TiE to drum up VC interest.” Times change, and The Indus Entrepreneurs (TiE) is evolving to meet the needs of today’s entrepreneur. India Currents recently met with TiE Silicon Valley’s President, Venktesh Shukla, to connect at a human level and to explore how entrepreneurship and TiE have changed through the years. Rajesh Oza: Tell us about your early life and some of the influences. Venktesh Shukla: Although my father was in the Indian Administrative Service and lived in big cities of Madhya Pradesh, my schooling was in a small village where my grandfather lived. In my elementary school, all students sat on the floor except for one— the local zamindar’s son. He had his own table and chair, just like the teacher. It was quite an education. I did not understand it at the time but now looking back I must have imbibed the reality of power—that some people get privileged treatment not on their own merit but on the perception of power around them. The real power had long gone as the Zamindari system had been abolished decades ago, yet the school administration in the village was awed enough to provide special treatment. Even more remarkable was the fact that no one in the village objected to this arrangement. I went on to become an electronics engineer and quickly discovered that the only places in India, in the 1970s, where any original electronic design was happening was at public sector companies, which were almost as bureaucratic as the traditional bureaucracy, but without its impact and influence. So I took the Civil Service exam and joined traditional bureaucracy. Once computerization started in India, I volunteered to head one of the four regional computer centers in the Income Tax department. Instead, I was sent as Deputy Commissioner to Tamil Nadu. That is when I 18 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
Venktesh Shukla
resigned and returned back to Boston where I had gone to do a Masters in Business Administration (MBA) at the Massachussetts Institute of Technology (MIT). I started working for the world’s largest semiconductor test equipment maker, Teradyne. The allure of cutting edge technology and business was very powerful and I have stayed in the United States ever since. How did your time at Teradyne shape your leadership style? Everyone at Teradyne had an office cube, including the CEO. Now it is common in the Valley, but in those days and in the East Coast, this was a revolutionary idea. Any employee could walk up to anyone else’s office irrespective of the hierarchy and ask a question. The company culture was such that if an idea could not withstand scrutiny internally, it was not likely to succeed in the marketplace. No one had a title in the company except those mandated by regulations. There were no promotions or demotions in the conventional sense. An employee’s worth was judged based on the importance of the work that was being done.
That sounds like an intrapreneurial culture. You assumed the presidency this January so you’ve had a few months on the job. Can you tell us what exactly the TiE President does and what you plan to emphasize in your role. The TiE presidency is unique in terms of its demands. It is a large organization consisting of 270 highly successful individuals as charter members and close to 2000 members. The office staff is very small, and the vast majority of the work gets done by volunteers. The network is strong and has deep roots in the Valley. There is no fixed charter of activities other than the annual flagship conference, TiECON. It is entirely up to the initiative and imagination of the incumbent to develop his own agenda for TiE. From its inception, TiE has emphasized education, inspiration and mentorship as a way to promote entrepreneurship. I intend to shift the emphasis from promotion of entrepreneurship to helping the entrepreneur. It is not just a change of semantics; it has real consequences in terms of programs. Please elaborate. When TiE got started, it filled a big hole. It inspired technology professionals to jump into entrepreneurship, educated them on how to take this plunge, and mentored them along the way. The Valley has changed since then, or you could argue that TiE has succeeded beyond all expectations. Budding entrepreneurs don’t need to come to TiE for inspiration. There are thousands of successful entrepreneurs in the community to get inspiration from. Practically, every venture fund and law firm has a desi partner, and they all have active outreach programs. But, entrepreneurs still need help finding mentors and advisors, money, peer support, and exposure to potential customers. These are the kinds of things that going forward TiE will focus on. So how has entrepreneurship changed in the past decade? The biggest difference has been in what it costs to get started. What used to cost $5m a decade ago, can now be done with $100k.
Thanks to open source revolution, the ability to rent compute time by the hour, and dramatically reduced telecom costs, it is now possible for far more entrepreneurs to launch a company and test out their ideas. There is an explosion of entrepreneurship right now. What is your own entrepreneurship experience? I have been involved with 30 start ups either as C.E.O., an Exeutive or as an Investor/Advisor/Board Member. My first start up experience was with Ambit Design which was a hugely successful company and that pretty much gave me a taste for start ups. Since then I have been C.E.O. of Everypath and Nusym Technology with a stint at a public company, Magma Design, in between. In early March, I read an article in the Wall Street Journal that suggested that the ROI on an MBA is far lower than getting out in the world and starting up a venture. Your thoughts? There are some who are risk takers, those who want to have control over their agenda; they are the ones who become entrepreneurs. Entrepreneurship is not for everyone, just as corporate life is not for everyone. Entrepreneurship is about more than making money, and a huge number of MBAs do well working for big companies. Often when I mention TiE to colleagues, they think of high-tech startups. Would you say this is a fair association or should we be using a broader understanding of TiE? Silicon Valley is about technology mostly, and therefore TiE in Silicon Valley is mostly about technology. TiE in Jaipur, on the other hand is all about tourism, jewelry, and other industries. This year at TiECON, we have a dedicated track on social entrepreneurship where the focus is on impact investing. The goal of this category of investment is sustainability through ventures that make money while making a social impact. How would you describe yourself? As an incurable indophile—any time that is available from work or family is spent doing something for India or engaged with people in India or with things Indian—movies, cricket ... Thank you for helping India Currents readers connect the dots of an entrepreneurial life. n Rajesh C. Oza is a Change Management consultant who facilitates the interpersonal development of MBA students at the Stanford Graduate School of Business. www.indiacurrents.com | 19
analysis
Diamonds Are Forever Why David Cameron Can’t Give India Its Koh-i-noor By Sandip Roy
D
iamonds are forever, and they are for your EYES only. So India, you can look but don’t even dream about getting the Koh-i-noor back. Instead David Cameron has given India a parting gift—a post-colonial word—returnism. “I certainly don’t believe in returnism, as it were,” he said. “I don’t think that’s sensible.” The ever-helpful Cameron had a suggestion for what might be sensible. “The right answer is for the British museum and other cultural institutions to do exactly what they do, which is to link up with other institutions around the world to make sure that the things which we have and look after so well are properly shared with people around the world.” One is not quite sure how they intend to “properly share” the Koh-i-noor with Indians. Could the Indian president wear it when he opens the next session of Parliament? Anyway I don’t think anyone is planning to ever loan the crown jewels to the erstwhile Jewel in the Crown. But this “returnism,” the misbegotten lovechild of colonialism, is interesting.
Returnism, as far as I can make out, translates into something like this. I steal your laptop. Then I get it a spiffy cover and upgrade your anti-virus protection. Then when you ask for it back, I say, “Sorry, I am keeping it. I just have too many files on it now. And look how well I maintained it. I even ran a disk defragmenter on it. But hey, if you are in the neighbourhood, stop by any time and take a look for old times sake.” Cameron, of course, has his own logic. He could not apologize for Jallianwala because he fears that once he goes down that route, the apology list would take up the rest of his term as prime minister. Similarly once he returns the Koh-i-noor, other countries might want bits of their heritage back. “It is the same question with the Elgin Marbles,” said Cameron as if that was a piece of unassailable British logic. Whoa. It needs a certain chutzpah to justify one bit of imperial thievery with another bit of colonial skullduggery. It’s true that if Britain really did start giving everything that it acquired questionably back to the rightful claimants, that would leave it with very little of its own other than some John Constable paintings of the English countryside. It does, however beg the question: A Creative Commons Image how much of the British Museum is really British? The list of things affected by “returnism” would be long—Koh-i-noor, Elgin Marbles, Benin bronzes, Ashanti regalia, the Rosetta Stone. The Brits are not alone of course. There’s the Nefertiti bust in Berlin, Priam’s treasure in Russia, large chunks of the Louvre. But that does not mean “returnism” does not happen. The Louvre returned frescoes to Egypt. The Musee de l’Homme in Paris returned the Hottentot Venus to South Africa. The Kankaria mosaics were returned to the Orthodox Church in Cyprus after a court case in Indianopolis. The Met returned the Euphronius Krater to Italy in exchange for the right to display some comparable artifacts. And of course, all the art plundered during the Holocaust is supposed to be returned to the original British Prime Minister David Cameron owners. The Nazis, infamously, had special
20 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
departments to seize and secure objects of cultural value. But it’s worth remembering that the Germans weren’t the only ones doing the looting. The Allies did their bit as well. Of course, Britain’s problem is, it cannot even do a cultural swap. What could it claim from its old colonies in lieu of the Koh-inoor? It’s not like it could take back cricket. Cameron might like to pretend that the United Kingdom is the guardian of the world’s treasures. The fact is colonizers took them because that was a way they could project their power over their subjects. As Napoleon boasted after pillaging Italy, “We now have all that is beautiful in Italy except for a few objects in Turin and Naples.” And how much these guardians of the world’s heritage truly guard them was clear to all when the Americans and British stood by after the toppling of Saddam Hussein and allowed the National Museum of Iraq to be looted. However they showed far more alacrity about securing the building of the Ministry of Oil. As far as the Koh-i-noor goes, the diamond does have a checkered history and there are many claimants to it. In fact, “there could be other claimants besides the government of India if the ‘it-belonged-to-mebefore-you’ principle is taken to its logical conclusion,” says an editorial in the Economic Times. It suggests, however, that if the economic downturn in Britain gets worse, they may have to resort to selling “the family silver, not to mention the crown jewels.” So India may yet get back the Koh-i-noor. But India also would need to get its act together. After all, Vishwa Bharati managed to lose Rabindranath Tagore’s Nobel medal because the security personnel were busy watching an Indo-Pak cricket match on television while thieves broke into the museum. Until then, however we could come up with our own term to match Cameron’s returnism. How does Kohinoorism sound, Mr. Cameron? n Sandip Roy is the Culture Editor for Firstpost. com. He is on leave as editor with New America Media. His weekly dispatches from India can be heard on KALW.org. This article was first published in Firstpost.
www.indiacurrents.com | 21
On Inglish
Is That My Karma in the Envelope? By Kalpana Mohan
karma—noun; [C19: from Sanskrit: action, effect] 1. Hinduism, Buddhism the principle of retributive justice determining a person’s state of life and the state of his reincarnations as the effect of his past deeds; 2. Theosophy the doctrine of inevitable consequence; 3. Destiny or fate
I
believe in karma. I also believe that I don’t have to wait until my next avatar to reap what I sow. In Hinduism and Buddhism, karma means the effect of a person’s actions that determine his destiny in his next incarnation. I see karma as the equivalent of that envelope we get in the mail here in California after being caught for a traffic violation. You pray and hope that the officer who flagged you down on a fateful morning for your error forgot all about you after your little chat by the side of the road. But every single time, with the precision of the mailman, the garbage man and the taxman, exactly two weeks later, a little sheet arrives in the mail with a heart-stopping fine amount. That, sweetheart, is karma. I will say that karma is quite different, however, in the world of tequila. When it comes to a margarita, the karmic consequences are always here and now. That is what I discovered on one bright blue Sunday morning in Redwood City a few weekends ago. I was dying to bathe in a margarita after months of being away from America but the minute I drank a glass that day, it seemed, all of a sudden, that I had no idea who the man was sitting right in front of me under the red umbrella until, in a while, the chips, the salsas, the salad and the quesadilla arrived and, ever so slowly, like wisps of white rising from the Golden Gate along with the mid-morning sun, the fog evanesced and the stranger before me began looking less and less like Brad Pitt and more and more—and this I tell you is the pits—like my husband who, as usual, was texting like a hormonal teen on his smartphone. While my husband was certainly no Pitt and I most definitely no Jolie, the larger truth about the two of us being a spirited couple remained, long after the spirits had worn off. I also realized how we were in this partnership for the long haul and how we were trying to make every day count even though I hated how my husband counted the pennies that I had spent as registered by the billing department at American Express. I was jolted yet again that afternoon by the two lines on the black shirts worn by the staff at Milagros Cantina: “We’re not here for a long time. We’re here for a good time.” The lines reminded me of the talk I had just heard the day prior in a lecture by Dr. Sheena Iyengar, Columbia University professor and the author of The Art of Choosing. It was one of the most eloquent and significant talks that I’d heard in many years. It seemed that decades after surmounting her challenges, Iyengar was still pondering karma and asking questions about fate, chance and choice. In a presentation that held all 800 attendees spellbound, Iyengar told us how she had chosen to let the tragic circumstances of her life became the cornerstone of her career. Sheena Iyengar was blind by the time she reached 11th grade owing to an inherited disease of retinal degeneration. Her father passed away when she had not even finished middle school. He was just 43. Iyengar’s father was dead following three successive heart attacks on 22 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
a day when he had complained of some pain in the leg and stopped at the doctor’s office to have a check-up. Unfortunately, the checkup got postponed to the following day due to circumstances beyond his control. Was that fate playing its hand? Would he have lived had he got the doctor’s appointment and received timely help? Maybe. Would a doctor have discovered the blood clot and prevented the onset of a heart attack? Maybe. Early on in their lives, a palm reader had told her father that he would die early unless he took care of himself. Iyengar believes her father had a choice, especially with regard to lifestyle. He could have taken measures to eat better and cut the fat, and avoided the fried chicken that he loved so much and made especially well. But food was his first love. He lived the way he wanted to live, serving the Sikh temple, praying, loving his work, eating well and savoring his life. She says that if she has distilled one thing from her father’s life and from her years of research on the idea of choice and consequence, it’s this: you cannot make long-term goals because fate and chance can skew your plans but you can make daily choices towards your goal that will ultimately put you on the course towards a more meaningful and productive life. I thought about all the things the blind professor had said at the fundraiser dinner hosted by the South Asian Heart Center. I reflected on the choices I had made in my own career in recent months. I decided that I had mostly made the right ones even if sometimes it meant sinking time into Facebook and investing time in writing work that I couldn’t see as fruitful in the long term. As for the food choices that balmy afternoon at Milagros, the decisions my husband and I made weren’t that bad either. We chose to eat the vegetarian salad and a whole wheat quesadilla, a heart-healthy choice given our heightened awareness about diet following our experience at the heart center gala year after year. We asked the waiter at Milagros to ensure that the chef tossed the salad with a generous sprinkling of their evil Diablo sauce. Of course it burned us up with every mouthful, thanks to a choice we made. But I tell you this: I wouldn’t have had it any other way—that afternoon or in all my life. n Kalpana Mohan writes from Saratoga. To read more about her, go to http://kalpanamohan.org and http://saritorial.com.
relationship diva
Newly-Wed Blues By Jasbina Ahluwalia
Q
I was married a few months ago, and while I care for my husband a great deal, we seem to be arguing more than I would have thought. Is this common for newlyweds? I was the first of my close girlfriends to marry, and don’t feel that they can relate to my situation. I feel a bit awkward when people constantly refer to us as “blissful newlyweds” while behind closed doors we argue more than we did before getting married. I’m wondering if you have any general suggestions for newlyweds navigating the early days of their life together?
A
Let me reassure you—you are certainly not alone. For many couples, volatility characterizes the first year of marriage, as once the “big day” (or more typically, “days” in our culture) conclude, the differences that may have seemed unimportant before marriage can at times take center-stage. Furthermore, the early days as a married couple can reveal a disconnect between the projected fantasy of who each partner
thought he/she was marrying, and the reality of the imperfect person he/she actually ended up marrying. I will break my answer into two separate columns (this month and next month) in order to provide tips to navigate some of the most common growing pains newlywed unions tend to face. Financial disagreements are easily the most divisive and contentious topics for newlyweds. This is one of the many areas I explore with prospective clients during our in-depth Personal Consultation. Financial philosophy can be a sensitive topic, and it is best if the spouses’ respective mindsets and attitudes regarding finances are aligned. If not before marriage, then as early as possible in the marriage, it is best to define core values with respect to how to spend money. Questions to ask each other include: On what do you most desire to spend money on? Is it visiting and/or aiding family and friends, or entertainment, or investment, or education?
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When those value-driven desires guide the budget, the risk of resentment and pointing fingers at each other diminishes. Being on the same page regarding how to spend limited free time, both as individuals and together, can also minimize resentment. It can be helpful to balance giving each each other space and time apart to pursue individual interests; and on the other hand, participating, at some level, in each other’s pursuits in the interest of spending time together. I shall continue with additional tips for newlyweds (or couples to consider prior to the wedding) next month. n Jasbina is the founder and president of Intersections Match, the only personalized matchmaking and dating coaching firm serving singles of South Asian descent in the United States. She is also the host of Intersections Talk Radio, a monthly lifestyle show. www.IntersectionsMatch. com. Jasbina@intersectionsmatch.com.
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ask a lawyer
Defending Sexual Crimes By Naresh Rajan
Q
The December 2012 rape of the college student on a bus in New Delhi spurred Indian lawmakers to institute harsher punishments for rape. Could you comment on the criminal defense of rape and sexual offenders here in the United States?
A
From a criminal defense perspective, at least in California, rape and sexual crimes are difficult for many reasons. First, the nature of these crimes makes it difficult to get people to be objective and fair to the accused. The law allows prosecutors to use any prior acts of sexually inappropriate or violent conduct against an accused, whether or not they led to convictions. In addition, sex crime convictions lead to mandatory and public sex offender registration. With the residence restrictions that are now imposed on sex offenders, persons convicted of sex crimes in metropolitan areas often find themselves forced to be homeless.
Rape is a terrible crime that leaves victims broken. Years ago, I believed that rape should be a capital crime. The protests in India show that many people still feel that way. With crimes so abhorrent, finding jurors who can put aside their outrage and who can fairly and objectively decide the case can be nearly impossible. Then, at trial, prosecutors may use any inappropriate act or sexual crime from the defendant’s past to prove that the rape occurred. The law guards against propensity evidence in most other crimes. It would be improper for a prosecutor to say that a robbery had occurred because the defendant had a robbery conviction in his past. In rape cases, however, an old rape conviction may be used to show that the defendant is guilty of another rape. Finally, if convicted, the defendant can no longer live anywhere in most Bay Area towns. There are too many schools and parks that the person must avoid. This lasts a
lifetime. Years after serving his sentence, the defendant still cannot go back home. Some cases deserve this, but as a blanket policy, it is unnecessarily harsh. Consider that statutory rape, consensual sex between even an eighteen year old and a minor, could lead to sexual offender registration. Violence against women is a frequent occurrence in this country. Enacting harsher laws is a simple solution, but preventing sexual violence depends upon how the law is enforced and how people think. If men believe women to be objects then there is no crime in treating them badly. Cultural perceptions of women are important in addressing sexual violence. Sexual violence and rape are universal problems that occur regardless of ethnicity, geography or class. True change can only arrive through education and cultural awakening. n Naresh Rajan is an attorney in San Mateo County. Email nrajanlaw@gmail.com.
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April 2013
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tax talk
SALE OF PROPERTY IN INDIA By Sanket Shah
D
o you own any immovable property in India? Do you anticipate your parents giving you an immovable property under a Will? There has been multi fold appreciation in the real property (“property”) prices throughout India. Due to appealing exchange rates of the U.S. Dollar to the Indian Rupee, purchase of property by Non Resident Indians (NRIs) has grown multi-fold in the recent months. So what happens when you sell such property? For the sake of simplicity we have assumed that all properties sold were second homes; they were not used for business and were not let out for rental purposes.
From India Income Tax point of view:
1. If the property is held for more than three years, you get indexation benefit on the cost (basis) that you have purchased. Indexation is a technique to adjust income payments to maintain purchase power after inflation. 2. If the property is acquired prior to 1st April 1981, you are entitled to substitute the market value of property as on 1st April 1981 as your cost of acquisition and thereafter you can avail of indexation benefits. 3. The capital gains on sale of property is computed as under:
1. The capital gain is calculated by deducting cost of acquisition from the sale price. 2. You do not get any indexation benefits in the United States. 3. If the property was your main home for at least 2 years during the 5-year period ending on the date of sale, you can exclude up to $250,000 of the gain. If married, filing jointly, you can exclude up to $500,000 if you both used the home as your main home for the required period. You can’t claim the exclusion if you sold another home within the 2-year period ending on the date of sale and claimed the exclusion for that sale. 4. If the property does not meet the above conditions, the property would be regarded as a second home (i.e. property which was not used primarily for your residential purposes). 5. If the property (second home) is held for more than one year and is sold at a gain, such gain will be taxed as long-term capital gain subject to a maximum federal tax rate of 15%. For property held for less than one year, normal rate of tax applies.
Conclusion 4. If the Sale price of the property is less then the Stamp Duty value (as determined by the Stamp Duty Authority in India), then the difference in the price may amount to capital gains in India. 5. You can avail of “roll over benefit” under Section 54 of the Indian Income Tax Act by purchasing another residential house either one year before or within two years after the date of sale or construct a residential house within a period of three years from the date of sale. The cost of acquisition/construction of new residential house should be more than capital gains. If you invest less, shortfall will be taxed as capital gain. 6. You can also take benefit of reinvestment in certain notified bonds. However, you can invest only up to Rs. 50 lakh in a financial year (which is April to March). 7. If you are not able to make the required investment to avail of the exemption on capital gains before the due date for filing your tax return, the amount of capital gain has to be deposited in a separate account in a nationalized bank under the Capital Gains Account Scheme (CGAS) before the Due Date of filing your return for the relevant year. 8. The Purchaser would be required to deduct tax at source at the rate of 20%, if property is held by you for a period of three years or more. At the rate of 30% if the property is held for a period of less than three years.
From U.S. Income Tax point of view:
The sale of property in India is taxable in the United States if you are a U.S. Resident for U.S. Income Tax purposes.
28 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
A U.S. Person selling property in India can avoid paying of tax on the gain arising on the sale of property in India by using various tax exemption provisions stated above under the Indian Income tax act. However, he may still be liable to pay the tax in the United States. Further, it is very important to determine what would be the cost (basis) of property sold (e.g. inherited property, property received as gift, etc.). U.S. Income Tax rules in comparison to the Indian Income Tax rules are quite complex and different in such matters. You also need to look into what disclosures would be required in India and in the United States and how you would remit your funds back to the United States. n Sanket Shah is the Co-Founder and Managing Director of NS Global—an advisory firm founded by certified professionals from the U.S. and India to provide multi jurisdictional tax solutions to individuals having assets and/or an income base in India and the United States. www.nsglobal.com.
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commentary
Political Doublespeak A perspective on election vote counting, gun control and fracking By P. Mahadevan
I
remember an old adage that the right to vote does not constitute democracy; but the right to count the votes does. With last year’s national elections fresh in our minds and others in the not too distant past, can we categorically admit that we are a democratic society? In this article I comment on partisan politics and how they impact the election process, gun control and fracking.
Electioneering
The rules and procedures for holding elections vary from county to county in each state. The partisan views of one elected official of a state, the Attorney General, with or without the nod from the State Governor, usually provides the last word. In the last elections held in Nov. ’12, almost half the number of states of the union had managed to restrict the voting rights of citizens, by requiring new photo identification, pre-election day voting privileges to fewer days and hours, challenging the voting rights of voters by private citizens and even misleading voters to go to wrong voting centers. The very long lines of voters in parts of the state of Florida was proof of carefully engineered delay tactics by county officials. Attempts to seek redress from the courts by public interest groups and individuals were numerous. Obviously, such petitions were not always successful. The role of higher court judges in the election process cannot be denied. Remember the events in Florida in the year 2000? The Supreme Court basically appointed the next President by denying a recount petition. By way of comparison, I understand that in Russia, a timely telephone call is made by higher ups prior to the judge's rulings. Hence these pillars of justice are satirically called “Telephone Judges.” Maybe we should call our judges “Partisan Judges?”
Trigger Ready
The slaughtering of unsuspecting innocents by single individuals using high powered weapons such as semi-automatic assault rifles with high capacity magazines for rapid 30 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
fire has unfortunately become frequent during the past few years. Such tragic events have occurred in college campuses, town hall meetings between elected representatives and their constituents, movie theatres, elementary schools in session and against first responders (fire fighters) trying to control an ongoing conflagration. Gun enthusiasts find it easy to justify these incidents on the basis of the constitutional guarantee to militias to bear arms. Even a meaningful public discussion of the problem is dubbed unpatriotic by the powerful gun lobby. Have we become prisoners of our constitution even after amending it 27times so far? It appears that after the most recent tragedy at Sandy Hook elementary school in Connecticut in which 20 young children were massacred, a majority consensus has developed to legislate controls on the proliferation of automatic weapons, high capacity magazines for ammunition and background checks on the buyers. A sitting conservative federal district judge who sentenced the accused killer, Loughner, in the Tuscon rampage to 140 years in prison, has written a persuasive op-ed in the Los Angeles Times for legal controls now. The time to do so is now, but only by default. It should have been done decades ago. We should remember that America has only five percent of the world’s population but we own fifty percent of the guns in the world (outside of the weapons in the military) in private hands. Historically, the first state to impose a form of assault weapons ban was California under the leadership of a Republican governor, George Deukmajian, twenty four years ago. The weaker controls imposed by the Federal Government expired during the past decade and were not renewed. At this time of writing, there appears to be some momentum developing for legislative action.
Don’t Frack Me!
I recall a projection that in five to ten years, America will out-Saudi the Saudis in
oil production. The modern technology of fracking (hydraulic fracturing) using high pressure water, chemicals and sand makes it possible to extract more oil and gas from what were considered dry wells. Natural gas output reached an all time high in 2012 due to shale gas production accounting for about half the total as a by product of the same process. The United States open market price for gas is only about 20% of that in western Europe. Oil production now, at a low of 5 million barrels per day in 2008, is projected to double by 2020 (U.S. Energy Information Administration). The petro-chemical industry will experience an invigorating growth consequently. But, benefits come with risks too. Environmental pollution, especially that of chemicals leaking into water supply is a serious risk. The pollution issue has been taken up by Sean Lennon, Yoko Ono (and other artists) who have created a music video to persuade New York Governor Andrew Cuomo to extend the ban on drilling and fracking in New York. The catchy refrain of the song is “Don’t frack my mother, coz I ain’t got no other,” with Ono popping in periodically to add “don't frack me!” Lennon and Ono might have a personal investment in the fracking decision since their farm might be impacted if Governor Cuomo does decide to drill. The bottom line is that there are benefits to fracking, including more jobs and lower energy bills. Disagreements are part and parcel of any governing process, but when party planks are shrouded in doublespeak, few citizens will take the trouble to search for the truth. The truth is invariably what gets told the most and loudest. n P. Mahadevan is a retired scientist with a Ph.D. in Atomic Physics from the University of London, England. His professional work includes basic and applied research and program management for the Dept. of Defense (India). He taught Physics at the Univ. of Kerala, at Thiruvananthapuram. He does very little now, very slowly.
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32 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
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films
Raging Home Fires By Aniruddh Chawda
KAI PO CHE! Director: Abhishek Kapoor. Players: Raj Kumar Yadav, Amit Sadh, Sushant Singh Rajput, Amrita Puri. Music: Amit Trivedi. English and Gujarati (with Eng. Sub-titles). Theatrical Release (UTV).
F
loating new story ideas with a lesser known cast is a huge task for any film market. In Hindi movies, new casting is often hindered by industry power-brokers, many of whom have family connections to each other and are keen to get their own kin into plum roles. An entry like Kai Po Che! emerging successfully, therefore, is even more remarkable because it strikes a political and topical jab or tow by boasting a ground-breaking story and employing fresh talent that aptly stands its ground. Three nearly-grown up childhood buddies decide to take a last trip before jointly opening a sporting shop. There is the hot-tempered Ishaan Bhatt (Rajput), the latently wayward Omi Shastri (Sadh) and the straight-forward Govind Patel (Yadav). In the rush to set up their business, the trio is almost oblivious to the encroaching forces of zealotry—religious, communal, capital venturists—who start to circle above the playing field like vultures patiently awaiting the passing of the migrating herd to leisurely gorge on any weaklings left behind. The passion for cricket in India is roughly on par with the passion for soccer in Europe, South America and Africa. The single biggest sporting event on the Indian sub-continent— even bigger than the Olympics as a TV draw—is any cricket match-up between India and Pakistan. To be selected for the most elite teams is tantamount to attaining sporting’s Enlightenment—if not downright divinity— right there and then. And incidentally, cricket is not even the primary motivator in Kai Po Che!, a title unspooling from kite-flying that is popular in the Indian state of Gujarat. Instead, the movie draws from the broadest geo-political events that come to mind for that part of India since the onset of the millennium—the Bhuj earthquake in 2001, Ahmedabad’s communal violence sparked by 34 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
the Godhra train burning incident in 2002, the rise of Gujarat’s economy to become the fastest growing in India—weave in and out of a surprisingly taut and plausible narrative. Even though the script shies away from broad swipes, the plot’s unwritten compass easily channels these Big Events all directly or indirectly towards Narendra Modi’s rise to prominence both in Gujarat and in India. For a Hindi movie to wade into regional Indian politics to this level is in itself significant. Chetan Bhagat, in addition to become the biggest selling author in India, is also cornering a cottage industry in having his books turned into successful Hindi movies. His One Night @ the Call Center was made into Hello! (2008), Five Points Someone was made into the megahit 3 Idiots (2009), The Three Mistakes of My Life turned into Kai Po Che! and 2 States: The Story of My Marriage is currently being made into Karan Johar’s production of 2 States. Newcomer Rajput stands out in a handful of highly uncompromising characters
who coalesce with sensible here-andnow forcefulness. Another surprise is teenager Dijvijay Deshmukh who is amazing as Ali, a Muslim boy and budding cricket protégé whose family is victimized by sectarian violence. Ali’s friendship with Ishaan looms large for both of them. Then there is Yadav, who recently played Aamir Khan’s assisting inspector in the new age ghost story Talaash, nicely channeling middleclass common-man angst. Yadav’s restrained, almost muted, romance here with Vidya (an able Puri), Ishaan’s sister, carries the same pathos that the late Sanjeev Kumar used to inject into his roles. Puri is fun to watch. One wishes Vidya’s role was more fleshed out. By pulling back from the camaraderie offered by the trio’s friendship, it’s Sadh’s vulnerable Omi who falls prey to forces that threaten the trio’s blood-strong unity. Director Kapoor also gets kudos for the fitting portrayal of the carefree bonding friendship, celebrated through often shirtless escapades that border on the homoerotic. Amit Trivedi’s beautiful score captures everything from community building that rises to a patriotic fervor in Trivedi’s own “Manja” and Trivedi and Milli Nair’s celebration of brotherhood with “Mithi Boliyan” to Shruti Pathak and Divya Kumar’s “Shuubhaarambh,” which pivots between a folk song and a Gujarati garba. Reinforced by Swanand Kirkire’s strong lyrics, Kai Po Che! is definitely a feather in Trivedi’s cap. Filmed on location in Ahmedabad and Diu, the rustic Gujarat coastal vistas provide cinematographer Anay Goswani a sunny and beautiful setting. This local handiwork propagates the story of grounded-yet-restless prodigal sons who sojourn on adventures, get entangled in forces they don’t quite comprehend, seek solace in their origins and return to a bittersweet homecoming. Kai Po Che! simply aces the journey back to the home fires. n EQ: A
Total Recall THE ATTACKS OF 26/11. Director: Ramgopal Varma. Players: Nana Patekar, Atul Kulkarni, Sanjeev Jaiswal. Hindi and Urdu (with Eng. sub-titles). Theatrical Release (Eros). Parental advisory: Extreme violence and gore
take for granted. Patekar’s character, adding mystique to the incongruity in the identities of who’s who in this story, wisely remains nameless—he is only being identified as the Joint Commissioner. Jaiswal, who plays Ajmal Kasab, the captured Pakistani terrorist, in addition to being a dead ringer for Kasab, injects convincing menace as the selfconfessed angel of death. If the scene at the Taj is perfect anarchy, the total indifference in the eyes of a scraggly, older hangman who approaches Kasab to lead him to the gallows offers a small, unsettling consolation, a sign of daily life retuning to “normal.” This scene effectively allows Varma to transfer control back to civilian rule. Like the endings to Zero Dark Thirty or Argo, the much saluted Hollywood odes to actual events from contemporary history, The Attacks of 26/11 ultimately also celebrates light at the end of seemingly unending darkness. n
T
he terrorist attacks on Mumbai on January 26, 2008, or “26/11” in India, have long since entered global ignominy. Bringing those terrifying few hours to the big screen would be a daunting task for just about anyone. Unfazed by the hugely disappointing Department, Varma recoils with The Attacks of 26/11, a bold, unflinching, nearly-flawless work that restores not only Varma’s reputation but also elevates a fantastic big-screen page-turner. Seen through the eyes of the Mumbai regional police chief (Patekar) reliving and relating the events to a blue-ribbon government body, Attacks is a riveting blow-by-blow visual diatribe assailing the first few hours of that dreadful night that ended with the capture of the first—and only—terrorist of the 10 perpetrators. Maintaining continuity to actual events from the time that a fishing vessel is hijacked off the coast of Gujarat leading up to the attacks in central Mumbai and until the arrival of an elite commando team from the Indian army, Attacks offers a hair-raising, harrowing narrative. One of the most disturbing scenes ever filmed in Hollywood was from the 1974 seminal horror classic Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The film’s memorable leather-hooded lunatic, nicknamed Leatherface, assaults a group of passing college students who stop to get help after their car breaks down. The singular disturbing scene had a chainsawwielding Leatherface framed against a doorway, blocking all those inside from leaving. Raising the chainsaw above his head, his leather-mask grimace spewing cold indifference towards all of humanity, perfectly captured the manifestation of “Anarchy,” with a big A. Even though Chainsaw and Attacks have vastly different premises, Varma brilliantly showcases Attacks with his own vision of Anarchy. The shocking indifference with which two machine-gun wielding terrorists stroll the lobby of the sumptuous and famed main lobby of the Taj Mahal Hotel—surely one of the most luxurious retreats in the world—calmly killing, re-killing and triple-
EQ: A killing any man, woman and, even more sadly, child that either sits, stands or crawls passes profound commentary on the gross disregard for the very foundations on which civilization is built. The utter helplessness and chaos that ensued was magnified by the inefficient and clumsy initial response by the police, who literally use archaic tools (stone throwing?) to defend the public. As the terrorists continue their carnage indiscriminately, on fishing folk off the coast of Gujarat, at the Taj Mahal Hotel, the Café Leopold, the metropolis’s main train station, there appears no hope whatsoever—very few, if any, police firing back and no sirens, even in the distance. The only endgame—which the terrorist mastermind makes very clear in the opening minutes—is to create as much havoc and kill as many Indians as possible. It is with a huge sigh relief that one smart and already-bloodied junior police officer plays dead in the back of a van to offer the first ray of hope for the city’s otherwise overwhelmed civil defense apparatus during those horrifying 10 hours. In the lead, Patekar-as-chief-cop is as bitter and methodical as a precision surgeon who must forever relive a failed operation to save a life—which for him was restoring the sense of well-being that most Mumbaiites
Globe trekker, aesthete, photographer, ski bum, film buff, and commentator, Aniruddh Chawda writes from Milwaukee.
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music
Musical Tastes
What makes us like particular genres of music? By Kanniks Kannikeswaran
W
hen I was driving on I 75 listening to a composition in “khamaas” sung by D.K. Pattammal, my mind went back to the early eighties, when I regularly attended concerts at the Central Lecture Theater as an undergraduate student at the Indian Institute of Technology in Chennai (then Madras). I wondered what it was that made us undergraduate students attend kutcheris (karnatik music concerts) regularly? What was it that attracted us to classical music performances? By and large, the popular genres for the undergrad populace were western popular music and Indian film music. So, what was it that attracted a number of us to the Indian classical genre? Were our minds wired differently? I recall the common rooms at the dorms filled with rock music collections, an occasional symphonic recording, lots of Hindi film music, some Tamil film music, Lalgudi’s Dance of Sound—Tillanas and a handful of other Karnatik music LPs. It is worthwhile noting that Indian classical music connoisseurs constitute only a minority of the population. The entire kutcheri attending population during the Tamil music season would only be a fraction of the people that saw Vishwaroopam during its (delayed) opening weekend. And even within the kutcheri attending population, tastes differ widely. Some people find classical music downright annoying. A friend of mine during my college days used to get irritated every time I listened to an elaborate “todi alapanai.” It didnt matter that it was played by a leading violinist; it apparently made his ears bleed! Now there is nothing wrong or unusual about this; We all have particular tastes. It is as simple as that. The actress Sumitra in the K. Balachander classic movie from the 1970s Nizhal Nijamagiradu insults Kamal Hasan’s supposed ignorance of classical arts with the phrase “kazhudaikku teriyuma karpura vasanai?” (Can a donkey appreciate the smell of camphor?). In retaliation Kamal Hasan puts out his best bharatanatyam dancing foot forward and exclaims to a disbeliev36 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
A Creative Commons Image ing bespectacled Sumitra “karpura vaasanai terinja kazhudai” (this is a donkey that can appreciate the smell of camphor!) In fact my good non-classical-music-inclined friends have been my best gurus. They were the ones that reinforced my belief that everyone’s “favorite genre” is not necessarily the same and that one needn’t assume that one is better than the other. Like everything else in life. Again, so what was it that drove us as youth to listen to classical music? My batchmate Ajai T. says that he was called to those concerts although he had had no formal training in music. The music simply attracted him; it had a fair degree of complexity and it was profound. Yet another friend Suresh K, holds that eclectic tastes and inclinations are the result of the vasanas accumulated through the numerous cycles of life and death. Then to explore further, why do some strains of music, sequences of notes and scales appeal more than others? My great grandfather who died in the mid 70s, a self taught violinist, never liked any raga that
was not derived from “sankarabharanam.” “Kambhoji” was an exception. He would turn the radio off if a raga such as “simhendra madhyamam” was being played. I could understand his affinity for the kith and kin of “Sankarabharanam;” he was probably enthralled by the sweetness of the major scale; but I could never discern his dislike for the rest of the ragas. This takes us to the question “Why are certain ragas often featured in performances and others not?” Is it with the belief that the jana-ranjakatvam (ability to please people) will be enhanced? “Hamsadhwani” and “nattai” are oft repeated features at the onset of kutcheris while “yaman” and “bhup” feature prominently in evening concerts in Hindustani music. One rarely hears a kutcheri begin with a raga such as “nayaki” or “purnapanchamam” or “rasamanjari.” Popularity depends on several unexplainable factors. Certain ragas are more popular than others, although if you asked a musician what their favorite raga is their answer would most likely be “I love all ragas; there is something in each one of them.” Regardless, some ragas are liked by all—some are liked by very few. Some have stood the test of time, some have been popular in their time. You could even compare it to religion. Some temples are visited by almost all (say Tirupati), while some do not enjoy the same popularity! Going back to my great grandfather, he loved the violinist Chowdaiya but not any other leading violinist in the 70s. Why? It was his particular taste; it was the way his brain was wired. Not every artist has the ability to please every rasika (or make a rasika out of a non-rasika). The ones that have the uncanny gift to tap into the wiring of a majority of minds and please them are truly blessed. n Kanniks Kannikeswaran is an internationally renowned musician, composer and music educator, whose award winning research on the Indo-colonial music of Dikshitar is beginning to influence Indian music pedagogy. Kanniks is considered to be a pioneer of the Indian American choral movement. He teaches Indian classical music at the University of Cincinnati. www. kanniks.com
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opinion
The Lone Traveler By Dilnavaz Bamboat
T
wo years ago, while living in India, I decided to change my life a little and take a trip to England. Alone. To put all disclaimers in their rightful place, I was to primarily stay with family and use their home as a base to explore nearby cities on my own. For a whole month, I relied mostly on myself for company and smarts and plunged into the heart of London, took in the spires and tradition of Oxford, inspected the Georgian architecture of the marvel that is Bath, took winding walks through the village of Eynsford, and relished my discoveries, delight and qualms. I dined alone. Watched the world go by. The London tube map was my new BFF, as I hopped on and off the Underground trains like a pro, frequently directing tourists who assumed I lived there. I visited friends all over the city and outside of it. Gazed silently at the works in the Tate Modern. Watched foxes on my long walks in Kent. And sat on abandoned benches by the Darenth river, observing the flight landings of ducks. It was then that I realized I had given myself an invaluable gift—the opportunity to have this adventure with myself. For women growing up in India, solitary travel is undertaken rarely, and only with a specific purpose. Certainly not encouraged or applauded, a woman alone has more analogies ascribed to her than would appear in a hackneyed Bollywood script. But for this little path off the oft-taken road, I have my mother to thank: my strong-willed, independent, and incredibly capable mother, who took frequent trips out of Bombay to first purchase, and then painstakingly do up our family holiday homes outside the city. She thought nothing of being the sole resident of a residential complex in a one-horse town in the early 90s, replete with power cuts and midnight robbers. She spent nights up with workmen getting things fixed or reinstalled, taking the 2 a.m. state transport bus back to us in our family bungalow 20 kms (12.4 miles) away. She makes my safe and “solitary” jaunts abroad look like a trip to Disneyland, with bodyguards and fairy godmother in tow. But solo travel does so much more to women’s psyches than put us at risk, real or 38 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
A Creative Commons imagined. It enables us to see ourselves as people, divorced of our gender tag, pushes us to take charge of our lives, our journey, our plans, and imbues us with confidence and the ability to take decisions for ourselves, attributes that sometimes take a backseat once we’re comfortably ensconced in a relationship and become cognitively lazy. I admit to doing it myself. That first trip I took was as an unmarried woman. Two years down the line, as independent as I usually am, I had developed a travel comfort zone that I was reluctant to step out of: my globe-trotting spouse is such a natural when it comes to airports that it was just easier to follow him blindly as he made bookings, herded me through airport procedures and generally made life very cushy. There was no need for me to want things differently. Except, I didn’t quite want to lose the girl who had breezed through immigration turnstiles and taken off to her upcountry homes without a second thought as a teenager. I still remembered the feeling of being by myself on a train chugging through the Indian countryside, the wind in my face and the stench of the latrine in my nostrils. I didn’t want to forget what it felt like to rush up to a ticket counter 10 minutes before the train’s departure and hop on as it made clanging, warning noises. I wanted to assure myself that flying solo to the other side of the world was still the piece of cake it was throughout my 20s. It’s way too convenient being one half of a couple, with emotional and physical support within arm’s reach. Or maybe I just like to make things difficult for myself. So this past April, despite the ease of a caring and available spouse, I planned a little
jaunt across a few countries where I would be forced to depend solely on my own resources and imagination. Again, I’d like to clarify that I hardly went traipsing off to Antarctica or roamed the Savannah. It was all very civil, European, and with the buffer of family moderately within reach if I ran into anything remotely resembling trouble. The chance to figure out things on my own if plans went awry or to change up my itinerary based on a whim was one I wanted to grab with both hands. And I did. And concludImage ed that while it’s certainly more fun to share discoveries and experiences with my spouse, I also greatly enjoy my own company and the opportunity to plan (or not) my days, keeping just myself in mind. It’s not always effortless. I frequently push myself, while my alter ego in its suedecushioned comfort zone begs to be left alone. But it does me good. Restores my sense of me. And I return fortified, and bursting to tell my spouse how delightful (and comfortable) my life is with him in it. He misses me, of course, but understands this need. All around, a neat little win-win. I have made myself a promise: that I will try to maintain the spirit of independent travel in the future, even if it means a short solo trip every other year. It doesn’t have to be elaborate or far-flung. The point is to experience life alone and connect with myself. So I don’t wake up one morning some years down the line, in a mad rush to whip up breakfast, and not recognize the woman in the mirror. I owe it to her, and I owe it to the marriage I vowed to be strong and equal in. All too frequently, we permit life patterns to cement our ways and take the easier route, but then have no one but ourselves to blame for the woman who was lost in the bargain. It isn’t easy, I know. But nothing worthwhile ever is. Be your own plus one sometime. You may just find her terrific company along a solitary road. n
Dilnavaz Bamboat is the editor of the Feminism & Diaspora section of UltraViolet. in. Her poems were most recently published in Muse India Literary Journal. Dilnavaz enjoys history, singing, and red velvet cupcakes.
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perspective
The Scorpion’s Diet The hazards and humors of scorpion-sitting By Rajee Padmanabhan
42 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
A Creative Commons Image
N
ovember eighteenth was my birthday. On that crisp autumn day, when the air felt like smooth cold lotion landing on my face, Caesar the Scorpion arrived home in a cozy two feet by one feet terrarium. Let’s begin at the beginning. As is my wont, I had impulsively agreed to take care of Caesar—who is my colleague’s son’s pet scorpion—for three weeks while they vacationed in Taiwan. Junior (the son entity) was gleeful at the idea of a pet scorpion in the house. When I broached the subject with Senior (the husband entity), he was incredulous at the thought of scorpionsitting; but majority rules, so he relented. Caesar is a tropical, non-venomous scorpion whose greatest skill is to turn fluorescent green if you switch off the lights and turn on a blue backlight in the terrarium. Picture the terrarium, a climate-controlled paradise with sensors for humidity and temperature. During the day, a timer-controlled heat lamp comes on, to maintain the temperature. We need to spray-mist twice daily to keep the terrarium humid enough. There is a water dish for Caesar to quench his thirst. Moss strewn with wood chips form the terrain. There is a foam tunnel that Caesar can crawl into, when he pines for a confined space. Caesar arrived to great fanfare, with a scorpion-welcoming party. We had an assorted set of friends including Junior’s friends at home when Caesar was brought in. Grateful for my grand gesture, my colleague set the terrarium up, plugged in the sensors and the lamp with the blue light. While he was at it, Junior and his friends peppered him with questions that included ones on bodily excretions of Caesar and gender identifiers, if any. All of us were marveling at Caesar’s segmented tail and perfectly symmetrical legs when Junior’s friend chimed in, “Caesar, as in Caesar salad?” I shushed him immediately before his imagination ran even wilder. A friend, a Muthuswami Dikshitar scholar at that, snidely remarked about a compositional possibility, “Shri Vrschika pate kuru suprabhatham” (offer morning salutations to the venerable scorpion). As my colleague was taking leave and we were assuring him of our abilities to scorpion-sit, Junior fired his final salvo, “What happens if Caesar dies?” I noticed all the color drain out of my colleague’s
face, but he was left with no choice. My colleague had printed out a list of instructions that more or less said the following: Scorpions eat crickets. Crickets eat carrots. Carrots eat wallets, albeit ours. He also left us a box of very vocal crickets. Some folks have a water fountain in their home to bring nature inside, but the chirping crickets sent me on a nostalgic trip to Kerala, where, as children, my brothers and I slept to the daily lullaby of cricket-sounds. One other contrivance he brought was the eight inch tweezers-for-the-queasy, to pick the crickets from the box and drop into the terrarium. We, rather I, settled in to a routine. Wake up in the morning. Mist terrarium. Chop baby carrots for crickets. Drop a cricket for Caesar. Make Junior breakfast. Come back from work, mist again, and then feed Junior a snack. Before going to bed, mist again. It felt like we were witnessing the living and breathing food chain, the whole ecosystem, in the comforts of our own home. It was Thanksgiving week and Senior’s brother’s family was visiting. On arrival, we informed them of Caesar. Their dubious facial expression clearly conveyed that had we mentioned Caesar any earlier there might have been a change of plans. I assured them that Caesar would by no means turn our family thanks-
giving holiday into a real turkey. It was a week since Caesar was home and to me, at least, he felt like family. As a mother, I was getting concerned that the three crickets in the terrarium were alive and well and that Caesar seemed to have not had a meal at all in four days. I put myself in Caesar’s shoes. Maybe he had separation anxiety. Maybe our house was too warm, the blame for which will squarely fall on Senior who likes to have the thermostat set to April-in-Chennai temperature. Maybe like a proper Iyer boy, he observes “vratam” (fast) on certain auspicious days like Thanksgiving. Maybe he was being needy and using the attention-grabbing tactic of fast-unto-death satyagraha; à la Kerala communists who indulge in faux Nirahara Satyagrahas, only to have a steady supply of tender coconut water on the side. I was concerned enough to email my colleague in Taiwan. Pat came the reply: Caesar eats to live; does not live to eat. No need to worry was the gist. I wished for a Caesar-like attitude to food. Imagine having two plates of Aviyal and Olan right within your reach for two days straight and not touching it! Having tried all kinds of diets, unsuccessfully, maybe it’s time for a Caesar diet—eat only when Caesar does! My brain cells were fired
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up with ideas for a Caesar diet book, DVDs with Caesar’s eating habits, may be even a live stream of Caesar—a product manager’s monetization ideas. In the meanwhile, the crickets were thriving. I even thought of naming them after one of my best friends and her sisters—Bittoo, Motu and Chotu. All was going well when disaster, nay, catastrophe struck. On a Thursday, almost two weeks into our tryst with Caesar, around midnight, while misting the terrarium I found Caesar rather limp in one end of the tunnel. Usually when I mist, there is an immediate reflex action from Caesar to move away from the mist. But that night I detected no movement. I sprayed the mist directly on him. No response. Then I took the eight inch tweezers-for-the-queasy and gently touched him. No response again. By now, I was starting to panic. Senior was summoned, woken up from his REM sleep. Senior too tried to prod Caesar into action, to no avail. All kinds of dark thoughts came into my head. Did the unimaginable just happen? I was hoping against hope that Caesar had just gone into deep slumber. Senior, although groggy, was already suggesting what a lousy idea it had been to scorpion-sit and implicating me on all kinds of false charges like forgetting to mist, breaking the cricket-feeding routine and so on. But the one unmistakable expression on Senior’s face was that of schadenfreude—a perceptible pleasure at my plight. Senior declared Caesar dead on the spot. And very casually, very callously, announced that he would go to the pet store the next morning and get a replacement scorpion since all scorpions looked like identical twins anyways. I was shattered. I could not sleep all night. In the morning, I again checked on Caesar; he was in the same position we left him the night before. I again misted hoping for some reaction. Junior was somberly informed of the tragedy. Junior, ever the every-bit-helpful son that he is, had even more questions. Did we just kill Caesar? Did I think his piano practice in the same room had something to do with Caesar’s death? Could Caesar hear at all? Before he could ask one more question, I stormed out of his presence. I went to work with a downcast face on Friday. My colleagues were kind enough to commiserate with me and gladly shared sad stories of their own pets’ deaths, funerals, afterlives et. al. One colleague was especially curious about the tail positioning of Caesar since a downward tail apparently indicates rigor mortis in scorpions. I told him I will get back to him on that. He also suggested may be, just maybe, Caesar lacked the human touch. As much as I had grown fond of Caesar, the one thing I had refused to do
was touch him. I couldn’t not even with a nine foot pole. But I did give him extremely gentle massages with the tweezers-for-thequeasy, while humming a vakra raga like Kadanakuthuhalam. I was guilt-ridden and had no idea how to face up to my colleague, especially his son. I was trying to mentally conjure up an email to my colleague explaining what had transpired. I returned home after work and picked Junior up from the bus stop. Out of habit I went to check on Caesar and lo and behold, I did not see him in the tunnel where he was last seen. To my utter surprise and shock, Caesar had crawled on to the moss. And one of the crickets was gone, gobbled up by Caesar. The wave of emotions that washed over me was beyond mere words—relief, happiness, anger and some more relief. I was in stage one of grief when Caesar came back from the dead, literally resurrected. Now I was furious at Caesar for putting me through the wringer. But by the evening I had calmed down and an unexplicable serenity prevailed over me. I duly informed Senior that Caesar was alive and well to which his reply was, “Never ever trust a scorpio...n”. As a Scorpio myself, I had a ready retort that I was living now with not one, but two passive aggressive creatures; in the end I pressed my mouth’s mute button just in time so as to not disturb the domestic peace. My spiritual guide-to-be Shri Shri Vijayanandamayi, who is on an India tour at present, will be pleased to know that I learned a lot, hands-on, about Vedanta in the previous couple of weeks. (Pardon a digression—my observation suggests that Indian gurus and classical music artists seem to share the same migratory patterns. Spring, summer and autumn of every year they are performing all over the States and come winter, they retreat back to motherland. May be there is some symbiotic relationship between them since most artists call themselves gurus anyway?) I learnt over the last two weeks that all life is maya (illusion) or is it mithya (dependent reality? Mithya must be maya since everything is maya anyway; that all life is a dance of perception between the observer and the observed; that pratyaksha pramana (WYSIWYG) can be deeply flawed; that Caesar’s atman (soul) should not be tethered to a terrarium but be unleashed into a lush tropical forest, able to freely roam the woods, in search of his brahman. n Rajee Padmanabhan is a perennial wannabe— wannabe writer, wannabe musician, wannabe technologist. She lives with her iPad and iPod in Exton, PA, occasionally bumping into her husband and son while either of her i-Pals is out of charge.
www.indiacurrents.com | 45
events APRIL 2013
California’s Best Guide to Indian Events Edited by: Mona Shah List your event for FREE! MAY issue deadline: Friday, April 19 To list your event in the Calendar, go to www.indiacurrents.com and fill out the Web form
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special dates Ugadi
April 11
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April 11
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April 14
Tamil New year
April 14
Ramanavami
April 20
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April 23
Hanuman Jayanti
April 25
Mother’s Day
May 12
CULTURAL CALENDER April
6 Saturday
“Rishta,” A Concert. A musical dia-
logue tracing and affirming an ongoing friendship of Indian and Persian classical music featuring maestros of the tradition, Kartik Seshadri (sitar) and Kayhan Kalhor (kamancheh) with Arup Chattopadhyay on tabla. A collaboration between Raga Rasa and CRY America to support Children’s Rights globally and raise funds for the “Stay In School Girl Child Campaign.” Organized by Raga Rasa. Irwin Jacobs Qualcomm Auditorium, 5775 Morehouse Drive, Sorrento 46 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
Spanda by Leela Samson and Ensemble, April 7
Valley, San Diego. $50 general, $20 students/ seniors. (760) 753-2860, (760) 402-9462. music@ragarasa.org. www.ragarasa.org, www. kartikseshadri.com.
April
7 Sunday
Holi Celebration. Games, dry colors and lunch. Organized by Chinmaya Mission Los Angeles. 10:30 a.m.-2:30 p.m. Mile Square Regional Park, 16801 Euclid St., Fountain Valley. $10. (714) 996-7945, (949) 552-3290, (714) 973-6600. www.chinmayala.org.
Spanda by Leela Samson and Ensemble. Leela Samson is a flag bearer of the
precise Kalakshetra style of bharatanatyam. Spanda (a vibration), is symbolic of the enduring and perpetual energy that is the life force of the universe. The dance will be presented by Leela Samson and her ensemble of eight artists from premier dance institutions —Bilva Raman, Jin Shan Shan, Satyapriya Iyer, Christopher Guruswamy, KV Arun, Harikrishnan Nair, Sai Santosh Radhakrishan and Bragha Bessell. Organized by Shakti Dance Company and Kalapeetham Dance Company. 4-6:30 p.m. James Armstrong
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Bridging the Gap Between Bollywood and Hollywood By Shyamal Randeria-Leonard
Filmistan
A
s the Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles (IFFLA) celebrates its 11th anniversary, its impressive film lineup will spotlight not only emergent Indian filmmakers and their films but also evoke nostalgia by joining the global celebration of Indian cinema’s 100th anniversary. To commemorate India’s film history, three film screenings under the banner Bollywood by Night, will pay tribute to Yash Chopra, one of Bollywood’s most influential filmmakers over the last five decades. Christina Marouda, IFFLA founder and chair of the board calls this year’s works “path-breaking” as most are making waves at top-tier film festivals around the world. The films range from “Bollywood flair to thought-provoking documentaries” and should not be missed by audiences who are eager to view films which are “very hard to find outside the film festival circuit” adds Marouda. IFFLA’s six-day festival will begin with a star studded, red carpet gala, a favored stomping ground for Hollywood and Indian celebrities. Past attendees include producers Steven Soderbergh and Quentin Tarantino, actors Vanessa Redgrave, Han-
Midnight’s Children
nah Simone, Sendhil Ramamurthy, Kunal Nayyar, Parvesh Cheena, Shah Rukh Khan, and directors Shekhar Kapur and Mira Nair just to name a few. The festival’s selection committee, led by lead programmer Terrie Samundra diligently considered hundreds of film submissions. About 25 works, often made on a shoe-string budget by Indian filmmakers will be presented to not only a large general audience but also to prominent Hollywood power brokers who sit on juries. The packed agenda consists of two shorts programs inclusive of short narratives, documentaries, and animated films all ranging from three to twenty minutes. Four to five documentary features will be screened along with ten narrative feature films which represent “a great cross-section of Indian Indie films” per Samundra. Producer and director Anurag Kashyap’s epic crime thriller Gangs of Wasseypur will open the festival. Gangs will be screened in two parts due to its unusual combined running time of five hours. Set during the tumultuous era of Indian independence and industrialization, Part I chronicle’s the violent and bloody grip of India’s criminal underworld led by the Khan gang in the coal mining territories of the North. The lawlessness and gritty appetite for power and sex of the Khan clan continue to contemporary times in Part II which will be shown on the following evening. Accompanying Kashyap to celebrate the Los Angeles premiere of Gangs will be coproducer Guneet Monga. Monga is one of several women in the entertainment industry who will be spotlighted at the festival due to her contributions to the film industry and her ability to bridge the global gap between foreign, industry powerbrokers. Salman Rushdie’s Booker Prize-winning 1981 novel, Midnight’s Children, will be featured as the closing night film. An ambitious venture mixed with magical realism in a post colonial setting through the creative visualization of Oscar nominated director Deepa Mehta, the epic tale follows the lives of two babies born and switched at the mo-
ment of India’s independence from Great Britain. Other premiers include a special screening of Mira Nair’s The Reluctant Fundamentalist, a political thriller based on the New York Times bestseller and Ashim Ahluwalia’s Miss Lovely a dark look at the seedy underbelly of Bollywood Cmovies and soft-porn during the 1980’s. Vasan Bala’s makes his directorial debut in Peddlers with a crime thriller following the desperation of young drug runners who are merely looking to survive; Shahid is based on the true story of Shahid Azmi, a human rights activist murdered in India in 2010 and is directed by Hansal Mehta and produced by Guneet Monga and Anurag Kashyap. Another recommendation is the Sun-
Gangs of Wasseypur
dance and Berlin festival favorite Salma, a documentary directed by Kim Longinotto, about a South Indian woman’s courageous journey in the face of mass oppression. Other events at the festival include IFFLA’s Rhythm Village, which will be back to create a folksy atmosphere through its world-renowned artists, Q&A panels composed of industry leaders, a family day with family friendly activities as well as the grand jury and audience awards presentation to industry executives and filmmakers. n April 9-14. 6 p.m. to 11 p.m. Venues: Arc Light Cinema Hollywood, 6360 W. Sunset Blvd. Los Angeles; House of Blues, 8430 West Sunset Boulevard West Hollywood. Tickets: passes ranging from $100 to $1000. http:// www.indianfilmfestival.org/festpass.php. www.indianfilmfestival.org. www.indiacurrents.com | 47
48 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
events
California’s Best Guide to Indian Events am Performance. Ramya Harishankar,
Archana, a multimedia program, April 27
Theater, The Torrance Performing Arts Center, 3330 Civic Center Drive., Torrance. $50 Reserved, $25 general, $20 student with ID. (818) 892-4890, (310) 428-5875, (562) 3108442. kalapeetham1990@gmail.com, info@ shaktibharatanatyam.com, danceyatra@yahoo. com. www.facebook.com/SpandaPerformanceLA, www.youtube.com/watch?v=raXSjBfosfk.
April
9 Tuesday
The Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles. The six-day fest bridges the gap be-
tween Hollywood and Bollywood. Showcasing more than 30 films from or about India, and the “Bollywood by Night” series, with seminars as well as live music and dance performances. Ends April 14. ArcLight Hollywood, 6360 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (310) 988-2602. Info@indianfilmfestival.org. www. indianfilmfestival.org.
April
13 Saturday
Ravi Varma Memorial Art Competition. Annual art competition and exhibi-
tion open to children ages 5 to 18 years. The winners will be announced during the Swathi Thirunal music festival at Chinmaya Rameshwaram. Art work exhibited all day. Organized by Organization of Hindu Malayalees. 9 a.m.-6 p.m. Chinmaya Rameshwaram, 14451 Franklin Ave., Tustin. Free. (909) 904-5385, (909) 396-4799. www. artisticindian.com, ohmohmohm.org.
Ek Shaadi 100 Baarati-A Play. Revolving around the planning of Karina’s wedding, whose fiancé is a non-conformist who doesn’t believe in traditions. His idea was to have a small and simple marriage but as the event comes closer, the wedding gets much bigger than expected. The planning of a simple wedding becomes convoluted and simple plan turns into complex, and a frustrated Karina decides to cancel the wedding. Organized by Hamid Daudani and Group. 7:30-10:30 p.m. Poway Center for the Performing Arts, 15498 Espola Drive, Poway . $20, $10, $7. (858) 279-5677, (858) 652-0901. daudanih@yahoo.com. www.daudanigroup.
com.
April
21 Sunday
Arvinder Singh—Live in Concert. A program of ghazals, pop songs and dance numbers. A fundraiser for mayoral candidate Eric Garceti. Organized by The Shah Foundation. Hollywood Florentine Gardens, 5951 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles. (310) 753-8990.
April
27 Saturday
Archana 2013. A multimedia program
that showcases India’s cultural richness and diversity through Indian dance, music and drama. The celebration begins with an interactive India Festival where guests can enjoy an authentic dinner, learn the latest dance moves, and experience arts, crafts, textiles and more. Organized by India Friends Association. 3 p.m. Thousand Oaks Civic Arts Plaza, 2100 Thousand Oaks Blvd., Thousand Oaks . $40 general seating, $20 student, $75 preferred. (805) 754-9861. madhubajaj@ gmail.com. www.IndiaFriendsAssociation.org.
Arvinder Singh—Live in Concert. A program of ghazals, pop songs and dance numbers. Organized by The Shah Foundation. Cabrillo High School Auditorium, 2001 Santa Fe Ave., Long Beach. (310) 753-8990.
April
28 Sunday
Tribute to Music Legends Pt. Ravishankar and Harihar Rao. With classical
music concerts featuring Suman Laha (veena), Rupak Kulkarni (flute), Hindole Majumdar (tabla) and Somnath Roy (ghatam). The concert will start with a short vocal recital by Shawli Roy, accompanied by Rupesh Kotecha (harmonium). Organized by Cerritos Music Circle. 3 p.m. Hoover Middle School Auditorium, 3501 Country Club Drive, Lakewood. $50, $30,. (310) 5305992, (626) 628-6475. nibeditalaw@yahoo. com, shawlir@gmail.com. www.cmcircle.org.
Margam Revisited—A Bharatanaty-
Artistic Director and choreographer of the Arpana Dance Company will dedicate her 30th anniversary performance to the Irvine Rotary. Margam Revisited is a look back at a performance format that originated over 200 years ago. Margam which means “path” refers to the order or sequence of dances performed to showcase all the essential elements of the form. Members of the Arpana Dance Company will perform a series of pieces that will represent elements of the “Margam” albeit with a little twist. 7 p.m. Irvine Barclay Theatre, 4199 Campus Drive., Irvine. (949) 854-4646. info@arpanadancecompany.org. www.arpanadancecompany.org, www.thebarclay.org.
May
4 Saturday
Festival 2013—Hindustani Music Treasures. Continuing the legacy of
its two recently-deceased founders, Ravi Shankar and Harihar Rao, the festival brings familiar and new rhythms of music. Instrumental concert by Tarun Bhattacharya on santoor and Prosenjit Poddar on tabla. Odissi dance demonstration featuring Sanchita Bhattacharya. Concert by Vishwa Mohan Bhatt on guitar and Subhen Chatterjee on tabla. Organized by The Music Circle. 1-9 p.m. Duarte Performing Arts Center Auditorium, 1401 Highland Ave., Duarte. $5 to $35. (626) 449-6987. MusicCircle@aol.com. www. MusicCircle.org.
Kamayani—A Dance Drama. An all
student academy performance of Jaishankar Prasad’s epic poem. Featuring Nupur Dance Academy’s classical ensemble Ajeet Pathak (tabla), Ranjeet Pathak (vocal and harmonium), Pankaj Mishra (sarangi), Sheela Bringi (flute). Organized by Nupur Dance Academy. 6-8 p.m. James Armstrong Theater, The Torrance Performing Arts Center, 3330 Civic Center Drive., Torrance. $20. (310) 872-7061, (310) 781-7171. khalil.alashar@ gmail.com. nupuracademyla.com. A SUGGESTION: India Currents goes to press as much as six weeks in advance of some events listed in it. Even though organizers do their best to stick to the announced schedule, in rare cases events are rescheduled or cancelled. To avoid disappointment, we recommend that you always check the organizer’s website, and
CALL TO CONFIRM!
© Copyright 2012 India Currents. All rights reserved. Reproduction for commercial use strictly prohibited. www.indiacurrents.com | 49
3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.
SPIRITUALITY & HEALTH
April
1 Monday
Material Life and Spiritual Life. Sun-
day lecture by Swami Sarvadevananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Temple, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org.
Lectures on Valmiki Ramayan by Swami Ishwarananda. Swamiji will be
referring to traditional commentaries of ancient scholars during his lecture. Ends April 4. Organized by Chinmaya Mission Los Angeles. 7:30-8:30 p.m. Chinmaya-Rameshwaram, 14451 Franklin Ave., Tustin. Free. (714) 832-7669. www.chinmayala.org.
April
7 Sunday
Getting Acquainted with God. Sun-
day Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 5251291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.
Time: Change Against the Changeless. Sunday lecture by Swami Atmavidy-
ananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Temple, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org.
April
11 Thursday
Nav-din Tulsi Ramayan Paat. Chant-
ing of Tulsi Ramayan for 9 days. Ends April 19. Organized by Chinmaya Mission Los Angeles. 9:30 a.m.-12:30 p.m. Chinmaya Rameshwaram, 14451 Franklin Ave., Tustin. Free. www.chinmayala.org.
April
14 Sunday
Healing Through Understanding the Nature of Consciosness and Matter.
Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525-1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 29550 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
May Lecture on Swami Vivekananda and his Western admirers, April 21
0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.
Happiness: A Vedanta Perspective.
Sunday lecture by Wade Dazey, Professor Emeritus, University of Wisconsin. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Temple, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org.
April
21 Sunday
What is Your Role Life? Sunday Service.
Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525-1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 295-0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www. yogananda-srf.org.
Vivekananda and His Western Admirers. Sunday lecture by Brahmachari Veda
Chaitanya. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Temple, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org.
April
28 Sunday
Concentration: Key to Communion With God. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine
Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 5251291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple,
5 Sunday
Behind the Physical Cosmos: A World of Light and Energy. Sunday Service.
Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525-1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 295-0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www. yogananda-srf.org.
Material Life and Spiritual Life. Sun-
day lecture by Swami Sarvadevananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Temple, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org.
May
6 Monday
Lectures on Valmiki Ramayan by Swami Ishwarananda. Swamiji will be
referring to traditional commentaries of ancient scholars during his lecture. Ends May 10. Organized by Chinmaya Mission Los Angeles. 7:30-8:30 p.m. ChinmayaRameshwaram, 14451 Franklin Ave., Tustin. Free. (714) 832-7669. www.chinmayala.org.
May
12 Sunday
God’s Nature in the Mother. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 5251291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org. © Copyright 2013 India Currents. All rights reserved. Reproduction for commercial use strictly prohibited.
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www.indiacurrents.com | 51
reflections
Counting Peas Teaching language through food By Monica Bhide
A
s a very young child, my son Jai had an unaccountable aversion to learning any language other than English. Yet, I was determined to teach him Hindi, my mother tongue, to ensure he did not miss out on a culture and heritage for lack of simple knowledge of its language. I would point to his clothes, toys and books and encourage him to respond with their Hindi names. Eventually, he spoke a few words — he could point to a chair and call it kursi and say the numbers from 1 to 10 in Hindi. But he did not know simple phrases such as “How are you?” or “My name is Jai.” He could not have a conversation in Hindi. That changed during a trip to India when Jai was 4. I was sitting with my mother on the floor, shelling peas. As we were laughing and talking, Jai wandered over, picked up a pea pod with great curiosity and asked what it was. It is mattar, my mother told him. Peas? he wondered. Inside this? He loved the fact that he could open the pod and find a treasure. He opened one, then another and another. He sat still, which in itself was an achievement. He began to listen to us, to ask questions. Some mothers like to color with their young children, some read books, some watch television. I could never have imagined our time together would be used to shell peas. Once we were back in the States, I searched supermarkets and farmers’ markets for peas in pods. I rinsed them, patted them dry and waited for 3 o’clock so I could pick up Jai from school and we could shell peas. When pea pods were hard to find, I cheated, more than once passing off edamame as peas. Rarely were we able to eat the peas for dinner; by the time Jai’s tiny fingers got them out of the pods, they were too squished or had gone straight into his mouth. I didn’t care as long as we sat and shelled and talked. We sat on the floor and started by sorting the pea pods, his fingers working furiously to separate the little baby pods from the mother pods and the daddy pods. Some days we named the piles of
52 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
pods for his school friends—Zack, Sam, Casey. Then we counted. Jai could count to 20 in Hindi by then, and finished counting in English. On a few occasions, we reached 30 together. Then came Jai’s favorite part, the time for me to tell him stories—in Hindi. We always started with the story of the witch, the one who would come and make a home in your hair if you went out without drying it on a cold day. The story would somehow segue into what Buzz Lightyear or SpiderMan would do if he found this witch. (An interesting question, since we could not find a bit of hair on either of their heads.) Each story had a different ending, depending on which action figure was stationed next to Jai for the afternoon. After the witch would come the story of an Indian princess who lived in a golden castle. I wanted it to end with her marrying a handsome prince. My son, however, would add his 4-year-old’s spin and American viewpoints. Sometimes the princess would be a doctor, usually a veterinarian, and would end up marrying Shrek. Other times, the gentle princess would be transformed into a superhero and I was pleasantly challenged to come up with the Hindi names for laser guns and robotic evildoers. One day, Jai asked me, “Mom, apne kahania kaha see seekhi?” Where did I learn the stories? Why, from
Bahenjee, of course. By now Jai knew that word meant “older sister,” and his curiosity was piqued since I had no older sister. She was not related to me, I explained. It was a term often used as a mark of respect for an older person. A distant relative by marriage, she lived in a quiet part of my dadi’s house in Delhi. Dadi, my father’s mother, lived in what most people refer to as an Indian bungalow that housed a joint family—14 people on an average day, not including the various relatives who would show up out of the blue. With her crooked teeth, thinning white hair, flowing white sari and shrill voice, Bahenjee lived on the fringes of Dadi’s household. She had her own small area— steel almirah or armoire, charpai or cot, and wildly painted and loud pictures of various gods on the mostly bare and peeling wall. On a shelf were statues of gods, incense sticks, fresh jasmine flowers, silver coins. Bahenjee generally rose at an ungodly hour, 4 a.m., and did the work of an alarm clock for the house, singing prayers tunelessly at the top of her voice. “Ab who kaha hai?” asked Jai. Where is she now? I had no idea. “Nanu se poochege?” He pointed to the phone for me to call his grandfather in India to ask him. I did, and my father told us that after my grandparents died, Bahenjee went to live with her son. She had since died.
Jai asked me more and more about her and her stories and the memories came flooding back. On my summer vacations, when I was a child, I would look forward to going to Dadi’s house so I could be with Bahenjee. For she was one of the best storytellers in the world. You and I shell peas, I told Jai; Bahenjee and I would make sev, noodles, as she shared stories. We would sit together in the hot Delhi sun after her ritual of sweeping the concrete courtyard with a wooden broomstick, brushing away dust and dirt I couldn’t see, and laying out a bamboo mat, or chitai, for us to sit on. She would spread newspapers in front of the mat and peel a few Indian oranges, santras, for me to eat. Then she would bring out the chickpea dough. Bahenjee would make small logs of the dough, and she taught me how to hold each one between my fingers as if I were counting the beads of a rosary. Away we would go, preparing small bits of sev as princesses crossed paths with evil witches. Even as she talked, Bahenjee outpaced me in making sev. She would go through containers of dough while I was still struggling with my first log. She never seemed to notice that I generally made a mess and seemed to be interested only in the stories. Occasionally, she would ask me to wet a muslin cloth to cover the
dough as it started to dry up. We would sit in that glowing Delhi heat for hours and I would listen, mesmerized. As I recalled Bahenjee’s stories for Jai, it occurred to me that the tales she had told me had been in Multani—I learned a dying language through her stories. All of the stories were set in my father’s birthplace, Multan, a part of India until the separation of India and Pakistan. Bahenjee spoke Hindi, the more colloquial language, as well, but seemed to prefer telling the stories in her own language, stopping to translate only if I looked totally lost. She would recount painfully how she was forced to leave her motherland. She would talk about my father’s childhood, about her own family, about the food and the festivities. Her language connected me to a place I would never see and a culture I had never known. No one in my family ever returned to Multan. Bahenjee chronicled a history that was lost in a war over religion and hate. I learned prayers and nursery rhymes in Multani. Bahenjee’s stories ended, inevitably, when the dough did. I have always wondered what she did in the winters. Learning to appreciate another culture through its language, through the words of an old woman who has seen life and lived to
tell about it, now feels like a blessing. When my parents told us their childhood stories, we rolled our eyes. It always seemed to be intended as a lecture, prefaced with, “When I was your age . . .” Bahenjee’s stories were different. They transported me, intrigued me. Several years have gone by since Jai and I started counting peas. At the age of 8, he speaks Hindi, though not flawlessly. Often he mixes English and Hindi words to create his own language. He has even picked up a few stray words of Multani. Now, the questions he asks in his HindiEnglish mix are no longer simple. Kya sab Iraqi log bad hai? Are all Iraqi people bad? Why are those soldiers carrying banndooks, guns? Why do people die, will I die? Aap bhi? Will you? Jai no longer struggles with the language; now it’s my turn. I struggle for the right words, the right answers, in any language.n Monica Bhide is a food writer and cookbook author. Her work has appeared in Food and Wine, Bon Appetit, Eating Well, The Washington Post, and many other national and international publications. You can find her at: www.monicabhide.com.
www.indiacurrents.com | 53
healthy life
Foot Reflexology What it can do for you
I
n the history of shoe making, no cobbler has cobbled a sandal that can match the beauty of the sandals wrapped in tissue paper and resting quietly in a box on the bottom of my closet. Black satin Betsy Johnson’s, they feature a row of multi-colored rhinestones on top, two-inch heels and leather soles covered with the image of rose buds. They called to me five years ago from the corner of Emerson and Ramona in Palo Alto, where In Her Shoes had a temporary shop. It was love at first sight. Who cares if, as a yoga teacher, I spend most of my life barefoot. I had to have them. In fact it was obvious my purchasing these toe-cleavage creating wonders would change the very trajectory of my life. Giddy with excitement, those glittering Betsey Johnson’s were coming home with me. I wore my darling sandals for the first time on the 24th of November, 2008. I was with friends, celebrating a landmark birthday. I never wore them again. But sometimes, when I’m feeling a bit blue, I’ll pull them from the bottom of the closet and hold them. I’ll run my finger across the rhinestones and dream about what could have been. Sometimes I’ll slip them on and try to coax my little phalanges into believing they can handle a heel. They can’t. And if my phalanges aren’t happy, I’m not happy. Our feet are under-appreciated.We smoosh them into ill-fitting shoes and then expect them to carry the weight of our bodies as we stand all day and dance through the night. And when the mood strikes we dig out the old runners—the ones with the pronated soles that haven’t seen the light of day for a year—strap them on and pound the pavement for as long as our inner weekend warrior can manage. The massive force of each poorly supported footfall is enough to make a high arch cry. Our loyal feet, who have never done anything but support us, finally give in. They become sore and tired and blistered. They grow corns and develop bunions. We act surprised and 54 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
By Mimm Patterson wonder why but the truth is our feet deserve more than the cursory care we offer. They deserve real care. Pedicures are pretty but they don’t offer deep healing. Reflexology is a massage and pressure point technique that will improve the health and condition of our feet while encouraging vitality and wellness throughout the entire body. Similar in theory to acupressure massage and acupuncture, reflexologists believe the soles of the feet mirror the human form; they believe gentle manipulation of the thousands of nerve endings on each foot will have an effect on a corresponding part of the body. It is thought reflexology calms the nervous system and supports our body by stimulating sluggish energetic pathways and calming overactive ones. This creates “energetic space” for the body to begin the healing process. Anecdotal evidence suggests reflexology may help to reduce our recovery time from emotional or physical trauma. It reduces stress and encourages restful sleep. Reflexology divides the foot into ten vertical and three horizontal zones. The zones act like a guide for the reflexologist—a “foot map” of sorts. A “blockage” in one part of a zone correlates to a particular organ but also influences everything else in that zone. Working the appropriate and specific foot reflex within the zone will stimulate subtle muscular contraction and subsequent release throughout the zone. To the reflexologist, a “blockage” feels like a grain of sand underneath the skin that may be slightly sensitive to the client. Sometimes it’s more like an unexplained change in texture or a thickening. For example, if your immune system is compromised—if you’re coming down with a cold, are under more than the normal amount of life stress or simply haven’t paid careful attention to your diet, your spleen reflex (on the lateral side of the left foot) can feel a bit spongy or rough. The reflexologist may apply increased pressure with her fingertip or knuckle to the area. She might also work additional “helper” reflexes. Her touch will be specific and she will stimulate reflex points with precision. At the end of the treatment she might offer advice to strengthen a depleted immune system. Remember, however, that the reflexolo-
gist is not there to diagnose nor is she qualified to diagnose. She can report what she feels and explain what that suggests according to reflexology theory. Nothing more. Reflexology is an opportunity for healing. It is not a cure. As with acupuncture and acupressure, however, it offers further proof of the mind/body connection. Reflexology supports general well being but a good therapist will be trained to design a program that addresses specific concerns and conditions. For instance, reflexology is excellent for digestive issues and sleep disturbances. It might also be of benefit for anyone suffering from chronic headaches and has been shown to provide relief from fibromyalgia. In fact, reflexology may have a positive effect on many chronic problems. And while it isn’t a substitute for medical treatment, it is a powerful complement to an allopathic approach to illness. Those of us with a more skeptical nature may not buy the notion of the soles mirroring the body. They may not believe reflex points exist or that manipulating the base and medial edge of the big toe will produce a relaxation response in the neck. That’s all right. But a skeptical nature should not stop anyone from having at least one experience with reflexology. Because the bottom line is, reflexology is a wonderful introduction to touch therapy. It feels good, and even the most skeptical among us want to feel good. Plus, the gift of an hours quiet relaxation enables us to more ably cope with our frenetic pace of life. There’s a part of me that wishes I could convince my feet to love wearing heels. But it’s not going to happen. My metatarsals are right. Heels hurt the body in too many ways to count. Nope. I’ll keep my Betsy Johnson’s in the closet and wait for the day when being “fashion forward” means wearing flats. In the meantime, I’ll keep my feet happy with reflexology.n Mimm has been a yoga teacher, massage therapist, reflexologist and writer. When she’s not balancing in Ardha Chandrasana or wrestling with a sentence, Mimm’s either playing her guitar or doing homework. She is working towards a master’s degree in transpersonal psychology.
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travel
A Lingering Simplicity Exploring the ancient monasteries and palaces of Leh By Kavita Kanan Chandra
Leh, an aerial view
L
eh, once the capital of Ladakh, is now a district of Jammu and Kashmir in India. Actually it is the second largest district in India. Cradled in the Himalayas, it is best known for its ruined palaces, Buddhist monasteries, serrated hillsides, sandy terrain and shimmering rivers. It is a unique vista of sand and snow. It was a breathtaking sight even before the airplane touched down. The clear blue sky shone bright in the sunshine. The floating clouds looked like freshly plucked cotton coalescing into a soft fluffy mass. The bare brown mountains dared to stand out offering a contrast to the surrounding beauty. As I was driven straight through the lonely barren brown stretches of land I felt I had entered some exotic land. For someone coming from bustling Mumbai, Leh was like a breath of fresh air. The guesthouse my husband and I stayed
56 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
at was a pretty cottage surrounded by cheerful sunflowers. As warned by travellers who had come before me, the first day at Leh was just for relaxation as we had to acclimatize to the low oxygen environment. We had heard of tourists suffering from nausea, severe headache and nose bleeds, so we were careful to take precautions. There are Tibetan and conventional medicines which one can easily get from Thiksey monastery if suffering from altitude sickness. I was lucky for I only experienced a slight headache on the day of my arrival, which subsided after a good siesta and I felt fit enough to explore the local market in the evening. As I roamed the streets I found that more than eighty percent of the tourists were foreigners and there were no children except the local ones. As I chatted with locals in nearby villages and wandered around the
town, I discovered a world so different from any metropolis and yet so utterly enchanting. Though August is considered the best tourist season when temperatures hover between comfortable 13-21 degrees centigrade (55-70 fahrenheit), the low oxygen level tends to tire one out. At night, despite the chill, we had to keep the windows open while sleeping, for want of oxygen. Once we snuggled into the warm blankets, it was difficult to get out. We happened to be there on the day of Eid and in the thin air the crescent moon looked lovely. In this cold desert we felt at a loss for there is not even a hint of greenery as you drive for miles. The landscape is, however, dotted with Budhist monasteries on hills and army cantonments. The only greenery seen is along the banks of rivers Indus and Zanskar. Leh is extremely dry and receives no rains
The Ruins of Leh Palace
during monsoon as it lies in the rain shadow of the Himalayas. So when it was pouring in Mumbai, I was smothering sunscreen lotion on my body and applying lip balm to my parched lips in Leh in August. One of the best places to get a birds-eye view of Leh’s landscape is the Shanti Stupa. From the Stupa, the sight of the meandering Indus shimmering in the evening sun gave us a sense of calm. Built by a Japanese Budhist group called “Japanese for World Peace” to commemorate 2500 years of Buddhism, the Stupa aims to promote world peace. It can be seen from the bustling street of Changspa where budget hotels, restaurants and backpackers thrive. The presence of mosques in Leh affirms the peaceful co-existence of Buddhism and Islam. I spent a pleasant afternoon wandering the market checking out some colorful beads, ornaments, warm pashmina shawls and Buddhist prayer items. The berries and apricots looked colorful and luscious and we bought some dried apricots and almonds to take
Shanti Stupa
home. One interesting place we visited was the Magnetic Hill near Leh. It is literally an uphill task to drive the car down the hill as the car is constantly pulled back due to magnetic attraction. The Leh Palace, an absolute mustsee, was built by King Senge Namgyal in 1533, and abandoned in the 19th century, and bears a striking similarity to Lhasa’s Potala Palace, though the former is smaller in size. Once the seat of the royals of Ladakh, the Leh Palace now lies shrouded in ruins. Inside the palace, there are a few murals still worth viewing. The palace architecture is medieval Tibetan in style. There are nine stories with overhanging wooden balconies. The “Hall Of Fame” pays homage to India’s fallen warriors. This museum dedicated to the brave soldiers who lost their lives in the Indo-Pak wars is maintained by the Indian army. We were able to see enemy weapons seized by our soldiers during the Kargil war operations. One touching reminder of the painful toll of war, was the letter written by a father (Colonel V. N. Thapar) to his son (Captain Vijayant Thapar) when he fell martyr, at the young age of 22 while evicting intruders from a ridge in Kargil, on June 28, 1999. One afternoon, my husband decided take a river rafting tour. The looks and sounds of the rushing water, bare rocks and colorful dinghy looked pretty but I held to my resolve to stay on dry land, away from the frigid waters. The group had to brave the river
rapids for more than three hours and cover about 15.5 miles. My better half got into a wet suit, life jacket and a helmet and listened carefully to the instructor who parroted the commands several times to make sure everyone in the group was ready to battle the rapids. Then he inflated the dinghy and handed paddles to the eight eager rafters. As the instructor yelled “forward,” the group lurched into the river. As my car moved parallel to the river I could see the rafters struggling to keep afloat. But, it was heartening to see the kayaks with expert swimmers riding alongside in case of emergencies. Later the exhilarated group recounted how they kept their feet under the inflated tubes balancing themselves as the rushing water splashed all over them. We visited the most photographed building of Ladakh: Thiksey Monastery. The 600-year-old monastery is built at 12 levels ascending a hillside and houses about one hundred monks of the Yellow-Hat sect of Buddhism. Made of clay and covered with gold paint a 15 meters tall Buddha idol was constructed during the Dalai Lama visit to Thiksey. Our visit to Leh would not have been complete had we not visited Rancho’s School made famous as the location of the climax scene of the Aamir Khan starrer, 3 Idiots. It is actually the Druk White Lotus School at Shey. Adjacent to it is a monastery for women. Their cheerful faces in maroon robes made me happy. It was a humbling experience to see people in such remote places prone to harsh winters, sudden cloudbursts and even earthquakes, yet exuding warmth and happiness. There is a sense of contentment about Leh and its people. Long after we left Ladakh, the memory of that warmth and happiness lingered on. n Kavita Kanan Chandra is a freelance journalist and travel writer based in Mumbai. She has lived and worked in different parts of India and understands the pulse of her country.
Buddha Idol at Thicksey Monastery www.indiacurrents.com | 57
desi voice
A Mother Grows Up!
“While we try to teach our children all about life, our children teach us what life is all about.”—William Saroyan, Armenian American dramatist and author By Sudha Chandrasekaran
W
ith the passage of time, I have come to realize that while parents are the most important influencers of their children, the reverse is also true. It is not far-fetched to say that I grew up after the birth of my two daughters and my character, judgement and personality have been played, plied and shaped by them. The shift occured as soon as I conceived. Being responsible for another human being is life-changing. As my children grew into little talkers, they looked forward to bedtime story sessions. “Naan vallarndha kadhai sollava (story of younger days)?” I’d ask them, and launch into some funny anecdote from my own early years. As I told them stories, I delved into my past and learned to blend fiction with fact to lend my stories humor and relevance. It was heady to see them laugh at my stories. My children helped me appreciate the little details that we take for granted. When their faces radiated with interest on seeing a flower or a tiny animal or a funny incident on television, their enthusiasm would infect me, and experiences took on new meaning when seen through their eyes. I found myself worrying about their education well before their school going age. Was I guilty of the Pushy Parent Syndrome? Possibly. I read the small print about admission criteria, explored and looked for resources to find the best schools with good ratings in good neighborhoods. Before long I was an ace researcher with a decided bent towards analysis. Of course, I also lost my patience with them. But, the next morning when they’d come and hug me, having forgotten all about the previous day’s incident, it made me realize that life is all about moving on. We build up grievances about things that have happened and worry about things that may never happen. Our children often put things into perspective. Recently, at a get together, we discussed how each of us had changed and what we had personally discovered about ourselves since becoming parents. The exercise was revealing. I realize that we do sometimes have
58 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
A Creative Commons Image to struggle to be patient, biting our tongue when necessary, forcing ourselves to slow down to accommodate our children’s slower pace. Patience is one of the greatest gifts that my children have taught me. I learned to be firm without raising my voice and coaxing and cajoling them when necessary as well as negotiating boundaries and trade-offs. On my birthday some years ago, my daughters suggested going to Olive Garden for dinner. I would have preferred to go to Saravana Bhavan, but I compromised knowing that they preferred Italian food. As the years rolled by I began to appreciate the cuisines of the world and today, I am more inclined to opt for Sweet Tomatoes than Saravana Bhavan. Preparing meals for kids has always been challenging for me. In my attempt to accommodate their young palates, I download, experimented, re-discovered and re-invented recipes, all of which are the hallmarks of a good chef. While chaperoning my children to their
swimming lessons, math lessons, music lessons and language lessons, I have learned the intricacies of each subject by osmosis. My appreciation for music increased as my children grew in years and skill. Both my children were hesitant to learn swimming and avoided getting into the water on some pretext or the other. It was only when I got into the pool with them, that I managed to persuade them to join me. It felt a bit odd swimming with four and five year olds. But I had a purpose and I was determined to succeed. And then there’s the Internet. A majority of children in the United States are enhancing their parents’ technology and Internet awareness and knowledge of the digital economy, according to a study commissioned by hpshopping.com, Hewlett-Packard Company’s award-winning e-commerce site. Approximately two-thirds of the 635 parents surveyed across the United States reported that their children show them something new on the computer, such as how to complete research online or how to install and use software and hardware. Sixty-two percent of children show their parents new web sites to explore, while 40 percent show their parents how to work on projects online, such as craft-making or creating photo albums. “Although parents are generally thought of as the teachers, hpshopping.com’s research has confirmed a different theory,” said Shen Li, general manager, hpshopping.com. “In the digital age, children know more than or as much as their parents about technology and the Internet. They are driving their parents to learn more.” It is no exaggeration to say that I grew up because of my children, to keep pace with them and to share in their experiences. Now that my children have left the nest to continue their own education, I sit reflecting on how much I miss them, and as I traverse back in time, I savor the lessons they’ve taught me. n Sudha Chandrasekaran is a writer based in India.
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recipes
A Clarified Taste Cooking with Ghee By Malar Gandhi
G
hee is formed when cow’s or buffalo’s milk is boiled and strained. It is clarified butter. The word, ghee, was first recorded in English in 1665 and derives from a Sankrit word “ghrita” meaning “sprinkled.” The best ghee is made from butter from buffalo’s milk, which is twice as rich in fat as cow’s milk. Ghee is a commodity of enormous prestige in the Indian subcontinent. Beginning from almost Vedic times (1500 B.C. to 500 B.C.), there is ample recorded evidence to show that makhan (butter) and ghee were extensively used by the early inhabitants of India, both in their dietary and religious practices. The Rig Veda, which is the oldest collection of Hindu hymns, contains numerous references on ghee. Ghee occupies a very significant place in the Indian diet. Ancient Sanskrit literature describes ghee (synonyms are ghrit, ghritam,
nei, sarpi, sarpish, havi, havish and ajya) as the food fit for the gods. In addition to being used as an ingredient and frying oil, ghee is an emblem of purity, an offering to the gods, the fuel of holy lamps, used in ceremonies like birth, initiation of manhood, wedding fire altars and funeral pyres. According to Hindu mythology, Prajápati, Lord of Creatures, created ghee by rubbing or “churning” his hands together and then pouring it into fire to engender his progeny; whenever the Vedic ritual was performed of pouring ghee into fire, it was a re-enactment of creation. Because of the steps involved in the making of ghee, it has longer shelf life and a much higher smoking point than regular butter. Ghee has been known to be preserved for many years. Ghee that has been preserved from eleven to hundred years is called kub-
haghrta, and ghee matured for more than a century is termed mahaghrta. It practical for stir-frying, sauteing and frying. A good quality ghee adds great aroma, flavor and taste to the food. It is used for frying sweets, for mixing with soma juice and as a dip to add relish to other foods. Trade in ancient south India frequently took the form of barter. According to one poem, the herdsman’s wife “can feed all her relatives with the rice received in exchange of buttermilk; for ghee supplies she accepts, not a piece of gold, but instead a female buffalo, a cow and a black-heifer worth its value.” n
Nei Appam
Ghee Rice
Ingredients 1 cup raw rice ½ cup jaggery ¼ cup coconut milk ¼ tsp cardamom powder A dash of ginger powder 1 cup ghee
Ingredients 1cup basmati rice 1 tbsp ghee 2 cloves 1 bay leaf 1 cinnamon stick 2 green chilies, slitted in the middle 1 tsp ginger-garlic paste 1 onion, sliced 10 mint leaves 2-3 cilantro springs 1 tomato, cut into wedges salt to taste
Method Heat ghee in a wide crock pot, add cloves, bay leaf and cinnamon stick. Followed by green chilies and onions, and fry till they turn golden brown. Add gingergarlic paste and saute for couple of minutes. Then add tomato wedges, mint and cilantro leaves. Stir-in rice and let it get coated with oil. Add salt and two cups of water. Stir, cover, and slow cook over low to medium heat for about 10-12 minutes. Once the rice is fluffy, remove from heat. Serve warm as a main course along with spicy curry and raita. n
Method Soak the rice for couple of hours and then wet-grind it to a thick batter. Add all the above mentioned ingredients to it, except ghee. Heat ghee in a shallow pan and wait till it is smoky hot. Now, add about a teaspoon of batter in the oil and fry the batter. Do not crowd the oil, fry only a few at a time. When it is done to perfection (golden brown to reddish brown), remove from oil and leave them on kitchen towels for a few minutes. Repeat for the remaining batter. Serve warm or at room temperature as a snack.
60 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
Malar Gandhi is a freelance writer who specializes in Culinary Anthropology and Gourmet Indian Cooking. She blogs about Indian Food at www.kitchentantras.com and can be reached at malargandhi@kitchentantras.com
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viewfinder
A Big Hug By Ramasubramanian Narayanaswamy
This picture was taken by Ramasubramanian Narayanaswamy at Griffith Park in Glendale, California, during his long walk with his wife while his son was training for a Marathon. (His son has since completed the Marathon at Carlsbad in less than 4 hours.) India Currents invites readers to submit to this column. Send us a picture with caption and we’ll pick the best entry every month. There will be a cash prize awarded to the lucky entrant. Entries will be judged on the originality and creativity of the visual and the clarity and storytelling of the caption. So pick up that camera and click away. Send the picture as a jpeg image to editor@indiacurrents.com with Subject: A Picture That Tells a Story. Deadline for entries: 10th of every month. 62 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
dear doctor
Accepting Racial Identity By Alzak Amlani
Q
As an immigrant from India, I am considering settling in the U.S. and becoming part of American society. But, it is difficult to understand how Indian or American I feel. Although, I don’t think that my race or ethnicity are the most important parts of me, I also notice that my skin color and racial background, in a primarily white society are quite salient. Sometimes I just want to erase my background and assimilate, and at other times I really want to be seen with all the differences that I bring. It gets really confusing and controversial and I don’t know quite how to deal with it all.
A
Race, color and ethnicity are aspects to celebrate because they also connect us with our families, languages, traditions, ancestors and countries of origin. People feel stronger, less alienated and more enriched when they feel a sense of belonging and have roots. At the same time people are also discriminated against and hated for their skin color or race. Prejudice, misunderstanding and not accepting differences have been diseases of society for thousands of years. So,
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we can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. However, there are more people now who see that each culture is unique, and each individual is unique and this makes life fascinating, as we learn from the diversity and richness of cultures and individuals. People go through a process in discovering and finally accepting their racial identities in the United States. At first we may want to conform to the majority standards of whiteness in actions, speech, dress, beliefs and attitudes because that is considered positive. Many people of color discover that they can’t quite fit into the Euro-American society and start to wonder if the U.S. is as racially inclusive as portrayed. This is a stage of “dissonance” or confusion. It brings up anger and upset about disparity and the challenges of institutionalized racism. There is also a stage where people of color will avoid close contact with other white people and feel they only belong with people of their own racial group. This stage is called “emersion.” At some point they are able to see that people in their own racial group have negative quali-
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ties and that whites are not the enemy. They see racism as the enemy. The whole issue becomes less personal and more systemic. A person feels more control and autonomy at this stage. In the last stage one’s sense of identity expands to include other dimensions of themselves more fully and they feel themselves more as a whole person. Not every body goes through all of these stages and they are not necessarily linear. However, you can see there are stages and one stage can conflict greatly with another. When we’re with persons of even similar race, each person could be at a different place in their discovery of racial identity and what it is to be bi-cultural. It is helpful to be aware and not move to judge others, but rather appreciate the complexity and sensitivity of where people originate from and value the differences among us. n Alzak Amlani, Ph.D. is a counseling psychologist in the Bay Area. (650)325-8393. Visit www.wholenesstherapy.com.
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the last word
New America Media A coalition way ahead of its time By Sarita Sarvate
I
remember the first time New America Media (NAM)—or rather its precursor the Pacific News Service (PNS)—dawned on my consciousness. It was in the early ‘90s, when one morning, out of the blue, I decided to become an op-ed commentator. When you consider that I had no journalistic education whatsoever, except for one class I had taken in the early ‘80s on a whim at the Auckland University Extension, this was quite gutsy. The class was titled “Non-Fiction,” not journalism, and was taught by Michael King, a well-known historian of New Zealand’s Maoris. I did publish a couple of essays in major magazines in New Zealand after that remarkable class but then life took over. So when I sent an article over the transom to the Oakland Tribune and they published it, I started to look around. A news item in the San Francisco Chronicle caught my attention, about Sandy Close, head of PNS, who had won a MacArthur Over genius award. “That’s the outfit I should write for,” I thought. So the din of I wrote to them and received dishes and tea cups, a note saying that if I had an interesting topic I wanted I listened to stalwarts to cover, I should send like Peter Dale Scott won- them the piece. I considered it a rejection—I was dering if I would ever be naïve enough to think they would lay out a able to utter an intelligent that red carpet for me. I kept writing for the word. I was shocked when Oakland Tribune and the they listened intently to San Jose Mercury News, as a free-lance opinion page an occasional remark writer. Then Arvind Kumar of India Currents tapped me I made. for “the Last Word” column. I took the assignment casually at first. So I was stunned when I got news that I had won an award, from the Pacific News Service. I did not even know that India Currents had nominated one of my columns. At the ceremony, I met Close in person, and began to write for PNS. PNS then had an affiliated group called the “Eccentrics,” consisting mostly of professors from U.C. Berkeley, who regularly gathered at a Chinese restaurant in downtown Berkeley to brainstorm the affairs of the day. Sandy invited me there and I met Franz Schurmann, Sandy’s partner, who, along with the renowned China scholar Orville Schell, had created PNS in the late ‘60s. The objective then was to provide alternative perspectives and reports on the Vietnam war to the mainstream media. At the restaurant I met Cobie Kwasi Harris, an African American professor who taught Political Science at San Jose State University. Over the din of dishes and tea cups, I listened to stalwarts like Peter Dale Scott wondering if I would ever be able to utter an intelligent word. I was shocked when they listened intently to an occasional remark I made. Microphones would be carried into the restaurant sometimes, to record our conversations, which would then be aired as a show titled “The Eccentrics,” on Pacifica Radio. Cobie, who was the host, once, asked me to guest-host a show about the status of untouchables in India. PNS was still a cozy group of intellectuals then. At one of these 64 | INDIA CURRENTS | April 2013
meetings, I met Andrew Lam, a regular commentator on NPR’s “All Things Considered,” who made it possible for me to fulfill my dream of being on NPR. Those were heady days indeed. The unique thing about PNS was that it made room for academics as well as the common people. Its objective was to give “voice to the voiceless,” as Close put it. Not only did it give a platform to those on the margins, it provided a home too. I recall Close coming to my house in the early 2000s and after realizing how isolated I was, inviting me and my children to Christmas Eve dinner at her house. That first Christmas, I arrived with much trepidation, and was delighted to discover that individual presents had been wrapped for each one of us with much forethought. The original goal of PNS had shifted after the end of the Vietnam war, but the news syndicate was growing. My early articles would be sent “over the wire”—I never quite saw what the wire exactly was and now alas it is extinct like the dinosaurs—to news outlets across the country and a week or two later, I would receive clippings in the mail, from far flung sources like the Baltimore Sun, the Arizona Sun Times, the San Francisco Examiner, the San Jose Mercury News, and even La Prensa, in Spanish translation. But the world was changing. The original PNS model required newspapers across the country to subscribe to PNS, pay a fee, and receive stories. But the Internet was changing the shape of the media. Most outfits were simply lifting the stories without paying any compensation. It is one thing to notice the change, it is another to respond to it with a vision. Close, who had long been the Executive Director of PNS, possessed such a vision. She saw the future and formed a coalition called the New California Media (NCM). It was an idea well ahead of its time. Within a decade, news and opinion outlets would become niche markets in America. But NCM was the first to acknowledge this reality, and recognize the power of ethnic media. Of course I missed the Eccentrics and our elite group, but it was time to be a grown up. NAM was a natural evolution to NCM. Today, NAM is an international coalition, comprising of media from Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East, among others. In 2010, when Franz Schurmann passed away, I attended the memorial at the U.C. Berkeley Faculty Club. It seemed to me to be a passing of an era. I mused then about the role this unique organization had played in my life, the gifts it had given me, the platform it had provided for me and so many others. It had allowed America to see me, to hear me. It had made the impossible plausible. So, when I won an award from NAM this year for a Last Word column titled “I am Gulliver, I am Sindbad,” I decided to attend the ceremony in Los Angeles. It was a journey down memory lane for me. As I listened to writers from Asia Journal, Korea Daily, La Opinion, I tried to imagine what my life would have been without NAM. But I could not remember a time when I was not a part of NAM. None of this would have been possible without being anchored to my Last Word column in India Currents, of course, which has given me, a person without any birth relatives in this country, my only Indian family in America. n Sarita Sarvate writes commentaries for Pacific News Service and KQED. Visit www.saritasarvate.com
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