December 2012-January 2013 Southern California Edition

Ocean Nirvana

What is Home, Anyway?

The Phone Box at Ueno Park

IndiaCurrents Celebrating 26 Years of Excellence

List, Vist Celebrity Tweets

Cutest Things Kids Say Favorite Hindi Movies Ten Commandments for Seniors Top Ten Books Favorite Restaurants Hinglish Vinglish Phrases Three Fates Excuses That Make You Mad Five Favorite Destinations A Few of My Favorite Things My Box of Bindis Bollywood Dreams Mehendi Best Opening Passages Best Gadgets Palin St

dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • vol. 26, no .9 • www.indiacurrents.com

How Amma got Mommied, Mothered, Mommed and Ammaed Again IC Celebrates 25 years 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

The day one of my twins first uttered the “amm” sound I was ecstatic. I pointed out to my husband how similar it was to “amma,” all but laying claim to their first word and my maternal title. But, despite repeating the palindrome over and over again, it didn’t happen that day, or the next day, or the next week.

It was just a question of smacking your lips, I urged my kids, showing them how to do it, but they looked back at me, curiously alert, and stubbornly mum. A few days later, both girls were repeating “dada” in hysterical delight to their dad’s chuckles, and without the exertion of any lip smacking.

In due time, the twins settled on mamma, but it was to be just a temporary placeholder, for purple dinosaurs and red dogs on television colluded with the girls to re-label me “mommy.”

I didn’t think much about it. It really didn’t matter. Or so I thought.

It was when my girls turned into little talkers that doubts emerged. While strapping my goggle-eyed daughters to their carseats one day, I explained to them that Mommy, the name, lacked the nuance of our language or roots. I persuaded them to backspace on Mommy and was soon slavishly obeying their every Amma high chair command.

The elementary years were a time of reckoning. The magic of books shaped my children’s imaginations and language began to prune their thoughts. Their bedtime stories invoked

stories of beauty, valor, animals, moms, mothers and mommies. Favorite teachers endowed the M-word with authority and Mommy came back home to stay. Though, every once in a while, I reminded my kids that I was their Amma.

It was more than just about a title, a label, or a name. At the center of this internal AmmaMommy debate was the question of how much melting we must do into that conforming pot?

Culture, language and heritage are negotiable components of assimilation. Whether or not to call me Amma was like a diacritical comma to an entire language. But that comma happens to be a small, yet truthful, representation of linguistic accuracy and pronunciation.

Amma was my name for my mother. It should be my daughters’ name for me, if for no reason other than continuity. Wrapped into the titles we give ourselves are the feelings we bear for the people who carried those titles before us.

Over the years, my children have called me amma, mamma, mommy, mom and mother, depending on their age and the company they kept, but a pattern began to emerge. I realized it when my eight year old fell down, cut her lip, ripped her dress and walked over to me with tears barely contained in her black eyes.

“Amma,” she whispered, “it hurts.”

And I understood.

Jaya Padmanabhan

COLUMNISTS Dear Doctor: Alzak Amlani Films: Aniruddh Chawda Forum: Rameysh Ramdas On Inglish: Kalpana Mohan The Last Word: Sarita Sarvate Uncubed: Krishna Sadasivam Zeitgeist: Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan Contributors: Monica Bhide, Jeanne Fredriksen, Malar Gandhi, R.J. Kalpana, Kanniks Kannikeswaran, Dipika Kohli, Swapna Krishna Lovin, P. Mahadevan, Tara Menon, Shoba Narayan, Rajesh Oza, Naresh Rajan, Shanta Sacharoff, Mani Subramani, Kamala Thiagarajan Cover Design: Nghia Vuong.

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 © 2012 by India Currents All rights reserved.

Fully indexed

by Ethnic Newswatch

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 1

Southern California Edition

List, Vist

ZEITGEIST Shadows in the Archives

A Scrapbook of lists, quirky factoids, and short submissions.

By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan

6

10 FILMS

A Review of the Top Ten Hindi Films of 2012

PERSPECTIVES 1

EDITORIAL: How Amma got Mommied, Mommed, Mothered and Ammaed Again By Jaya Padmanabhan

8

FORUM: Should We Prioritize STEM Majors?

By Rameysh Ramdas and Mani Subramani

14

OPINION: What is Home, Anyway? By Shoba Narayan

16

MEMOIR: The Phone Box at Ueno Park. By Dipika Kohli

18

BOOKS: A Review of Ladies Coupe, The Groom To Have Been, The Way Things Look To Me, The World We Found and Walking With the Comrades. By Jeanne Fredriksen and Swapna Krishna Lovin

28

TAX TALK: Planning for the Forthcoming Law Changes. By Khorshed Alam

30

DESI VOICE: The Ticking Time Machine. By P. Mahadevan

42

PERSPECTIVE: Inequality in the Kitchen. By Tara Menon

58

ON INGLISH: Starched, Crisp, White and Made in India: Dhoti

By Kalpana Mohan

64

THE LAST WORD BY SARITA SARVATE: It’s Morning in America Again.

TRAVEL

By Aniruddh Chawda

36

LIFESTYLE 22

FICTION: The Reprieve. By R.J. Kalpana

34

MUSIC: Kutcheri Buzz. By Kanniks Kannikeswaran

50

REFLECTIONS: Our Almost Perfect Family.

By Monica Bhide

54

HEALTHY LIFE: Healthy Radiant Hair.

By Malar Gandhi

63

DEAR DOCTOR: Self-Centered and Distracted?

By Alzak Amlani

RECIPES Ocean Nirvana

As Easy As Pie

By Kamala Thiagarajan

By Shanta Sacharoff

56

60

DEPARTMENTS 4 Voices 5 Popular Articles 2 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

WHAT’S CURRENT 26 Ask a Lawyer 27 Visa Dates

59 Classifieds 62 Uncubed

44 Cultural Calendar 52 Spiritual Calendar

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ow did an entrepreneur convince Walmart, the world's largest retailer, to partner with a new and relatively unknown beauty salon franchise concept that specializes in the art of brow shaping, facial hair removing and waxing? With hard work, creativity, and attracting more than 1,000 customers a week, Seva founders, Vas and Sonal Maniatis, overcame incredible odds to form an exclusive in store partnership and expand their franchise concept nationwide.

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“Seva offers an opportunity for potential franchisees with and without experience in the beauty industry to fulfill their “American Dream” Seva has designed a complete turnkey Salonin-a-Box delivery system which handles all aspects of the design, construction, delivery, and coordination of build out of every new Seva salon. The company requires start-up capital of $100,000, in which $15,000 is allotted for the franchise fee. Seva's proprietary iPad-based POS technology is installed in every location to enables its franchisees to easily run and monitor their stores in real time from anywhere in the world via any computer, web-enabled phone, or iPad. Offering world class training and support, Seva has established the Seva Academy to assure franchisees continued support of trained and certified threading masters. The academy offers a series of hands-on threading instructional classes limited to eight students per class. Classes provide highly personalized one-on-one instruction by Seva's Master Threader in state-of-the-art training facilities located within the company's corporate headquarters in the Chicago suburb of

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Seva offers elegantly appointed salons conveniently and exclusively located within Walmart providing the convenience of onestop-shopping.

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 3

IC

voices

Lineage Linkage

Kanniks Kannikeswaran introduces readers (India Currents, November 2012, The Western Music of Muthuswami Dikshitar) to Indo-colonial music reportedly composed by Muthuswami Dikshitar, one of the famed trinity of composers (1775-1835) who lived and worked in southern India. These compositions, collectively known as nottuswara sahityas are not known well to patrons of Karnatik music nor are they sung during concerts, even infrequently.

The subject intrigued me enough to consult with Karnatik performing artist, T.S.R. Krishnan and to examine the book titled Sangeetha Sampradaya Pradarshini, written

by Subbarama Dikshithar, a grand nephew of the famous composer. It looks very possible that Muthuswami Dikshitar’s sishyas (disciples), may have composed many songs in the original style of the master very skillfully and added them on to the Dikshithar repertoire.

They could be called true chips of the block.

It is obviously difficult to be definitive about inclusions and exclusions in and from a master list of events that occurred two centuries ago. However, the absence of evidence is not synonymous with the evidence of absence.

Furthermore, the reference manual Sri Kirti Mani Malai, (3rd edition, 1983) indicates that Baluswami Dikshitar, the brother of Muthuswami Dikshitar, apparently was a gifted scholar, a vocalist and an instrumentalist, too. He learned to play the European violin with the help of a visiting European scholar. It is not far fetched to link Baluswami Dikshithar to the Indo colonial compositions. Kannikeswaran must be commended for bringing this set to public attention.

P. Mahadevan, Fullerton, CA

A Courageous Account

I’m moved by this brave essay written by Lakshmi Mani (India Currents, November 2012, Finding Youth in a Retirement Home).

Right now as I tend to my 90-year-old father in Chennai, this is so meaningful to me (and to him). More courage to you! One message has rung clear and strong as I delve deeper into the world of writing. And you have summarized that so perfectly in your column: “I am finding out that though I am culturally different from all the other residents—I am the only Indian—we all have the same life experiences. Each one of us has lost loved ones, and we all rejoice that we are blessed with children, grandchildren, and even greatgrandchildren. At least two residents have died since I came here. Mortality reinforces the necessity to cherish every moment of our lives.” For this and this reason alone, I will continue to write the story of my life.

Kalpana Mohan, online 4 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

Amongst Indians, both here and in India, there is a certain stigma attached to having to live on your own when you have children. But you and others like you have shown that what matters is your spirit and approach to life. Being happy is truly a state of mind.

Lakshmi, online It’s a wonderful article, Lakshmi—clear, focused, and sensitive. Your literary talents and virtues remain intact!

Mark Price Rochester, online My heartfelt gratitude to you, Lakshmi Mani, for writing so poignantly about your life experiences and highlighting the role of attitude in the quality of our lives. My wife and I, along with like minded friends visit a local convalescent hospital once a month, sing a set of love songs to God to them, and spend some time talking to the assembled residents. I have never felt and simultaneously received so much selfless love in any other place. I hope and pray that I too shall one day be such a positive influence on others around me. Thank you and may God’s blessings and Grace be always with you!

Ranga Jayaraman, online

Reinventing Ourselves

Kudos! Very well written editorial (India Currents, November 2012, “Sweet Are the Uses of Adversity”). “Reinventing ourselves” as you put it is what we have to do, every step of the way, whether as immigrants or even in one’s own country, I might add. As there is always a dominant other, a partisan that we are pitched against, making one out to be a beatnik. Analyzing one’s self worth is an internal journey—one worth making in order to strengthen the broken places.

Anjana, online

Fraudulent Travel Agency

India Currents carried an advertisement from Bombay Tours and Travels, operated by Vijay Bakshi. I called Bombay Travels to assist in booking tickets for my family on Emirates Airlines for travel from San Francisco to Delhi. On September 24, 2012, I wrote a check for $5,325 to Bombay Tours, Inc. and deposited the check into the agency account. However, on the day of the travel I was stopped at the airport for not having a reservation. The merchant in question had bought the tickets for me using stolen credit cards.

The e-tickets he had sent me were canceled due to non-payment. I had to buy new tickets.

On my return to the United States, I plan to file a police complaint against this business. In the meantime I am alerting India Currents readers to be careful and to caution anyone who conducts business with Bombay Travels and Tours or with Vijay Bakshi.

Rajeev Sumbly, currently in India

I am writing to inform you that a travel agency, Bombay Travels also known as Bombay Tours, has defrauded me to the extent of $8,000. They promised to acquire two business class tickets for me and my wife for travel from SFO-BLR recently. I decided to use their services since they offered a reasonable deal. I sent them a check so they could make a quick booking. Bombay Tours booked my tickets with British Airways by using a bogus credit card and, adding insult to injury, using my name as the card holder. Predictably British Air did not issue tickets and flagged the transaction. The end result was that I was unable to visit my aged parents and family who were keenly expecting us.

I called Bombay Tours and demanded my money back. They deposited a check into my account but the check was returned due to insufficient funds. Subsequent attempts to recover my money has also failed. I have notified authorities and hired a private investigator who informed me that the name given for the owner, Vijay Bakshi, is probably a bogus one. The address given was just a private mail box.

You will appreciate that this is much more than a matter of money; amongst Indian families the emotional after effects of missed reunions are quite strong. I have setup a blog http://bombaytoursfraud.blogspot.com/ to facilitate information sharing. Please point any inquiries to this website. Hopefully we can succeed in bringing this criminal to justice.

D. Krishna Murthy, CA

Tulip Season

As the author, I’d like to clarify that the character of the actor Jay Prasun Bahadur in Tulip Season: A Mitra Basu Mystery, written

by Bharti Kirchner in no way resembles the highly respected veteran actress Jaya Bhaduri, as the reviewer, Geetika Pathania Jain (selfdescribed as a Bollywood outsider) suggests (India Currents, November 2012, The Bloom of Romystery). This comparison is misleading and should be corrected.

The article omitted to mention that the book, Tulip Season: A Mitra Basu Mystery, is also available on bn.com and in print via Amazon.com and at book stores.

Bharti Kirchner, CA

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.

India Currents is now available on the Kindle Go to amazon.com and search for India Currents

Follow us at twitter.com/indiacurrents Like us facebook.com/India Currents Most Popular Articles Online November 2012: 1) Finding Youth in a Retirement Home.

Lakshmi Mani 2) Haute Stuff. Ritu Marwah 3) A Maharani in the Next Avatar, Perhaps?

Kalpana Mohan 4) World Music Festival. Kalpana Mohan 5) What’s in a Name? Sujatha Ramprasad 6) The Story of Brown Girl Surf. Farhana Huq 7) Sari Manhattan. Aniruddh Chawda 8) Sweet Are the Uses of Adversity. Jaya Padmanabhan 9) Bye, Bye Politics; Bye, Bye America. Sarita Sarvate 10) The Miracle Tree. Praba Iyer

Online Extras: • • • • • • • •

Easy access to our current content and decade-old archives of diverse articles Special web-only articles and videos Digital issue of the magazine Interactive event listings Advertising access to a niche high-value segment of the community Comments highlighted on home page A full color experience RSS feeds and newsletter subscriptions

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 5

IC

zeitgeist

Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan

Shadows in the Archives

I

remember accompanying my mother to her bank locker many years ago on what was, I would find out, a semi-annual necklace-retrieval trip, scheduled in accordance with important family functions. In the movies, bank lockers are for forged passports and wads of cash, state secrets and treasure maps.

What had my mother chosen to keep safe, I wondered, to protect from fire and flood under lock and key in a communal vault?

I waited anxiously while the manager located our box, brought it into our private cubicle, and left my mother to her excavation. She lifted out the contents and located her prize in a stack of red jewelry boxes, but I was captivated by the other things within: a one-hundred-year old pen, some antique medallion, a sheaf of papers, a map of India made entirely of gold and mounted on an inscribed wooden plaque. I touched it gingerly.

The map had belonged to my great-greatgrandfather, and, through some fortuitous journey through a rather extensive family tree, was eventually bequeathed to my father.

When a man is deemed great, when he makes it into “the history books,” the objects of his life are disseminated among relatives and friends, children and grandchildren, and end up in the hands of increasingly distant progeny in far-away lands, decades in the future. Of course, one need not be famous to offer an inheritance, to bequeath the tokens and trophies of a life to the next generations—on our wedding, my husband’s grandmother gifted us a precious silver spoon, engraved with the name of his great-greatgrandmother, Edna, born in Mississippi just after the Civil War—but it requires someone of a particular sentiment to save, then share, mementos which can be made meaningful long after the age of their significance. It helps if the majority of your descendants feel some imperative to preserve your legacy.

I have always been something of an unofficial family archivist; I am drawn to the genealogical; I am sentimental about stuff. The map of India wrapped away in the bottom of my parents’ back locker thrilled me. Here was an artifact of history I could call mine—not mine alone, but more mine than anything I was learning in school about William McKinley and the Dingley Tariff.

I had heard by then that my grandfather’s grandfather, V.S. Srinivasa Sastri, was someone special. “The Silver Tongued Orator,” he was called. “The Right Honorable.” When my brother and I put on earnest suits and faces 6 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

UV.S. Srinivasa Sastri

and set off for speech and debate competitions, we channeled some primal inheritance from this unknown man, born in 1869 in the Tanjavore district of Tamil Nadu.

But what did we know of him, really? And what could we claim, beside this map?

Hearing Sastri’s “titles,” my childself imagined that he had been knighted by the British in the dying days of the Raj; I pictured him in some hallowed court, delivering speeches to assembled British bodies on the issues of his time. But I had also heard that he was a close friend of M.K. Gandhi—they were born within two weeks of each other—and I saw them standing side by side, inspiring revolution in fiery word and pious deed. I didn’t realize then the significance of these conflicting visions. ***

D

istant ancestors are like shadows: They are ours, but not uniquely.

They grow and shrink in stature over time; as we age, so too do they, though their wrinkles never show, while ours collapse in folds. It is possible to go for days, months, years, without paying them mind. But then one day, you catch a glimpse of one of yours, the partial eclipse of the light of history on the flesh of you, and it’s impossible to see yourself in the world any longer without those grays, their filters of color and shade.

After the afternoon in the bank, I forgot about Sastri for a while—or rather, I started taking his shadow for granted, stopped paying its contours mind. Then, one day, sitting in a lecture hall at Stanford, I heard the eminent British historian Christopher Bayly speak on the history of liberalism in India. In a section others might well have glazed over, I heard Bayly mention Sastri’s name, clubbing him with other prominent liberals of his time: Hriday Nath Kunzru, Tej Bahadur Sapru, C.Y. Chintamani. Each of them opposed Gandhi’s non-cooperation movement because they believed the only effective opposition to the British government would come from within the constitutional process, that is, with certain deference for the law.

Sastri, in other words, was a moderate, not a revolutionary. My curiosity was piqued.

I headed to the library at UC Berkeley, where I came across treasure in another shared vault: a cache of Sastri’s books, letters, speeches, and even multiple biographies of the man.

Pulling the books down from the archives, I wondered about those who had devoted months and years to anthologizing Sastri’s works and telling his life story. What had drawn them to Sastri, I wondered, since I was here by accident of blood?

The story I learned was this: Sastri was a leading statesman during the Indian independence movement, but, as Bayly had suggested, he was ambivalent about non-cooperation, preferring the diplomatic posture of reform. At first blush, the condemnation of non-cooperation seemed like betrayal of Gandhi, whom Sastri in fact loved and referred to as a younger brother. But Sastri feared that even non-violent non-cooperation would too easily spawn violence and jeopardize any future possibility of working with the British toward and after India’s independence.

Further digging revealed that Sastri grew up reading Huxley, Mill, Tyndall, and Tolstoy.

But though he benefitted from an English education, his deepest literary and spiritual

attachment was to Valmiki’s Ramayana. He could as easily cite the Bible as the Mahabharata, and wrote playfully of Morley and Rama as equal apostles of truth. Sastri taught at Salem College before joining, and later heading, Gopal Krishna Gokhale’s Servants of India Society. He rose to become a member of the Council of State in the 1920s and attended most major constitutional conferences and international conventions in which India was represented until his death in 1946. For example, Sastri came to the United States as India’s delegate to the Washington Naval Conference and, in 1921, was a signatory on the Four-Power Treaty between the United States, the British Empire, France and Japan.

A debater, orator, prolific letter-writer, and contributor to numerous publications, Sastri produced a stunning body of work in English. Everyone who has written on him seems to have commented on the splendor of his prose. According to one biographer, P. Kodanda Rao, “He was among the greatest masters of the English language of his time …

The late Lord Balfour … heard Sastri’s speech at the League of Nations and said that he then realized the heights to which the English language could rise.”

I read Sastri’s essays on politics and friendship, life and faith, and began to hear his famed silver tongue: “Many agnostics attain a tranquility of spirit which I envy. I am hagridden by the idea of nothing after death.” ***

D

o revolution and reform have to be mutually exclusive? Do Valmiki and Morley each speak truth? What manner of figure was Sastri? Might he have a contemporary analogue?

In a lecture given after the 2008 election of Barack Obama to the U.S. presidency, novelist Zadie Smith called Obama’s “the story of a genuinely many-voiced man.” She reflected on the President’s plural selves, his inheritances from Kansas and Kenya, Punahou and Columbia. “For Obama,” she said, “having more than one voice in your ear is not a burden, or not solely a burden—it is also a gift.”

Sastri, too, embraced the possibilities and promise of his dual inheritance, of the English and Indian literary and philosophical canons, which marked him as a citizen of the world.

He articulated the importance of Englishlanguage and English-style education for nation building in India. This was not a popular perspective in the decades before Indian independence, as Gandhi, for one, was proposing that the English language of the colonialists be “driven out of the field.” Today, of course, English is a veritable Indian language, being shaped as much by Indian tongues as it has shaped the minds and spirits of its speakers.

Smith described an Obama equally caught between the undeniable multiplicity of his being and the desire of others that he

Today, of course, English is a veritable Indian language, being shaped as much by Indian tongues as it has shaped the minds and spirits of its speakers. choose sides. “How,” critics asked, “can the man who passes between culturally black and white voices with such flexibility, with such ease, be an honest man?” The world is skeptical of those we cannot put in boxes, of those who live and think between traditions. Sastri maneuvered between India and the British government, between Gandhi and the Servants of India, as well as between Eastern and Western bodies of knowledge. Like Obama, who has famously repudiated the division between “red states” and “blue states,” Sastri did not think in terms of concretely delimited spaces, whether geographic, literary, or philosophical.

Tellingly, one word that appears throughout Sastri’s writings is “moderation.” “Moderation,” he wrote, “[is] the silken string that runs through all the virtues. I would print in large capitals the sixteenth sloka of the sixth chapter of the Gita, in which the aspirant to yoga is enjoined to shun over-eating and fasting, over-sleeping and vigil alike.” Sastri endeavored to practice moderation in all things; often, he was a moderator in debates, where he moderated between opposed perspectives. He was also well known as a political “moderate.” Listen to those parts of speech: moderation (n.), moderator (n.), moderated (v.), moderate (adj.). What do the noun, adjectival, and verb forms reveal? Who do they reveal?

In 1935, Sastri gave a lecture titled with this playful rhetorical question: “Can a politician be a gentleman?” He began by acknowledging his own tendency to seek out opposing perspectives, to concede points to adversaries in the name of establishing common ground, and to strive to maintain in public life an attitude of generosity, tenderness, and chivalry.

“It is sometimes accounted to me for a weakness,” he said. Nevertheless, he urged his listeners to practice politics as gentlemen and to refrain from abusing, ridiculing, or maligning their opponents. The posture of superiority toward one’s political opposition is common, he noted, but unwise: “It is all angels on one side and devils on the other; swans and crows, upon the one side all unworthy citizens, upon the other all saints.”

The black and white, good and bad, distinction was indefensible, even unethical, according to Sastri. There must always exist opposing sides in order for there to be political

practice: “ … the essence of politics is that we should take different sides in order that by effective advocacy of both sides, the mean may be arrived at, truth may be served and the ends of justice be preserved; it is your duty to be on one side, it is the duty of the other man to be on the other side.” By marrying an affirmation of the golden mean to the idea that one’s political opponents are also responding to their dharma, Sastri hoped to civilize the political discourse of his time.

Importantly, his time was one of social and political upheaval. So, too, is ours.

Writing in The New Yorker after Obama’s 2012 reelection, Adam Gopnik described the president as “a man who never takes the bait of rage, who sometimes seeks conciliation to crazy fault … [A man who is] above all, calm, cool—not needy in any way, and that absence of neediness, that pervasive cool, which reads to even his admirers at times like a slight, ironic detachment from his own eloquence.”

Sastri, too, was mistaken for cold; his demand for moderation seemed like a crazy fault. But in his writing, he revealed a spirit we might imagine lives equally in Obama’s heart: “It is only my lifelong practice of self-control that cloaks the gnawings of my inmost being behind a blank expression of face.” ***

T

he politics don’t capture the poetry of the man. When I got married in 2011, and my then-fiancé and I were designing our interfaith Hindu-Jewish-Christian wedding, I found myself drawn again to Sastri’s shadow.

In the archives, I located a collection of his letters, including a number written to his daughter, Rukmini. One letter, written in 1916, moved me most deeply as a testament to the power and beauty of a richly observed life: “By good luck it was full moon yesterday.

We went again after ten o’clock and it was a glorious heavenly sight, bathed in the moonlight. We gazed on it from near, admiring the blend of the many-coloured stones and their marvelous brilliance as they playfully threw back the moon’s beams. Then we withdrew to a distance and tried each in his own way to realize the perfection of art which harmonized into one divine whole so many varied charms.

Long we stayed on the grounds. When we went, there was a thick mist and we had great misgivings, but the moon in her meridian power seemed to conquer all obstacles and shone proudly on the Taj which smiled and glowed in answering triumph.

“You must see it once, I’ll show it to you, I promise.”

Searching for the spirit of the vows I would offer, I channeled Sastri’s voice. n Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan is a doctoral candidate in Rhetoric at the University of California, Berkeley. india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 7

IC

forum

Should We Prioritize STEM Majors?

Rameysh Ramdas

Mani Subramani

Yes, STEM majors should be prioritized

No, STEM majors should not be prioritized

n the increasingly technology driven innovation world of today, our nation is losing its competitive edge to countries like China, India and Brazil who are far outpacing the United States in terms of the number of college graduates majoring in STEM (science, technology, engineering and math). According to the U.S. Education Dashboard, the percentage of bachelor’s degrees with STEM majors in the United States was lower in 2008–09 (24.2 percent) than it was in 1998–99 (25.6 percent). A report by the President’s Council of Advisors on Science and Technology says that if the United States is to maintain our global competiveness, we will need to increase the number of students with STEM degrees by 34% annually over current rates. A report from Accenture in July 2012, estimated that in China over 40% of college graduates had STEM degrees while the figure was even higher at 50% in Singapore. The report also goes on to predict that by 2016, Brazil will produce more engineering Ph.D.s than the United States each year.

A recent study by Georgetown University finds that “Following architecture with the highest unemployment rates are non-technical majors, such as the arts (11.1%), humanities and liberal arts (9.4%) and social science (8.1%). In the humanities and liberal arts alone, unemployment is the highest among English, Philosophy, Religious Studies, Anthropology and U.S. History majors.” Obviously, there is a skill mismatch between the graduates we produce and what the industry needs today.

To meet the shortage, Congress has established programs like the H1B visa to import critical skills. Yet, these are band aid solutions and cannot replace the value we will gain as a nation from having a stable pipeline of native STEM talent.

College tuition and shrinking government college aid programs are hurting the ability of middle class families to send their kids to college to graduate in these disciplines. We currently disburse our precious college aid regardless of the chosen discipline. We do not differentiate STEM majors who are more critically needed from majors in Liberal Arts. It is time to target our aid dollars just to STEM majors so that we get better returns on our investment in areas critical to our national interests.

A task force created by the Governor in Florida recommends a novel approach—that universities freeze tuition rates for three years for STEM degrees while increasing the tuition for other non-critical majors like psychology, political science, anthropology, and performing arts because they have fewer job prospects in the state of Florida.

This could serve as a national model where we target our educational subsidies to those majors that are deemed in short supply or critical to maintain our global competiveness.

If we do not address the STEM crisis, our corporations will be forced to create jobs where the talent is in abundant supply, and that will not be in the United States. This is a matter of ensuring our economic national security. n

ind a job you love and you will never work a day, so the saying goes. When I immigrated to the United States, the career choices in India were limited to Engineering, Medicine or Commerce. Everything else was regarded as untenable. It seems today in America we seem to be trending similarly.

Monthly Labor Review published by the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) in May 2011 did a comprehensive analysis of STEM (science technology engineering and math) jobs in 2009. In all, 97 different STEM based occupations were identified spanning the gamut from Pharmacist to Bio-physicist to Computer Programmers. The average annual income of these jobs was a whopping $77,880 compared to $43,460 for all jobs.

Yet another study by the U.S. Department of Commerce projects a growth rate in STEM employment that is twice that of non-STEM employment. That’s the good news. The reality is that only 6% of the jobs are based on STEM. Of the hundreds of geographical areas surveyed by BLS only six locations including the Bay Area had greater than 15% STEM related employment. There is no question that the growth of the U.S. economy and the world economy depends on fundamental discoveries in science and technology. But the statistics paint a reality where a vast majority of employment is of the non-STEM category and will continue to be.

While it is important to encourage STEM education, it is critical to not ignore the other nonscience and technology based education.

Non-STEM employment pays less and will probably continue to do so. Education policy needs to address this paradigm in a sane manner. A gifted pianist is no less important than a gifted engineer.

A particularly odious idea from Governor Rick Scott of Florida is to subsidize STEM education with the non-science majors paying for it with increased fees. So not only are the salaries for non-science graduates lower, they will have to pay more to get the degree! This policy is narrow minded, un-imaginative and projects a zero-sum thinking that must be rejected.

A balanced approach is needed where the costs of receiving a college education is addressed especially for non-science majors commensurate with the expected salary following these degrees. Coaxing students to adopt STEM degrees could be as counter-productive as asking an engineer to master painting. It is much better to encourage science and math education at the elementary level so that an analytical basis is established for the arts disciplines.

There are many successful people in public life who are not trained in math and science. Artists, writers, entertainers, politicians, business and religious leaders add great value to society without solving differential equations. The last engineer who was President of the United States was Herbert Hoover. n

Rameysh Ramdas, an SF Bay Area professional, writes as a hobby.

Mani Subramani works in the semi-conductor industry in Silicon Valley.

I

It is time to target our aid dollars just to STEM majors so that we get better returns on our investment in areas critical to our national interests.

8 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

F

While it is important to encourage STEM education, it is critical to not ignore the other non-science and technology based education.

ENROLLING NOW

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 9

List, Vist

As the year end issue, we decided to make this cover story a scrapbook of lists, brief conversations, short responses and quirky comments, culled and mined from you, our generous readers.

Ten Commandments For Seniors

The Cutest Things Kids Say

Politically Correct?

Dead—Living Impaired Fat—Horizontally Gifted Plagiarism—Previously Owned Prose

Star children who should NOT be in movies 1. Treat your children as grown ups, educated adults and not as children any more. Treat your daughter-in-law and son-inlaw like your own children.

2. Never give advice unless asked for.

3. Never ask them about their financial status.

4. Even if you know they are in need of financial help, do not offer it unless in some way they indicate.

5. Never mention to them that you did this or that for them. What you did was your duty.

6. Never interfere in the personal life between husband and wife.

7. Allow them to bring up their children the way they wish to do. You did so when you had your turn.

8. If your children follow the tradition and festivals of the country they live in, do not question or criticize them for it.

9. Be as independent as possible and try not to depend on them.

10. Take care of your health and do light exercise or walking.

—Mani Iyer

Top Ten Books of 2012

Beyond the Beautiful Forevers: Katherine Boo Little America: Rajiv Chandrasekaran The Beautiful and the Damned: Siddhartha Deb Aerogrammes: Tania James India Becoming: Akash Kapur Ruins of Empire: Pankaj Mishra I Am an Executioner: Rajesh Parameswaran The Folded Earth: Anuradha Roy Joseph Anton: Salman Rushdie Narcopolis: Jeet Thayil

—Rajesh Oza

Riya Sen (oh please!)

Rinke Khanna Shadaab Khan

O

ut and about with my Little One yesterday. We spotted one of his schoolmates biking down our street.

“Oh, Amma!” he said. I knew exciting news was coming. “She’s the fastest runner at our school!” I shared that her brother had been the fastest runner at the high school, too. “There must be a bit of genetics at play,” I said. “They come from a running family.” “So...we come from a ‘thinking’ family?” he posed. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” I snickered, being a loooong way from athletic. “Well then, I have one thing to tell you, Amma,” he said. “You’d better hope it’s Mind over Matter!”

Uday Chopra Alia Bhatt “Meemo”

D

riving home with my Little One, we happened upon a cool looking convertible, just one lane over from us. “I wonder what kind it is,” I mused. We got the chance to find out as we passed by. “Oh, it’s an Audi covertible,” I said. My Little One turns to me with a sly grin, and quips, “An Audi covertible? Would that be the opposite of an Innie convertible?”

—Matangi Rajamani

—Lisa Tsering

Uday Chopra

Rinke Khanna, Uday Chopra, Tanisha Mukherjee

—Ishita Verma

Rinke Khanna

“

Bye!” I hollered, as I made my way out the door. Little One comes running, “Wait, wait ... you’re leaving?” “Yeah,” I said, as I reached down to give him a hug. “No, no ... come here,” he said, as he walked over to the kitchen stool.

He teetered precariously on the bottom rungs, spread his arms, and commanded, “Now!” He proceeded to give me a big bear hug while gleefully proclaiming, “Pretty soon, this is how it will be all the time! You’re gonna be the shortest one in the house.” I don’t care ... as long as bear hugs are still part of the deal.

Matangi Rajamani is a clinical extrovert and lives with her husband and three sons in Cupertino, CA. 10 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

—Alka Ramchandani

Riya Sen

Abhishek Bachchan, Bobby Deol, Fardeen Khan, Nitin Mukesh, Arjun Kapoor,

—Maria Nunes

Abhishek Bachchan

Our Most Popular Articles in 2012 Finding Youth in a Retirement Home

By Lakshmi Mani—November Mind it, Pundit By Kalpana Mohan— September Growing Older By the Golden Gate

By Kalpana Mohan—March When in Rome By Matangi Rajamani— April

Excuses that make you mad!

Hinglish Vinglish Let me revert back to you on the same after I have done the needful.

Please leave your number behind.

My nephew is passing out as a proper convent educated now.

He never bunked school. You know he got into this school without any pull.

—Prakash Narayan

I was watching TV.

I did not check my email.

I lost your phone number.

—Ishita Verma I didn’t know I was supposed to do it.

I’m not sure.

I didn’t have time.

—Raji Lukkoor I overslept.

I misplaced it.

—Vishal Kumar I’m tired.

I’m lazy.

I can’t do it.

—Alka Ramchandani I’m sick.

Family emergency.

Something came up.

—Tushar Kumar I forgot.

I didn’t know.

It was an accident.

I didn’t mean to do it.

—Namita Kumar

Favorite Restaurants

Umbria (Italian)—San Francisco; Sens (Mediterranean)—San Francisco Saravana Bhavan (Indian)—Sunnyvale

—Alka Ramchandani

Amarin Thai (Thai)—Mountain View Maria Maria (Mexican)—Danville Reb Robin Gourmet Burgers (American)

I’ll give you one tight slap!

Where are you put up?

She is in the family way.

This is my most favorite pet peeve.

Even I do not mind working hard.

—Jaya Padmanabhan

Let us go have a fag.

After the order at a fast food place: Question “For here or to go?”

Answer “ok.”

—Sarvesh Mahesh

Tube light.

Mention not.

Do the needful.

— Lisa Tsering

He has gone out of station.

—Raji Lukkoor

Just timepass, yaar!

Tell me!

—Rekha Giridhar

He correctly only did it.

—Meera

“Wanted—Milky white girl”—in matrimonial ads.

I will give you a tinkle.

“Hum nervasa gaye the.”

—Ishita Verma

For what purpose you need this?

Please come visit sometimes.

Thanks God! —Ramesh

—Tushar Kumar

Evvia (Greek)—Palo Alto Chez Panisse (Californian)—Berkeley The Plumed Horse (Californian)— Saratoga —Ishita Verma

Deepak Chopra’s 5 Favorite Destinations Delhi (Lodhi Gardens), Hrishikesh, Haridwar, Jerusalem, Sedona (Arizona) —Submitted by Rujul Pathak

Three Fates (A Prose Poem)

By Dilnavaz Bamboat

W

e sit at a table crowded with spiced, steaming tea cups, a study in diversity.

One whose bronzed, gleaming skin carries tales of her ocean-framed ancestors. Another, pale, fair, with whispers of ancient Persia in her veins, and the third, of the same people, her bloodline mapping the landscape of two great nations.

Between us, live roots and displacement.

Among us, rock movements and plane rides and boat journeys from 1200 years ago. We are of people who have shifted. Whose sensibilities and histories have shifted. People who once belonged, then belonged again, spun in cycles of precarious identity. Ripped from their homeland by threat, under duress and desire to build a life beyond living.

Around this table covered in cheap formica we sit, the Buddhist from Colombo, the Parsis from Karachi and Bombay, who have known other lands as rank strangers, then intimately, as a secret shared on a one night stand. We congregate our beings around disposable cups of chai and unleash our stories.

Time, it melts away. We jump off a cliff in the 10th century, swing past invasions, conversions, and long bloody, migrations, crash land into civil war and hurried overnight departures, past the smell of burning flesh and singed spirits, yank and sow roots stripped to rawness, touchdown in subcontinental cities where lineage marched to a temporary tune, then continent-hop over to Africa, to North America, the luckiest among us belonging only to two places, now gathered here in these cities around the Bay, where a microclimate, a microculture, a microuniverse of one can safely exist.

Turning around in unison, we nod to our waiting ancestors. It’s alright, we say, you survived, and then revert to the vapors rising out of our drinks, to punctuate our sagas with a period.

Through the hollows of their eyes, Fate stands silently by, eraser in hand, knowing her day will come again. 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.

Palindromes Amma Naan Malayalam Dammit I’m Mad india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 11

Our Most Popular Cover Stories in 2012 v

Undocumented, Unapologetic, Unafraid By Prerna Lal—March

v

The Great Indian Journey By Preston Merchant—April

v

Framed for Success By Arpit Mehta—August

Insults We’ve Thought Of But Never Uttered

Out of office Responses

During the meeting, please put your mobile phone in Manmohan Singh mode.

You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn’t receive any response at all.

—Sanjay Mathur

Oh, I see you liked your first chin so much, you added two more.

Do you have to leave so soon? I was just about to poison the tea.

—Ishita Verma

—willnevergrowup.blogspot.com

I will be unable to delete all the unread emails you send me until I return from holiday. Please be patient and your e-mail will be deleted in the order it was received.

—willnevergrowup.blogspot.com

You’re airplane-friendly (short)

—Alka Ramchandani

Our Most Popular Issues in 2012

Remark: You Speak English so well.

Retort: So Do You! —Sudha

Best Dog Breeds Shiba Inu Australian toy shepherd Labrador

Dear Humanoid, Corporate Entity or Spammer that just e-mailed me: ... please note that the subject of this auto-response e-mail, “Vacation Reply,” is woefully inaccurate, since I’m not on vacation but hard at work as usual, but of course thanks to Microsoft’s usual idiotic bureaucratic Kafkaesque Byzantine user-hostile way of doing things, there’s no way to create a custom subject line for autoresponses. Thank you for your understanding.

—Dan

—Jitin Hingorani

Chitra Divakaruni’s 3 Favorite Opening Passages 1. Denis Johnson—Jesus’ son, a collection of stories. (From Car Crash While Hitchhiking)

A

salesman who shared his liquor and steered while sleeping ... A Cherokee filled with bourbon ... A VW no more than a bubble of hashish fumes, captained by a college student ... And a family from Marshalltown who head-onned and killed forever a man driving west out of Bethany, Missouri ... I rose up sopping wet from sleeping under the pouring rain, and something less than conscious, thanks to the first three of the people I’ve already named—the salesman and the Indian and the student—all of whom had given me drugs. At the head of the entrance ramp I waited without hope of a ride. What was the point, even, of rolling up my sleeping bag when I was too wet to be let into anybody’s car? I draped it around me like a cape. The downpour raked the asphalt and gurgled in the ruts. My thoughts zoomed fully. The traveling salesman had fed me pills that made the linings of my veins feel scraped out. My jaw ached. I knew every raindrop by its name. I sensed everything before it happened.

I knew a certain Oldsmobile would stop for me even before it slowed, and by the sweet voices of the family inside it I knew we’d have an accident in the storm.

12 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

2. Shilpi Somaya Gowda— Secret Daughter

S

he came to the abandoned hut at dusk, without a word to anyone, when she felt the first unmistakable pulls deep within her. It is vacant, except for the mat on which she now lies, knees drawn up to her chest. As the next wave of pain shudders through her body, Kavita digs her nails into clenched palms and bites down on the tree branch between her teeth. Her breathing is heavy but even as she waits for the tightness to ease in her swollen belly. She steadies her gaze on the pale yellow shadow on the mud f loor, cast by a flickering oil lamp, her sole company in the dark hours of night. She has been trying to muffle her cries until it is unbearable to do so anymore. Soon, she knows, with the urge to push, her screams will beckon the village midwife. She prays the baby is born before dawn, for her husband rarely awakens before sunrise. It is the first of only two prayers Kavita dares to have for this child, wary of asking too much from the gods.

3. T.C. Boyle—San Miguel

S

he was coughing, always coughing, and sometimes she coughed up blood.

The blood came in a fine spray, plucked from the fibers of her lungs and pumped full of air as if it were perfume in an atomizer. Or it rose in her mouth like a hot metallic syrup, burning with the heat inside her till she spat it into the porcelain pot and saw the bright red clot of it there like something she’d given birth to, like afterbirth, but then what would she know about it since she’d never conceived, not with James, her first husband, and not with Will either. She was thirty-eight years old and she’d resigned herself to the fact that she would never bear a child, not in this lifetime. When she felt weak, when she hemorrhaged and the pain in her chest was like a medieval torture, like the peine forte et dure in which the torturer laid one stone atop the other till your ribs cracked and your heart stalled, she sometimes felt she wouldn’t even live to see the year out.

Chitra Divakaruni teaches Creative Writing at the Univ. of Houston. Her latest novel is the international bestseller One Amazing Thing. 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.

Celebrity Tweets If you had to choose a different career, what would that be?

Chinmayi Spripada (Playback singer, singing p re d o m i n a n t l y i n Ta m i l , Malayalam, Kannada, Telugu and Tulu): I didnt give that choice to life :) its either this or nothing.

Manoj Bajpayee (Indian film actor known for playing offbeat, unconventional roles): Pata nahi mere bhai!

Priya Anand (Model and Indian film actress has appeared in Tamil and Telugu films): I’d work for a Non Profit Organisation.

Vishal Dadlani (Hindi playback singer and Music Director): I don’t do “lifestyle” pieces. So, no, but thanks.

Kartik Murali (Former Indian cricketer): Genetic engineer Sonu Nigam (Playback singer): I wntd 2 b a pilot in childhood & beside being singer, wntd 2b an astronaut Neil Nitin Mukesh (Indian film actor): Honestly I can’t think of anything but the creative field.

Painter, pianist, photographer, something. Some form of art.

A g a m D a r s h i (England born actress based in Canada): Photographer, naturalpath. working for an NGO in Africa ...

Favorite Cocktail?

Dileep Rao (Hollywood actor who has appeared in Avatar and Inception): Manhattan, dirty vodka martini, old fashioned and Juliet & Romeo Jaaved Jaaferi (Indian actor): TEETOTALLER dude

Taapsee Pannu (Indian film actress): Don’t Drink.

These are a Few of My Favorite Things Mehendi

O

n random and completely spontaneous occasions, my mother buys mehendi from the Indian grocery store. Usually, when she does, we drop everything we are doing just so we can pry open the package, smell the greenish brown powder, mix it with water, and draw delicate and intricate patterns on our hands.

My sister and I have a competition over whose mehendi turns out darker, while my mom reminisces about the days when she and her two other sisters would labor over the art of applying mehendi. She tells us stories about how she and her sisters would pluck fresh leaves from a henna tree in their grandfather’s farm, grind it, and use the paste to decorate each other’s hands.

The three of us can sit for hours talking about our day, making jokes, all while holding a tube of mehendi. For me it connects me to my heritage, and helps me bond with my family.

—Shilpa Venigandla, senior, Los Altos H.S.

I

My Box of Bindis

remember my childhood filled with pink, glitter and glamor. When I was five years old, my closet shelf housed a tower of bangles, bracelets, earrings and necklaces, and on top, like the glittering, luminescent star on a Christmas tree, there it was—my pretty Indian rectangular jewelry box painted with a dark haired maiden containing a jumble of sticker packs of colorful bindis.

Every Sunday, before heading to dance class, I would view my pretty maiden, open the lid to my box of bindis and spend precious minutes trying to decide which one to wear.

Showcasing it during dance class, I'd refuse to take it off after. Even after I changed into my everyday clothes, my bindi would stubbornly sit on my forehead.

Sadly, these days, when I open my closet, I rarely feel that same enthusiasm I once had. Now, all I have are the memories of that eagerness as I rushed to open my bursting box.

Now empty, this box and its colorful contents, seem larger in my memories.

—Kavya Padmanabhan, junior, Gunn H.S.

F

with Shahrukh Khan, laugh with Salman Khan, and dance with Katrina Kaif. When my Caucasian friends watch Hindi movies, they view it as being “full of pretty outfits” and “so many colors,” but I see the beauty within all these colors. As an Indian in America, I feel a special connection to my roots when I watch these films. Inherent in these films are some deeply-rooted cultural values.

When I see a child happily spending time with his or her family, I feel as though I need to bond with my own family. When I watch the traditional Diwali or Holi festivals played out, I feel as though I owe it to my heritage to celebrate our traditions. The Bollywood industry has more than just “pretty colors” and “hot actors”—it embodies value, culture, and all that goes along with being Indian.

—Simran Devidasani, senior, Monta Vista H.S.

Favorite Hindi movies Mohabbatein, Dil To Pagal Hai Kuch Kuch Hota Hai —Vishal Kumar Maine Pyar Kiya Amar Akbar Anthony Namak Halal —Alka Ramchandani Veer Zaara Mohabbatein Dil To Pagal Hai —Tushar Kumar Sholay Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge Hum Aapke Hain Koun —Namita Kumar

Caravan Hare Rama Hare Krishna Sholay —Ramesh P Silsila Parineeta 3 idiots

—Ishita Verma

Bollywood Dreams

rom the seven-shot slap—a slap being shown from seven angles—to the crazy dance numbers where everyone seems conveniently synchronized, I thoroughly indulge in this on-screen fictional world. I cry

Barfi!

Ek Tha Tiger Zindagi Na Milege Dobara —Jitin Hingorani india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 13

IC

opinion

Shoba Narayan

What is Home, Anyway?

H

ome: a word filled with loss and longing. Snatches of music bring to mind a mother’s song. Smells in restaurants conjure up a kitchen back home. A face in a crowd looks like a relative. Birthdays, anniversaries and other milestones bring guilty reminders of aging parents and the relentless march of time. A tug of war between two cultures—New York or New Delhi, San Francisco or Santo Domingo, Toledo or Taipei. A competition between countries with no clear winner; a championship game for the title of “Home.”

When I was an immigrant in America, “home” for me was a mélange of memories that had softened with time into a happy haze, like an Impressionist painting. There were people in this painting: iconic figures like my grandmother, dead and gone long enough to be elevated to the status of a benevolent ancestor. There were others who remained like my parents, in-laws, aunts and uncles, slowed by age but resolute nonetheless, with laugh lines and worry warts, marking a life lived with character and charm; wit and wisdom. There were physical places and wideopen spaces. Most delightful of all were the scents and tastes of childhood—the fragrance of blooming night jasmine, dew wobbling on a lotus leaf, tinkling cowbells, shrieking parrots, the taste of cilantro, cumin and ginger—all of which imbued me with a powerful longing for the land that is called India, but which I call home.

My own relationship with the two countries I have called “home” is complicated. My love for India is one that a child feels for her mother, albeit a chaotic, unwieldy, harassed mother who doles out exuberant affection and unpleasant surprises in equal measure.

My admiration for America is what one feels for a perfect, if emotionally detached, father—part hero-worship, part reproach. I respect many things about America, and therefore hold it to very high standards. I expect it to be more moral and more just than other nations. When it perpetrates or even tolerates injustice, I am crushed. Because I put America on a pedestal, it sometimes falls short.

Because I take India for granted, it sometimes surprises me pleasantly. India’s unchanging ways frustrate me. America’s impenetrable core flummoxes me. I can’t escape India, but America sometimes escapes me.

The problem for immigrants like me is 14 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

that we are equally at ease in two disparate cultures and, therefore, fit into neither. We belong to both countries, yet choose neither.

Most of us end up in a no-man’sland, neither here nor there, in an angst-filled limbo.

We remain immigrants forever, unlike our forefathers who swore allegiance to one nation due to political or economic repression.

In generations past, life in the old country was a struggle. Immigrants to America were fleeing revolutions that stripped them of title and property and threatened their life and liberty. They were the pregnant women who threw themselves on boats, willing to submit to raging seas and the risk of drowning, just so that they were afforded the opportunity to be rescued by the US coastguard—and their babies, the right of US citizenship. They were the desperate refugees who begged, borrowed and paid their entire life savings to visa agents, only to be told that they should flush all their papers down the airline toilet and land in America uttering two words, “political asylum.”

My path to America did not involve anything as drastic as jumping fences, crossing borders in the middle of the night, or overstaying a tourist visa and slipping into the shadow world of illegal immigrants for years on end. Mine is not a tale populated by bloodthirsty dictators, rampant epidemics, boat people, barking dogs and blood-smeared fences. I am neither a political exile nor an economic refugee. I went to America merely

as a student seeking opportunities. Yet, I believe that my journey is emblematic of countless others. My dilemmas reflect those of many an immigrant today.

What is home, anyway? Is it a place, a person, or merely a fleeting memory? Can one ever go back home or is such a trip fraught with disappointment? I didn’t know the answers when I began asking these questions and perhaps, there is no one answer to questions so individual. Along the way, I found no universal truth, no personal path to salvation. But in the meantime, I discovered many things — about life and loss, about risking it all and making do, and about my place in the world.

This is what I found out. This is my journey. ***

S

o there I was in Sunnyvale, surrounded

by Indians, chewing a paan and driving a

Dodge Caravan down El Camino Real with and old friend, Midnight. I was restless at the start of my pregnancy’s second trimester. My daughter, Ranjini had school vacations and the August sun was mellow and warm. What better place than sunny California to take a family vacation?

Strip malls lined the road and every one of them had at least a couple of Indian shops.

Sari-clad ladies ambled through parking lots.

Bollywood music throbbed out of open car windows. Every second car was a minivan filled with faces that looked just like mine.

Harker, one of the top private schools in the Bay Area, boasted a one-third Indian population. Restaurants serving not just Indian food, but regional Indian cuisine, did roaring business. Naaz, an Indian multiplex drew a devoted crowd on Friday nights and weekends.

No wonder my New York garage attendant, Chris’s cousin, Johnny, suggested that I move to the Bay Area. Not only could I run for mayor here, I could win. But I hadn’t moved; I was just visiting.

T

here are two ways to be an Indian in the United States—one is to live in the Bay Area, and the other is to live anywhere else.

The two are completely different. I know this because I have cousins who live in the Bay Area and have visited them dozens of times in the last decade. The difference is this: Indians in the Bay Area have the luxury of socializing with their own kind. Not just other Indians, but Indians who come from their state, city and community; Indians who speak their particular dialect.

Although the rest of the world lumps us as one nation, we Indians are not very cohesive.

An Indian from Kerala has very little in common with someone from Delhi, for example.

They speak different languages, eat different foods, practice different politics, and may be of differing religions. Even their sense of humor is different. For Indians abroad, such distinct regional differences are awkward and unwieldy. They prevent us from becoming a cohesive diaspora. When I meet Indians at a party, I am conscious that we are from the same nation. But I am also conscious that we are from different regions. After a couple of beers, the differences become even more pronounced. Sardarji (Sikhs wearing turbans) jokes are traded; stereotypes fly; and lips are curled.

“Oh, he is just a baniya from Rajori Garden,” a friend remarked about a well-known skinflint. That was all that we needed to hear in order for us to peg the guy perfectly.

We knew the type. We had stereotypes for every community: Sindhis were mercenary; Bengalis, pretentious; Punjabis, ostentatious; Gujaratis, practical; and Tamilians, bookish.

Each of us dismissed each other with a “Saala, Madrasi hai,” or “What else can you expect from coarse Punjabis?”

In the Bay Area, because the Indian popu-

lation is so huge, the community can afford to form microcosms. The Punjabis can hang out with other Punjabis while the Tamilians, with others like them.

Indians in the Bay Area have it good, I thought with a touch of envy. Through sheer numbers, they were able to command Indian services that would have been unthinkable anywhere else in America. Even the local pizza parlor, Cicero’s, served up a sauce that was extra spicy and more suited to the Indian palate. Indian bazaars were as prolific as the minivans on El Camino Real. Women in Sunnyvale or Saratoga had no qualms about wearing Indian clothes—saris or churidars— on the streets or to the mall. They exuded the confidence and complacency that came from belonging to a well-respected majority.

While I envied this, it also bothered the mother in me. On the one hand, I too wanted my kids to have a healthy dose of Indian contact so that they wouldn’t feel like a weird minority. Yet, on the other, I had gained a lot by exposing myself to America. American meritocracy had unearthed talents that I didn’t know I possessed. My latent interest in art and writing had been encouraged to flourish. A number of Americans had taken me into their homes and gone out on a limb for me. They had touched my life in ways that were fleeting and profound. I wanted Ranjini to experience all that too. I wanted her to have a strong Indian identity, yet learn all the good American values. Was it possible?

T

he bottom line was that there was no easy way to be an Indian in America. There were too many equally viable choices, too many ways of being “Indian-American,” whatever that was. You could socialize just with “your own kind” as my grandfather would say, and as many did in Sunnyvale, and still be okay and thrive in America. Or you could stay away from your countrymen and still have a fine life. The problem was that there were no norms, no social mores that dictated lifestyle and behavior like there were in India. The same choices that were exhilarating when I was young became unwieldy when I became a mother and searched for the “right way” to do things. In America, there was no right and wrong. It was all about personal choice, and sometimes, it was all too much.

But choice was not all that America was about. When I had been a teenager in India, I had associated America with McDonald’s, James Bond, fast cars, and glittering shops.

Only after living here for years and years, only after I had thrown myself into its midst did I really understand the true values of American society. America had dared me to dream in broad swathes rather than miniscule points.

It had taught me self-reliance—I didn’t panic like my mother did if the maid didn’t show up. I could clean bathrooms, fix a flat tire and cook my own food, thank you very much.

I had been mugged one dark night outside

Stamford Mall by a young African-American teenager who pulled my handbag away from me as I walked to the parking lot with my friend, Sophie Constandaki. I had cut off my finger in an Osterizer, climbed many mountains and mastered American slang. After all this, I felt that I could, in effect, handle anything.

A

s a nation, America treated foreigners better than most others. It wasn’t perfect.

Many immigrants in America faced prejudice, but Ram, my husband, was right—it was the least imperfect of all systems. My aunt had lived in Singapore for years but still could not own an apartment there because she was not Singaporean. Many of my cousins had immigrated to the Gulf countries like Abu Dhabi and Kuwait, but had stringent restrictions imposed on their monetary investments because they were not natives. In contrast, America had denied me almost nothing because I was a foreigner. I had gone from being a young girl with a suitcase and very little cash to a middle-aged mother with an awful lot of possessions. I could own a home, invest money, and indulge in most, if not all, activities.

It had been good to me, this nation of 300 million people, just as it had been good to the Silicon Valley Indians who arrived as nervous students and ended up as entrepreneursturned-millionaires. Yet many, if not most of them, worked in American companies, bought local products and then retreated into a world that was unequivocally Indian. They combined American comfort with Indian culture. The best of both worlds, they said, and it was hard to argue with that. Had I lived in the Silicon Valley, I could see myself falling into the comfort and convenience of doing just that. However, what was the point of living in America but shunning its culture? What was the point of living in America but socializing just with Tam Brahms?

The older the Indian community, the more separate these worlds became. I had observed this in Midnight’s wife, Nina’s father.

The intervening years had turned him into a rabid Hindu who frequently and vociferously preached the superiority of all things Indian.

Her brother, Anand, on the other hand, had drifted further and further into the American world. Father and son had become like separate planets orbiting around each other but inhabiting parallel universes.

I got pulled into one of those universes, quite by accident. n The article above was excerpted from the book, Return to India by Shoba Narayan. It was published by Rain Tree in India in October.” Shoba Narayan is a freelance journalist, writer, author and columnist based in India. She writes about food, travel, fashion, art and culture for many publications. Her new book: Return to India is available on Amazon and on Kindle. http:// shobanarayan.com/ india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 15

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The author, Dipika Kohli, with her husband, Akira Morita

memoir

Dipika Kohli

The Phone Box at Ueno Park

N

ot until you are actually doing the rash thing, do you think about what’s next.

I’m talking about consequences. A whole avalanche.

When you’re in the mode of being young and irrational, you act out of passion.

That’s how I eloped to Ireland in 2000.

My friends in County Cork, Ireland, would say that was the “balls,” their words, about falling in love. I had been traveling alone prior to this to say goodbye to friends and family though they didn’t know it. I was 25 when I got to Ireland, fresh-faced, to join a young man I was more or less sure I wanted to marry.

(No, he isn’t Irish.)

I’d met Akira Morita in college, when I was a sophomore at North Carolina State in 1994.

We got together over t-shirt and poster design, and soon enough, people asked if we were “going out.” That sounded weird. We were just good friends, right? (Eighteen years later, we look at each other and go, “Is it weird being this ‘friend-y’ when we’re married and stuff?”

And we laugh.)

Thing is, I’d always known his Japanese passport made him unsuitable as a suitor, which was exactly what my parents said after he and I began reserving Friday nights to catch up.

I’d been studying Japanese. To get truly fluent—and hadn’t my parents trained me to aim for lofty goals, with tenacity and grit?—I needed to study abroad. A change of scenery always helped me think, and I welcomed a break from statics and dynamics classes at Mann Hall.

We boarded a plane bound for Narita together in the late summer of 1995. My parents didn’t know Akira would be heading over there with me. But neither had he. Visa regulations, he’d said in a midday call to my parents’ house to give me the news.

“Wait, I’m the one going to Japan,” I said.

He was quiet for a second, then replied, “I can show you around. You can meet my parents, too.”

A year together in the land of the Rising Sun, albeit in different cities, woke me up to the fact that yes, I did like this person, and I popped the question not long after that. My folks had signaled disinterest, on the whole.

We weren’t far enough along in life yet to know that when you do a thing like eloping,

16 • india currents • dec.’12 - jan. ’13

you make waves. Especially if your parents are the kind to hold grudges. Two of the four parents in our relevant matrimonial arrangements were. The two that were mine.

Yet, it came down to that phone booth, and telling my folks how it’d gone down. (It would be a moment I’d revisit a zillion times for the next eleven years, even writing a whole memoir—The Elopement—with this call as its crux.)

Rejecting social mores for something unknown, but something I’d trust with all my gut; that was hard. The promise of love. How much was too much to trade?

But I wouldn’t have done it any other way.

I love Akira, today more than ever, since we’ve been through things. Together. Life things.

I have never forgotten something that I read in an interview when I was probably still a tween, this sweet and romantic notion: “When it was our day,” went the quote, “we didn’t think about things so much. You just held the hand of someone you loved, and you looked over the edge of a cliff, and then you did it. You jumped.”

“Kokusai kopporu,” a waitress had said to us once before I had decided to jump. I’d wanted Akira to try palak paneer so we had found an Indian restaurant off Capital Boulevard in Raleigh. A Japanese woman, the waitress had winked and nodded at Akira and me.

She might even have been wearing a salwaar kameez as part of her work outfit there. “International couple,” she’d said. It made her happy. I was glad it made someone happy, and it gave me a sense of confidence that maybe we could pull this thing off after all.

I’d thought it would be nice to have some family around, so I insisted we get our marriage certificate in Japan, where Akira’s parents lived. We bought tickets that got us from Ireland to Tokyo in time to get married on 01-01-01, all very rushed and not too thought out. That’s how I wound up in Ueno Park, Tokyo, at a koshyudenwa, which means “public telephone.” If Clark Kent needed to change in a jiffy, this one’d be brilliant.

The phone box’s footprint is just a few square feet, but it is smack in the middle of the busiest place in the world I’ve ever been,

and that trumps Manhattan, London, Singapore, and even Delhi. Crosswalks of Ueno are more than a hundred feet wide, in X shapes, and Tokyoites slide into them like netted fish.

The box is at the bottom of a flight of stairs that carries you into a grassy park, which I was convinced was the best overlook in the world of several hundred trains shifting at once. You got to watch the regular commuter trains like the Yamanote line, or the Joban line disappearing into the Chiyoda subway tunnel, or the sleek magnetic Shinkansen (bullet train) skating on air all the way to Hokkaido or over to Kyuushu. (Much later I was to ride in the Shinkansen, on a solo pass all over the country, feeling closer to the place with each mile traversed). But what I loved most about Ueno were its park’s lotus blooms. Pink and purple, they felt like hope.

Besides shutting out the noise and smog, there was another thing about closing the door from inside the phone box that comforted me. I’d called my parents in North Carolina from this exact spot in the summer of 1996. That had been four and a half years before.

Back in ’96, I had got a summer internship at an architecture firm in Tokyo. I’d sent some fifty resume packets, and I had been glad to land the gig. But my parents hadn’t been happy that I had wanted to extend my stay. I’d called from that same phone box at Ueno Park to tell them I was going to do it anyways. Akira had been with me then too, standing just outside.

I’ve revisited a zillion times the exact moment when I dialed my parents’ number from this phone box in Ueno. I won’t spoil the story if you want to read it, but I’ll tell you it was a tough moment. What I heard that day told me that following my own path was the only way. I had to do it like that, or I wouldn’t, not ever. And who knew what that would lead to, the not doing the thing that your heart is tugging towards? n Dipika Kohli’s tips on dealing with intergenerational and intercultural “stuff ” are posted at http://www.kismuth.com/icurrents. Dipika is half of Design Kompany, which she runs with Akira Morita and their four year-old “boss.”

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 17

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books

Jeanne E. Fredriksen

Indelible Ink “A book is the only place in which you can examine a fragile thought without breaking it, or explore and explosive idea without fear it will go off in your face. It is one of the few havens remaining where a man’s mind can get both provocation and privacy.”—Edward P. Morgan, American journalist and writer

B

ooks make us feel, think, wonder, question, understand. The best linger, haunt, guide, tempt. Months, years later, a novel may steal into the reader’s consciousness with the recollection of a particular scene, passage, or even a bit of dialogue, a description, a revelation. Something, from a page once read, connects the reader to the moment.

When I find myself discussing or asking for recommendations of books, the talk invariably turns to why we booklovers gravitate toward novels. More often than not, the answer is, for entertainment and pleasure. I, too, often fall into that easy category. But even so, truth— sometimes hard truth—must be present in order to make the fiction credible, and within that truth, we discover the purpose of the book. The most compelling novels offer more than just a good story. They provide many

18 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

things, including reflection, enlightenment, instruction, remembrance, enrichment, connection, enhancement, introspection, surprise, empowerment, inspiration, education, reinforcement, or activation.

As I watched the recent election cycle unfold, four works of fiction that impacted me as a person prodded, tickled, and filled my mind. One novel inspired me as a woman. The second re-educated me about human awareness and understanding. The third reinforced my belief in the basic goodness of people. And the fourth persuaded me to answer its call to action.

The messages of these novels became doubly important during the months of political debates, campaigns, controversies.

Anita Nair’s Ladies Coupé (India Currents, August 2004) is a series of short stories in novel form representing women of different ages and circumstances. Because these stories are told within the privacy of a train car designated only for women, the characters’ honesty and frank reflection are enhanced. Akhila opens the conversation by saying, “… everyone tells me that no woman can live alone.” In response, each mother, sister, cousin, aunt travelling in the car shares her personal trials, tribulations, tragedies, triumphs. When women realize there is more to their lives than what they were given and have the strength to take their destinies into their own hands, the result is empowerment. Some of the women in Ladies Coupé did not reach their goals, but they embodied the spirit of trying. Others succeeded and became the women they longed to be.

Nair rejoices in the strength that women possess. Her confidence in the power of taking control is evident in her attitude toward her characters, the ordeals they face, and their ultimate decisions and outcomes. With recurring political discussions about women’s rights, the ladies of Ladies Coupé served as my inspiration to stay strong in the belief that rights, once granted, cannot and should not be eliminated.

The Groom to Have Been (India Currents, October 2008), Saher Alam’s potent debut novel, offers a lesson that, sadly, too many people still need to learn and of which others should be reminded. With 9/11 figuring into the setting, Groom is an important novel because it promotes three key elements required for the dissolution of prejudice: the need for human awareness; the necessity of understanding; and the importance of concrete knowledge when forming opinions or beliefs.

While Groom isn’t predominantly about the events of 9/11, its inclusion teaches how vital it is to be aware of the world outside of one’s personal space or comfort zone. It is fact that not all Muslims are Arabs and, conversely, not all Arabs are Muslims. This novel tells the story of Nasr, a Canadian Muslim of Indian origin, who happens to live and work in New York City at the time of the terrorist attacks.

Alam’s confident handling of such a delicate matter speaks firmly as a reminder that we must look before leaping, learn before instructing, and think before making ourselves heard. Each

Jeanne E. Fredriksen reads and writes from Wake Forest, North Carolina, where she is happily at work on her young adult novel.

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“The best of a book is not the thought which it contains, but the thought which it suggests; just as the charm of music swells not in the tones but in the echoes of our hearts.”—Oliver Wendell Holmes, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, 1902-1932.

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Merry Christmas

time a news cycle included someone’s demand for the President’s birth certificate or included another misguided declaration on the subject of his origins, I was reminded of Nasr and the turmoil he endured at the hands of the ignorant.

The 2012 election cycle also included myriad discussions pertaining to widespread partisanship. Interestingly enough, Roopa Farooki’s The Way Things Look to Me (India Currents, March 2012) lends itself to examination as an allegory regarding the importance of working together when there is dissent and self-absorption involved. Her novel illustrates the challenges of living with and caring for a sibling with Asperger’s Syndrome and Synesthesia, long-misunderstood conditions that are slowly becoming more recognized and, therefore, properly diagnosed.

Often, and in the case of Farooki’s book, one family member assumes the position of caregiver for a parent, a friend, a sibling, or some other relative. In fortunate cases, it is a matter of community in that caregiving.

Farooki’s poignant yet hopeful novel shows how a family breaks and subsequently finds

a way to weld itself back together. The story reinforced my belief and experience that every such family, no matter how perfect it may seem or diverse in its advantages/disadvantages, is due respect for whatever healing efforts it undertakes. By extension, the novel exemplifies the concept that when we work together, we can create a world of good even if it faces daily obstacles and tests of will. This goodness can be a family, a neighborhood, a community, a world—one in which politicians and political strategists can be included.

The novel that most intensely resonated with me was Thrity Umrigar’s The World We Found (India Currents, July 2012) and its focus on personal convictions: how they affect a person and the world over time; how the convictions may change; and how they may change a person. During the election cycle, it reminded me that while no one is static, neither stagnation nor superficial changeability is acceptable.

In the novel, Umrigar presents a group of 50 year olds, once close college friends who engaged in political debate and activism. The question posed throughout the story is: How do their actions, decisions, and beliefs of 30 years ago square with their lives today? Over the course of the novel, they are forced to reconcile the world they once fought for with the world in which they now live. When one member of the group reveals that she is dying and wishes to see her friends one last time, each character begins a journey of self-inventory and self-evaluation. As a reader, I was not exempt from joining them.

So many issues bombarded the airwaves, populated the written word, and infected even casual conversation over the course of the past year that it was an indispensable exercise to revisit my once and future beliefs. I stepped back to the late 1960s, when I was a senior in high school, deeply involved in the “Let Us Vote” campaign to lower the voting age to 18. From there, I moved forward through and scrutinized where I had been, where I am now, and where I might go with regard to the trinity of political, economic, and social convictions.

I was, for the most part, pleased with my personal assessment, and I rejoiced in the truth one character earnestly states in The World We Found: “… we never have to settle for things as they were …” n

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Swapna Krishna Lovin

A Maoist Musing WALKING WITH THE COMRADES by Arundhati Roy. Penguin Books, 2011. 240 pages. Hardcover $10.20

I

n Western countries such as the United States, Arundhati Roy is best known as the Man Booker Prize-winning author of The God of Small Things, a semi-autobiographical novel which won Roy critical and commercial success. In India, though, Roy is known for something else entirely: her political career. No, Roy isn’t a politician, but she has become the spokesperson of various social causes around India. While she has declined the opportunity to write any more fiction, she has authored two essay collections and, most recently, Walking With the Comrades, a non-fiction exposé of the Indian government’s secret war against its Communist citizens.

Walking with the Comrades is styled as an introductory piece on the Communist, or Naxalite movement in north-eastern India.

It’s not written for those familiar with the situation; instead, its function is to draw attention to a situation that Indian officials are trying to sweep under the rug. The book is

Submissions not following these guidelines will be automatically disqualified Entrants will not be notified.

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designed to attract international outcries, and in that, it succeeds. With her beautiful, poetic prose, Roy writes of rape and murder, of human rights violations and attempted genocide.

Anyone acting against the established Indian government is generally labeled a Maoist and considered a threat against the state; it draws haunting parallels to the profiling that occurs in the United States after 9/11.

To obtain her story, Roy marched alongside Maoists, risking her own life to shine the light on the sad ones they live. These are people without access to basic medical care, education, or even clean water. “Can starving people go on a hunger strike?” Roy asks. And all for what?

To defend India’s tribal people against the corporations who seek to strip mine the breadth of the land. According to Roy, these companies will stop at nothing —including genocide—in order to obtain the resources India’s mountains and forests offer.

Not only does the government refuse to stop them, but it’s helping them in their quest.

Because the government has turned against its people, it’s left to the Maoists to defend these helpless denizens against those who would displace, or even worse, murder them.

That’s not to say the Maoists are absolutely guiltless—the only method they really have to fight back is violence, which they use to the best of their ability. Of course, they are outmatched and outgunned; the corporations have no qualms about killing them, and often exert the enough control over the local police to from contest.

Disqualified make them do their bidding. But it’s here that Roy’s account suffers. From the beginning, it’s clear where her sympathies lie. While this is presented as an objective account of the Maoist movement, to put it quite simply, it’s not. It’s well-written, engaging, and very well-presented, but the author is clearly biased against the current Indian government and supports the Maoist movement. That’s not to say she’s wrong in her conclusions, just that the book would have functioned more effectively if it had been presented as an independent account.

In the end, the book delivers details of a broader fight that has been happening in India for decades, as has also happened around the world. For a capitalistic, world economy, industrialization is good. But the human cost must be taken into account. When is the price too high? Roy argues that full-on industrialization isn’t necessarily the best way forward for India.

Whether you agree with her or not, she makes very clear that India’s progress is damaging to her people, her environment and her culture. After reading this book, it’s difficult to see it any other way. Her account is eyeopening, at times jaw-dropping, and disturbing, but it’s well worth reading. If you’re interested in the issues facing modern-day India, Walking With the Comrades is not to be missed. n Swapna Krishna Lovin has worked as a freelance writer, editor, and blogger since 2008.

katha

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Title of Story: Word Count: Name: Address: Email Address: Payment Method: (Check or Paypal) Payment Transaction ID: (Check Number and Date or Paypal transaction code) Brief Biographical Statement: (Include publication or award history if applicable) I warrant that I am the sole author of, and have exclusive rights to the enclosed material. I hereby release full rights for the enclosed material or any segment or portion thereof to Katha and its sponsors, and authorize Katha to use my name and work in any publicity or promotions for Katha. I also understand that if my story is not shortlisted for publication by the Katha sponsors, the rights will revert back to me on March 30, 2013.

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fiction

The Reprieve T

he letter slipped from his lifeless fingers and fluttered to the ground. He stood unseeing into the distance. The lean, long fingers of the graphic equalizer leapt hither and thither, licking at presumed shapeless nuances, a hide-and-seek in the recording studio. But one lonely note already atrophied into a narrow stream in the dry cold air conditioning, flowed painfully like the memory of the distant past that refuses to fade gracefully away.

It was just such a cold day when he had completed the recording of Madurai Aiyer and his troupe. Discussions followed long into the night, when voices were raised occasionally to the tune of a raga to emphasise a point.

Other voices mingled in creating a quaint symphony. This spontaneous concert would last all night long, and entertain anyone who would care enough to listen.

At first he didn’t notice her. So silently she stood by the shadows of the wall. Later he didn’t notice her either. Even when she walked into his studio with her pitiable collection of music. He had just finished a training session with one of the new musicians and he was tired, tired of the greedy desire to become a star without talent, without practice. But he couldn’t find it in his heart to turn the young hopefuls away. He was always teased by his colleagues who assured him that his kindness would one day be the death of him. But he smiled and tried his best to help the artists.

He was an artist too, and he understood all too well the pain of an empty stomach.

She wanted his help, just like everybody else. He tried to break the news gently to her.

But how gently can one say to hopeful eyes that they had no talent? He sent her away saying he was a busy man and had many appointments. She went away that day. He was grateful for the reprieve. He called a packup of the recording and looked forward to spending some time on the beach with his wife and children. Perhaps he would eat roasted groundnuts or maybe steamed groundnuts with slivers of mango and onions and a drop of lemon juice for tang. Yes, he would like that, his mouth already salivating from anticipation.

Did he say it was a reprieve? So it was, for she was back the next day. His mind didn’t warn him of anything dangerous, so peacefully did the day dawn. Yet, there was something at the back of his mind, some memory he 22 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

vaguely pursued or was it a feeling? He sighed and refocused his attention on her once again.

Shaking his head, he refused to take her on as a student, he already had a full class. He gave her referrals to other music teachers but she was an adamant one. It wasn’t that she was eloquent and persuasive but that he was weak and tired. He gave in for the sake of peace.

Yet he continued to wrestle with the doubts in his mind.

He tried to reconstruct all that he had observed during the initial meeting into a logical whole. She was plain, of that he was sure. There was a hesitancy to her steps, as if she was uncertain of where she was going but wanted to go anyway. He knew that gradually he would get entirely lost in the idea of teaching her, so he wanted to hang on for as long as possible to this grasp of reality that he currently felt he had. That he could still turn her away. This was his latest spell. He wouldn’t commit the same mistake over and over again of taking in students who really had no potential in music; maybe he would try a few new mistakes while they remained yet to be tasted. In time he would get so used to this living that he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anymore.

He saw all of this with aching clarity that would gradually seep away with the mists of time. But for now, there were the sharp reminders of the here and now. Reminders kept coming thick and fast that the only way he could exist was to chase them into oblivion as quickly as possible. He turned a tired eye towards her, so eager to go down a path that

R.J. Kalpana Katha 2012

really had no future.

He sighed knowing he was becoming a slave once again, a prisoner of his own making. And so he informed her that she could start attending his classes from the next day.

In that bustling studio, she had eyes only for one person.

How funny that she never noticed him before. But then again, why would A Creative Commons Image she? There was nothing remarkable about his tired exterior. His eyes were like shut windows set in a face faded with the ravages of life and living. Had he ever peeked out from the shut windows he called eyes to watch the world going by? She wondered. Had he ever watched her? Followed her with his eyes as she walked into the hall, sat down near the harmonium, preparing for her music lesson? Did he look down at the world insulated in his cocoon? She felt his sadness pour forth wave after wave until she was drowning in it. Gasping for breath, she wished the sadness would ebb and offer a reprieve.

Softly she launched into the first notes of raga Kalyani, “Krishna, nee begane baaro.” As the seven notes wafted gently towards him, he turned surprised. He debated on the wisdom of her choice of such a major raga and wondered vaguely if he should stop her. But there was a certain joy in her eyes as she sang and he blinked. Mildly apprehensive, he rubbed a sweaty palm down his pants and waited for the elaboration and exploration of the notes. She didn’t fail him. She offered exactly what he thought she would; lack of technical dexterity, lack of vocal quality, and yet there was that elusive something that seemed hard to pin down. He waited some more, listening deeply, thinking to name what escaped him.

He should have watched instead.

Perhaps then he would have noticed how she shaped herself to the sound of the raga and flowed with the music. The steel in her spine that made her arch when she lifted her voice to hit the high notes, the slopes of her lips gentled as they shaped themselves to the

soft cadences and slowly flowed to a stop.

He sat oddly stilled by the lingering reverence in her voice that was eerily familiar. The moment shaped and stretched around them encompassing them within its spotlight. Her face turned up to his in expectancy and his looking down at hers in hushed silence.

She moved then, gracefully shifting the harmonium to the side, she stood and walked up to him. He nodded once and opened his mouth but words were washed away in the clamor of his other students entering the studio and readying themselves for their class.

She smiled and walked away.

He was faintly relieved. He busied himself with the new cacophony of noise that had erupted in the name of music. He loved the orchestra, the way he could stifle and stretch and play and mute the notes that danced and tripped their way around the studio. He snorted if only humans were that malleable, he would be a considerably successful man.

But there were something, he ruefully admitted, that even he wasn’t able to control.

D

ays passed into days exhibiting a defiant air of permanence. Notes stood guard over unlit ragas, charms adorned entrances to lure in desires and keep out sanity. It was eminently possible to lose oneself amidst all this clutter of hidden thoughts and halfformed gestures. Every day the thought stood out a little uglier than before. While every day, for every idea planted, every plan neatly laid, every path paved seems to will their inevitability.

He paused and shook his head as if to clear the grittiness of fate. It took a battle of wits, a personal relationship with every note and the stake in what it eventually becomes.

Did he really expect to find a semblance of life here? Recording studios were for ambition, truant talent, and distilled egos.

But she stole the passion he didn’t even know he had. The quiet card games with neighbors were now games with her. Did he ever win? Or play to win? He was too bewildered at the swift inevitability of events. So he played along. Later, he tried a half-hearted attempt to win. After all, hadn’t he trained the notes to reverberate to the nth degree of vibration to perfect a composition? How difficult was this going to be? He didn’t know then and couldn’t care less, later.

He saw everyday evidence of his new lifestyle taking its toll. He grew more nervous, more hesitant. His lethargy, already well-known, peaked to breaking point. But she took on a new form. Everyday her skin glowed and her laughter echoed throughout the studio. His fear appeared with uncompromising regularity. But his greatest tragedy was the loss of his individuality. All those quirks were soon hers. It won’t be long now before she blends in right with the best of them, his students.

He averted his eyes as compromise after compromise danced in front of him. He suf-

A A Creative Commons Image

focated his guilt with her synthetic sophistication. Now, he adopted a new social rite in his life. He was forced to adopt coping stratagems gleaned from people watching and smart decoding of his fellow artists. Artfully dodging expectations took on a new form as his life seemed like patches of wall in his house that needed a fresh coat of paint. He tried playing at “middle class moron” so he could sidle away from the onerous responsibility of his compromise. But she wouldn’t let him. Every show, launch, release, where friends and family were there to clap, praise, buy, so was she. She claimed it was a modern-day friendship ritual.

H

uddled in his woollens, he stood staring at the nondescript building in front of him. There was nothing to mark this building out from the others that were cramped wall-to-wall in the narrow side lane. Walls were stained with red spittle he noted as he dodged bored bullocks and brash bikers to enter its gloomy inside. The passage was dark, he groped his way up the stairs by the flickering light of a television from the nearby flat.

Upstairs, he stood for a long time facing out the door that had once had a number. He was sure he knew what was behind that door and that made him all the more hesitant.

Even as he stood shifting from foot to foot, the door slowly opened with inevitable precision. He stepped inside reluctant to disturb the very air in the room. The interior was gloomy as well. Posing as a curtain a sari was tucked into the window grill. The insufficient strip of cloth hardly kept the light out for puddles of sunlight pooled at his feet here and there.

Waiting was no problem for him. Hadn’t he waited patiently to coax a reluctant note from the innumerable instruments at his studio? An impatient sound behind him made him start from his revere. He dreaded to turn around. He knew the long drawn out conclusions of his presence here. He didn’t have to like it, but he acknowledged them just the same.

So he reconciled to the idea that this is what his life would be. The constant anguish punctuated occasionally by modicum of relief.

He was always looking forward for the next dose, of relief that is. He could hardly do anything else. It was an addiction that he sought after and savored with savage satisfaction.

The eternal forgetfulness was bliss. Otherwise this constant leeching left him drained.

He shifted on the horns of a dilemma, his power of thought suspended. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He did not know what was happening but that it was happening to him.

He pondered his next step. But there was nothing that he could do. He was a creature of habit and habits die hard on solitary grey mornings. But every creature has honed a strategy for survival to escape the rigors of a harsh climate. Could he do anything less? He stored experiences like fat reserves in his body.

It wasn’t his inability to spot the danger that was at stake here, but his inability to ward it off. He flirted with this too, for a while. To ward off made matters worse.

She was justified in her anger of course.

And so was he. He felt the stinging sensation on his skin and the mortification pouring like hot lava. He did not choose this, but he accepted it as inevitable. He noticed for the first time where he was in his life. He looked around his studio, experiencing what it was to inhabit the world. He looked at the musicians with intention, insight and awareness. And for the first time he understood.

And now this, he looked at that insignificant piece of paper that carried so much power as he keeled over slowly to join it on the ground. He hoped it was a reprieve and he didn’t have to live his life over again. People rushed towards him but he was already beyond himself. He was where he had always been.

Standing outside, looking back in. And this time, he chose to stand. n R J Kalpana has published a 3-vol set on Feminist Issues in Indian Literature: Feminism and Family, Feminism and the Individual, Feminism and Sexual Poetics. She has published Temple Dreams, a book of poetry and has won prizes for her poetry which have been published in both national and international journals and anthologies. She was an editor for the Encyclopedia of Hinduism and has completed a biography of a Theosophist which will be released in 3 volumes in June 2012. She is a Doctorate in English and professionally a Management consultant for Knowledge Management. india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 23

24 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 25

I C ask a lawyer

Naresh Rajan

Criminal Justice Propositions Q

What were the criminal justice propositions on the ballot in the last elections and what did they signify?

A

On November 6, 2012, California voters rejected a proposition to end the death penalty, but passed propositions to increase penalties for human trafficking crimes and to end some aspects of three strikes sentencing.

For the most part, the “tough on crime” trend continued.

In the 1990s, legislatures instituted mandatory sentencing, and California voters approved three strikes legislation to increase penalties for repeat serious or violent felony offenders. Under California’s three strikes scheme, recidivists could be sentenced to life in prison for conduct punishable by a day in the county jail for a first time offender. Until 2011, even petty theft could trigger a life sentence if the accused had two prior strike felony convictions. So, stealing items valued at less than $400 could end in a life sentence.

In California, backers of an initiative can place it on the ballot by obtaining a certain number of voter signatures. If more than

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50% of the voters approve the proposition, it either becomes the law or amends the State Constitution.

The danger is that propositions with heavy financial backing often pass regardless of whether they are good ideas or not. Three strikes and mandatory sentencing laws are not good ideas because they take discretion out of the hands of judges and effectively transfer it to the prosecution.

The prosecution has always had sole discretion for charging crimes. Prosecutors decide whether to pursue a case under the three strikes scheme. Now with mandatory sentencing, the charging decision has a much greater impact on the outcome of the case, because that decision makes it certain that the convicted defendant will be punished a certain way.

Mandatory sentences deny justice to the accused. Even if one is innocent, going to trial is an uncertain proposition. The truth is often difficult to discern because human witnesses have lapses of memory, biases, and other reasons to be unreliable. The convicted defendant cannot appeal to the judge whose

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hands are tied by the mandatory sentences.

The specter of losing at trial and incurring a lengthy prison sentence deters many an accused from fighting his case.

Voters did, at least, end the possibility of life sentences for non-violent offenses committed by third strikers. We appear to be coming to the realization that mass incarceration is not the answer to all criminal justice problems. Our prison population has grown exponentially without a corresponding decrease in crime. This is likely due to the fact that incarceration does not solve the underlying issues that spawn criminals.

Crime rates would diminish much more reliably were we, as a society, to address the root cause of crime rather than to institute harsher penalties in knee jerk reactions to specific incidents. Leniency is not the answer, but neither is an unthinking lock ‘em up approach. The punishment must fit the crime.

Mandatory sentences take away judges’ discretion to fashion appropriate punishments.n

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IC

tax talk

Khorshed Alam

Planning for the Forthcoming Tax Law Changes A look at some deductions, gains, interests and provisions to keep in mind for the upcoming tax season

S

everal tax breaks for individuals and small businesses are set to expire on December 31, 2012. New tax laws will hit the middle class in general. As such, tax planning will be critical during the end of 2012. While immediate action may not be necessary, a thorough review of your income tax situation for 2012 and 2013 is necessary in order to plan for correct decision making before the end of the year. Here are some of the changes taxpayers may expect as they head into 2013.

Taxation of Capital Gains and Qualified Dividends

Beginning 2013, the maximum rate for long term capital gains will increase to 20% (10% for low income investors) from 15% (0% for low income investors) in the prior years.

In addition, qualified dividends will be taxed at ordinary income rates which can be as high as 39.6% as opposed to receiving capital gain treatment in previous years at a lower rate of 15%.

Phase out of Itemized Deductions

Beginning 2013, itemized deductions will be phased out at certain income levels whereas in 2011 there was no such phase out.

Phasing out the $3,800 personal exemption for higher income taxpayers is coming again in 2013. Certain itemized deductions will have a limitation equal to the lesser of 3% of adjusted gross income (AGI) over the applicable amount or 80% of the amount of the itemized deduction otherwise allowable for the taxable year.

Estate and Gift Tax Rates

The gift tax exemption limit was set at $5,120,000 per person for 2012 but will drop to $1,000,000 per person, as it was in 2010, unless Congress takes any action to the contrary by December 31, 2012. In 2012 the top gift tax and estate tax rates were 35%; in 2013 these rates may increase to 55%.

Payroll Tax

The FICA withholding rate is currently 4.2% for each employee earning up to $110,100 in 2012. This figure will increase to 6.2% in 2013 up to $112,500 annual wages per employee. On the other hand, the Medicare withholding rate is currently at 1.45%, 28 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

and this will increase to 2.35% for 2013 for wages over certain limits ($200,000 for Single, $250,000 for Married Filing Jointly (MFJ), $125,000 for Married Filing Separately (MFS)). Previously there was no income limit in place for Medicare taxes.

Child Tax Provisions

The child tax credit, child and dependent care expense credit and the adoption expense credit will be scaled back in 2013 to the limits previously established prior to 2010. Qualified child and dependent care expense for the purpose of tax credit will be decrease from $3,000 to $2,400 in 2013. The child tax credit will decrease from $1,000 to $500 per child.

Furthermore, the child tax credit will not be permitted for calculation with the alternative minimum tax, and there will be a phase out on earned income tax credits based on the number of qualifying children.

Student Loans

Adjustments to the student loan interest deduction will go into effect in 2013.

The amount of the student loan interest deduction will be limited for those who earn $50,000 filing Single or MFS and $75,000 for MFJ.

Medicare Surtax on Unearned Income

A 3.8% Medicare contribution tax will be imposed on unearned income (i.e., interest, dividends, capital gains, passive income, including from partnerships and S corporations in which taxpayer does not materially participate) including long-term capital gains, and the profit on home sales for taxpayers with modified AGI over a certain limit ($200,000 for Single, $250,000 for MFJ, and $125,000 for MFS). This means that profits realized on the sale of a personal residence in 2013 in excess of $250,000 will be subject to this Medicare surcharge. Furthermore, the maximum federal rate on long-term capital gains for 2013 and beyond will be 23.8% and the rate on dividends will be 43.3%, versus the current rate of 15% for both.

Medical Expense Deduction

In 2013, only those who are age 65 and older will enjoy the 7.5 percent AGI limit for

medical expense deductions. Those under age 65 will only be allowed to deduct medical and dental expenses that exceed 10 percent of their AGI which will make it even harder to deduct medical and dental expenses.

Flexible Spending Accounts (FSA)

There will be a limit of $2,500 contribution per year to employer provided health FSAs. Previously there was no limit.

Usually in prior years it was more beneficial to have more deductions at the year end and defer income to the following year; however this year considering the advent of the imposition of additional tax rates on unearned income (capital gains, interest, dividends, etc.), it is advisable to defer expenses to the following year and accelerate unearned income in the current year. All these changes including the requirements of filing FBAR and meeting FATCA requirements will present more complications for taxpayers. Therefore, careful tax planning and analysis is crucial in order to plan for the changes that are about to occur. n The above information is of a general nature and should be treated as such and should not be acted upon in your specific situation without professional assistance. If any of the above issues may affect your 2012/2013 income tax and you feel that you need help, Alam Accountancy Corporation will be ready to serve you and your business needs.

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desi voice

P. Mahadevan

The Ticking Time Machine A

Super Power (God, Supreme Being, Field of Central Force) has mercilessly embedded the equivalent of a time prepaid card in our brains, authorizing a life span limit of 24,000 days. These general purpose time cards are provided for all without distinction.

The Dreaded Fine Print

As we scroll down the rules of this prepaid card, many conditions appear in fine print.

These are stringent clauses, too.

• This credit can be revoked only once.

• No reset is allowed.

• It may be extended minimally based on the case history of each applicant but can be reduced substantially for abuses.

The God that giveth also taketh away.

Several entitlements are built into this contract. The human system is a high maintenance device. Sleep is the main technique of maintenance. 8,000 days are set aside for this requirement. But luckily we are not going to sleep that long at one stretch as the famed literary character Rip Van Winkle did. Sleep relaxation is a distributed load on each day.

10,000 days are allocated to learning basic functions and growing into self-sufficiency (birth through teen years). For system breakdowns of various types such as disease (short term and long term) and injuries, especially during the latter years of life, a liberal allotment of 1,000 days is earmarked. The balance of 13,000 days of the individual life span, including a third of that period for sleep, is the net available for a whole range responsibilities such as specialization in fields of work, raising a family, earning a livelihood, obligations to the community we live in and extending a hand of help for those less privileged than we are. This is payback for being born a human on earth.

Meanwhile, the time machine keeps relentlessly ticking towards a tryst we call: Fate, Destiny, Providence or Vidhi. Nobody is exempted from these general rules. The individual brain has to prod itself to find ways and means of making life worthwhile.

T

he life story of several distinguished Indians and Europeans who lived and worked as role models, from ancient times to the modern, would provide an appropriate story line to this essay in one very special manner.

All of them received their traditional Vidhi time debit cards with a stipulated life span of 30 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

only about half the normal authorization of 24,000 days.

Adi Sankara. (788-820)

A religious reformer non-pareil who put forward the concept of Advaita Sidhantam, and wrote the immortal poem, Bhaja Govindam, describing the human preoccupations during phases of life in the cycle from birth to death and assigning the function: “Vridha Sthapal Chinda Saktha” (Think of what, if any, you have accomplished so far and what awaits you) left the world arena at about 12,000 days.

Adi Sankara is generally believed to have engineered the largest export from India, Buddhism, to the countries around India, from Afghanistan, Tibet, Japan, China, Indonesia and Sri Lanka. However, the late centurian Sankaracharya, Chandrasekharananda Saraswathi of Kanchi, disputes this allegation.

Wolfgang Mozart (1756-1791)

Representing the classic Salzburg tradition of Austrian classical music, Mozart distinguished himself as a top class pianist and composer, well respected to this day. He died in about 13,000 days after some undiagnosed skin eruptions

Swathi Thirunal Maharaja (18131846)

Ruler of the former state of Travancore, now part of Kerala, Swathi Thirunal composed hundreds of kirthanas in the Karnatik style in various languages and promoted the fine art of music extensively. P. Sankunni Menon (A History of Travancore from the Earliest Times, 1878) records an incident when Swathi Thirunal told Col. Welsh, a visiting British officer, that the words “geometry,” “hexagon,” “septagon” and so on were derived from Sanskrit. His life span was only 12,000 days.

The Bronte sisters.

Charlotte Bronte (1816-1855), Emily Bronte (1818-1848) and Anne Bronte (18201849) After very severe struggles in early life, all three became well recognized writers of fiction in English literature. Each one of them wrote her best work in the same year, 1847. Jane Eyre by Charlotte, Agnes Grey by Anne and Wuthering Heights by Emily. They all died early of tuberculosis in about 11,000

to 14,000 days.

Anton Chekov (1860-1904)

Anton Chekov, the Ukrainian/Russianwrier and playwright, a medical doctor by profession, gradually moved to writing. His fame soared posthumously after translation of his plays into English and other languages.

He lasted only about 16,000 days

Swami Vivekananda (1863-1902)

Raised in suburban Calcutta, under very humble beginnings, Narendranath Dutta, later assuming the philosophical name, Vivekananda, developed a broad perspective on the role of religion in human life, the one-ness of humanity and the divinity of man. He was the first Asian to address the Parliament of World Religions at Chicago in 1893. He adopted Sri Ramakrishna as his Guru, after whose passing he established the Ramakrishna Mission which is still a thriving philosophical organization all over the world.

His life span was limited to just about 14,000 days.

Subramanya Bharathi (1882-1921)

An ardent activist fighter for India’s freedom, Bharathi was a linguist and composer of national songs in Tamil in praise of freedom and self dignity. The British colonial power relentlessly targeted him as a revolutionary, banished him to Burma for a while and jailed him several times. His compositions are still very much in vogue and sung frequently in concerts. 14,000 days was his allotment.

Srinivasa Ramanujan (1887-1920)

Ramanujan was a mathematical prodigy from the southern part of India with exceptional skills in mathematics and disinterest in other fields of study, so much so, he failed to pass high school the first time around. He was invited to Cambridge University where he excelled in disciplines like number theory and partition functions and acquired a Ph.D. and Fellowship of the Royal Society. He was humble enough to claim no credit for his skills and thanked the Goddess Namagiri from his village temple at Namackal in Salem district,Tamil Nadu. His life span lasted about 12,000 days.

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Martin Luther King Jr. (1929-1968)

He followed the Gandhian principle of non-violent civil disobedience to obtain civil rights for the African American population of the United States and achieved success after a prolonged struggle. He met a violent death soon after as in the case of Mahatma Gandhi.

A brilliant orator and statesman, he lived just about14,000 days.

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I

t is not known whether any of these luminaries had any premonition of their limited life span and the urge to make their days count fully in their life’s work. Anecdotally, however, Adi Sankara left his home in Kalady, Kerala at age nine and promised to come back only for his own mother’s last rites.

Will it be preposterous to even speculate that based on the life story of several, but still only a miniscule fraction of the world’s population, a trend towards universality exists among the denizens of this Earth in which an ill defined super power, randomly tasks selected individuals to be role models or heroes, to perform spectacular functions in limited time and thus stimulate the rest to reach the designed potential of achievement by all?

There is no future in the past except the guidelines they have provided. A Churchilian analogy may be appropriate here. “It is a mystery wrapped as an enigma and stored in a riddle box with no keys.”

As for me, as always, I do have many more questions than answers. n

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music

Kanniks Kannikeswaran

Kutcheri Buzz A look at some classical music terminology

I

n the month of December, the city of Chennai will be awash with music and dance for the “season.” The most uttered word in Chennai music parlance will be kutcheri, and the most popular word will be coffee.

Mylapore denizens will likely associate kutcheri with Thanjavur filter coffee. How much more can you celebrate Karnatik music while relishing the flavor of filter coffee made from freshly roasted coffee beans?

Interestingly, neither filter coffee nor the word kutcheri have their origins in Tamil Nadu. Kutcheri today denotes a Karnatik music concert.

Is it a Tamil word? No! Is it a Sanskrit word? No! It is a word that has appeared in many other regions. It means “office” in Marathi and “court” in Gujarati and Hindi. The Hindi term Kacha hari or kache hari is familiarly used in law circles. Chhote kache hari refers to the lower court while bade kache hari refers to the higher court.

Do you remember the song from the film Gauravam where T.M. Soundararajan belts out the following line: “naan valarta pachai kili naalai varum kutcherikku sellumaa?” (the parrot that I raised with milk and fruit— will it go to court tomorrow?). Sivaji Ganesan in the movie, displays lavish histrionics as he laments his son who is about to argue a case against him the following day. Kutcheri in the context of this song denotes a court where disputes are resolved in accordance with the law of the land.

However today, the word kutcheri clearly refers to the Karnatik music concert. The meaning of the word has expanded beyond Karnatik music parlance to include light music performances, too.

How did this word come to denote a Karnatik music concert?

We need to go back in time to the golden years of art patronage in the mid to late 2nd millennium, particularly to the reign of the Maratha Kings in Thanjavur. The Maratha rulers were great patrons of music and dance; they themselves were composers and connoisseurs of music. Vidwans or skilled artists used to flock to their courts in large numbers seeking their patronage. These artists thus went to the Thanjavur kutcheri to 34 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

perform. “Going to perform at a kutcheri” over a period of time morphed into “going to perform a kutcheri.” Therefore a music performance in the presence of a committed audience began to be denoted by the word kutcheri.

This is in total contrast to the performance of tevaram music (devotional hymns) in temples. Tevaram music is performed as a spiritual offering. It is not necessarily intended for pleasing an audience although many of the odhuvar renditions of tevaram music do move listeners powerfully.

Odhuvars are hereditary musicians who have been singing liturgical music (tevaram) for the last thousand years in Shiva temples—a tradition instituted by the great ruler RajaRaja-Cholan in the 11th century. But, we don’t use the words “tevara kutcheri” to denote this music.

So, these days we have a kutcheri season, kutcheri news, radio kutcheris, TV kutcheris, light music kutcheris, dance kutcheris, arattai (gossip) kutcheris, seettu (a game of cards) kutcheris, kalyana (marriage) kutcheris and more. And there is of course the kutcheribuzz website that provides up to date information on kutcheris all over the world.

Keep in mind that in today’s parlance, kalyana kutcheri does not denote a court that adjudicates marriage disputes. It only denotes a concert played at a wedding!

Thus the word kutcheri that once meant “court” now has the status of being accepted and celebrated as the descriptor of a music performance. It is another matter that such a music performance uses other non native words such as “main,” “sub-main” and “tukkada” to denote the various levels of performances, like the opening acts to a western concert. In explanation, the word tukkada refers to the miscellaneous short compositions, or lighter fare sung in a karnatik music concert after the main piece is completed.

Tukkada is not an original Tamil word.

Now, onto coffee. The canteen halls during the Chennai kutcheri season are filled with the aroma of fresh coffee. Now is coffee

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a Tamil produce like thinai maavu (millet and honey offerings to God)? No. Coffee beans were discovered in Ethiopia and from there spread to the middle east and preserved as a closely guarded secret. They were first smuggled out of Yemen by a Sufi mystic Baba Budan into Karnataka. A shrine celebrating this sufi saint can be seen in the Shimoga district of Karnataka.

Thus, coffee of middle eastern origin has become a perfect complement to a South Indian kutcheri concert erasing regional and national divisions in just one sip and an earful of music.

I asked the renowned Hindustani musician, Pandit Ravi Shankar when I visited him in 2009, what the word for kutcheri was in the Hindustani world.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he replied jalsa, which actually means “celebration” or a “party” or “carnival.” A serious music performance is, however, anything but that. It is thus interesting how the name jalsa corresponds to a three hour performance of classical music, in a different regional language. Satyajit Ray’s film Jalsa Ghar even describes the lifestyle of decadent kings and their musical soirees.

On a parting note, the word jalsa in Chennai slang means “flirtatious fun!”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 has been teaching Indian classical music at the University of Cincinnati since 1994. www.kanniks.com

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films

Dacoits, Giant Kisses and Zombies Top Ten Hindi Films—2012 Aniruddh Chawda

Last year, India produced more movies (946) than the next two largest country hauls combined (the U.S. was second with 611 entries and Japan third with 310).

The numbers were even more staggering for film attendance. India’s mind-boggling 2.9 billion movie tickets sold last year was larger than the next 12 countries totals combined (the U.S. was second with 1.4 billion and Indonesia third with 190 million). And let’s not forget that India still has the biggest movie star in the world, Amitabh Bachchan, who turned 70 this year. Some noteworthy titles of what audiences were going gaga over: 1. GANGS OF WASSEYPUR—Part 1. Anurag Kashyap’s tour de force entry was a superb amalgamation of historical re-telling, excellent camera work and brilliant acting.

Set in remote Jharkhand state during the waning days of the Raj when the British were still effectively using railroads to divide and conquer India’s vast interior and spanning five decades, Gangs engulfs a consummate and beautifully brutal action story with train-robbing dacoits who ignite a splendid generational blood feud. Majoj Bajpai, in his finest role since his star-making turn in Ramgopal Varma’s Satya (1997), chews through the pivotal role as a debauching contemporary coal-country warlord. Initially unspooled as a 5 hour epic, Kashyap bowed to marketing pressures and truncated Part 1 down to a multiplex-friendly 2.5 hours. Part II, released almost simultaneously, suffered notably from Bajpai’s absence.

U.S. screenings for Gangs were cut back in the wake of the Colorado mass shooting and the movie’s violence quotient led to “Adult” ratings in several countries while Kuwait and Qatar outright banned it. Future cinema cognizants may someday take it for granted that the action-genre creative trajectory that linked Kurosawa, Peckinpah and Tarantino led straight to Kashyap.

2. AGNEEPATH. Director Karan Malhotra and producer Karan Johar’s remake was a box office juggernaut and an artistic statement as one of the best Hindi movie remakes ever. Rooted in a revenge motif that retraced the same role that Bachchan assailed in Mukul Anand’s1990 entry of the same name, Hrithik Roshan nailed his mark as the son of middle class school teacher biding time as a working class hero. Masking a silent volcano within and estranged from his mother (Zarina Wahab), Roshan’s lead clamors to settle a grudge with Sanjay Dutt’s lowlife crime lord Kancha. With a brilliant channeling of a bomb-obsessed nut job waxing on an island offshore from Mumbai, Dutt’s Kancha was the most original villain since Amrish Puri’s Mogambo from 1987’s Mr. India.

36 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

3. K A H A A N I .

No Hindi movie has ever simultaneously juggled a cutting edge topic (bioterrorism), smart story telling (double, possibly nefarious, identities), a stunning setting (the expansive human sprawl of Kolkota against an aptlyused backdrop of the massive annual Durga Puja festival), performance dynamics (Vidya Balan all the way) and touches from artists that were and are geniuses in their time (Rabindranath Tagore, Bachchan). And yet Sujoy Ghosh’s spell-binding thriller does exactly that in one tight package that radiates with suspense and energy. The next time a single, pregnant passenger asks for assistance filling out customs paperwork at the airport, be afraid. Be very afraid.

4. VICKI DONOR. Producer John Abraham branching out and small time filmmaker Soojit Sarkar, whose only previous entry was the sensational Yahaan (2005) set amidst the geopolitics of Kashmir, teamed up for both the most original movie and the best movie poster of 2012. Featuring a cast of near-unknowns, Juhi Chaturvedi’s great story finds Vicky (newcomer Ay-

5. ENGLISH VINGLISH. The big screen return of big star Sridevi was newsworthy in itself. After a 15-year family leave, the diva made her entry as an Indian woman of a certain age struggling to learn English in Manhattan, the welcoming mat for millions of arrivals to America.

Helmed by Gauri Shinde, English was a balancing act between Sridevi’s Pune housewife Shashi’s “Indian” identity manifesting against the new sensibilities Shashi finds in New York. Astutely “modern” in its fish-out-of-water take on America and affirming at several levels, including being unusually gay friendly in the mid-town language class that becomes Shashi’s surrogate New World family, English Vinglish proved to be a validating keeper. Sri baby, we missed you!

6.

BARFI!. Juggling between the hills of Darjeeling and the urban airs of Kolkota, Anurag Basu’s highly unusual time-shifting drama was a wonderful treat for non-linear celluloid outlines in the tradition of Ghajini (2008).

Bringing together three very different characters, Barfi! explodes with unexpected romantic, comic and familial possibilities.

Ranbir Kapoor, Priyanka Chopra and newcomer Ileana D’Cruz form an emotional triangle like few others. A deaf and mute jack-of-all-master-of-none (Kapoor) befriends both an alreadybetrothed beauty (D’Cruz in an impressive supporting role) and the autistic next door neighbor (Chopra with masterstroke acting chops). Even though the screenplay packs in just way too much in the way of adversities for all three central characters to overcome, Barfi got a huge boost from Pritam Chakroborty devising here the best score of year. From soulful mountain-air ballads to earthy folk numbers, Pritam’s score harkens back to an era when Indian movies had only Indian music. While Barfi passed muster for 2013 Oscar contention from India, the movie’s most lasting impression may well be Pritam’s tunes.

ushmann Khurran) trapped in a deliciously sublimated nightmare of his own waking hours. Being convinced by a fertility clinic operator (Annu Kapoor) of the hard cash that awaits suitable sperm donors—not to mention that Vicky is cajoled into thinking he has “Aryan” blood descended from Alexander the Great—Vicky takes up moonlighting at the clinic on the down and low. Light-hearted and yet surprisingly touching, this romantic comedy was frugal, smart filmmaking at its very best. India submitted Barfi to contend for the Best Foreign Film Oscar. Vicky Donor may have been the better choice.

7. PAAN SINGH TOMAR. Director Tigmanshu (Saheb Biwi Aur Gangster) Dhulia’s action-drama is based on a true life story of an Indian army soldier Paan Singh Tomar who excelled as a track and field star for the Indian army and then returned to his home in rural Madhya Pradesh only to unwittingly turn to banditry. While Phoolan Devi (a.k.a.

The Bandit Queen), who also used the notoriously rugged Chambal Valley in Madhya Pradesh as her lair, turned away from a life on the run to become a politician, Paan Singh (played powerfully by Irfaan Khan) did an about-turn by bypassing a promising military career to eventually become an outlaw. Released by super-producer Ronnie Screwvala under his art-house UTV Spotboy label and completed in 2010, Paan Singh Tomar finally received wide release in early 2012. The delayed release did not get in the way of deserved critical acclaim and a decent box office.

8. RAAZ 3-D. While the (mostly) horror-genre exploiting 3-D technology is relatively new in India, the Bhatt brothers Mahesh and Mukesh (who also directed), after coming up with the scary Haunted (2011), returned with this cheesy and yet surprisingly well-made horror entry. Completing a trilogy that started with Bipasha Basu’s star-making turn in Raaz (2003) and then cashing in again with Raaz—The Mystery Continues (2009), Raaz 3-D turned it up a notch by going for an all-out scare and gore fest. Basu morphs as a successful movie star who, afraid of losing her trophy filmmaker boyfriend (Emraan Hashmi) to an uppity new starlet (Esha Gupta), resorts to black magic. Featuring macabre figures deeply rooted in bedtime anxieties, inter-dimensional ghouls and zombies that resemble mummies on steroids, the movie’s most clever effects are the nasties who cannot be seen with the naked eye and, in reversing the vampire theme, can only be seen through a mirror. Rolled out in partnership with Hollywood heavyweight Fox Star Studio, Raaz 3-D could not get a U.S. release without a rating from MPAA, who promptly slapped Raaz 3-D with an R rating—the first ever for a Hindi language movie.

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 37

9. HEROINE. Madhur Bhandarkar has

made a name by zooming in on some first rate movies that empower women in very strong roles (Page 3, Fashion, Chandni Bar).

Heroine is not one of them. With Kareena Kapoor as a megastar who learns to fly only to get too close to the sun, Heroine provides a strange voyeuristic catharsis. Bhandarkar forces the audience into a corner to witness the sordid, self-loathing, self-doubting and often self-defeating world of movie stars and their tabloid personas. What makes Heroine stand out is it’s the first time an A-list movie depicts a household name star in a lesbian encounter of the first kind. In a nod to the nonchalant nature of sex for that industry, Heroine has not one but two same-sex scenes. The other scene is an all-male consensual scene where sex is used to extract

a favor from a producer. A small kissing step for Kareena Kapoor here is the equivalent of a giant for Bollywood kind.

In the battle for Top Cat currently, while Katrina Kaif may have the bigger box office hits (Ek Tha Tiger, Zandagi Na Milegi Dobara), Kareena Kapoor is more exciting, audacious and risk-taking.

10.

EK THA TIGER. Any movie that makes the box office score with stacks of freshly minted notes that reach across from Havana to Mars should almost automatically ping the movie-weather radar. It is nothing other than, well, bucu bucks that this Yashraj five-continent circus raked in.

Roped together, money-maker Salman Khan and honey-maker Katrina Kaif make a cutesy

International Couple of Mystery. Yes, there is even a tallish tale about an Indian spy who elopes with a Pakistani spy. They run off to Cuba and, much to Fidel Castro’s chagrin, proceed to make YouTube videos and even more money in exhibition stunts that have them flying off of speeding motorcycles and on to planes about to take off. Because Yash Chopra’s poetry-sprouting last movie Jab Tak Hain Jaan in its promos looked suspiciously like a stand-in for Kabhie Kabhie Part Deux, Tiger may be known as Yash Chopra’s last huge box office hit. Oh, and did we mention that Ek Tha Tiger made a boatload of moolah?

M

inor rant: Because of tight print deadlines, some anticipated year end noteworthy titles are not included for consideration in this 2012 roundup. They include Aamir Khan in Reema Kagti’s highly anticipated crime story Talaash, the late Yash Chopra’s swan song Jab Tak Hain Jaan and Milind Ukey’s political corruption drama Dehraadun Diary.

On to 2013. Happy Movie Going! n Globe trekker, aesthete, photographer, ski bum, film buff, and commentator, Aniruddh Chawda writes from Milwaukee.

2013 Holiday Calendar New Year’s Day Guru Govind’s B'day Makara Sankranti Pongal M.L. King Jr. Day India’s Republic Day Ash Wednesday Sarasvati Puja Vasanta Panchami Presidents Day Maha Shivaratri Now Roz Holi Good Friday Easter Ugadi Gudi Padva Baisakhi Tamil New Year

Jan. 1 Jan. 5 Jan. 14 Jan. 14 Jan. 21 Jan. 26 Feb. 13 Feb. 15 Feb. 15 Feb. 18 March 10 March 21 March 27 March 29 March 31 April 11 April 11 April 14 April 14

38 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

Ramanavami

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perspective

Inequality in the Kitchen Tara Menon

Is cooking a woman’s domain?

W

hen my marriage was arranged, I confessed to my spouse-to-be that I barely knew how to cook. “I’ll do all the cooking,” Krish said. Relatives pronounced him unreasonably kind and regarded me as exceptionally lucky. He became my guru of the kitchen.

An astrologer had once said that the stars had bestowed me with great culinary skills.

The astrologer had failed to see that I’d find making meals tedious. I’d often recline on the sofa between dishes and reflect on how men are more suited to the slicing and dicing of vegetables on account of their strength.

As a new wife in America in the late 80s, I noticed that men gravitated towards the kitchen with almost as much pleasure as their wives. They, too, enjoyed cooking meals.

They were inclined to be true partners in the kitchen. One husband I knew cooked dinner every night while his wife went to evening classes to earn a degree. He confided to us that he occasionally served Trader Joe’s readyto-heat curries to his unsuspecting wife, who raved over his masterpieces.

Growing up in India in the 70s, the only men I’d witnessed in the kitchen were cooks, caterers, and servants; not husbands. My paternal aunt in India declared once that she felt awful whenever her husband entered the kitchen. I was acutely disappointed to hear those words from her, a woman who was a school principal at a time when women rarely worked.

The fathers I knew only appeared in the kitchen when hunger pangs took them there.

My own father was too preoccupied with work to step into what was considered a woman’s domain. I doubt whether he even knew how to cook rice, the staple he grew up on. He didn’t live in our Canadian kitchen the way the rest of the family did, to chat, talk on the phone, read, or play games. He came into the room only to eat or to fetch a tray of drinks to distribute at our house parties.

There is one man who is an exception when it comes to cooking in the kitchen. He is my maternal aunt’s husband. He could have been a surgeon, but fate had other plans for him and he ended up immigrating to America and becoming a professor. The hands that should have wielded knives in an operating room instead brandished kitchen knives and other utensils at home. He was in his element when he was stir-frying or doing some other culinary task. Cooking became a passion for him.

42 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

My uncle made himself at home in my kitchen whenever he visited. He located utensils and ingredients with ease, though often after each of his appearances I’d have to search for a misplaced item. He made up for this little inconvenience with his sumptuous creations.

I remember an occasion when my uncle and aunt drove hundreds of miles to my place to cook for me. One morning I woke up to the aroma of puttu, a rice flour confection laced with coconut strands. I could hardly restrain myself from running downstairs in my pajamas and pigging out on the food that my uncle had prepared. When I finally feasted on the rice flour, I felt certain my unborn baby would be a fan of my uncle’s cooking forever.

For my son’s second birthday, my uncle cooked appetizers and dishes for fifty guests.

He was swifter than I was with the cake, and the results were equally miraculous. The pakodas he served quickly disappeared as our friends discovered how delicious they were.

Guests plotted their way to the trays of fritters made from an array of vegetables: cauliflower, potato, eggplant, onion, and zucchini.

“Eat, eat,” he’d say, as if the guests needed encouraging. By the time the party was over, everyone was ready to adopt my uncle and aunt as their own.

There are still places where kitchen chauvinism lingers. My Korean friend claims that Japanese women love Korean soap operas because Korean husbands help their wives out in the kitchen in these television dramas. In fact. she has a rank order: Chinese husbands help the most, followed by Korean husbands, and then Japanese husbands, if at all! I can vouch for one Chinese-American man, the spouse of a close friend. He used to devour copies of Good Housekeeping to try out recipes and now that he has, sadly, passed away, the conversation I had with him about making idlis remains one of my most vivid memories of him.

Modern times have ushered in modern husbands. My paternal aunt’s youngest daughter married a man who ran a catering service, but, adjust as my aunt did to a different era, what would she have thought of the men in my Pakistani neighbor’s family? They bear no trace of chauvinism and willingly contribute in the kitchen. The grandfather lovingly serves his wife, the dermatologist husband quietly prepares meals for his professor wife when their cook is away, and the son idolizes his sister as a goddess, for whom he would undoubtedly be happy to slice, dice,

and stir.

When I went to India, I noticed that traditional male attitudes toward cooking were eroding. Men often slipped into the kitchen behind their womenfolk to return with food.

Only a few husbands looked complacent, perched in armchairs and divans. Perhaps the dwindling supply of servants in Kerala has forced some men to share the responsibility of meal-making.

I’m sure my uncle’s mother never imagined her son would be feted for his cooking.

I’m also positive his wife, accomplished cook that she is, never imagined she’d marry a man who’d outperform her in the kitchen. If more men like my uncle discovered what their hands were capable of in the kitchen, their lives would be transformed into a gastronomic heaven. Husbands and wives would have fun together and appreciate each other’s edible offerings.

Before I became a mother, I braved a fierce snowstorm with my husband and mother to visit my uncle and aunt in Seneca Falls, birthplace of the suffragette movement. We were rewarded for the long drive in the inclement weather. My uncle served fabulous home-cooked meals for the duration of our visit. For one meal, he whipped up onion yogurt chutney in the blender to go with uttapams in the space of five minutes. I knew I had to have the recipe of the chutney. Now I often make onion chutney not just for uttapams, but also for dosas, idlis, upma, and aloo parathas. I use the leftover as a dip. My husband makes it too.

For those who would love to whip up something in a cinch, here is the recipe for onion yoghurt chutney:

Onion Yoghurt Chutney

Ingredients 2 tablespoons chopped onion 2 tablespoons chopped coriander 2 cups of yogurt 1 green chili, seeded (optional) Method Put all the ingredients in the blender and use the highest setting for a minute and a half or until a few bubbles appear. After five minutes, the dish is ready to serve. n Tara Menon is a freelance writer based in Lexington, Massachusetts. Her fiction, poetry, and book reviews have been published in many magazines.

dance

ELIZABETH KURIEN

Nitya Shetra Bharatnatyam Dance School

Bharata Natyam Folk Dances

Offers Classes in:

Classes: Duarte,Cerritos, Riverside,Chino Hills

• Pioneer/Norwalk • Torrance • Ektaa Center/Irvine

Paulomi Pandit Recipient of Post Diploma from

Bharatanatyam Mohiniyattam complimented with Carnatic Music Classes offered at: Los Angeles * Pasadena * Rancho Cucamonga (909) 944-7233 * elizabeth_mani@yahoo.com

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CELEBRATING DANCE 1977 to 2012

Viji Prakash Founder/Director

Shakti School of Bharata Natyam Classes in West Los Angeles, Torrance, Cerritos, Orange/Irvine, Woodland Hills

www.shaktidancecompany.com danceyatra@yahoo.com

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 43

These Were a Few Of prel R ag as pi ri t l “Nritto” World e 2012 — Festiv is m ro P y al of Indian b sented Music.

Wide. rjan ized by S nt l Coldplay co am” organ eve ncert at the H an ar ce an sm lywood Bowl. olspecial d l “Sam a ca as ri w e m It A a. h h d rt o ra N h S r ve ru o u l G al and from y dancers Mohapatra l Irvine Globa where man elucharan l Village Festiv K ru u G to al. te u ib paid tr agical Eve M “A n o ti — ta , H n ar ro se is st h re K Murthy athak Mae niversary p E xe cu ti ve l 20th An Dance” featuring K Hussain. We D irec to r, ir ak Zak ath Ektaa Center ning of K Maharaj and Ustad .

Festihna ay lSad d th ir ju b ir jji’s 75th Pandit B val at Azad Bhavan Auditoted Mahra also celebra rium, New Delhi. a Nag ool —Anuradh ector, Tarangini Sch l Tarangini School of Kathak’s 20th Artistic Dir nce a D k a th year anniversary, with Zakirbhai. of Ka

e l Producing th ibute.

Tr y da rth Ali Akbar Khan Bi l The Mill Valley

l Leading dance troupe Nrityanchal at National Theatre Hall of Bangladesh Shilpakala Academy.

—Pandit Birju Maharaj

Film Festival.

—Mary Khan r School of Music Director, Ali Akba

am l A ra n ge tr . an al p go u en

by Purna V nds for ce to raise fu l Performan d "The River of tra calle Akshaya Pa Dance." shnamurthi njali —Malini Kri ector, Natya Artistic Dir ce an dian D School Of In

44 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

nce, San Franl RSA Confere cisco. n

—Prakash Naraya IC Reader

Septemaharaj’s concert in l Pandit Birju M ber.

lSam Pitroda’s . keynote at TiEcon

l Paul Fleistalk at chman’s inspiring Google.

’s piano (gradua l My son Rohith University. nta Clara tion) recital at Sa enShadyac’s docum l Filmmaker Tom . rd fo an ng at St tary “I Am” screeni —Raji Lukkoor Author .

an d l Na ty a rPULSEte un Co at n tio Narra tegrating dance, a performance in non-fiction. poetry, fiction and dding.

l My student’s we

ance.

niversary perform

l Lasya’s 20th an

anian —Vidhya Subram of Lasya Dance r to rec Di Artistic

f My Favorite Events lICC Sevathon eum Exhibition l Asian Art Mus Opening. l. hnic Dance Festiva l San Francisco Et —Tanuja Bahal r, India CommuExecutive Directo nity Center

rt of l Conce ju MaB d Pt. ir the legen haraj oncert. igam in c l Sonu N oncert.

Khan n c l Akram vi Kumar —Bhaira irector of NitryoArtistic D Academy ak daya Kath

l Scarlet ndraiser for the Fu Night Center.

South Bay Heart sEthnic Dance Fe l San Francisco naya hi Ab ere wh SF ena, tival at Yerba Bu rmed a and SJ Taiko perfo Dance Company . collaborative item . naya’s fall concert l Gandhi—Abhi

l Zakir Husssan and Friends performance at Walt Disney Hall, Los Angeles.

l Seeing Mad the Staples Cen onna in concert at ter for the first time.

—Malathi Iyen gar Choreographer and Artistic Director of Rangoli Dance Compa ny

ission fundraiser in l Chinmaya M De Anza College. ture demonMy own tuning lec l stration in Davis.

—Vivek Datar o Harmonium Maestr

—Mythili Kumar Abhinaya Artistic Director, ny pa m Dance Co

l A tt en di ng the Sikh C ommunity vigil held outs ide the Los Angeles City Hal l.

l Ac co m pa srabudnying Veena Saha San Lea, ram sh ika dr Ba dhe in usic. m re pu t andro. Nothing bu

lPandit Chis Solo at Sanskriti Da sh tre Festival. ed by the Chil Darbar perform Asian Company at the tresh Das Dance Art Museum. the presentation of lUC Berkeley’s llerZe at ny pa m Co nce Chitresh Das Da bach Hall.

—Seibi Lee Chitresh Principal Dancer, y an mp Das Dance Co

l Pandit Birju Maharaj’s performance in September was unbelievable, his footwork as precise and the sounds as crisp as I saw him in 1963. l Pandit Ravi Shankar at Long Beach Convention Center. He performed for hour and half explaining various ragas and taals and ending in a jugalbandi with Anoushka and the musicians.

—Anjani Ambegaokar Artistic Director of Anjani's Kathak Dance of India and Sundar Kala Kendra Kathak Dance School

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 45

These Were a Few Of l The M raja show in th ahae Asian Art Museum, San Francisco. l Nayani—a

by Aim for Seva dance recital organized . lThe Upnisha kar in LA, an ds with Sri Sri Ravishand Swami Tatt vadidanand’s talks in San Jo se.

—Smita Garg Artist, Educat or, Author

ck lYoga Gives Ba MarDr at ser” “Malibu Fundrai wah’s estate . atsu —Kayoko Mitsum , Yoga Gives Back nt ide res Founder/P

a Leonard

—Shyamal Randeri Writer for IC

l Late Madhav Tare mem or in which Pt. Sw ial concert ap an Chaudhuri performed the Tabla Solo.

l Niners vs. me.

Saints football ga /World series.

l SF Giants NLCS

l Akhil Bhar atiya Gandhar havidyalaya M andal Exam co va Manducted in April and Nov.

SF. l Giants Parade in reader who grew —Vishal Kumar, a nts. up with India Curre

lShivam Arts’ ce of Mohini the an rm rfo pe the Barclay Theat Enchantress ater. sClassical Music Fe l Raga Spirit 2012 due t en ev e se t us m s also a tival at UCLA wa ademia. ding of art and ac en bl ue iq un its to es in So Cal. l Navratri festiviti

l Comedy Russel Peters and by s show Aziz Ansari.

—Satish Tare Tabla teacher and founder of Tabla Niketan .

wali Day.

l NamasteKidz Di

d Enrique concert

l Rihana, JLo an Madonna.

l Sonu Nigam concer t. l Wine tastin g in Sonoma an a musical com d edy. l Pandit Chi tr tional kathak so esh Das in a tradilo.

—Ishita Verma IC reader

and

—Nikki Sood staurant and Owner, Tanzore Re ts Gaylord Even

l “K lo se nu to my Heart” So d by ste ho ow sh e liv Nigam n. tio da Sankara Eye Foun sion concert by l “Sammilan” fu rty organized by pa d an Master Shashank SIFA. concert by “Morning Ragas” l r and Ravi ta Da Vivek Sandeep Ranade, n. ara ras eP by Gutala organized —Ravi Gutala Table maestro

46 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

f My Favorite Events l I n d i a s’ 25th annivernt rre Cu d Naatak’s sary celebration an ancisco” play. I “Death in San Fr rformer. pe attended this as a Disrupt San Fran l TechCrunch as ch su luminaries cisco—Heard tech Vinod Khosla. d an erg erb Mark Zuck Giants’s World l San Francisco e. rad Championship Pa —Rajiv Nema Actor

lRavi Shankar and Anoushka Shankar show in Long Beach.

—Amy Ghosh Lawyer

l Calif Arts Associatio o r n i a n 10th Anniversary Celeb ration, a 2-da filled event w y funith plays, mus and film screen ic concerts ing. l Naatak’s pl ay “Death in that I acted in San Francisco” . l CalAA’s pres entation of N ment productio iche Entertain n “Pancham— The Immortal as a tribute to Note” the fond mem ory of R.D. Bu rman.

—Mukund Mar athe President, Califo rnia Arts Assoc iation

l India Current’s Event.

25th Anniversary ert.

l Jason Mraz conc l Giant’s Parade

in SF. ani

—Alka Ramchand Lawyer l Ya k ha shagana by Yaks rected di i), elh (D Manjusha I couldn’t o th ven

by Vidya Kolyur. (e guage dialan a ad nn understand the Ka joyable). ly en logue, was still high ete, at usic session in Cr rning l A one-week m lea s wa I p. ho usic Works the to ed the Labyrinth M at rel Greek instrument baglama, a small bouzouki.

Greek the Dora Stratou lA performance by polis ro Ac e th e sit po de, op Folk dancers, outsi . in Athens, Greece —Barbara Framm dancer

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 47

Vijaya Bhanu Proudly Presents

29th Annual Show

December 23, 2012 Time: 4:30 pm (Seating 4:15 pm) Venue: “Quality Inn” Hotel Hall

Address: 16905 Pioneer Blvd, Artesia, CA, 90701

Tickets: VIP $25 & $15 Students and group discount available Donations are highly appreciated

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE SHOW: The talented students/artists from the school will perform * Bharata Natyam * Kathak (Banarasi Gharana) * Folk Songs * Filmy Songs * Songs by Prominent Artists of LA

VIJAYA BHANU Versatile Classical Dance Performer and Singer

Saturday, December 1, 2012 Small & Intimate Concert featuring Gazals, Bhajans, Geet & Sangeet by well known artists of LA 18809B Pioneer Blvd., Artesia, CA 90701 Time: 6:30 pm - 9:30 pm FREE Admission - Donations Appreciated

VijayaBhanu.net | VijayaBhanuAcademy@yahoo.com | (562) 746-1945 • (562) 402-1051

VIJAYA BHANU

SRI, SAKTI, SARADE Kala Niketan American Asian Art

Vijaya Bhanu School of Dance offer classes in

Indian Classical Dance & Yoga

SPECIA LI IN DAN ZED COSTU CE MES

Specialized in the Traditional Dances of: Kathak Kuchipudi Kathakali Bharata Natyam & Folk Dances of India & Filmy Dance of Bollywood Classical & Semi Classical Vocal Music & Filmy Songs NEW LOCATI ON

VIJAYA BHANU The Best Versatile Dance Performer in U.S.A & India Natyamayuri (Dancing Peacock) Award Winner 1975-79-80-86 The Founder Director of School since 1982 in LA 1995 Doctors Awards 2000 Dancing Angel 48 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

Appointment Only

(562) 746-1945 • (562) 402-1052 email: vijayabhanuacademy@yahoo.com 18807 ½ Pioneer Blvd., Artesia, CA 90701

Classes & Stage Shows available at your location by your invitation

Edited by: Mona

Shah

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special dates Christmas Day

Dec. 25

New Year’s Day

Jan. 1

Guru Govind’s B’day

Jan. 5

Makara Sankranti

Jan. 14

Pongal

Jan. 14

M.L. King Jr. Day

Jan. 21

India’s Republic Day

Jan 26

Ash Wednesday

Feb. 13

Sarasvati Puja

Feb. 15

Vasanta Panchami

Feb. 15

IC

cultural calendar

December

3 Monday

Decolonizing Literacies: Paulo Freire, “Theory” and Rural Women’s Antiviolence Organizing in Eastern India. A “work-in-progress” talk by Piya

Chatterjee, exploring her work in building anti violence and political literacy “circles” with rural plantation and village women in Eastern India. Organized by UCLA Center

Chinmaya Mission’s annual fundraiser, Dec. 8

for India and South Asia. 12-1 p.m. 10383 Bunche Hall, 10th floor, 315 Portola Plaza, Los Angeles. Free. (310) 206-2654. cisa@ international.ucla.edu. www.international. ucla.edu/southasia.

December

8 Saturday

Sevanjali 2012. Chinmaya Mission’s annual fundraising event to support the activities of the mission. This year’s program will feature hypnotist Cameron South and Dario Vazquez, a juggler well known for his kinectic acts in Las Vegas. Organized by Chinmaya Mission Los Angeles. 4-9 p.m. Santa Ana High School, 520 W.Walnut St., Santa Ana.

General, $55 (ages 4 and above). (714) 749-0998. losangeles@chinmaya.org. www. chinmayala.org.

December

16 Sunday

All Composers Day. With special

emphasis on Annamacharya and Sripada Pinakapani’s music. Includes a vocal concert

by Vidwan Chakrapani with Anil Narasimha (slide guitar) and Raamkumar Balamurthi (mridangam). Organized by Indian Fine Arts Academy and Vedic Cultural and Spiritual Center. 8 a.m.-6 p.m. 7930 Arjons Drive, Suite B, San Diego. Free. (858) 6380744. shekar.viswanathan@gmail.com. www. indianfinearts.org. http://www.hafsite.org. india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 49

IC

reflections

Monica Bhide

Our Almost Perfect Family

“I

cannot find Jai!” I wailed to my husband. “What kind of a mother am I? I cannot find my own son!”

We were standing in front of a wall of student artwork at Stenwood Elementary.

The first-graders had drawn pictures titled, “Who Am I?” and now their parents had to figure out which one was made by their child, based a riddle the kids had included with their drawing. And here I was unable to pick out the one done by my 6-year-old Jai. “I cannot find him either,” my husband Sameer said.

Slowly, we studied all the 23 drawings again. One struck me as a possibility: “I have a sister who is younger than me,” the riddle read. “I love lions and tigers, and I have a fish.” Everything fit—except for the sister part. I lifted the paper and flipped it over, and sure enough, there was Jai’s name. I carried the drawing with me into his classroom. Jai came running to me, “Did you find me, Mamma?”

“Yes, honey, but why did you say you have a sister when you don’t?”

“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “Shivani is my sister, she is.”

Shivani is my sister’s daughter; she lives in Arizona, halfway across the country from our home in northern Virginia.

But Jai persisted: “Mamma, did you see the other drawings? Everyone else has a brother or sister. Everyone, except me.”

And then, weeping, he ran out of the classroom. I just stood there. A few parents patted my back. “He will be fine,” they said.

It isn’t that my husband, and I did not want another child; we’d been struggling with infertility for a long time. But after that night, we decided to step up our efforts to conceive. We had been trying the calendar method and been unsuccessful but began using ovulations kits, etc.

As luck would have it, I became pregnant right away. Unable to contain my excitement, I told Jai when I was only a few weeks along. Within hours, he announced the news to the grocery store clerk, to the garbage man, to his teacher, to strangers we met on walks, to everyone. “I am going to be a big brother,” he boasted.

Our happiness was short-lived: I miscarried at four months. With much heartache, my husband and I resigned

50 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

Jai with his baby brother Arjun

ourselves to the fact that perhaps our family would just be the three of us. “Jai, the baby is not coming,” Sameer told our son gently that night “Mamma is not too well right now. Her back hurts.”

“Okay,” Jai muttered, saying nothing more. He didn’t bring up the subject again until a month later, in the school parking lot, when he asked, “Mamma, is the baby not coming because I wouldn’t be a good big brother?”

I wished that I had the perfect answer for him. I longed to know the best way to soothe the pain of a child crying for a sibling.

But all I could do was weep with him. I explained that losing the baby had nothing to do with him, and I promised that someday, somehow, he would have a sibling. “Yes!” he responded. “Right now we are only an almost perfect family.”

After much discussion, my husband and I decided to try in vitro fertilization. Several rounds failed, but a year later, I was pregnant again. By this time, Jai had stopped asking for a sibling. But I noticed the he sometimes seemed sad, especially on holidays when his friends were out with their extended families celebrating. We are a family of immigrants.

My closest relative is six-hours away by plane.

When we finally told Jai about my pregnancy in my third trimester, he greeted the announcement with giggles, laughter, and shouts of joy. Once again, he broadcast the news to everyone we encountered. Then he cleaned his room, picked out books the baby could read, and even set aside a baseball and bat for his new sibling.

My husband noticed that each morning Jai went to the prayer table that we have in our house and prayed. “Please God, take care of my Mamma and my baby. Please don’t let Mama’s back hurt again. Please.”

Jai asked if he could name the baby, and we debated about what to do. We wanted to let him weigh in, but we didn’t want to end up with a child named Nemo or Buzz Lightyear or Cinderella. So we compromised and gave him a short-list of names from which he could pick. “How do I name the baby if I don’t know if it is a boy or girl?” he asked.

Off we went for an ultrasound—with Jai in tow. When the technician announced we were having another boy, Jai’s face lit up.

“We are having a baby brother,” he said. “We are having Arjun.” He had chosen the name of a brave and legendary Hindu warrior.

Jai planned my baby showers with my friends, sat with me as I wrote thank you

notes, and helped my husband set up the crib and the changing table, giggling all the while at the tiny diapers he stashed underneath.

Meanwhile, I was in and out of the hospital with a very dangerous pregnancy. But we all prayed and stayed positive.

Arjun, by the grace of God, arrived on his due date. Jai proudly wore his t-shirt that said, “Big Brother,” when he came to visit us at the hospital. When I brought the baby home, I was greeted by a big sign Jai had made: “Welcome Home Mamma and Arjun.”

When the baby was two months, I got a rather unusual call from Jai’s teacher. She said she wanted to show my something my son had written about his brother and asked me to stop by the classroom the next time I was at school.

Suddenly, I felt very nervous. During my pregnancy, friends and family members had warned me about sibling rivalries. They said it could be hard to introduce a new addition, especially to someone who’d been only child for so long. Was Jai now bothered by his brother? Was I giving Arjun too much attention?

I was in the classroom the next day.

“I asked the students to write an essay on something that was important to them,” his teacher said, handing me a yellow binder.

“Most of the kids wrote about soccer, baseball, playing outside or watching TV. Jai is the only

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one who wrote about his brother.” I opened the binder, and read all 8 pages of Jai’s essay in a daze.

Every detail of Arjun’s birth was captured—from who picked Jai up at school the day his brother was born to the look of the hospital room where I stayed. He even described making the welcome home sign. I took the essay home and placed it in Arjun’s memory box.

Arjun is now almost 2 now, Jai is nearly 9. The boys are totally different: Jai is softspoken; Arjun is louder than six-toddlers put together. The older one loves to read; the younger loves to dance.

Yet despite their differences, my boys are inseparable. While I have no doubt Jai would have eventually adjusted to being an only child, I feel secure now that my sons will always have each other to rely on. They are each other’s keepers, and our family is no longer “almost perfect.” It feels perfect in every way.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. This article previously appeared in Parents magazine. Reprinted with permission.

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india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 51

I C spirituality and health December

1 Saturday

Memorial Service for Swami Swahananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1946 Vedanta Place, Hollywood. (323) 4657114. hollywood@vedanta.org. www.vedanta. org.

December

2 Sunday

Our Immortal Nature. 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) 5430800. 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.

Maha Chandi Homan and Navagraha Homan. 15th anniversary celebrations under

the guidance of guru Mathioli R. Saraswathy. Organized by Nandalala Mission Los Angeles. 12:30-6:30 p.m. Sanatan Dharma Temple, 15311 pioneer Blvd., Norwalk. $101 per family. (213) 219-1970, (626) 441-2019. senthilk8@hotmail.com.

Swami Chetanananda Vedanta Society of St. Louis Vivekananda—A Bridge between East and West. Sunday lecture.

Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m.

Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1946 Vedanta Place, Hollywood. (323) 465-7114. hollywood@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Doors to Spiritual Knowledge. Sunday

lecture by Swami Prapannananda. Organized

by The Vedanta Society. 10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Life of a Monk. Sunday lecture by Swami

Kripamayananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 19961, Live Oak, Canyon Road, P.O. Box 408, Trabuco Canyon. (949) 8580342. rkmtrabuco@vedanta.org. www.vedanta. org.

Spiritual Healing. Sunday lecture by Swami Ishtananda. Christmas program and potluck. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 52 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

1440 Upas Street, San Diego. (619) 291-9377. sandiego@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

December

8 Saturday

Memorial Service for Swami Swahananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society.

10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org. www. vedanta.org.

December

9 Sunday

How To Find lasting Joy. 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.

Some Guidlines for Right Living. Sunday lecture by Swami Yuktatmananda. Organized

by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1946 Vedanta Place, Hollywood. (323) 465-7114. hollywood@ vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

How to be Happy. Sunday lecture by Swami Bhaskarananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara.

(805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Finding Our Treasure Within. Sunday

lecture by Swami Varadananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 19961, Live Oak, Canyon Road, P.O. Box 408, Trabuco Canyon.

(949) 858-0342. rkmtrabuco@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Reminiscences of Swami Swahananda.

Sunday lecture by Swami Atmajnanananda.

Christmas program and potluck. Organized

by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1440 Upas Street, San Diego. (619) 291-9377. sandiego@ vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

December

16 Sunday

The Divine Nature of Christ. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114.

Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Holly-

wood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 5430800. 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.

Knock and It Shall be Opened Unto You. Sunday lecture by Swami Sarvadevananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1946 Vedanta Place, Hollywood. (323) 4657114. hollywood@vedanta.org. www.vedanta. org.

Doctrine of Karma. Sunday lecture by Swami Brahmavidyananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Conversation and Dialogue of Swami Vivekananda. Organized by The Vedanta

Society. 4 p.m. Vivekananda House, 309 Monterey Road, South Pasadena. (323) 254-1546. www.vedanta.org.

Stages of Spiritual Attainment. Sunday

lecture by Swami Yogeshananda. Organized

by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 19961, Live Oak, Canyon Road, P.O. Box 408, Trabuco Canyon.

(949) 858-0342. rkmtrabuco@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Transforming Love. Sunday lecture.

Christmas program and potluck. Organized

by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1440 Upas Street, San Diego. (619) 291-9377. sandiego@ vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

December

23 Sunday

Celebrating Christmas in the Temple of the Soul. 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.

Rejoice. Sunday lecture by Swami Atmatattwananda.

Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m.

Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1946 Vedanta Place, Hollywood. (323) 465-7114. hollywood@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Mary and Jesus. Sunday lecture. Organized by

The Vedanta Society. 10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@vedanta. org. www.vedanta.org.

Knock and It Shall be Opened Unto You.

Sunday lecture by Swami Sarvadevananda.

Christmas program and potluck. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 19961, Live Oak, Canyon Road, P.O. Box 408, Trabuco Canyon. (949) 8580342. rkmtrabuco@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

A Shift in Perception. Sunday lecture.

Christmas program and potluck. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1440 Upas Street, San Diego. (619) 291-9377. sandiego@vedanta.org. www. vedanta.org.

December

30 Sunday

Make Yourself What You Want to Be. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 4544114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 5430800. 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.

Human Love and Divine Love. Sunday lecture by Swami Yogeshananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1946 Vedanta Place, Hollywood. (323) 465-7114. hollywood@vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Knock and It Shall be Opened Unto You.

Sunday lecture by Swami Prapannananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 10 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 927 Ladera Lane, Santa Barbara. (805) 969-2903. santabarbara@ vedanta.org. www.vedanta.org.

Doctrine of Karma. Sunday lecture. Christmas program and potluck. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 1440 Upas Street, San Diego. (619) 291-9377. sandiego@vedanta.org. www. vedanta.org.

The Harmony of Religions. Sunday lecture

by Swami Vedarupananda. Organized by The Vedanta Society. 11 a.m. Vedanta Society of Southern California, 19961, Live Oak, Canyon Road, P.O. Box 408, Trabuco Canyon. (949) 858-0342. rkmtrabuco@vedanta. org. www.vedanta.org.

January

6 Sunday

Kriya Yoga: Universal Science of GodRealization. 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) 5430800. 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.

January

13 Sunday

Awakening Divine Memory. 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.

January

20 Sunday

How to be Stronger Than Life’s Trials and Tests. 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) 5430800. 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.

January

27 Sunday

Making the Most of Sundays. 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.

Febuary

3 Sunday

Uniting Your Will With God’s Infinite Power. 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) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.

Febuary

10 Sunday

Does Satan Really Exist? 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.

Check out IC online at www.IndiaCurrents.com.

© Copyright 2012 India Currents. All rights reserved. Reproduction for commercial use strictly prohibited. india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 53

IC

the healthy life

Malar Gandhi

Healthy Radiant Hair

M

en and women alike desire for one thing, healthy, radiant hair.

Having healthy hair takes more than just shampoo and conditioner. For several reasons, hair starts thinning out at a certain point of time. It can cause panic, distress and anxiety for the individuals concerned.

Besides genetic reasons, chronic disease, stress and some medications, it is often dietary deficiencies; toxic hair care products and life style hazards that are the cause for severe hair loss. Many hair-restoration solutions are put forward by the industries, yet there is no overnight cure.

Luckily, we can nourish our hair from the inside out by eating nutrient packed foods that promote strength and shine.

Hair is basically dead protein filaments, and hence protein is one of the most important nutrients that can ensure the growth of hair. Next to protein, hair needs number of minerals and vitamins to grow properly. Imagine our hair has an agricultural crop that has its roots in the blood-enriched lymphatic soil beneath the skin. The most important aspect of rehabilitating hair is to cleanse, purify, and nourish the body, blood, and lymphatic system.

So to maintain healthy hair, adequate nutrition and blood flow to the hair roots is necessary. The primary cause of hair loss and premature graying is a lack of nourishment for renewing the living hair follicle. A deficiency of one trace mineral, tin, alone can contribute to make pattern baldness (other than genetic factors).

Eat Your Way Beautiful Hair

to

Healthy,

The foundation of all new hair growth is the nutrients that we eat. For maximum hair growth and health, step out of the shower and move into the kitchen. Starting a hair-healthy diet today will improve your locks in as little as six months. And since hair is a great marker of overall health, the benefits of a hair-healthy diet will go far beyond simply having a great hair day.

When it comes to healthy hair, what we put on our plate is more important than what we put on our hair. Now, let’s be practical, if you were born with fine and thin hair, you will never have thick hair no matter what you eat. But a well-balanced 54 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

diet that includes plenty of growth-promoting protein and iron can make a difference.

And improving your diet will not only boost the health of your hair, but also the rest of the body.

Healthy Hair

If we want a good hairline, the important thing for us to have is excellent circulation to allow nutrients to flow to the hair follicle. Healthy hair requires specific proteinbuilding amino acids and sulfur in the diet because hair is almost entirely made up of protein (97%). Protein is necessary for all cell growth, including hair cells. Hair gets its structure from a hardened protein called keratin. When there isn’t enough protein for keratin, hair grows more slowly and the strands will be weaker. The diet rich in animal protein (heme iron) is easily absorbed by the body than the iron in plant foods (non-heme iron). Vitamin C plays a role in absorbing non-heme iron, so vegetarians should consider eating iron rich diet along with vitamin C loaded foods to ensure maximum absorp-

tion. Furthermore, Vitamin C is also needed to form collagen, a structural fiber, which supports optimal growth of healthy hair. Iron rich leafy vegetables: collard greens, kale, curry leaves, moringa leaves (murungai keerai in Tamil), broccoli and spinach. Vitamin C rich foods: Citrus fruits (oranges, grapefruit, lemons); papaya, red peppers, strawberries and blueberries.

Premature Gray Hair

Graying before reaching 35 years is caused by a lack of B vitamins and too much of exposure to sun. Ayurveda identifies premature graying as a result of aggravation of pitta dosha; excessive consumption of coffee, tea, colas, alcohol and nicotine is believed to play a role in it. The best treatment for gray hair is to include B vitamin rich food. Drink the water left over from the process of sprouting grains. It is not generally available at stores, but one can fix it at home. Cumin seeds infused filtered water also helps to maintain the shine. Indian gooseberry (amla)is prized for its ability to maintain hair color and flexibil-

health

ity. Add more grated coconut to your stir-fries.

Using mature curry leaves for tempering is a great idea too.

Thinning Hair

Think about B-vitamins (folate, vitamin B-6, vitamin B-12). These vitamins are involved in the creation of red blood cells, which carry oxygen and nutrients to all body cells, including those of the scalp, follicles, and growing hair. Without enough B vitamins, the cells will not thrive, causing shedding, slow growth, or weak hair that is prone to breaking.

Folate is found in whole-grain cereals, lentils, black-eyed peas, soybeans, oatmeal, turnip greens, spinach, green peas, and broccoli.

Good source of vitamin B6 is garbanzo beans, potatoes, bananas, and lentils. Seafood is an excellent source for vitamin B12, soy milk and cottage cheese can also provide the same.

Include a spoonful of fenugreek seeds, when you prepare sambar, tamarind based curry, and in idli-dosa batter. This spice is an excellent source of minerals like copper, potassium, calcium, iron, selenium, zinc, manganese, and magnesium. It is also rich in many vital vitamins including thiamin, pyridoxine (Vitamin B-6), folic acid, riboflavin, niacin, Vitamin-A and Vitamin C.

Hair Growth

The mineral zinc is involved in tissue growth and repair, including hair growth. It also helps keep the oil glands around the hair follicles working properly. Low levels of zinc can cause hair loss, slow growth, and dandruff. Good sources of zinc are usually found in seafood (crab, oyster, shrimps); vegetarians can safely opt for more chickpeas, wheat germ, pumpkin seeds and peanut butter.

Copper, which is necessary for formation of hemoglobin and sufficient blood flow to the hair follicles, include seaweed, nuts and seeds to your diet.

For overall hair health, include whole and organic foods. Choose diet rich in: sulfur foods (onions, radishes); silicon foods (cucumbers, red peppers, eggplants); vitamin A foods (carrots, papaya); zinc foods (nuts and seeds); vitamin C (citrus fruits); vitamin E (avocado and olives) copper foods (seaweeds).

Other Ayurvedic foods for general hair health include whole milk, lentils (mung dal), green leafy vegetables, cumin seeds, fenugreek seeds, turmeric, sesame oil, fresh coconut, coconut oil, aloe vera juice, goose berries, curry leaves and and buttermilk.

While you plan ways to incorporate food for hair growth, also be aware that there are some culprits in our diets that are actually detrimental to our hair. Avoid refined sugar, bleached flour, caffeine, high-processed food and high fructose corn syrup.n Malar Gandhi is a freelance scholar and writer, who specializes in Culinary Anthropology and Gourmet Indian Cooking.

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india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 55

IC

travel

Kamala Thiagarajan

Ocean Nirvana The sheer splendor of silver sands and sapphire waters—Maldives—one of the world’s most beautiful island nations.

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I

’ve never quite realised how glorious a sunset can be when viewed from the middle of a vast, immeasurable ocean. As our speedboat slices through powerful waves on our way from Male International Airport, I feel as though I am gliding along on a cloud of turquoise mist. The ocean is so tranquil that you can view the sea bed for miles below its glassy surface and appreciate the wealth of life that thrives within it, surrounded as it is by sands that are as soft and white as talcum powder.

As we approach the Taj Exotica island resort, built on a gorgeous shallow lagoon, the waters seem to magically transform from sapphire to bright green. The difference is marked and perceptible.

In many ways, Maldives is a revelation. A cluster of over a thousand beautiful isles in Indian Ocean, (of which only 200 are inhabited; over 80 are devoted exclusively to promote tourism), the country is grouped into 26 main atolls (a group of fragmented islands encircled by gorgeous coral reefs soaked in shallow waters). Maldives is a curious mix of cultural ethos and hedonistic pleasure. I’m very surprised to learn that it is a proud Muslim nation with many women sporting purdahs.

Originally, Hinduism and Buddhism were widely practiced here. As Arabs became increasingly dominant as traders in the Indian Ocean during the 12th century, their influence was seen as one of the reasons for the 56 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

country’s conversion to Islam.

The people here are warm and friendly, truly denizens of the world and as I soon learn, intensely individualistic. Most of the staff at our resort sport name tags with only their first names. When I ask about this, I am told that Maldivians are rarely called by their surnames! This custom gives them a sense of individuality. Himanyu, our butler, tells us that many Maldivians are settled in Trivandrum today, because of needs such as higher education for their children and lower costs of living. There is a community near the coastal strip of Trivandrum that is just like a mini-Maldives in terms of population and culture, he says.

These islands are certainly a study in contrasts. I marvel at the way sheer luxury co-exists amidst the wild backdrop of nature.

Our villa comes equipped with a private Taj Exotica Resort

swimming pool and a wraparound porch with a cane sofa, wooden picnic table and chairs; all this built just above the shallow waters of the lagoon. As we swim or have our meals, we can gaze out at miles of beautiful ocean on all sides and observe the schools of vibrant tropical fish that glide by. A frequent visitor is the baby shark, instantly recognisable by its sharp fin that cuts through the waters like a black blade. I’m relieved to hear that it is harmless.

Baby sharks love these shallow waters but are very careful to shun human company. Within minutes, the fin melts away into the shadows.

Feeding the fish with bits of bread and pastry soon becomes a much-loved breakfast ritual and as the days pass, we can recognise the different kinds of sea creatures that flock to our feeding station. We meet the powder blue surgeonfish, the long nose hawkfish (aptly named, I thought, because its fan-like fins give it the appearance of sporting a Mohawk and its body is colored bright orange) and the spotted butterfly fish, the color of sunshine, with glowing polka dots. Our favorite by far is a fish we fondly name “the monster,” because of its huge size and surprising agility. Much to our amusement, it manages to hang around the longest and grab the choicest titbits, often right from under the snouts of the others!

Tiny bits of coral wash up on the sands and my eight-year-old daughter collects this excitedly, assuming it is a curious kind of shell. I point out

the numerous spaces in that piece of orange coral she holds, and tell her about the tiny sea creatures that had once made it its home.

She is fascinated by this jewel from the ocean and for the duration of our stay, it never leaves her side.

For a chance to witness this fascinating underwater world close up, we decide to take a submarine ride. A fifteen minute journey by speedboat takes us to the submarine base, where we queue up with tourists of almost every nationality. The powerful submarine can hold sixty people and soon it plunges into the underbelly of the ocean. Our captain points out every sea creature, from the electric eels, jelly fish and seahorses. Marine life stare curiously at our metal craft and a giant octopus hovers gently just by our window! The multi-colored coral reefs are breathtaking and it’s truly a whole new world under the deep.

As much as I love the submarine ride, I am happy to emerge into the bright sunshine, nearly an hour later. We are ravenous and quite game for a picnic right in the middle of the ocean! For lunch we pack a hamper full of continental food, fruits and other delicacies and head out to a little cove nearby. Here, on this tiny wooden parquet maintained by our resort, we set the table for a picnic.

Before we eat, we take a dip in the ocean (the water is much deeper here and far more turbulent than at the lagoon, so we are careful to don life jackets and our guide ensures that we don’t stray from the wooden steps off the dining area ).

After lunch, we decide to ride the waves in a catamaran. The ocean is smooth as glass when we venture out. I understand that at times, it can get quite turbulent, like a rollercoaster without the seat belts! Our boatman manipulates the waves with great ease and expertise—you can sense the dexterity and skill that goes into this sport. The sails have to be adjusted every few minutes in order to effectively catch the wind.

Stretching out languorously, oblivious of the waters that drench us, we breathe in the fragrant sea air and watch the shades of blue and green merge into the horizon. To date, this remains one of my most overpowering memories of the emerald isles. n Kamala Thiagarajan writes on travel, health and lifestyle topics for a global audience. She has been widely published in over eight countries.

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A Baby Shark

A Creative Commons Image Fish among the coral reefs

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How to get there: There are daily flights from India to Male (the capital island of Maldives)— from Trivandrum and Bangalore. Most island resorts are 30 minutes away by seaboat. However, some require a journey by a private sea plane (best arranged by your hotel).

Best Buys: Handmade paper, albums sewn with leaves and rosepetals, writing implements carved entirely from bark, tiny glass bottles that hold the pristine white beach sands with a selection of colorful shells, magnets shaped like tropical fish and brilliant water colour paintings, Maldives is a handicraft lover’s paradise!

Maldives Cuisine: For non-vegetarians, fresh seafood is the obvious answer! Steamed grilled or deep fried, you get a variety of exotic dishes. Don’t miss the mas huni which is shredded smoked fish with tender onions and grated coconut. As a vegetarian, I enjoyed the exotic salads, exquisite mocktails and pastries.

Tips for travelers: Be sure to have your passport, hotel reservations and return ticket handy when you disembark at Male.

Where to stay: There are many beautiful islands on the Maldives worth exploring. Before you book, be cognizant of your needs. If you like Indian food and water sports, then Taj Exotica would be the perfect choice. You can sample the world’s first underwater spa experience at Haven Fushi resort, located in North Male Atoll. Here, you can get booked for massage treatments in rooms that have been built entirely underwater!

If you’re keen on island hopping, you can travel by sea plane to explore other islands. This way, you can catch some breathtaking aerial views. You can also explore by motorboat. Arrange expeditions with your resort in advance.

india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 57

IC

on Inglish

Kalpana Mohan

Starched, Crisp, White, and Made in India: Dhoti dho•ti: a long loincloth worn by Hindu men in some parts of India From Hindi and Urdu dhoti, dhooti, dhooti, dhootie or dhuti; First Known Use: 1612

U

ntil a few years ago, my father would always receive us at Chennai airport when we landed in India. Dad would be waiting amid the throngs of people huddled outside to greet their loved ones.

His two-tone whistle would give him away from a hundred feet as we walked through the exit doors. Always dapper in a crisply ironed shirt tucked into his pants, he’d wave to us between shrill calls from puckered lips, and whistle again as my kids screeched towards him. Then he’d perform his signature butterfly maneuver. He’d put his thumbs end to end and turn his wrists clockwise flapping his fingers in mid-air. Like many before them, my kids stood transfixed by those wings.

On the way home we would chitchat. I would tell him he’d lost hair and weight. He’d frown at my size, pointing out that I was too skinny. He’d ask his son-in-law about his company’s latest acquisitions and his next business trip. He’d promise my children, once again, that he would to take them to MGM Dizzee World. (He never did.) He promised them he would take them to Pizza Hut at Pondy Bazaar for a paneer masala tikka pizza. (He delivered on that.) All the while his grandkids would hang off his neck, cheeks and jowl, kissing and hugging him until grandpa pried himself loose, begging to be delivered from the rabid forces of love.

When my father became too frail to receive us when we landed, we would greet him at his apartment. He would be fast asleep when we rolled in long after midnight. I would hug him as he lay there in his queen bed, a white silhouette asleep in his white vest and white dhoti. Dad would rouse at my touch. He’d wipe his drool and beam up at me: “Hi, baby, welcome to Chennai.” Then he’d suggest I wash up and eat a bowl of curd rice with mango pickle that his Man Friday, Vinayagam, had set aside for me on the dining table. Then he’d send me off to bed with the promise that he’d be up at 5 A.M. to make me “the world’s best coffee” before he went off on his hour-long walk in Jeeva Park.

For the first time since I made my home in the United States twentyseven years ago, at the close of October, I greeted my father in a hospital. He was curled up in pain and strapped to intravenous fluids and an opiate. Dad hadn’t showered in days. He hadn’t seen his walking friends for over a week.

“I want to shower, shave and change from this … from this ugly thing into my dhoti,” he growled, tugging at his printed gown. A starched and ironed cotton dhoti would make him well again, he said. Nothing defined him as well as his four-meter (13 feet) dhoti; it would reinstate his “Indianness,” his identity and his dignity. “I want to be civilized,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

It seemed to me that in the hospital my father had morphed into the antithesis of the man I had known since birth. Shackled by pain, my father had grown barbs. He whined. The doctors were hostile, he said. No one would hand him his dentures. The nurses always walked past his bed without once looking his way. Perhaps other patients were bribing them for care, he grunted. No one in the heartless ward cared about an old man like him even though he had begged the staff all through the night for a cell-phone just to be able to talk to his daughters.

But hours later when the pain had evanesced, a happy old man emerged: gentle and logical, genteel and philosophical. He impressed all the doctors on duty. He bantered with nurses. He was indebted to them, he said. In return, one young nurse rewarded him with a light pinch on his gaunt cheek and a compliment: “Chamathu thatha.” By evening, however, he was sheathed in

58 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

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a cocoon of pain again.

On one of his brightest mornings, Dad sat up in bed with a little help and asked to wear his dentures and his glasses. He asked for his checkbook and his daily accounts diary to be brought to him.

Then he began to figure out month-end salaries and Diwali bonuses for his household staff. He remembered to deduct the advance to the night watchman. He marked down payments for the milkman—720 Rupees ($13.18) a month depending on the month, he said, and suggested that his daughters verify the amount against the chart in the kitchen back at home. Then there were the monthly dues for subscriptions to television (380 Rupees, he wrote) and those for The Hindu and other newspapers, 310 Rupees. No Diwali inams for the newspapers and cable, he clarified, for those were commercial expenses. Then he told my sister to bring him his credit card to pay off all hospital expenses. Then she was to bring the cash stashed in a green unmarked envelope in the top right hand drawer of his cupboard so he could take care of any expenses that she had incurred on his behalf. He paused, between the arithmetic, looked at me with keen eyes and said he must reimburse me, his “little girl,” for my flight expenses from San Francisco to Chennai, an unseemly amount that he did not want his daughter and son-in-law to bear on his behalf. When all was done he held both our hands in his and said he was one lucky man to have two such devoted daughters. Then the family goliath in a wisp of a gown lay back on his bed and waved us away.

“Go home and rest and I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, while his nurses wheeled him away to yet another procedure.

As I write this, we await our father’s return home. We hope he’ll slip into his Nike walking shoes and back into his old life.

A stack of ironed and starched dhotis await him in his armoire, right above the shelf with that chaotic pile of received window envelopes, those long white postal covers with broken seals that he will reuse for this and that, and that and this, until he will not use them anymore. n Chamathu Thatha (Tamil): sweet and charming grandfather; Inam (Hindi): Gift/Tip This month Kalpana Mohan writes from Chennai, India. To read more about her, go to http://kalpanamohan.org and http://saritorial. com.

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recipes

Illustration: Serena Sacharoff

Shanta Nimbark Sacharoff

As Easy As Pie N ew to the United States, and living in New York City, known as “the Big Apple,” I heard the phrase “as American as apple pie” many times. I thoroughly enjoyed the experience of eating my first slice of apple pie, but I was intimidated by the prospect of making an apple pie because that would require baking. Back home in India most cooking was done on top of the stove, so I was unfamiliar with baking, and unlike stir-fry techniques used in India, which do not require careful measuring of ingredients, baking requires more exact measurements and timing.

Although my first baking project, a pas-

Brother Jim’s Apple Pie Ingredients For the Pie Crust 2 cups unbleached white flour or 2 cups whole wheat pastry flour for a more wholesome crust 8 tablespoons (½ cup, or 1 stick) of chilled butter or ½ cup vegan “butter” substitute (non-hydrogenated margarine) 3 tablespoons of oil, any type with a mild flavor such as canola or sunflower seed oil 2 to 3 tablespoons cold water For the Filling 10 to 12 apples, enough to yield 10 cups when cut into chunks and slices.

Mix crispy Pippin or Granny Smith apples with more juicy Gold Delicious (if these are unavailable, any mixture that combines apples with hard and soft flesh) 1 /3 cup orange juice ¾ cup sugar 1½ teaspoons cinnamon 2 tablespoons butter, cut into very small pieces Method: To make the dough for the pie crust: If mixing the dough by hand, first cut the chilled butter (or vegan spread) into small pieces. Add it to the flour, and cut the butter into the flour using a pastry cutter or two knives, cutting again and again until the mixture is the texture of coarse corn meal.

Then drizzle in the oil and 1-2 tablespoons of cold water, toss the mixture with a fork to distribute the oil and water, and quickly gather the dough into two loose balls.

If using a food processor combine all 60 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

ta casserole, turned out successfully, the prospect of making an apple pie from scratch was still a bit unnerving. However, my brother-in-law Jim showed me that it was indeed as “easy as pie.”

With his help I learned the basics of pie making, and my first attempt to make an apple pie was rewarding.

Here is a version of Brother Jim’s Apple Pie made with layers of raw apple slices and chunks of cooked apples. Also, below, another

ingredients, except the water, in the processor jar and mix it for a minute. Then continue to process the mixture by using the pulse button, adding a small amount of water, until it turns into small pea-size portions. Quickly gather the dough into two loose balls.

Do not compact the balls. Wrap each ball with waxed paper, or a plastic bag, and refrigerate the balls for approximately 20 to 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

For the filling: Peel 8-9 apples and cut them into small chunks. Place them in a sauce pan, add the orange juice, cover, and cook for about 20 minutes, until the fruit is tender but not mushy.

Drain the excess juice using a colander. Toss the cooked apples with 1 teaspoon of cinnamon, ½ cup of sugar and 2 tablespoons of butter cut into tiny pieces. Set this mixture aside.

To assemble the pie: Remove one ball of dough from the refrigerator. Place the dough in the center of a piece of wax paper and cover it with another piece of wax paper. Roll the dough into a circle approximately 11” in diameter, just a bit larger than the outer edge of the pie plate. When you are ready to place the dough in the pie plate, peel back and discard the top layer of wax paper. Lay the crust onto the plate so that the second layer of the wax paper is on top. Next, peel back the second sheet of wax paper and remove it. Gently center the pie crust into the plate, patting it and spreading it evenly to cover the edges. If a parts of the crust is broken, it can easily be fixed with a piece of dough. Cover the pie crust with a cloth napkin or place it in a large plastic bag, and refrigerate it for half an hour, or put it in

fun baking project: an Easy Strawberry Pie. n Shanta Nimbark Sacharoff, author of Flavors of India: Vegetarian Indian Cuisine, lives in San Francisco, where she is manager and coowner of Other Avenues, a health food store.

the freezer for 10 minutes to chill.

While the pie shell is chilling, cut the remaining apples into thin slices and combine them with ½ teaspoonful of cinnamon, ¼ cup sugar and 1 tablespoon of butter cut into tiny pieces.

Remove the chilled pie shell from the refrigerator and bake it in the preheated oven for 20 minutes or until the shell looks dry and beige in color. Remove the crust from the oven, and carefully line it with the raw apple slices, placing them evenly, overlapping each other to cover the bottom completely. Cover the raw apple slices with the cooked apple mixture, and set the filled pie shell aside.

For the Lattice Crust: Remove the second ball of dough from the refrigerator and divide it into two parts.

Using waxed paper as before, roll out one part into a strip that is longer than the pie plate is wide. Remove the top sheet of waxed paper and cut the strip into 1” wide ribbons, using a small knife. Lay these ribbons on top of the filling, side by side, with some space in between. Roll out the second piece of dough in a similar fashion, and weave the two sets of strips together in a criss-cross pattern as shown in the illustration. Next, seal the edges of the pie using bits of left-over pie dough and by pressing and pinching the lattice strips and bottom crusts together.

Bake the pie for 50 to 60 minutes, until the lattice is golden brown and the filling starts to bubble up between the lattice strips. Remove from the oven and allow the pie to cool to room temperature before cutting. Enjoy the festive smell of freshly baked apple pie!

Easy Strawberry Pie

There are many variations to making strawberry pie. This one requires lining the pre-baked pie crust with berries glazed with sugar, corn starch and vanilla. The result is a fragrant pie that can be served warm or cold.

For the Crust: Using the same ingredients and the method described previously, prepare two balls of dough and place them in the refrigerator for at least 20 minutes to chill. While they are chilling, prepare the filling.

For the Filling: Ingredients 5 cups of fresh strawberries, hulled and washed and cut into halves 2 tablespoons cornstarch or arrowroot powder ½ cup orange juice ¾ cup sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 tablespoons butter, cut into pea-size pieces

To assemble the pie: Remove one ball of dough from the refrigerator and follow the method described previously to roll it out and line a 9” pie plate.

Bake the bottom crust for about 20 minutes as specified above. Set the crust aside.

Increase the heat of the oven to 450 degrees and allow the oven to reach that temperature while preparing the filling.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk the cornstarch or arrow root powder into the orange juice until well blended. Add the sugar, vanilla and butter to the bowl and mix all the ingredients well.

Gently fold the berries into the juice mixture being careful not to crush them. Set this mixture aside to stand at room temperature for 15 minutes. Then, spread the berry mixture evenly into the prebaked pie crust.

For the Lattice Crust: Remove the second ball of dough from the refrigerator and divide it into two parts.

Using the same method described previously, make a lattice crust for the top. Arrange the lattice strips attractively on top of the berries, weaving them to cross each other. Carefully seal some of the strips of lattice to the bottom crust, pinching and stretching where necessary so as to keep the juice of the cooking berries from overflowing.

Bake the pie in an oven set at 450 degrees for 10 minutes. Then, without removing the pie from the oven, turn the oven down to 350 degrees and let it bake for another 35 to 45 minutes until the crust is golden and the filling is hot and bubbly.

For added richness (or an over indulgence) you can serve this pie with topped with whipped cream or ice cream after it has been cooled for at least half an hour.

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india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 61

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uncubed

My Favorite Three Cartoons

Krishna M. Sadasivam is the cartoonist behind UNcubed, a weekly online auto-bio comic, focusing on life as an Indian guy in the United States.

When he’s not creating comics or working as a freelance illustrator, Krishna teaches full-time in the Media Arts and Animation department of the Art Institute of Tampa in Florida. See more of his work at http://www.uncubedthecomic.com/.

62 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

I C dear doctor

Alzak Amlani

Self-centered and Distracted?

Q

I find myself getting easily distracted and bored when I am reading or listening to someone or working on a task. I think I have always been someone who had lots of interests, however, I couldn’t quite stay with something to become really good at it. I am realizing how dissatisfying that is for me now that I am in my late forties. People don’t want to share deeper things with me because they don’t see me taking a fuller interest in their inner lives. My wife thinks I am pretty selfcenterd, as I tend to get more excited about my own ideas and plans. There are moments when I feel awful about this selfish side of me, however, soon enough I am back to talking about myself.

I can’t seem to change.

It’s rare for someone with a fairly entrenched and self-absorbed personality to be this insightful and actually want to change. You seem to know your inner dynamics and ensuing interpersonal issues quite well. That is indeed a necessary start and I am curious how you got to understand this pattern as well as you have described it. It sounds like this style of being with yourself and oth-

A

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ers is a long-standing personality trait. There are people who actually avoid boredom, the ordinary side of life, loss, sadness, limits, loneliness and fear by constantly looking for the next stimulating idea, experience or person.

This keeps them optimistic, energized and seemingly passionate. However, it’s temporary and superficial, like taking a stimulant to give you short term energy and a boost, but never dealing with the lack of vitality and lethargy underneath.

In today’s world the question of distractibility is complex given all the technology that is essentially designed to distract us—take us away from any deep focusing, especially contemplative forms. Additionally, most of us have so many different tasks to accomplish everyday. People expect us to respond to emails, text, phone calls, etc. immediately.

Some people actually do suffer from attention-deficit disorder and ought to be checked out and get some treatment whether holistic through diet, herbs, stress reduction, meditation and/or medication. But the majority of us actually need life style changes and support in

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going deeper. This would include finding time where you are not distracted by media and technology. Where you persuade yourself to learn something more fully or experience another’s feelings in a deeper way. Committing to listen to someone so they feel heard and understood is a rich and rewarding practice for everyone. This helps us move beyond our self-absorptive tendencies. There are so many tools these days to do so.

Being a mature adult means seeing and meeting the sides of life and ourselves that we don’t like or don’t give us instant positive feelings. Give those negative feelings room.

Our mind, relationships and overall lives work in seasons and patterns. It can’t be summer all the time. The cold and wet winter nourishes the parched land to bring forth a lush spring.

One needs the other—the yin and the yang.

So it is with our own creativity and relationships. n Alzak Amlani, Ph.D. is a counseling psychologist in the Bay Area. (650)325-8393. Visit www.wholenesstherapy.com.

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india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13 • 63

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the last word

Sarita Sarvate

It’s Morning in America Again

S

ix billion dollars were washed down the drain in the election of 2012, but the American public taught the corporate interests and the spin-masters a lesson; that elections cannot be bought. That truth does prevail. That a party which plans to ban abortion and contraception, a party that wants to abolish the social safety net, a party that believes in trickle-down economics, cannot win.

The brightest spot for me was the election of Elizabeth Warren to the Senate. Warren, who was reviled by the right wing as the backer of “moochers” and “takers,” won by a solid margin, indicating Americans’ support for consumer protections for banking and finance. In an otherwise murky political landscape, Elizabeth Warren stood out as a politician from a different era when leaders used to stand for principles. Warren has the passion and the spark necessary in a presidential candidate. I can only hope that she will run, and soon.

Democrats have widened their overall lead in the Senate. They have taken over California’s legislature. And Obama has won a mandate to carry out his policies.

His instincts for bipartisanship and consensus are healthy for our country; but he must develop the knack of playing hardball when necessary. He needs to work with Congress, particularly the stalwarts in his own party, to develop robust proposals that Republicans cannot and should not refuse. But if the Republicans dig in their heels, he needs to go the public to seek its support.

Surveys have shown that a majority of Americans believe in raising taxes for the rich, in controlling climate change, and in keeping programs like social security and Medicare intact. Polls also show that most Americans believe that the country is too divided, that politicians inside the beltway are out of touch with them, and that America can no longer afford to wage expensive fiascos like Iraq and Afghanistan. If the Republicans do not cooperate, Obama needs to publicize their obstinacy and let the American public send emails to Congress.

The tasks facing his second term are no less challenging than his first term. But he has the luxury to take risks now, since he will no longer be running for re-election. He can afford to be bold, to speak the truth, and to form an agenda for the new millennium.

During his first term, Obama remained secluded in the White House, neither reaching out to Congress nor the American public. It is only on the campaign trail that he finally took credit for gigantic achievements like rescuing the auto industry, preventing a financial meltdown, and passing healthcare reform, albeit limited.

Now, he can build on his accomplishments to further policies crucial for global survival. Climate change is the foremost among them. He must divert our focus from needless wars to the most important foreign policy issue of the day, namely, healing the planet before it drowns in floods. Obama hardly mentioned global warming during his first term.

But now he must focus on it. Not only must America sign international

Clinton’s 1992 slogan of “It’s the Economy Stupid,” remains as relevant today as ever. It should, in fact, be Obama’s tagline.

64 • india currents • dec. ’12 - jan. ’13

treaties, but it must take leadership in guiding countries like China and India in the right direction.

The other priority for Obama is to get the best brains in the country together to brainstorm our economic policy. Why he did not do so in the first term, no one knows. Clinton’s 1992 slogan of “It’s the Economy Stupid,” remains as relevant today as ever. It should, in fact, be Obama’s tagline. If Obama does not formulate an economic policy to create jobs and restore America’s confidence, the right wing will push for its long-debunked supply side economics.

The administration must also oversee the smooth implementation of healthcare reform and the formulation of an immigration policy that is not too lax on illegal residents, nor too draconian.

Republicans will no doubt obstruct Obama every step of the way. But as the Chief Executive, Obama has at his disposal the one tool he knows how to use, namely communication. He must speak directly to the American public; he must inspire confidence and passion in his citizens; he must not be timid.

The election of 2012 was different from any other election in recent history because it signaled a sea change in American attitudes.

For decades I have watched my adopted country get stuck in 1950s style debates on contraception, abortion, and family values while the world has progressed, so much so that America remains only one of three countries in the world without paid maternity leave. The other two countries are Swaziland and Papua New Guinea. Try to wrap your head around that!

In most countries today, free contraceptives are available as a part of public health campaigns while Americans still debate the issue.

Leaders of America, the birthplace of feminism, still want to control women’s wombs by passing increasingly stricter legislation about abortion. Tax structures in America, too, have moved in a retrograde direction to benefit the aristocrats.

But in 2012 the American public sent a message to its leaders; that the country is ready to embrace the new millennium. That America must change to provide the moral and economic leadership the world sorely needs. In the post-World War-II era, America was a military superpower. But American adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan have proven that the world needs a different kind of guidance now.

While Europe is plagued by financial woes and Asia remains in pursuit of unchecked economic growth, America is still the only country that can lead a global green revolution in alternative energy, sustainable development, and enlightened society.

Obama, the writer, the thinker, and the orator, has the vision and the insight to steer such a revolution.

In his first term, Obama’s role model was Lincoln, perhaps because he saw a country ideologically divided. In his second term, he should use Kennedy as his role model instead. He may never be able to change the opinions of retrograde politicians like Paul Ryan, John Boehner, or Mitch McConnell, but the world eagerly awaits his moral direction.

It is, after all, morning in America again. n Sarita Sarvate writes commentaries for Pacific News Service and KQED. Visit www.saritasarvate.com

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