December 2015 Southern California Edition by India Currents

Top Ten 2015 Bollywood Films by Aniruddh Chawda

Noushad and the Plum Cake by Jeomoan Kurian

The Veena Maker by Anirudh Prabhu

Celebrating 29

A Migrant’s Holiday

dec’15 - jan’16 • vol. 29 , no .9 • www. indiacurrents.com

A travel adventure that challenges long held beliefs by Rajesh C. Oza

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Tackling ISIS: Use Social Media!

hen Subhash Chandra Bose arrived in Germany in 1941, desperately seeking new strategies and alliances to drive the British from India, he was already in the eye of the holocaust. By early 1942, soon after the infamous Wannsee Conference, held in a Berlin suburb, during which senior Nazi leaders decided on their “final solution” of genetic cleansing, Bose had established his Azad Hind Radio (Free India Radio) in Berlin and begun propagating his vision of an organized resistance movement that could release Britain’s tight fisted hold on India. It was in May of 1942 that Bose engineered a meeting with Hitler to enlist Germany’s assistance in India’s struggle for independence. Let’s be clear, despite British efforts to paint Subhash Chandra Bose as a German stooge, he was anything but. Bose abhorred and was openly critical of the German Fuehrer’s genocidal policies. Bose was myopically obsessed with his own vision of delivering freedom and liberty to Indians in India. His contextual lens was the scores put into prison by the British for articulating nationalistic ideas and the thousands who were beaten and subjugated and made to feel less than human in their own country. Subhash Chandra Bose was willing to make a deal with the man he called the “bada pagal” (Biggest crazy) for the sake of independent India. To that end, Bose, the strategist, believed that he could channel Hitler’s mad ambitions to defeat a common enemy—Britain. Ultimately not much came of the proposed alliance and Bose became a hotly contested, as well as a deeply admired, figure in India’s independence movement. But Bose’s actions in Germany led to this moral consideration: Is it terrible to forge an objectionable alliance for a worthy cause? Today, we are seeing a fractured focus when it comes to tackling ISIS. Each of the nations at the center of this war has its own agenda and reasons for unsavory alliances. David Von Drehle, in his Time magazine story “Beating Isis,” describes it as a failure to arrive at a consensus.

In short, America does not want to engage in a ground war from which there can be no out; Turkey wants to annihilate the Kurds who are a thorn in their flesh; The Kurds are fighting ISIS to establish their own Kurdistan; Russia is intent on helping Assad (now that may change with the bombing of the Russian jetliner) in his fight against Syrian rebel groups; Israel sees Iran as a bigger threat than ISIS; France and Belgium do not have the resources; Saudi Arabia is intent on maintaining its ethnic upper hand, especially against Iran; and Iran is more intent on keeping the Saudis in check. With all these mixed motives in play, it is no wonder that ISIS has been underestimated thus far. Their war is not limited to western countries or non-Islamic nations. Theirs is a war against peace, multiculturalism and co-existence. ISIS’s single-minded objective is to prey on the vulnerable. They pose more of a threat to Muslims across the world than any one nation. It seems to me,

therefore, that nations across the globe must obsessively pursue the only worthy goal—preventing the conversion of dispossessed youth to a barbaric ideology. To that end, the process of rehabilitation of a marginalized people must begin with a clear understanding of their history, and their place in the world. In order to answer the question, how do we morally reconcile the strange bedfellows we align with? Would it be all that terrible if the United States, France, Russia, Syria, Iran and Saudi Arabia banded together to rout a common enemy? It’s been done so often in the past that there seems little need for justification. President Obama described ISIS as “killers with good social media” skills. Let’s pause there and consider that we, in the west, invented social media. So why are we not better at using a platform that we gave the world?

Jaya Padmanabhan, Editor

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 1

2 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

INDIA CURRENTS December 2015–January 2016 • vol 29 • no 9

PERSPECTIVES 1 | EDITORIAL Tackling ISIS: Use Social Media! By Jaya Padmanabhan

Southern California Edition www.indiacurrents.com

Find us on

17 | TAX TALK Tax Deductible Gifts and Donations By Rita Bhayani 32 | BOOK EXCERPT Did Someone Say Second World War? By Raghu Karnad

6 | WORDS AND THINGS Snoring Shanmugam, and Other Cautionary Tales By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan

33 | BOOKS Editor’s Book Shelf—2015 Picks

7 | ON INGLISH A Palanquin of Wedding Bills By Kalpana Mohan 18 | YOUTH The Veena Maker By Anirudh Prabhu 20 | PERSPECTIVE The Lingering Flavors of Home By Kamala Thiagarajan 26 | EDUCATION So You’ve Hit the Send Button on Your College App? What Now? By Sarah de Sousa 28 | FEATURE A Year in Review 46 | DESI VOICES Bombay Bus By Ravibala Shenoy 56 | THE LAST WORD We Were Midnight’s Daughters By Sarita Sarvate

LIFESTYLE

8 | A Migrant’s Holiday Encountering mindfulness and mindlessness on a trip to Europe By Rajesh C. Oza

24 | Commentary Noushad and the Plum Cake By Jeomoan Kurian

42 | RECIPES A Holiday Food Canvas: Roasted Sweet Potato Chaat, Veg Momos, Cheese logs By Praba Iyer 45 | RELATIONSHIP DIVA Five Qualities Women Find Irresistible By Jasbina Ahluwalia 50 | HEALTHY LIFE A Diet Plan for Weight Loss By Nishtha Chawla 54 | DEAR DOCTOR How to Shore Up Your Inner Child By Alzak Amlani

34 | Music 2015 Bollywood Music Countdown By Priya Das

DEPARTMENTS 4 | Letters to the Editor 19 | Popular Articles 22 | Ask a Lawyer 23 | Visa Dates

WHAT’S CURRENT

36 | Films

47 | Cultural Calendar

Flying Daggers, Avenging 52 Widows and Ocean Motion—2015 Top Ten Bollywood Films

| Spiritual Calendar

By Aniruddh Chawda Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 3

letters to the editor Jinnah–The Ambassador

As an Indian American observant Hindu in my 70s, and the mother of a 40 year old son who married a lovely Pakistani Muslim woman, I feel both intrigue and empathy toward your cover article (“Jinnah’s Daughter” India Currents, November 2015) on M.A. Jinnah and his stunning Parsee wife, Ruttie and beautiful daughter, Dina. I have read Akbar S. Ahmed’s work. You are correct that because Dina chose to not cross borders into unfamiliar territory, and Ruttie died before she herself could do so, both women are somewhat alienated by Pakistan. My son’s in-laws often receive Pakistani newspapers such as The Pakistan Link, or Dawn or Akhbar-e-Jehan, which they share with me. I can tell you that every so often there are articles on Ruttie or Dina with fond descriptions of letters to the man they both loved, Jinnah, who, in his early days of law practice, before any notion of Pakistan entered his mind, was once described by Sarojini Naidu as the “ambassador on Hindu-Muslim unity.” The youngest Indian graduate of Lincoln’s Inn, Jinnah, the barrister, was no stranger to controversy. Whether one agrees with the creation of Pakistan or not, the tragic issues with his personal life that you describe would be almost normal given political goals as unusually ambitious as his own. You have not mentioned, however, another woman in Jinnah and Dina’s life, Fatima Jinnah, a dentist, Dina’s aunt and his own sister, who quit her practice and moved with Dina and Jinnah to England after Ruttie died. This lady stayed with Jinnah till his death and yet remained close to Dina across the border. In contrast to Dina and Ruttie, Fatima became known as Madr-e-Millat (Mother of the Nation) for her loyalty. I do believe Jinnah was a secularist at heart although the politics of his time dictated some of his religious principles. Thank you for a well referenced article. Lata Krishen, San Ramon

publication has provided her a forum to express her deep knowledge and present a unique perspective. Arun Gupta, email The November cover story (“Jinnah’s Daughter” India Currents, November 2015) was an articulate, well researched and well written piece. It gave a wonderful insight to the problems faced by Jinnah, Nehru and Gandhi leading up to the freedom struggle. Wonderful and poignant stories like this so far have got lost in the torrent of the usual sensationalist reporting. Kudos to Ritu Marwah for this wonderful article and I hope you can publish more such articles. R.V. Venkatesh, email I love India Currents, and I share it with my friends/place it proudly on my coffee table. But I don’t understand your main story/cover this time. It was very disappointing. Ritu Gupta, email Lots of fascinating details in the article (“Jinnah’s Daughter” India Currents, November 2015). How much Ritu Marwah has read and brought together in the writing. Too often these people we write about are just cardboard figures in our history textbooks, either excessively celebrated or viciously reviled when they find mention in public discourse. In some ways I think the best thing about Ritu Marwah’s effort was how it made all of them human once more—with all their various quirks and fears and jealousies and whatever. Dilip D’souza email

Modi Objectivity

Modi’s Visit to Silicon Valley has been presented very well in your editorial (Modi’s Invisible Suit, India Currents, November 2015). You have given a critical view

I enjoyed reading Ritu Marwah’s story (“Jinnah’s Daughter” India Currents, November 2015). The narrator has done an excellent job in presenting a historical view dating back several generations. Your 4 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

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.

of his appearance on the stage, his speech and the general apathy of the American media. Yes bad happenings make good news, as you rightly pointed out. India’s obsession with international image is wrongly placed. India has its own strength and capabilities and as it has survived for thousands of years without help from others, it should even now depend on its own people and culture to forge ahead without noticing bouquets or brickbats from the outside world. Suresh Mandan, email Modi’s lack of international media visibility described in the editorial (Modi’s Invisible Suit, India Currents, November 2015) signifies that the media has myopic vision. The contradictions in Indian society and Indian leaders (political leaders, really) are there in all societies and political leaders of all countries. Will you clarify how “the worshipping of goddesses” is a contradiction in a future editorial? The media and people must get rid of this “hindu-phobia” that they have developed and are harboring in their irrational minds. Chandrakant Patel, email

Landmark Response

As former Financial Controller for Microsoft India and later NIIT Ltd., I am well aware that consumers have a range of responses to and opinions about any given product or service. However, I was disappointed by the irresponsible misrepresentation of my current company, Landmark, in the recently published opinion piece by Sarita Sarvate. The errors and mischaracterizations of the entire personal development industry, including Landmark, do a disservice to your readers and dishonor not only the hundreds of thousands of people in India who participate in Landmark’s programs, but also the 2.4 million people worldwide who have done so. The fact is, HR.com /James MacNeil recognized Landmark as one of the top leadership and development training providers in the world, and 94% of participants surveyed agreed the Landmark Forum made a profound, lasting difference in the way they live their lives. While no particular program is for everyone, sensationalism for the sake of entertainment isn’t useful to anyone. Balvinder Singh Sodhi, Senior Program Director, Landmark

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words and things

Snoring Shanmugam, and Other Cautionary Tales

By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan

spend much of my time reading, we readers think, the good doctor had read always have. When I was in elIt’s literally impossible to see beyond his biology textbooks. If only the ementary school, I even read durgood Prime Minister had read something ing recess, sitting alone by the tanbark yourself if you have no sense other than Hindutva doctrine. box, hoping not to be hailed into a It’s literally impossible to see yourself of your outside ... monkey-bar race or other gymnastics if you have no sense of your outside—of contest for which I was congenitally what separates you from someone else, of unprepared. Nowadays, in addition to my own research and recthe tangible and intangible boundaries that distinguish individureation, I spend a lot of time reading with my toddler: Curious als who are simultaneously joined at the interface. Similarly, you George, Oluguti Toluguti, Sam I Am, you name it. A recent favorite can’t see the real world for what it is if you have not extended is Snoring Shanmugam, about a lion who, counter to expectations, the imaginative faculties required to grapple with the possible does nothing but eat, sleep, and snore. worlds of fiction. You either can’t see the grays, or, it seems, you Mrinalini delights in the fantastical scenarios on offer in each lose touch with reality entirely. of these books, from the pictures, to the word play, to the opIt’s worth recalling that when Arundhati Roy wrote her faportunity to engage cognitively in what are, ultimately, serious mous 1998 essay condemning India’s nuclear tests at Pokhran, social dramas. We are mindful of the urgency of developing in M the essay that re-launched the novelist as an activist, she called it the reading habit and eager for her to cultivate a broad literary “The End of Imagination.” It was the end of imagination, not sensibility. Often, it feels like the most significant task that we as the beginning of barbarism, that allowed India to participate in parents have. the proliferation of the nuclear bomb. Having known the instructive and transformative pleasures of But back to Snoring Shanmugam: The book begins with a reading (novels, in particular) for nearly three decades, I know that group of animals lamenting Shanmugam’s slothfulness. When I will never really have to worry about boredom or loneliness or a mean, carnivorous lion, Gabbar Singh, threatens to take over depression or angst. Seriously. Never has the right literary work as lion king, they realize that Shanmugam’s lazy disposition is failed to transport me from a plain of malaise to one of potentialpreferable to the alternative. In the end, Shanmugam’s snoring ity. (Literary is, of course, the operative word here, but you don’t scares away Gabbar Singh, and they live happily ever after. On have to read high literature in order to benefit from many of the the one hand, Shanmugam flouts identitarian conventions with salubrious effects of steady, slow immersion in a world of prose.) its harmless lion-protagonist, and the other animals comprise G.V. Desani’s All About H. Hatterr was a revelation—a novel an appropriately diverse microcosm of the social world, from that played inventively with linguistic and narrative form while irritable Hutoxi-the-horse, to creative Bahadur-the-elephant, to thematizing self-improvement in a way that managed to be both observant Kamalnayan-the-camel. On the other hand, there’s ironic and edifying. Karl Ove Knausgaard’s observations of the Gabbar Singh, the threatening outsider, whose name might just simultaneous mindfulness and mindlessness of parenting in My mean “lion” (Singh, after all, is derived from the Sanskrit word Struggle transported me through the first few weeks post-partum. for lion, “simha”), but also conjures pervasive stereotypes about Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels—with their attentiveness to the Punjabi and Sikh masculinity. nuances of friendship, artistic aspiration, and what the anthropoloIs the book complicit in the othering of Gabbar Singh? Or is gists call “moral mutuality”—recently buoyed me through a cruel this a cautionary tale about prejudice and exclusion? summer of dissertation revision. A lot of children’s books are like this: disappointing in one “Binge-watch” may be the official 2015 “word of the year,” light, provocative in another. All the Mickey stories are annoybut novels, too, are in the news these days. And they should be. In ingly gender normative, with Minnie and Daisy “giggling” more his interview with Marilynne Robinson for the New York Review of than their fair share; but then, there’s the gender ambiguity of Books last month, President Obama admitted that his understandMickey himself. Curious George does any number of socially ing of citizenship has benefited most from his habit of reading inappropriate things, with apparently no consequences: what novels. “It has to do with empathy,” he said. “It has to do with exactly underpins his monkey privilege, never mind his opaque being comfortable with the notion that the world is complicated relationship to the Man in the Yellow Hat? Then there’s Eeyore’s and full of grays, but there’s still truth there to be found, and that depression. Or is it realism? you have to strive for that and work for that.” I don’t ask my toddler, of course. But I read to her daily, Obama’s observations were not new; still, it was good to hear in hopes that she will one day be posing the them spoken by the President, and heartening given that political questions. n discourse all over the world tends to figure things in black and white, from Ben Carson’s comparison of abortion to the murder Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan is a doctoral candidate of slaves, to Narendra Modi’s claims that Ganesha’s physical form in Rhetoric at UC Berkeley. evidences an ancient Indian practice of “plastic surgery.” If only, 6 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

On Inglish

A Palanquin of Wedding Bills By Kalpana Mohan

palanquin, noun. 1580-90 < a boxlike litter carried by means of poles resting on the shoulders of several men < from Portuguese palanquim, from Prakrit pallanka, from Sanskrit paryanka

ne balmy morning three years ago in Bangalore, the scent of earth. Steaming rice and a dozen delicacies cascaded bride, a friend’s daughter, arrived in a palanquin. It was onto their leaves. They ate. They slurped. They belched. hoisted in front and back by a coterie of her uncles. A They got up. They did the same for three more days of fespalki or palanquin, mentioned in Indian literature as early as the tivities. Indian weddings stem from this ethos of village life Hindu epic, Ramayana, is a covered sedan chair or litter carried on and hospitality. four poles. It derives from the Sanskrit word for a bed or couch, When weddings shifted into the cities, however, they palanka. evolved, but the core philosophy of hospitality, distilled from The arrival of the bride onto an embellished marriage dais is a the past, remained. The father of the bride pledged his life breathtaking moment across every culsavings for his daughter’s wedding. ture. In the Indian tradition too, it’s a Fathers often went broke and strateheart-stopping event: It’s the first time The Indian-American wedding in gies backfired. One of my miserly wedding guests take in the bride in all America is now a “stretch” of the uncles was known to have sent out her resplendent bridal finery. invitations to everyone in the hope A photographer’s website describes imagination, of relationships and that they would not attend. how “Raja arrived at South Carolina’s the wallet. The old big fat Indian wedding is Embassy Suites in a perfectly decoratnow being challenged by those born ed white baraat horse” while his bride on American soil. The parents want “Ambika entered the Indian wedding ceremony looking positively to invite all the people they know and do not know very elegant on a gold palanquin.” Indian-American weddings have bewell. The children want to invite only those who matter gun to outdo one another in the novelties and themes they spring to them. Then there’s the one-upmanship over which famupon guests. Families hire cars, horses, and elephants for a grand ily can throw a classier party. There is also another power entrance by bride and groom before the festivities begin. struggle, unseen, between guests, of who is perceived to be I’ve come of age to an extravagant Indian-American wedding “closer” to the families of the bride and groom. era. The topic of wedding planning now invades my conversaThen there are those quantifiable elements. tions with friends. Children who were in middle school when my Indian-Americans have embraced the ways of the east children were entering elementary school have found their life and the west: we want the decorated marriage dais and the partners. They’re getting hitched. And I’m getting saddled with grand centerpiece at every dinner table. The smallest services invitations. What this means is that, every quarter I show up at a run up high costs in the United States. Flower arrangewedding. But I also deal with the fallout of not belonging. Somements cost unseemly amounts. Caterers charge exorbitant times, I’m not invited to other “private” parts of the wedding fees per plate. Venues stipulate which caterers they will albash. In island parlance, it’s as if I’m sunning by the poolside at a low into their facility. There are high minimum tabs for the three-star Marriott when all I want is to sun by the lagoon at the use of the bar—whether or not enough alcoholic drinks are five-star resort on the tonier side of the island. ordered. One parent wonders why she should foot the bill Being uninvited to events puts my stomach on a low-grade for a night of drunken revelry: “Why should I pay for that burn. Arrey, a friend said to me, if I have been uninvited, who has when I might as well hand all that money over to my child been invited? Who exactly is in? And who is out? for a mortgage?” Indian-Americans are embarrassed by western notions of priThe Indian-American wedding in America is now a vacy and exclusivity. In the old village tradition of India, everyone “stretch” of the imagination, of relationships and the wallet. was invited to every part of a wedding. For my parents’ wedding As one father of the bride said at the summer wedding of in 1944, buses carrying cousins, friends and their friends snaked his daughter, when the wedding bells stop through Kerala backwaters to reach my mother’s plantation home pealing, all he will hear is the incessant ring eighty miles away. My mother’s father, a landed philanthropist, of wedding bills arriving on a palanquin. n fed one and all. Guests sat on the floor in long rows in the great hall of a comKalpana Mohan writes from California’s Silimunity room across the road, two-foot banana leaves splayed in con Valley. To read more about her, go to http:// front of them. They sprinkled water on the leaves and inhaled the kalpanamohan.com. Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 7

cover

A Migrant’s Holiday By Rajesh C. Oza

On November 13, 2015, violence was visited upon Paris; and leaders, again, vowed to end the endless horror of war. Some three decades earlier, as an informal part of our marriage vows, Mangla and I pledged a lifetime of love; and we mapped France, Italy, and England as blissfully romantic distant lands we would visit someday. But first, we immigrants to the United States needed to learn how to earn our keep and put food on the proverbial table for the children we dreamed of. Neither Mangla nor I explicitly mentioned Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs (MHoN), but, like the good migrants we aspired to be, we embraced the 19th-century psychologist Abraham Maslow’s model of human motivation and dreamed of ascending life’s ladder. To a large extent, our first twenty-five years of family travel reflected this aspirational climbing up Maslow’s pyramid. Every other year, we would return to India so that Anu and Siddhu (our children) would be tacitly socialized in the ways of our ancestors by staying connected to family in our ancestral land; during the alternate yearly summer vacations, we stayed in our adopted land, with the children tucked away in the back seat of rented cars that would help take them across America, the land of their birth. Now it was time for Europe. 8 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

eflecting back on my visit, I think of the constrained village life of my grandparents, and consider what President Obama had expressed during a visit to a prison: “There but for the grace of God go I.” While dusty Rajasthani villages are by no means a prison, if I had remained within their desert walls, I don’t believe I could have developed an expansive world-view: the meditative quality of travel that encourages one to challenge long-held beliefs.

Chartering England

Our six days in London whizzed by seeing iconic places and meeting famous faces. Iconic places included: Buckingham Palace, Westminister Abbey, Big Ben, House of Parliament, Trafalgar Square, National Gallery, St. Paul’s Cathedral, British Museum, Victoria and Albert Museum, Tower of London, Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, Punjab Restaurant, and others either forgotten or perhaps somewhat forgettable. Famous faces included: Queen Elizabeth II at a distance on her “Trooping of the Colours” belated birthday celebration; “Changing of the Royal Guards” in front of Buckingham Palace, but more interestingly up close at their training quarters; faux Beatles in a musical tribute to George, Paul, John, and Ringo at London’s Garrick Theatre; the real Michelle Obama with mother and daughters in tow, but only seen in newspapers that celebrated their visit and reflected in traffic jams that stopped our bus; a seemingly alive statue of Mohandas K. Gandhi in front of the House of Parliament peacefully confronting a stony Winston Churchill (who once disparaged the Mahatma as a “half-naked fakir” in a loincloth); one ferocious “Tipoo’s Tiger” music box, muted but forever memorialized at the Victoria and Albert Museum slaying a red-coated Englishman; and some 30 angelic-sounding choir boys praising the Lord in song during Westminister Abbey’s Evensong, for which the three of us were democratically and randomly given front-row pews where perhaps the Queen herself might have sat during the many Royal Weddings conducted during her 63-year reign. Serendipity gave us one of the unexpected highlights of our trip: a viewing of Magna Carta on June 15, 2015, exactly 800 years to the day that this magnificent charter of governance was issued. From America’s early days, when Edmund Burke proclaimed that colonial settlers should “Sit down … to the feast of Magna Carta” to modern-day lawyers defending the rights of men wrongfully imprisoned at Guantanamo, Americans have rallied around Magna Carta as a touchstone. And in the centuries in be-

Magna Carta wall hanging

tween, others like Mohandas Gandhi and Nelson Mandela have referenced Magna Carta’s 4,000 words to make the claim that rights extend to all men and women, not just people of a skin shade lighter than brown. Over the next two weeks of our vacation, I would often come across men and women—migrants like my family, and at the same time very unlike us. Existing at our taken-for-granted base of MHoN, these weary souls seemed to have no charter with the modern world; having left their traditional lands, these fellow travelers apparently have no Magna Carta type of document protecting their rights. Their pacts with the past were broken. Their bargain with the present was seemingly Faustian. And with Europe’s precarious position on the world economic stage, their futures were fragile.

Embracing Italy

As we stepped out of the Colosseo metro station, we immediately had in front of us two awe-inspiring sights: the nearly 2,000-years-old Colosseum, with the setting sun giving its ancient stonework a golden glow; and Gabriella Cini (a.k.a Gabri), the youthful grandmother who savvily used Airbnb to host her lovely apartment to visitors like us. Despite the Colosseum living up to expectations, it was truly Gabri who exceeded expectations. Rome, Gabri’s Rome, became our home for six days. Our initial meeting with Gabri at the Metro prophesied a memorable intimacy; it was actually an Italian embrace, complete with hugs and affectionate pecks on sun-kissed cheeks). As we walked into the fresh-as-anItalian-daisy apartment, we appreciated the milk, cheese, and chocolates in the refrigerator, and the pasta, olive oil,

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 9

and spices on the shelves: so much of a from Bengal who was inspired to be a delightful surprise; so much what mem- director by the master, Satyajit Ray, and bers of a community do for each other. is studying in the land of Vittorio de Gabri’s helpfulness and mindfulness re- Sica, whose own inner eye had produced minded me of neighbors borrowing a Bicycle Thieves, a masterful film of gritty Rome that had influenced Ray’s own cup of sugar in South Asian homes. One of the capabilities that Mangla Bengali neo-realism. The beauty of this Italian capital is its looked for when searching Airbnb accommodations was the availability of living people: Gabri, Enzo, Rajiv, and so Internet access—a Maslovian must-have. many others. Some were strangers who Poor Gabri was crestfallen when guided us to the portico of the church her modem balked in its transforma- of Santa Maria in Cosmedin; this minor tion from a modern-day convenience to church is where the “Mouth of Truth” an Airbnb everyday necessity. Although marble sculpture welcomes fans of Gregwe didn’t make a big fuss, Gabri im- ory Peck and Audrey Hepburn’s magical mediately raced down the six floors of scene in Roman Holiday (or is the sculpthe building, requested that the Volare ture actually a huge manhole cover that Restaurant located on the ground floor swallows hands?). Another stranger was make available its Internet password to Sergio, a street artist who produced a us, and climbed back up the stairs to not memorable portrait in charcoal of Anu only convey “mission accomplished” but at the top of the Spanish Steps. And also to say that that she would call Voda- two of the others included Manuele and Life imitating art; RCO in a lighter moment fone to have the issue resolved. Imagine Hiat, the two warm-hearts who ran the our surprise the next day when Gabri Volare Restaurant some fifty steps below ed, “Buongiorno. Bien. Also, the water had provided our various electronic de- Gabri’s apartment. heater is not working.” Manuele and Hiat were so friendly vices, with their appetites for global conGabri came over that evening with nectivity, a mobile hotspot that we used and accommodating of our vegetarian her sister Paula, whose English is more and gluten-free diets that we enjoyed all over Rome, except for Bibliothè. fluent than Gabri’s. Together we tried to Bibliothè is a charming Indian res- several meals at their restaurant. And we fix the recalcitrant tank of cold H2O, but taurant-cum-bookstoreto no resolution. cum-salon located a Gabri was not one to give healthy walk from the up. She called four “Speedy ReThe beauty of this Italian capital is its Colosseum, with the pairmen,” but this being relaxed Roman Forum and the Rome on a lazy Saturday, speed living people: Gabri, Enzo, Rajiv, and Capitoline Museums meant Monday or later. Gabri so many others ... (considered by some to was besides herself. Though we be the first museum in insisted it was no problem, her the world) virtually next face clouded with concern and, door. Like the Capitoline two hours later, she texted to say returned every evening after exploring Museums, Bibliothè is a treasure that has Rome and looked forward to greeting that she was returning with Alessandro, much packed into it. a handyman friend. Though Alessandro Hiat and Manuele with a smiling (if While the museums have at their cen- somewhat travel-weary) “Buonasera.” only repeated what Gabri and I had preter an equestrian statue of Emperor Marviously done, he proved to be the “geyEven Rome, with all its charm and cus Aurelius, Bibliothè has Enzo Barchi, hospitality, had us going up and down ser whisperer,” and hot water flowed the erudite owner who has stocked the MHoN as if we were going up and down through our 100-year-old apartment’s kitchen with what he calls Ayurvedic in- the Spanish Steps. The government emmodern aqueduct system. gredients, stocked his bookshelves with ployees were consistently inhospitable On the evening before our departure what I call literary India, and decorated at best and downright rude on lesser from Rome, Gabri dropped by to say his salon and restaurant with what a days. And, unfortunately we even had “Hello.” She handed us an envelope museum would call a fusion of India and to climb down a few very short steps of and requested that we not open it until Italian art. The real treat for us at Bib- the Maslow pyramid with self-actualized she had left. There were nine pieces of liothè (and the reason we didn’t have the Gabri. paper: two 50 Euro bills, four 20 bills, heart to open a smartphone) was Rajiv two 10 bills, and a clean sheet of white Midway through our stay, the hotRoy. Like a museum curator, Rajiv, who water geyser in our apartment stopped paper with a note in English. Our Euro manages the restaurant, understands that smiling. We were prepared to “suffer” compensation for one day of life without with his own artistic sensibility, he can cold showers, but when Gabri sent a hot water was far too generous. And bring to guests all that Enzo and the staff WhatsApp text to Mangla (“Hello. How Gabri’s sentimental farewell note to her create. Rajiv is an aspiring film student is Rome? All okay?”), Mangla respondnew-found friends was priceless: 10 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston reached the soul of an American summer that uneasily confronted its racist winter. Leading up to the President’s speech in the heart of America’s south were a series of southern and northern killings of innocent black men, women, and children. Some of these deaths came at the hands of criminals; some came at the hands of police officers, hands entrusted to keep our bodies safe. Upon returning to California, I felt as if I had returned to the racial politics of my 1960s American childhood: Governor Nikki Haley oversaw the removal of the Confederate flag from the grounds of South Carolina’s State House; my high-school literary hero, the legendary Atticus Finch from To Kill A Mockingbird, was re-presented by Harper Lee, the novelist who gave him birth as an avuncular attorney who saw justice as color-blind, and gave him rebirth as an agitated apartheidist who saw integration as a threat; and the Atlantic’s

Strike One: On the Train to Nice

The night train from the small Italian town of Ventimiglia to the French resort of Nice had the feel of a commuter train. There were several stops, and people got on, people got off. All along, the Mediterranean Sea gleamed. Suddenly, the train stopped and stayed stopped. Small groups of men in black climbed aboard each coach. Their black gloves suggested that they were on official business. Intending no malice to us American-passport-holders, these men had a firm look of menace to anyone whose papers were to be handled by those gloved hands. Since we had crossed into France, when one of these border patrols walked past us, Siddhu and I said, “Bonjour” in nervous unison. Without a smile, without looking at us, he responded with a Mangla, Anu and Siddhu at Eiffel Tower with “Bonjour” that suggested that he had RCO taking the photo other business. We saw this officer and his colleagues “Dear friends, your courtesy and interrogate several other passengers, all patience to the problems that occurred men, all ranging in color a shade of during the stay in my house, it was outbrown darker than Sidstanding. I apologize again and dhu and me. Only one of I hope to fix with this money to those undocumented miyour hardships. His [President Obama’s] eulogy at the grants was allowed to reI you leave reluctantly bemain on the train. Apparcause your presence was one of Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal ently, these men, and oththe most welcomed. I wish you Church in Charleston reached the soul ers like them from North bon voyage. Africa, float to Italy on A hug of an American summer that uneasily flimsy rafts, and then atGabriella” confronted its racist winter. tempt to float across the Presented on white printer European Union’s relapaper, these words made that tively open borders into simple sheet of stationary come France. Some lose their alive. Il Papiro’s (a lovely vellum Ta-Nehisi Coates enriched the Africanlives on sinking vessels somewhere beshop in Rome) luxurious hand-decoratAmerican conversation with Between the tween Libya and Italy, resulting in a ed paper was no competition to Gabri’s World and Me, a searing indictment of papal plea: “Who has wept for the heart-decorated pedestrian papyrus. Gathe nightmarish American fairytale of deaths of these brothers and sisters?” briella’s words (idiosyncratic typos, Italequality translated to his son as a tale Others make it to the Italian gateway, ian grammar, grandmotherly hugs, and of fear. as a result of the Italian government’s all) reflect an amazing grace. Across the Atlantic, I felt safely cogenerosity or laxity (depending on one’s cooned in those superfast European Confronting America, point of view). And a lucky few make it trains, riding a railway system that purConsidering France to Northern European countries that aid ports to unify rather than divide. But After our time in Rome, we made asylum-seekers or at least enable them to in France, I was to soon learn that the our way to Paris, taking the highly intesell selfie sticks at street corners. post-racial French dream had at least grated Eurail system along the MediterThough we made it to Nice without three strikes against it; in the Répubranean Sea visiting Pisa, Ventimiglia, being asked for our passports, somehow lique française, despite its aspirational Nice, and Marseille along the way. the racial profiling shook us up a bit motto “liberté, égalité, fraternité, to be While we were in France, back in with that Obaman sense of “There but perceived as dark and/or Muslim could our not-so-united United States, Presifor the grace of God go I.” Paradoxically, mean to be outside the protective blandent Obama led a stirring rendition of and I write this with no small sense of ket of liberty, equality, and fraternity. “Amazing Grace.” His eulogy at the shame or privilege, I felt safer knowing Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 11

Clement Sanchez sharing crepes, laughs and songs at the Creperie Le Trimaran

that there were anonymous black gloves controlling the borders. Perhaps Donald Trump and demagogues across the world trade on this type of fear-mongering; they know that if you incite those emotions lurking at the base of MHoN, fear buys votes.

Strike Two: Eating Down and Back Up the Hierarchy of Crêperies

We got into Nice late in the evening, and Siddhu discovered that a wellregarded crêperie was within walking distance and open until 11:00 p.m. We walked in, and I proceeded to practice my rusty French. Immediately, the maître d’ (or maybe he was the owner or perhaps just a tired waiter) said, “We are closed.” It was 10:10 p.m. so we were a bit taken aback. Siddhu said, “Your website says, ‘11:00.’” The maître d’ said, “Sorry. It is wrong. We are closed.” Mangla said, “Your sign on the door says, ‘11:00.’” The maître d’ said, “We are closed.” I looked around the restaurant and noted that there was a couple waiting for their meal, which the chef/cook was making in the open kitchen near the dining area. The place seemed friendly enough, and the maître d’ was not hostile. So I bantered a bit and suggested that we would be fine with take-out. “We are closed.” I tensed up. After a long day’s night traveling from Florence to Pisa to Genova to Ventimiglia to Nice, we needed to make sure that Siddhu’s ul-

cerative colitis didn’t flare up. I was angry, but helpless, so I changed tack: “My son has an illness. He must eat or he will suffer. Please.” Maître d’: “We are closed.” “You don’t need to feed my wife or me. Just one small vegetarian crêpe please.” Mangla, feeling shamed by the interaction walked outside with Siddhu. The other diners had distressed looks on their faces. I can only imagine how their appetites were responding to the sight of a middle-aged man begging for food for his son. The maître d’ was unmoved: “We are closed.” Defeated, I shuffled out the door, wanting to go back to the crêperie and smash a window or at the very least write a scathing note on TripAdvisor. We started our next day in Nice with a walk to the Old Quarters, which Queen Victoria enabled many years ago when the English royals came to Southern France to escape England’s miserable winters. After the four of us enjoyed a dip in the sea, we headed over to an open market where, just like in California’s farmers’ markets, the food looked fresh, and we gladly paid extra for the aesthetic pleasure. We also had some exceptionally overpriced candy (Okay. Okay. Chocolat.) at a chocolatier founded in 1820. But the culinary highlight of the entire trip was at Crêperie le Trimaran. Not only was the food delicious, but the service was deliciously funny. Clement Sanchez is the client-facing part of the operation and his less visible wife is the genius in the kitchen. When Anu inquired about gluten-free items on the menu, Clement pointed to his slender frame with a mischievous smile and said, “Sans gluten? Moi aussi. And look at the results!” Like Anu, he also kept gluten out of his diet, and like a mime, he glided back and forth from the kitchen to the diners’ tables. But once he got to the table, the fun would really start. Seeing that I enjoyed my gluten and chocolate, I was tabbed as “Max Gluten.” The humor enhanced the meal, but the singing truly capped it off. When Clement asked us about our country of origin, Mangla, Anu, and Siddhu said, “America.” After I chimed in with an

12 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

Siddhu said, “Your website says, ‘11:00.’” The maître d’ said, “Sorry. It is wrong. We are closed.” amplifying, “California,” I explained that Mangla and I were originally from India and the kids were born in the United States. Suddenly, Clement burst into a robust rendition of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the U.S.A.” I joined in, and Anu captured the border-busting fun on her smartphone. So much for French chauvinism or American parochialism. We were just two happy fools enjoying each other’s company on a lovely summer day.

Strike Three: Muslim Marginalization in Marseille and Peak Performance in Paris

On our way from Nice to Paris, we opted for a one-day halt in Marseille. At our hotel, we met a mother and son who came down to the lobby with us in the elevator, and, like us, were visitors hungry for a place to eat during their first night in Marseille. So we asked the manager about a place where we could get a bite to eat on a balmy, Mediterranean Friday evening. He enthusiastically suggested La Major, “a huge restaurant that always has open tables without need for reservations.” At the restaurant, doing my best recollection of high-school French, I expressed appreciation as our beaming hostess led us to our table in the outdoor seating area. Suddenly, a pit bull of a manager in black suit and tie blocked our way. He gruffly asked, actually demanded, if we had reservations. I said, “Non, mais pourquoi?” No, but why did we need a reservation if the hostess was already taking us to the table in a largely unoccupied restaurant. The manager simply said, “Reservation is required.” Siddhu firmly inquired, “Until what time are tables reserved? When is the next open spot?” The manager menacingly smiled,

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 13

And, of course, like blacks in America, Muslims across the world have to be careful about showing anger in public places.

“We are full all night.” The hostess kept her head down, averting shameexposing eye contact the whole time. It didn’t feel right, but on the surface there was not much that we could do. No reservation. No openings. No dinner at this swanky nightspot. As we headed away from La Major, we saw the mother and son from our hotel being escorted to a table. They had told us in the hotel lobby that they might meet us at La Major but were first going to explore the area before the French night became too dark. Seeing these two fair-skinned visitors seated left the four of us darker-skinned visitors with a collection of emotions: sadness, exasperation, rage, and confusion. How could these two be seated, but a few minutes earlier we were refused service? Siddhu and I went back to the manager and asked about the two guests who had just been admitted to the restaurant. He blankly lied, “They have reservations.” I shouted, “No they do not! They are from our hotel, and I know they don’t have reservations. If you’d like, let’s go ask them directly.” As the caught-in-a-lie manager shrugged his shoulders upwards and pursed his lips downward, Siddhu waved his hands across a sea of tables with empty chairs, “So why do you have space for them but not for us?” The pit bull found his bark, smiled a little racist smile and said, “People like you don’t have shoes? Must have shoes for a quality restaurant like ours.” Shod in stylish slippers, Siddhu, with his Stanford debate training, retorted, “Okay, I’ll go change into shoes. Our hotel is minutes away.” The dog pulled at his collar in the evening heat and said, “You need a blazer.”

Although Siddhu indeed had a navy blue jacket at the hotel, he grew tired of the power game. The manager could have pointed to 75% of the men in the restaurant and made the same demand, since three-fourths of the male guests were sans blazers. The difference, perhaps, was that 100% of the guests were white. And, perhaps, with his fourday fashionable beard, Siddhu “looked Muslim.” And, of course, like blacks in America, Muslims across the world have to be careful about showing anger in public places. The four of us moved away and marveled at how we could celebrate living in a country with a black President who had a Muslim name. Our America was engaged in a forward-looking, albeit not always balanced, dialogue around what words like liberty, equality, and fraternity mean to all people; their France was stuck in a backward-looking, limited view of “liberté, égalité, fraternité.” Later that night, we walked to a tougher part of town and had a pizza. Its owners, Marc and Virginie, were sympathetic to our experience from earlier in the evening. They and the Muslim men they employed told us that while Marseille does have its racial tensions, not all French men and women were like the black suits we had encountered. Indeed, on the next afternoon’s train to Paris, we met a sweet family of four: an IT manager, his wife, and their two young daughters. We talked, shared cherries, appreciated the verdant French countryside outside the train windows, discussed how technology was changing life, and even had a moment to explain to the elder daughter the significance of the red bindi on Mangla’s forehead. Our time in pre-November-terrorized Paris was peaceful. And the food, while not optimal for vegetarians, was a pleasure. The outdoor markets were fresh and friendly. And the picnics in outdoor gardens were memorable, especially in Le Jardin du Luxembourg with its outdoor orchestra and quaint little wooden boats. But it was our penultimate day in Paris that made our Europe trip complete. On the second to last day of our vacation, having seen most everything that the guidebooks suggested we should see except Leonardo’s Mona, we ventured out early in the morning for a full day at the Musée du Louvre.

14 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

The Seated Scribe

Upon entering the museum, Anu led us directly to the “Mona Lisa.” Leonardo da Vinci’s enigmatic portrait did not disappoint us with her beguiling smile. But a smile is but a smile; there was so much more to see in the world’s largest museum. The writer in me was joyous to have drawn the lucky ticket: an image of “The Seated Scribe” in the Egyptian Hall. As with all masterpieces, this sculpture encouraged my own reaction, certainly quite different from the artist’s intention. I first reflected on the fact that while African migrants aren’t welcomed into France with the visa version of a lucky ticket, their masterly artwork is proudly enshrined in the country’s most prominent museum. And then I turned the gaze more inwards and saw myself in the limestone ancient man seated upright in a lotus position, with hands positioned to document the needed. In his glossy crystal eyes, I saw a mirror of my own writerly aspirations. And I was grateful that the pen and notebook that had accompanied me throughout Europe had given me a privileged view of life in England, Italy, and France. I had come to spend time with family, and that I did. And the pen gave me a third eye, a way of confronting and conflating three worlds: the country of my birth, the country of my residence, and these three countries that over three weeks welcomed my family and me in such uneven mindful and mindless ways. n As part of the MARS gang (Mangla, Anupama, Rajesh, Siddhartha), RCO is a Martian of sorts, forever an outsider, never fully comprehending the war of the worlds.

katha Desi Fiction Contest 2016 First Prize: $300 • Second Prize: $200 • Third Prize: $100 • Two Honorable Mentions DEADLINE: MARCH 31, 2016 Submissions not following the guidelines will be automatically disqualified from the contest. Disqualified entrants will not be notified. CONTEST GUIDELINES:

1. One submission per individual; $7 per submission. (Paid by check or paypal) 2. Submissions should consist of one short story or extract from a longer work up to 3,000 words in length. 3. Entries should be unpublished works and should not have won previous awards or contests. How To Pay:  A Paypal account is required for online payment. Log onto indiacurrents.com/katha to submit payment.  Alternatively, you may send a personal check, cashier’s check or money order. How To Submit: E-MAIL YOUR STORY as a word file attachment to: katha@indiacurrents.com

For complete contest guideline go to indiacurrents.com/katha All entrants will be notified of the results by e-mail by June 30, 2016. Winning entries will be considered for publication in upcoming issues of India Currents and Khabar.

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tax talk

Tax Deductible Gifts and Donations By Rita Bhayani

Important Tips Start gathering any items necessary for

the preparation of your tax returns, including charitable contribution receipts, stock transactions, business mileage records, medical expenses, moving expenses, unreimbursed business expenses, etc.

Your Gift Might Be Tax Deductible

f you support certain causes throughout the year, your gift might be tax deductible and reduce any tax you owe. If you want to claim a tax deduction for your charitable donations, you must itemize your deductions. Also, the donations must meet certain requirements to qualify for a deduction. Qualified charities. You can only deduct donations to qualified charities. Qualified charities meet exemption requirements un-

der the IRS Tax Code 501(c)(3). The non profit organization is exempt from federal income tax if its activities have the following purposes: charitable, religious, educational, scientific, literary, testing for public safety, fostering amateur sports competition or preventing cruelty to children or animals. Monetary donations. Gifts of money include those made in cash or by check, electronic funds transfer, credit card and payroll deduction. You must have a bank record or a written statement from the charity to deduct any gift of money on your tax return. Household goods. Donated clothing and household items generally must be in at least good used condition to be claimed as a tax deduction. If you claim a deduction of over $500 for an item, it doesn’t have to meet this standard as long as you include a qualified appraisal of the item with your tax return. Records required. You must get an additional acknowledgement from a charity for each deductible donation (either money or property) of $250 or more. Additional

rules apply to the statement for gifts of that amount.

Quote Corner “It’s not how much we give but how much love we put into giving.” ~ Mother Teresa

Did You Know? There are more than 1.5 million non profits in the U.S. More than 50% of them operate on less than $100,000 annually. Many of these are local groups, such as Little League or the Boy Scouts. n Rita Bhayani is a Certified Public Accountant and a Certified Management Accountant practicing at Pleasanton, CA and she protects the clients from the IRS. She provides tax planning, accounting, payroll and outsourced CFO services too. For more information log on to www.ritacpa.net. Reprinted with permission from the National Association of Tax Professionals.

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youth

The Veena Maker By Anirudh Prabhu

ike most teenagers my age, I go to Google for answers. Several months ago when I turned to Google yet again, this time for information on veena makers, I realized that there is very little out there. While I found some YouTube videos on the art of veena making, there wasn’t much recorded on the people who make this beautiful instrument. At the age of nine, while my friends were beginning their violin and piano lessons, I began lessons on the veena, a seven-stringed instrument, with roots in the Carnatic tradition of southern India, and the oldest continuously played instrument of the sub-continent. Shaped similar to a sitar, the veena is played parallel to the ground unlike the sitar, which is played at an angle. It is often said that the veena produces sounds that are closest to the human voice. And then there’s its glorious history. Hindu religion and mythology has several figures known for their association with the veena, including the goddess Saraswati, the sage Narada, and the demon Ravana. The modern fixed-fret Saraswati veena evolved in Thanjavur, a town richly steeped in the musical tradition of Southern India during the 17th century. If Cremona in northern Italy is the seat of violin making, which includes the world famous Stradivarius violins, Thanjavur in southern India enjoys a similar reputation among veena players. It is here that the art of veena-making still flourishes, and the most popular style of veena today is the Thanjavur veena, which is a particular style of the Saraswati veena. Similar to Cremona violins, the name “Thanjavur veena” immediately gives a stamp of credibility to the quality of the instrument. The veena makers with the best reputations live in this temple town and make bespoke instruments for classical musicians. Even though I have been playing this instrument for eight years, I had not had

the opportunity to visit its birthplace, Thanjavur, which is just a one-hour flight away from my parents’ birth place of Chennai, an annual summer destination of mine. Imagine then, my excitement, this past summer, when my family finally planned a trip to Thanjavur! I was to finally get an opportunity to meet some of the artisans who make this ancient instrument. I visited a veena maker called “Veena” Venkatesan. He lives in a modest twostory blue house with a high ceiling. His workshop is on the second-floor balcony overlooking a busy street. Venkatesan is happy to take a few hours from his busy schedule to talk to me. How did you get started in this trade, I ask somewhat naively. His father Govindaswamy taught him the trade, he tells me, just as he is now preparing his son to succeed him. The art of veena making is handed down from generation to generation. Once we sit down, he immediately launches into detailing the craft. Usually a veena’s wood comes from the jackfruit tree. When I ask him why this particular wood is used, he answers: tradition and cost. However, he is quick to point out that many veena makers also use the more expensive rosewood, and occasionally, sandalwood. One interesting aspect is that it takes a 25 kg (~55 lbs) tree to make a 3 kg (~6.6 lbs) veena, since most of the wood must be hollowed out!

18 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

Because it’s such a large instrument, there are three types of veena based on its construction. The first is the “ekanda veena,” which is carved from one piece of wood. The second is the two-piece “akhanda veena,” which is quite rare. The third is the “khanda veena,” in which the four main portions (Kumbha, Dandi, Vyala, and Kayi (the gourd)) are made separately, and then joined. Isn’t the veena made with one piece better than the two-piece veena, I ask, wanting to appear knowledgeable. Venkatesan is quick to correct the misconception. In reality, he informs me, if joined properly a khanda veena can sound better than the one-piece veena. Venkatesan strongly believes that one person should make the entire instrument for purposes of continuity. Making one instrument takes about twenty days from start to finish. However, it takes a very long time for an aspiring veena maker to acquire the skills needed to make a complete veena in this length of time. Venkatesan had to spend several years as an apprentice to his father on getting the woodwork right, before he was even allowed to lay the wax and place the frets! Such is the expertise and precision required to make a fine instrument. Now that he has so many years of

experience on getting the tone perfect, he doesn’t need a supporting instrument such as the tambura. There are 24 frets made of brass bars set into wax. Laying the wax is the toughest part of veena-making. It requires three and a half hours in a meditative state, and even after setting it multiple times, it may go off tune later. Venkatesan sees it as a product of one’s mental state. He likens it to expert carpenters, many of whom may have the physical skills and technical expertise, but only a few can achieve that meditative and reflective mood. Given the years of apprenticeship involved, the level of skill, and the dedication that is required to make a fine veena, Venkatesan estimates that only ten craftsmen in India can make veenas of the finest quality, with six of them living in the Thanjavur area. However, he also debunked the myth

than support from a government official who knows nothing of the craft. Venkatesan finds solace in the peace of his work. In fact, he points, he can actually make more money making other wood products. However, none of them can offer the same divine quality of a veena’s sound and the spirituality associated with the instrument. Not everyone feels the same way. He admits that no apprentice has ever approached him with a deep level of interest in the instrument. In fact, he tells me that I am the first person to have approached him with some interest in the craft, even if it is not professional. Nevertheless, he does not lament his situation or complain. Surrounded by his tools and the ingredients of the next beautiful veena, this master craftsman is at complete peace. Meeting Veena Venkatesan is a revelation. As I leave his workshop, my

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Most Popular Articles Online November 2015 1) Jinnah’s Daughter Ritu Marwah 2) Grief and Costco Nirupama Vaidyanathan 3) Modi’s Invisible Suit Jaya Padmanabhan 5) Hello 911? Someone’s Using 409! Gayatri Subramaniam 5) The Sound of My Name Kalpana Mohan 6) There Lived a Certain Man in Russia Long Ago Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan 7) An Indian Opera Priya Das

Veena Venatesan

that it’s a dying art. He argues that veenamaking has always been reserved for a select few, and that it only seems like it is a dying art in comparison to other instruments. While most instrument manufacturers have expanded rapidly, a veena, of course, can only be made by hand and that too only by a select few. Slowly, our conversation moves from the technical aspect of making the instrument to its historical and contemporary contexts. I ask him whether he thought the government ought to do more in the way of support for craftsmen, a notion that he handily rejects. He points to an award hanging on his wall, from Poompuhar, the State Government agency. To him, a vidwan’s (expert) praise means so much more

thoughts whirl around my home in Silicon Valley where it seems the measure of a person’s success is the size of his home and the number of stock options that he has. However, for people like Venkatesan true wealth lies in the practice of his divine craft and the joy that it brings. I come away filled with awe at both the art and its artist. The next time I pick up the veena to practice, I will pause to think about the dedication, skill, and commitment of its maker. n

Anirudh Prabhu is a senior at Bellarmine College Preparatory in San Jose, CA. He learns veena from the renowned guru, Sri Srikanth Chary, and is a nationally-ranked debater.

8) The Mediocre World of Malcolm Gladwell Sarita Sarvate 9) House #152 Usha Rao 10) India’s Sports Leagues Roshn Marwah

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perspective

The Lingering Flavors of Home By Kamala Thiagarajan

hen Ganesh Meiyappam, 24, an engineering graduate, left his hometown in Vellore, India to attend classes at Purdue University this year, his cooking skills were limited to boiling milk and microwaving packaged noodles and soups. After just a few months in the United States, all that changed. Much to his own surprise, he found himself preparing and enjoying elaborate meals with friends. During Navaratri celebrations in October, despite his heavy coursework, Ganesh prepared tamarind rice, sheera (a Maharashtrian sweet), neer moru (a thin gravy made of yoghurt), vada and sundal (chick peas). Like Ganesh, many Indian students in the United States are unwittingly re-discovering the joys of Indian food. Perhaps it’s a longing to re-connect to the flavors of home or merely fulfilling a need of the palate that has grown used to a certain kind of food, but there’s no denying that one’s bond with the traditional tastes of our childhood days grows deeper and stronger when you live the immigrant life. “As Indian immigrants living in the United States, my husband and I do go out of our way to cook Indian food together,” says Poornima Jayaraman, 35, a freelance communications specialist based in Oregon. “It reminds us of our Indian roots and is literally soul food. It’s what we grew up with.” This observation is especially thoughtprovoking when you examine it from the perspective of the Maggi noodles controversy that took India by storm mid-year, an issue that a friend of mine referred to as the “twist of the noodle.” The wildly popular instant noodles brand was accused of using unhealthy amounts of lead in its product, resulting in a nationwide ban. In India, even though adulteration is sadly, rather commonplace, the ban made headlines for months, particularly because it involved a brand that many blindly trusted.

For a generation of Indians, Maggi noodles was not just another brand of packaged food, but a transition of sorts. A rite of passage to adulthood—marking the beginning of an era of modernity, change and revolution. Then there emerged the conspiracy theories. Some people felt that a product they had been consuming for years without incident couldn’t suddenly be bad for them and that the Swiss multinational corporation Nestle that distributes Maggi was being unnecessarily victimized by hasty, inaccurate tests by corrupt officials. Interestingly, while dealing with these rumors, the young in India, over the last few months, indulged in an outpouring of disbelief and grief like never before. No one knew quite what to believe and yet, were upset that they could no longer enjoy Maggi with the abandon that they once had. In the midst of all the anger and confusion over the controversy, one issue emerged rather clearly. For a generation of Indians, Maggi noodles was not just another brand of packaged food, but a transition of sorts. A rite of passage to adulthood—marking the beginning of an era of modernity, change and revolution. It symbolized New India in a way few brands could, perhaps because it encouraged legions of people to break away from one of the bastions of Indian culture—its cooking. The fact that you didn’t have to slave hours over the stove after shopping endlessly for spices and choosing your cooking vessels with care (for those Indian recipes that demand a container be of a specific dimensions

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and material) and could still end up with a tasty meal was incredibly appealing. A great deal of this convenience culture is what accounted for Maggi’s popularity. However, interestingly enough, for Indians in America, despite it being widely available in its imported avatar, Maggi was never a popular choice. “As a family we do tend to avoid Maggi and other instant, ready-made microwaveable packet foods, simply because if we want instant we’d rather just eat out or order take out,” says Poornima. One would think that a lack of domestic help in the United States would make pursuing Indian food habits hard. However, even this is overcome with a little creativity. “Over the years we’ve learned plenty of cooking tricks/hacks that Indians in the United States use: freezing extra dal, always having extra boiled potatoes, boiled eggs and chickpeas in the fridge, making extra tomato gravy and freezing it—so when there’s a time crunch we can quickly put together a meal,” says Poornima. One can also make a fusion dish that can be stretched across meals. When Poornima made a quinoa and kale curried patty (like a cutlet) for her family, it was a snack that could be eaten with ketchup. Leftovers were eaten with bread and sriracha sauce the next day and took on the avatar of a sandwich, which turned out to be the main course. “On weekends, when we have a bit more time we’ll make elaborate traditional meals like

Kamala Thiagarajan writes on travel, health and lifestyle topics for a global audience. She has been widely published in over ten countries.

in the Southern California edition of India Currents for

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ground coconut sambar and spicy curries. On weekdays we’ll make a quick vegetable curry and might pair it with store-bought roti. If time permits we’ll make a stack of homemade rotis to get us through 3-4 days,” she says. For some like Chicago based Shree Gurusamy, case manager at Aetna Better Health of Illinois, staying in touch with Indian food everyday, despite a busy schedule is imperative and something she doesn’t like to compromise on. “I make sure that our family eats a healthy Indian meal at least once a day,” she says. “We enjoy typical south Indian cuisine and I make a complete meal every night, as we eat light lunches (sandwiches, salads and soup) during the week.” A typical dinner in their home, she says consists of rice, dal (sambhar) and vegetable curry, with fish or chicken. Her children love the homemade yogurt that she makes every week. Exploring Indian food, even if you’ve never even remotely considered yourself a culinary genius, has always been an important aspect of immigrant culture; a perspective examined extensively by contemporary diaspora authors. Indeed, it is the heart of Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s travelogue, Eating India: Exploring a Nation’s Cuisine (2007). Divakaruni’s search for the authentic culinary experience in the sub-continent has much to do with physical distance and the life that she has led away from it. This is a theme evident in her fiction as well, as characters use food to evoke memories, forge deeper friendships and derive comfort from conflict. In books such as The Mistress of Spices (2005), India’s spice heritage takes on almost mystical proportions, as spices seem to have a vibrant and even oppressive nature of their own. Today, there’s no denying that even second generation Indian Americans, (despite not speaking their native tongue as fluently or visiting India as much as their parents would like) still feel deeply connected to its cuisine. And it’s the rare immigrant who doesn’t return from India with a suitcase full of every fresh, powdered spice they can get their hands on—all replete with the lingering flavors of home. n

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ask a lawyer

Is Your Employer Engaged in Unlawful Behavior? By Bobby Shukla

My employer is engaging in behavior which, I believe, is against the law. I feel obligated to say something but am afraid of losing my job. What are my rights?

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California law protects employees who disclose information that the employee reasonably believes violates the law. This protected activity is referred to as “whistleblowing.” There are several whistleblower laws under California law that may apply depending on your specific industry, the nature of your whistleblowing activity, or whether your employer is public or private. In general, in order to qualify as a whistleblower, you need to have a reasonable belief that the activity you are reporting either: (i) violates state or federal law; (ii) does not comply with a local, state, or federal rule or regulation; or (iii) creates unsafe working conditions or work

practices. Employees are protected if the disclosure was made to either: (i) a government or law enforcement agency; (ii) a person with authority over the employee; or (iii) another employee with authority to investigate, discover, or correct the violation or noncompliance. California law also protects employees who testify before a public body regarding the unlawful activity. Employers are prohibited from subjecting the employee to an adverse employment action due to the disclosure. An adverse employment action is an action that materially affects the terms and conditions of employment and includes termination or demotion. The whistleblower protection extends to instances where your employer takes an adverse employment action against you on its belief that you have disclosed or may disclose such information, even where the disclosure has not occurred.

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You are also protected under California’s whistleblower laws if you refuse to participate in an activity that you reasonably believe is unlawful. Further, an employer may not retaliate against you for whistleblowing activity which you engaged in at any former place of employment. Notably, these protections do not apply in instances where the information disclosed violates the attorney-client privilege or the physician-patient privilege or disclosures of trade secret information. n Disclaimer: The information provided here is generalized and not for purposes of providing legal advice. You should speak to an attorney to obtain advice regarding your particular circumstance. Bobby Shukla represents individuals in employment law matters. She can be reached at (415) 986-1338.

legal visa dates Important Note: U.S. travelers seeking visas to India will now need to obtain them through Cox & Kings Global Services Pvt. Ltd. Call 1-866-978-0055, email enquiriesusa@ckgs.com or visit www.in.ckgs.us for more information.

December 2015

his column carries final action dates and other transitional information as taken from the U.S. State Department’s Visa Bulletin. The information below is from the Visa Bulletin for December 2015. In the tables below, the listing of a date for any class indicates that the class is oversubscribed. “Current” means that numbers are available for all qualified applicants.

FAMILY PREFERENCE VISA DATES Preference Dates for India 1st Apr 01, 2008 2A Jun 15, 2014 2B Mar 01, 2009 3rd Jul 01, 2004 4th Mar 22, 2003 NOTE: F2A numbers subject to percountry limit are available to applicants beginning with priority dates beginning May 08, 2014 and earlier than Jun 15, 2014.

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Preference Dates for India 1st Current 2nd Jun 01, 2007 3rd Apr 22, 2004 Other Apr 22, 2004 Workers 4th Current Certain Current Religious Workers 5th Current Targeted Employment Areas The Department of State has a recorded message with visa availability information at (202)485-7699, which is updated in the middle of each month. Source: http://travel. state.gov/content/visas/en/law-and-policy/bulletin/2016/visa-bulletin-for-december-2015.html

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commentary

Noushad and the Plum Cake By Jeomoan Kurian

s a child, one thing I distinctly remember pursuing was a plum cake with an inviting dark caramel tone and the lingering aroma of ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg and vanilla. Each piece resembled a mosaic wedge. Raisins, cashew nuts, dates, candied red papaya, cherry, and orange peels adorned each piece. A bite made you an instant convert and eventually an addict. I used to dream of the day I could eat plum cake for all my meals. My folks in Kerala ate plum cake every year during Christmas. Anyone who stopped by our home during that time could expect a slice of cake next to their tea cup. In December, cakes of all shapes, sizes and decorations took over the glass shelves of local sweet shops. Bakers were challenged to bake the biggest possible cake. Artistic sugar renditions on the cake were made to look like tropical fruits, animals or buildings. Kids begged and reasoned with their parents to bring a well-decorated cake home. When our uncle got us a pineapple shaped cake, it made him a hero at our local school. Noushad became my close friend during high school, which opened the doors to his family bakery. They supplied bread and pastries to local retail shops. The traditional brick oven—they called it a bormba—was inside a one-room structure next to their home. It was always kept tidy and treated with respect. No one was allowed to enter the room with shoes on. They baked everything using the bormba. Noushad once told me that when they reconstructed the baking chamber, they collected empty glass bottles from the neighborhood, crushed them and mixed them with concrete, which helped to retain heat for several hours. When the bakery was busy, Noushad’s home smelled of sweet milk buns and butter biscuits. When you entered the bakery, the wooden racks were stacked with bread

A Creative Commons image

loaves and cookies. There was no automation. Instead Noushad and his brothers kneaded the dough into long braids using their bare hands. Kneading is like fighting a big snake. Their muscular biceps and forearms stood testament to their hard work. Noushad’s dad was in charge of the oven. He spread coconut shells in the chamber and fired it up to make charcoal. He explained that coconut shells were better because they generated less ash and had the aroma of coconut oil. Once the charcoal was red hot and the bed was ready, he inserted the batter filled pans with a shovel like a spatula. With the shovel’s long wooden handle, cakes were pushed to the back of the oven. During Christmas close friends were invited to help out at the bakery. We got to crush the nuts and chop the raisins, prepare the pans with butter and pack cakes in wax paper. My favorite task was to trim and level the sides of a cake before it was decorated with icing. This meant handfuls

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of cake crumbs and tidbits to munch on at the end of every cake dressing. Back then we had a neighbor, Auntie Leela, who worked in Europe but chose our town to retire. She and her two dachshund dogs lived in a hilltop villa next to an all-girls boarding school. It had a patio with a view of the paddy field in the foothills and I would often see her sitting there holding a tea mug. It was strange, so I assumed that’s how the English enjoyed their tea. She also liked to bake. Every year she meticulously prepared the Christmas cake batter with cocoa and brandy soaked dry fruits and brought it to Noushad’s oven, baking several cakes in a single batch. Those special cakes were then wrapped in wax paper and sent to her friends in far places as a holiday gift. Brandy was haram (forbidden) in Noushad’s family so they never tasted it. He sometimes managed to sneak a small cake out for his friends and after gorging on it, I would often describe it to my siblings,

much to their envy. Once we even planned to raid Auntie Leela’s pantry while she was out at the post office, but the thought of the dachshunds made us hesitate. When I got married to Sheena, my mother insisted that we take her oven, a Glen brand with a baking unit, to our new home in Bangalore. The following December we baked our first cake. A lot of work went into chopping the raisins and mixing the ingredients. The cake came out lopsided with a big crack in the middle. Noushad, when he heard about it, said baking powder probably ruined it but we later learned that a lot of things had gone wrong. It took a while for us to be brave enough to bake again, and by then we had moved to the United States where home baking is ingrained in the local culture. The grandeur of Christmas here in the United States is revealed throughout December. A million lights and bright ornaments breathe new life into the neighborhood at night. Santa Claus springs up in shopping malls and children line up to talk to him and take pictures with him. Radio channels play nonstop Christmas songs all month long. Parties at the office and home center on food and overeating is acceptable. Everything on earth goes on sale and malls serve warm apple cider and cookies to cheer up the snow-drenched shoppers. It’s hard to avoid the festival frenzy, so everyone goes with the flow. But I still missed our plum cakes. It surprises me that plum cake is not easily accessible in the United States. The closest thing to it is a fruitcake. A fruitcake is the butt of many jokes and may be the most ridiculed holiday food. I once bought a heavy fruit cake from a European bakery. The cake was dense with dried fruits and nuts and it smelled of sugar syrup. It felt gooey in the mouth with lumps of very sweet oversized fruits and missed the essential spices. A comedian once said that there is only one fruitcake in the world that gets passed from household to household. The jokes made more sense as we ate. Humor aside, there are many ethnic communities that pursue the art of making a Christmas cake in different ways. All of them have a European influence and the basic ingredients—dried fruits, nuts and spices. Caribbean black cake is an annual baking ritual where the dry fruits

“Stollen-Dresdner Christstollen” by Gürgi; licensed under Public Domain via Commons

are soaked in rum for months and baked with dark brown sugar. It is lavish with sugar and rum. Christstollen is a fifteenth century German cake low in sugar but has distinct rum infused fruits with little bread surrounding them. Italian panettone has more bread than fruits and the ingredients are not soaked in rum or brandy. Scottish Dundee cake stands out by using currants and sultanas and obviously the scotch whiskey takes over as the liqueur of choice. A classic British christmas cake has ingredients closest to the recipe we followed from Kerala, but it still missed the nutty flavor, heavy spices and burnt caramel taste that I was used to. So we began baking our own cakes every year. The preparation for baking a plum cake starts a month before Christmas. That’s when the currants, sultanas, dates and cherries are chopped and soaked in a pint of brandy. A strenuous baking day comes two weeks later and by then the spirit infused fruits develop an aroma of port wine. Candied ginger, orange and lemon peels are then added to the mix. An assortment of spices produced in Kerala gives the cake its aroma. Small heaps of cinnamon, cardamom, clove, cocoa, nutmeg, dry ginger and a few drops of vanilla are added. Creaming the butter by beating it with sugar and eggs is a critical step as it traps the air bubbles that leaven the cake in the oven. Burning sugar into caramel

syrup is precision engineering but its hue and bittersweet taste justifies the effort. Sifted dry ingredients—flour, spices and baking powder—are gradually combined with the creamed butter. Then the moist fruits and candied peels go in. Plenty of crushed cashew nuts and small chunks of candied papayas are added at the end. Last year, it took about four hours to prepare the cake batter and at the end the kitchen was an indescribable mess. The cake went into the oven and we all gathered to watch it rise. In about thirty minutes, the sweet smell of cardamom and cinnamon filled the room and made the waiting even harder. Two more tantalizing hours later, the cake had risen and turned dark brown. The bamboo skewer came out clean and it was transferred to a cooling rack. At 3:30 A.M, we made some black tea and cut a thick piece for ourselves. As the blade squeezed in, it released a fragrance that reminded me of my childhood. The buttery fruits clasped in sweet caramel bread melted in my mouth and offered no resistance. As I ate it, I started hearing a song from another time and my folks were in it. n Jeomoan Kurian is one of the co-founders of puzha.com, the first online Malayalam literary magazine from Kerala. He currently lives in Irvine, California.

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 25

education

So, You’ve Hit the Send Button on Your College Application? What Now? By Sarah de Sousa

or many high school seniors, an intense and demanding period of hard work is coming to a close; the season of applications is nearly over and the season of waiting has begun. For a lucky few, the waiting may be over and already daydreams of dorm life, freedom and independence are fast eclipsing the joys and thrills of high school life. Senioritis is going around and it may be contagious to non-seniors as well. But before I launch into a lecture on how to stay focused and finish off the year strong, let me offer a bit of counterintuitive advice: relax, exhale, enjoy! This time in your life will never come again: senior traditions, bonding with friends who may be 3,000 miles away by this time next year, a brief, but hard earned reprieve from intense academic pressure. College is fun, but it is also hard. Academically, socially, and psychologically, it is leagues above high school in what it will ask of you, so before you toss away this fleeting opportunity to enjoy what you have while you still have it, pause. Savor the relationships with the people in your life, family, friends, mentors, who have helped you get this far. Don’t wait until you are leaving to express your gratitude in a card or through a random act of kindness. In the lull between now and spring, when college decisions come out and test resumes in earnest, consider what underlying purpose you might tap into that will help you make the most of this time. This is, after all, the time of year for goal setting and making changes that will help you lead a healthier, and more fulfilling life. To get you started, I offer here two of my favorite evidence-based exercises that will help you find meaning and motivation for the months ahead. Parents, you’re welcome to try these too! i. Best Possible Self: Take a moment

College is fun, but it is also hard. Academically, socially, and psychologically, it is leagues above high school in what it will ask of you, so before you toss away this fleeting opportunity to enjoy what you have while you still have it, pause. to imagine yourself at the end of this academic year, whether it is simply the end of another year on the long high school journey or the culmination of all your hard work and time for graduation. Consider all the important areas of your life, school, friends, family, passions and hobbies. Imagine yourself having done all that you hoped to do between now and then; imagine a best case scenario in which you are thriving as the best possible version of yourself. Now write about this vision for 15 minutes without stopping. It is important that you not focus on comparing your current situation to this best possible future or restrain yourself only to what you think is “practical.” Let your imagination run wild, dream big. The more specific you are about what you hope to accomplish, the more powerful this exercise will be. When you are done, consider reflecting on a few practical steps that you could take begin-

26 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

ning now to help make this vision a reality. ii. Mental Subtraction of Positive Events: As a follow-up to Best Possible Self, reflect on a recent accomplishment or positive event: submitting your college applications, learning a new skill, getting strong grades, or sharing a unique experience with family or friends. Now begin to list all of the events and circumstances that had to unfold for this positive experience to take place. It can be helpful to actually write them in a list. Again, be as specific and detailed as possible. Next, imagine what would have happened if anything in this sequence of events had gone differently. What if the weather had suddenly shifted or traffic had prevented you from reaching your destination? What if you had not taken a risk and tried out for the school play? Imagine how different your life would be if you did not get to enjoy this positive experience. Let that possible reality sink in. Now remember that this positive event actually did occur and many minute seemingly mundane events conspired to bring that moment in your life to fruition. Give thanks! There are many reasons to finish this year strong by investing in a productive and successful second semester. Even if it feels as though this chapter of your life is coming to a close, there are a few critical pages left in the chapter that you’re on right now. Ask yourself what you’d most like those pages to say about what you value and who you have become. n Send us your questions about your student’s high school or college admissions at info@ insight-education.net Sarah de Sousa is an expert College Admissions Counselor at Insight Education, an Educational & College Admissions Counseling Company in the Bay Area since 1999.

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 27

feature

A Year in Review

2015

y daughter does not realize that I enjoy looking different wherever I go. I just plain believe that I can blend in while standing out.

By Kalpana Mohan, The Churidar Gets a Nod, August 2015

he story goes, Mrs. Jinnah wore a low-cut dress. While they were seated at the dining table, Lady Willingdon, Marie Freeman-Thomas, Marchioness of Willingdon asked an aide-de-camp (ADC) to bring a wrap for Mrs. Jinnah, in case she felt cold. Jinnah rose from the table, and declared, “When Mrs. Jinnah feels cold, she will say so, and ask for a wrap herself.” Then he led his wife from the dining-room; and from that time on refused to go to Government House again. By Ritu Marwah, Jinnah’s Daughter, November 2015

nd this is true for nearly every Indian American author—some portion of their novels returns readers to India. It is an infinite return.

By Anita Felicelli, The Stories We Tell, August 2015

hy would a Hindu monk speak out against anti-Black racism? Why would a gay African American civil rights leader repeatedly face arrest fighting for India’s independence? South Asians and African Americans have been standing up for each other for over a century. Our histories are deeply intertwined, even if our communities don’t always know it.

By Anirvan Chatterjee, Black and Desi: A Shared History, June 2015

or most new parents, cutting the umbilical cord is just the first of many acts of severing ties with a child whose destiny is to become his or her own individuated self.

By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan, Fault Lines, June 2015

suspect that almost every woman who has looked at her life in the wake of the Delhi rape of 2012 has realized that she has not lived up to her potential; that either she has made less money than a man or been denied promotions or, if she is more successful than her husband, been abandoned for a younger model. By Sarita Sarvate, I Am India’s Daughter Too, April 2015

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’ve encountered the same black and white polarization to news of the world very often. No matter how fallacious and heinous I think an argument is there are always going to be some people who will adopt it as their truth. By Jaya Padmanabhan, To Kill a Finch, August 2015

o, on Mother’s Day, call your mother. Send her flowers and chocolates. Make her a special breakfast. But, unless she specifically asks for this, feel free not to save her.

By Geetika Pathania Jain, Thumbs Up, Ekalavya, July 2015

ife was easy. We got bored once a month. When we got bored, we went to the movies. When we went to the movies, we ate out. When we ate out, we ordered either a plate of idly or a dosa. When we ordered either an idly or a dosa, we spent a little more moolah. When we spent a little more moolah, we couldn’t afford boredom for a whole month. By Usha Rao, House #152, November 2015

erhaps I am naive and uninformed, but I have not found any institution not to be self-serving—and that goes double for The Economist when it comes to reporting about India.

By Atanu Dey, India, Poverty and the Economist, August 2015

n a world seemingly dedicated to prolonging life, and a profession somewhat in denial around the diminished value of delaying imminent death, conversation about being mortal is truly novel. Rajesh C. Oza, This Day Has Ended, October 2015

ow you should know that in my house, the food ranges from sambhar to bratwurst (sometimes on the same day, if the two countries reach an impasse!).

By Gayatri Subramaniam, Hello 911? Someone’s Using 09! November 2015

From the Cloud

Priyanka Chopra, actress Went straight to set from my flight.. Think I said my lines in my normal accent!! Sheesh!! Hope I [sic] dialect coach wasn’t listening!! lol but..

Twinkle Khanna, actress How can I have the monday blues on such a good hair day :)

Jasmeet Singh, youtuber mom if ur reading this then why tf are u on twitter and also can u pls cook me something also gtfo twitter why are u even on here

Aziz Ansari, comedian If we could somehow harness the energy from my pointless internet browsing, there would never be an energy crisis.

Vijai Nathan, comedian Can you really call a size 16 “Skinny Jean” a “Skinny Jean”?

Aasif Mandvi, TV anchor if you think she has a beautiful face and personality they why did you say it? why did you say it? .#trumpontrump

Kal Penn, actor I thought it would be fun to draw balloons on my nephew’s birthday card and they all just look like sperm.

Mindy Kaling, TV actress, comedian You’re no one unless you have a food allergy

Cover Stories You Loved

Top 6 Most Read Articles 1.Why is that White Girl Wearing a Bindi by Maya Murthy, September 2015

3.Homeopathy for Polycystic Ovarian syndrome, by Daxa Vaishnav, March 2015

5.The Order of Things by Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan, August 2015

2.H4 Dependent Spouses Finally Allowed to Work. by Mahesh Bajoria, March 2015

4.Why a Software Engineer became a Writer, by Jaya Padmanabhan, July 2015

6.Off With the Loot by Kalpana Mohan, September 2015

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 29

diva tweets

Festive Diva Challenge Thank you to all those who sent in their diva pictures. It was enormously tough to pick the winners. These are our judges’ final picks.

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Sulu Karnik, Alka Srivastava, Seema Sarin, Sangeeta Mehra, Shobha Reddy, Meena Oza, Archana Sanghi, Madhavi Pratt

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Neha and Niki Desai

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book excerpt

Did Someone Say Second World War? A war narrated through the lives and deaths of a single family. By Raghu Karnad FARTHEST FIELD–An Indian Story of the Second World War by Raghu Karnad. W. W. Norton and Company. 320 pages. August 2015. $17.53 Hardcover. Available on Kindle

t is said that the news of the world war reached Calicut along with the morning eggs. Perhaps that isn’t true at all. Perhaps it’s only true that the price of eggs was the first the Calicut Parsis saw of the costs of war; the first of many. Maybe they remembered what happened to the price of eggs, even years and years later, because they wanted to forget what happened to the boys. If, however, it is true, then it must have begun with a commotion at the Marshall house, nearest the pier. The noise would have been swallowed by the rowdy waves of dawn, on a sea swollen by the late monsoon. If Bobby had been in Calicut, he would have been there in an instant. Rounding the corner to the beach road, he would have spotted the egg boy cowering behind his bicycle; then the Marshalls’ cook, aggrieved, wiping his neck with the tail of his checked-cotton mundu; then Keki Marshall, hollering as though he meant to argue the sun back into its bed. He would bloody well not pay four annas a dozen. Not for eggs. Whatever conspiracy of grocers, hoarders and bastards thought they could double the price of eggs overnight, they were going to learn differently from him, war or no war. But did someone say war? The egg boy may have been told that rationing and shortages were expected, and eggs would be priced up as a precaution. But he couldn’t have explained about the Panzers in Poland, the craven declaration from London, or the Viceroy in Delhi

already committing India and Indians to the fray. Instead the egg boy fled. He wobbled his bicycle a safe distance from the gate and rested a moment, calming himself down. Ahead of him was a full street of Parsi homes. He knew precisely how many eggs they took. He knew he was going to catch hell at each doorstep. He couldn’t imagine the hell he was going to leave there.

News, like almost everything, travelled slowly to Calicut, though it was the largest town in Malabar. The province lay in the narrow lap of the western coast, with its head leaned up against the high range of the Western Ghats, and its feet dipped in the Indian Ocean. The town was a minor entrepôt for timber, pepper and cashew coming down to the sea, and fish, petrol,

32 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

shop goods, and the post going back up. Once it had mattered more. It had been the seat of the Zamorin of Malabar, whose rule extended south as far as Cochin, and it was here that Europe first trod on India’s soil, when Vasco Da Gama scraped up on the beach at Kappad. The centuries since had left Calicut to turn in its own slow eddy of trade. Its provincialism concealed the scale of its wealth and commerce, and the rhythms of the town played like a drowsy accompanist behind the full-lunged score of the sea. Arab dhows rode at anchor, waiting to unload sacks of dried fruit from Yemen, then raised their sails and blew away like kites on the horizon’s glittering string. Coconut trees crowded the shore, and further inland all was covered in layers of matted green. Pink lotus wilted in the temple pond, and in the courtyards stood elephants, black and mottled and as brilliantly daubed as the lingam within. At the market, Maplah wives in long-sleeved blouses and headscarves mingled with bare-breasted Ezhava women selling clams and jackfruit. The town had no garrison, no real port. So Calicut concerned nobody but the sahibs who owned plantations on the Wynaad Plateau, the many local castes and creeds, and the Parsis. The Parsis: pale as scalps, mad as coots, noses like commas on the page. They were devoutly civilised, consummately lawful, and still abided by the spirit of the first contract they made in India, as refugees shin-deep in the surf. Parsi: it meant from Persia, and the label never peeled away; the centuries only stiffened their pose, polite and helpful, as India’s permanent houseguests. They were friends to all, up to the King and down to the cobbler, and while they

Editor’s Book Shelf 2015 Picks

The author, deemed by William Dalrymple to be “one of India’s most brilliant and talented young writers.”

could be silly buggers, there was always a politesse, acceptance of the King’s law, distaste for conversion or preaching aloud. They were sporting in business, and businesslike at sport. What Gurkhas were in the Army, Parsis were in civilian life—the exemplary race, making the best of British command without any desire to usurp it. So they retained the state of public grace that best served private wealth. Humata, hukhta, huvrastha: Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. Bombay was their metropole, Karachi too; further south they got a bit native. In Malabar the men all spoke Malayalam, could gallop it in their mouths, but the women were not exposed too much, for the sake of their complexion, and their accents remained. Women wore saris but the men wore shoes indoors. Like AngloIndians, they were attentive to cutlery; unlike Anglo-Indians, they were content—a creed of Oneness had chased them out of Persia, and a creed of Innumerables had received them, and they had prospered, most major of minorities. At the beginning of the new war they were as numerous as they would ever be, and that was only 100,000, a homeopathic dose for India: a thimble of sweet milk set down beside its vats of steaming oils and syrups. n Raghu Karnad is a journalist and the author of Farthest Field: An Indian Story of the Second World War. He has written for Granta, the International New York Times, the Financial Times, n+1 and Caravan, and is a contributing editor at theWire.in.

The opium war story continues to be deftly shaped by a master storyteller. Provides terrific insight into a time and place in history

The story of growing old is deeply felt and touchingly told, and asks the essential question of doctors: what do you do when the treatment hurts, rather than helps, an aging patient?

A young Indian American teenager comes to terms with who he is and where he belongs when he is forced to live in India

Shortlisted for the 2015 Man Booker. A sprawling story of 13 young men escaping from an Indian past and looking for a new life in England.

A beguiling tale about the intersecting lives of a man, woman and child in a city rife with violence and humanity

Narrated by people born 1,000 years hence, looking back on a battle waged over 1,001 nights by a motley of real and mythical characters engaged in saving the world

Buried secrets are exposed and humiliations and retaliations are aired as three sisters unite at their father’s coma bed

A hilarious, tongue-in-cheek look at beauty, weight, relationships and other angst matters

Longlisted for the 2015 Man Booker. A dark story about the sticky threads of religion, love and loss

A Rei Shimura mystery (#11). Set in Japan, amateur sleuth Rei sets out to investigat the suspicious disappeareance of a young woman

Pans

A deeply personal tragic story told in a dispassionate, almost clinical manner. It seemed as though the author could not connect with his culture or his emotions

Kunal Nayyar’s personal story failed to be a compelling one. The narrative lacked depth and comic timing.

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California | www.indiacurrents.com | 33

music

2015

Bollywood By Priya Das

an-Nov 2015 has seen a mixed bag of Bollywood music genres, but with clear winners in terms of music directors, singers, and lyricists. There are two categories in the countdown below—Catchy and Romantic. The common bar for these two genres is that they are harbingers of change—either the lyrics talk about change or the music itself is a change from the usual.

Catchy Numbers That Make Your Feet Tap 5. Prem Leela

Lyrics snippet: “Bandook dikha dikha ke kya pyar karegi; Chehra bhi kabhi dikhana”

3. Superman Predicable but catchy, amusing lyrics with a story Film: Prem Ratan Dhan Payo Music: Himesh Reshammiya Singers: Aman Trikha, Vineet Singh Lyricist: Irshad Kamil Lyrics snippet: “Jaise Radha Shyam se Sita mili Ram se sab ko apna pyaar mile araam se”

4: Afghan Jalebi

Lyrics snippet: “Matlabi ho ja zara matlabi duniya ki sunta hai kyon Khud ke bhi sun le kabi, sooraj dooba hai yaaro”

Rustic lyrics, full of “Tevar” attitude Film: Tevar Music Director: Sajid-Wajid Singer: Wajid Lyricist: Kausar Munir, Danish Sabri, Sajid Lyrics Snippet: “Ek bata doon aap se, Nahi darta kisi ke baap se; Ja mere naam ke bill faad le, Jo ukhaad na ukhaad le, Main toh Superman”

2. Sooraj Dooba Hai Arabic overtones, folksy Film: Phantom Music: Pritam Singer: Syed Asrar Shah Lyricist: Amitabh Bhattacharya 34 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

Superb lyrics, modern feel, smooth Film: Roy Music: Amaal Mallik Singers: Arijit Singh, Aditi Sharma Lyricist: Kumaar

1. Gulaabo

Peppy, whimsical, unusual lyrics, over all fantastic Film: Shandaar Music: Amit Trivedi Singers: Vishal Dadlani, Anusha Mani Lyricist: Anvita Dutt Lyrics snippet: “Hey surma lagaa ke, Latein uljha ke, Haath jiya pe mal-mal Tere chhajje ke niche khade hain, Phans gaye jaise dal-dal”

Music

Countdown

Romantic Songs or Lyrics that Tug at Heartstrings

5. Jeena Jeena

Lyrics: Abhendra Kumar Upadhyay Lyrics snippet: “Tu wo lamha jo na thehre Aane waala kal mera Main aas paas tere aur mere paas Tu hai ke nahi”

Classic heart-wrenching Film: Tamasha Singer: Alka Yagnik, Arijit Singh Lyrics Irshad Kamil Lyrics snippet: “Bethi bethi bhaagi phirun; Meri taraf aata har gham phisal jaaye Agar tum saath ho”

3. Saware Sweet, longing, modern Film: Badlapur Singer: Atif Aslam Music: Sachin-Jigar Lyricists: Dinesh Vijan & Priya Saraiya Lyrics snippet: “Dehleez pe mere dil ki Jo rakhe hain tune kadam; Tere naam pe meri zindagi; Likh di mere hum dum”

4. Tu Hai ki Nahi

1. Mar Jaayen

Beautiful opening, wistful Film: Phantom Singer: Arijit Singh Music: Pritam Lyrics: Amitabh Bhattacharya Lyrics snippet: “Ishq ka yeh Sitam na gawara hua pal; pal gin ke guzara, maano karza utaara”

Dramatic, lovesick Film: LoveShuda Singer: Atif Aslam Music: Mithoon Lyrics: Sayeed Quadri Lyrics snippet: “Kaash woh pal paida hi na ho, jis pal me tu nazar na aaye”

2. Tum Saath Ho Unexpected music arrangement with some whistling thrown in Film: Roy Singer/ Composer: Ankit Tiwari

Priya Das is an enthusiastic follower of world music and avidly tracks intersecting points between folk, classical, jazz and other genres.

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California. | www.indiacurrents.com | 35

films

Flying Daggers, Avenging Widows and Ocean Motion Top Ten Bollywood Films of 2015 By Aniruddh Chawda

2015—An incredibly profitable year at the box office for Hindi movies—can be summed by at least a dozen entries that were significant hits and three movies that combined to smash just about all previous box office records (PK, Bajrangi Bhaijaan, Bahubali: The Beginning). As Hindi movies continue to expand their presence into new corners of the globe, the international box office hauls become proportionally larger. Here are some highlights of noteworthy entries: 2. BAHUBALI: THE

1. BAJRANGI BHAIJAAN

he definitive pan-sub-continental road movie emerged from the highly unlikely hands of Salman Khan and his SKF Studio. Khan’s screen charisma has never been in doubt. What was lacking in his repertoire was an entry that would string together social, comical, adventure and political elements. The bigger-than-big box office that awaited Khan’s country bumpkin who agrees to take a little lost Pakistani girl—a role

BEGINNING

nailed by pint-sized newcomer Harshaali Malhotra—back to Pakistan by foot, bike, truck, bus and sometimes even in drag made a splash that could not be avoided. Director Kabir Khan and Salman Khan use a lightly comic, lightly political and lightly just about everything movie only to top it off with an emotionally electrifying ending that virtually guarantees tears for even the most jaded viewer. Bravo!

36 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

A new granddaddy of epic costume dramas has finally been anointed. S. S. Rajamouli’s Telugu-language original was dubbed into several languages and became the first non-Hindi language Indian movie to pulverize international box office records previously held almost exclusively by Hindi language movies. Propelled by highly evocative posters that borrowed from Hindu mythology and spiced up by star Prabhas’ ample physique both promised and delivered a come-hither look that became a box office and critical sensation. Already the third highest all-time Indian box office champ (behind only PK and Bajrangi Bhaijaan), the highly captivating battle scenes featured flying daggers and horseback chivalry that tapped into historical epics from a nearly-forgotten era in Indian filmmaking history. Finally, a spell-bending, state-of-the-art juggernaut worthy of global standards and a movie that fans of Indian movies of all stripes, anywhere could cheer.

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3. NH10 Outwardly a road movie that goes way off track, NH10 was a taut fish-out-ofwater jolt that touched raw nerve endings in the wake of shocking recent headlines. A professional couple from New Delhi, played by Anushka Sharma (who also produced) and Neil Bhooplam, taking a much-needed vacation by car and ending up having to fend off a cabal of rural road crazies offered nail-biting thrills from the get-go. Even though there is ample violent content here, the real stick-out point is

the brilliant exploitation of an unrelenting undercurrent of aggression that soaks the script. Made on a smaller budget, director Navdeep Singh and writer Sudip Sharma’s engrossing story emerged profitable by tapping into everything from the income gaps between New India’s urban elites and disenfranchised rural population to institutional misogyny and the perverse notion of “honor killing”—all under the tight grip of a microcosmic feudal setting. Lesson learned: Do not cross a widow out for revenge!

4. DETECTIVE BYOMKESH BAKSHY Dibakar Banerjee’s big screen treatment of the famed fictional detective created by Bengali writer Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay succeeded where Anurag Kashyap’s Bombay Velvet couldn’t muscle through. Against a tumultuous backdrop of WWII intrigue and a fast changing subcontinent on the verge of gaining independence, a rooming house in the Hooghly area of what was then Calcutta becomes the vortex of very strange goings on. Fortunately, the good guys have on their side the sleuth Bakshy (well played by Sushant Sing Rajput) as the city becomes gripped by a vast conspiracy involving land-owning Indian gentry, British overseers and even Japanese spies. Floated by the Yashraj banner—which is already planning a sequel for the budding franchise—Banerjee’s movie showcased a great city with a beau-

tiful retro-feel makeover that gets right the period setting and even sari fashions. Finally, a smartly made, thinking-cap-on movie that was fun all the way.

38 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

Filmmaker Rajkumar Hirani (Munnabhai) and Aamir Khan’s extraterrestrial comedy-adventure was at heart a satire of mass religion and false prophets. Khan as a, naked-at-first, otherworldly visitor who goes from an unblemished child-like innocent and someone who knows nothing about earthly manners to picking up local habits and gradually falling from (mortal) grace was a marvelous reflection on prejudice and xenophobia. Due to intra-galactic delays, the folks on Pluto just heard that P.K. also now has the biggest all-time box office of any movie from India. While P.K. is not the greatest Hindi movie in recent times, it offered a transformative moment captured in the anti-glow of today’s biggest and darkest headlines—an acknowledgement of a clash of cultures within the human family.

6. DIL DHADAKNE DO

Zoya Akhtar’s seven seas romantic comedy set almost entirely on a cruise ship superbly balanced the wave motion while wringing through wet sordid upper-crust angst to dock into a surprisingly astute and slam dunk fun formula. Boosted by a huge A-list cast that included Shefali Shetty, Priyanka Chopra, Ranveer Singh, Anushka Sharma, Farhan Akhtar, Rahul Bose and Zarina Wahab—perhaps the greatest roll call since Karan Johar’s Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham (2001)—Dil Dhadakne Do also benefited from capturing lusciously exotic far-flung locales that wisely never supplant the affairs of one-percenter Mehra family

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helmed by patriarch Kamal (Anil Kapoor). Even though Dil Dhadakne Do spotlights a top income family feud, future film classes may single out this movie for evidencing the expanding vacation destinations available for India’s booming middle class.

9. TALVAR

7. DHRISHYAM

Nishikant Kamat’s tense family drama pivoting from an accidental death was a remake of Jeetu Joseph’s 2014 Malayalam entry of the same name. Remade with remarkably success in altogether a halfdozen other Indian languages, all of which amazingly proved to be box office and critical success, here was a script no one could resist. A middle class family headed by Vijay Salgaonkar (Ajay Devgan) finds their lives turned upside down when their high school age daughter is blackmailed by a classmate. The well-made drama draws from the battle of wits between a tough police investigator (played by Tabu) who is inexplicably allowed to take the lead in chasing down the disappearance of her son as Vijay steadfastly coaches his family through the biggest upheaval in their lives. The existentially-charged ending fails to fully appease just about everyone involved with the viewer then left to decide the outcome on their own.

10.

Globe trekker, aesthete, photographer, ski bum, film buff, and commentator, Aniruddh Chawda writes from Milwaukee.

PIKU

A familial tug between daughter Piku, played by Deepika Padukone, and her perennially-constipated and aging father Bhaskor (Amitabh Bachchan) takes center stage in this Soojit Sarkar comedic drama. The primary focus is the shifting role of the daughter, a successful Delhi architect, now being the breadwinner for a parent who is becoming increasingly unhinged given his obsession with his constipation. Strongly supported by Irrfan Khan as a taxi driver who unwittingly agrees to take the daughter and the ailing father to Kolkota so they can sell the family home there, the road trip becomes the metaphor for a journey to unplanned destinations. Khan, who had a fantastic year in movies with four releases (Piku, Talvar, Jurassic World and in Aishwarya Rai’s comeback entry Jazbaa) getting a role where he romances Padukone is a terrific uptick and a nuanced change in what a possible male love-interest can or should be in Hindi movies.

Based on a 2008 real-life story about a double-murder near Delhi, Meghna Gulzar’s credible treatment of an account where the “reality” of the narrative gets instantly muddied by inaccurate or in-

PREM RATAN DHAN PAYO

Rajshri Studio and Salman Khan together have intermittently lit up the holiday season box fireworks going back to Khan’s breakout hit Maine Pyar Kiya in 1989. Wholesome and family-viewing appropriate— compared to the intermittently violent NH10—director/script writer Sooraj Barjatiya’s Prem Ratan Dhan Payo hits the right notes in balancing family-first palace shenanigans and romance. The stunningly opulent song

40 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

complete eye witness accounts of key players, Talvar made one pause for contemplation. In a legal system where only one judge has to be convinced on life and death matters and where circumstantial evidence counts every step of the way, the circumstances certainly point to an educated married couple (Konkona Sen Sharma and Neeraj Kabi) who may have killed off their teenage daughter and the family chauffeur. The movie also features Irrfan Khan as a shrewd investigative cop who gets brick-walled by the botched early-arriving local cops that unknowingly tempered with precious evidence. Much like Dhrishyam, the movie had an ending that satisfied few and makes everyone uneasy. sequence choreography—especially Palak Mucchal’s catchy title tune— is on par with Bahubaali. The last time two Salman Khan entries made any year end shortlist was when Atal Bihari Vajpayee was prime minister! For naysayers who deny that Hindi movie stars are treated like royalty, consider this. Sonam Kapoor’s personal nutritionist—nutritionist—gets an entry in the credits. Why exclude kindergarten teacher, milkman or mailman? Can’t we just stick to movie making? Puh-leese! Special salutes: Best soundtrack of the year: “Prem Ratan Dhan Payo.” Most anticipated upcoming movie: Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Bajirao Mastani. Worst movie consideration: Mr. X (3D) On to 2016. Happy movie going! n

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California. | www.indiacurrents.com | 41

recipes

A Holiday Food Canvas By Praba Iyer

rowing up in India, holidays were a simple affair. No Europe trips, no all inclusive beach resorts, cabins in the remote Amazon forest or scuba diving in Cairns. Options were limited, you either stayed home or you were sent to stay with relatives. Occasionally my family would go on a pilgrimage to all the holy temples. But these simple holidays filled my nostalgic bank with cherishable events. Like the summer vacation, when my brother and I attempted to bake a cake in an oven made of a wok packed with sand and a pressure cooker. It would have been the best chocolate cake ever made, except that the store boy gave us caustic soda instead of baking soda. Well, we ended up with a nice round

Bharata Natyam Folk Dances

baked brick which was awful to taste but could have filled the pothole on my street. We both laughed so much it hurt. Or the holiday in Calcutta, when my uncle would bring home a small matki (clay pot) of mishti doi (sweet yogurt) with a hot samosa every evening after work. And the trip to Dharmastala where they served food out of huge barrels on wheels. I still remember the taste of that watery sweet and sour rasam. Life is a canvas and it is up to us to paint all the everlasting memories on it. So whether you are in the Bahamas or in your backyard during these coming holidays, create a set of food memories to last a lifetime. I am looking forward to the winter holidays at home with some very hungry

Shivam arts ol of Kath ho Sc

Classes: Duarte,Cerritos, Riverside,Chino Hills

ak d a

n ce

Praba Iyer is a chef instructor who teaches team-building through cooking classes and custom cooking classes in the bay area. She is a consulting chef at Kitchit (www.kitchit.com). You can reach her at praba@rocketbites.com.

Artistic director:

Punam Kumar (Holds a master's degree in art of Kathak) Beginning and advanced classes for children all ages Adults dance class Special events choreography New classes coming to Santan Mandir, Norwalk

Paulomi Pandit

Classes also offered at: Cypress Diamond Bar Irvine For information call:

Recipient of Post Diploma from

Kalakshetra, India

714-293-4539 714-891-3799 Email: Punam.kathak@yahoo.com

paulomi@rangashree.com www.rangashree.com

626-590-5547

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42 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

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Roasted Sweet Potato Chaat

This recipe has the sweet, tangy, crunchy and spicy flavors of any chaat but the ingredients are different and unique. Ingredients 2 cups of sweet potato and yams peeled and cubed 1 tbsp oil 2 cloves garlic minced 1 small red onion chopped fine. 1 tsp garam masala ¼ cayenne salt 3 Persian cucumbers chopped 3 small mandarin oranges, peeled and segmented. 1-2 green chilies 1 tsp chaat masala ½ lemon juice cilantro to garnish Method Preheat the oven to 420 degrees. Mix the sweet potatoes and yam with oil, garlic, red onions and season it with salt, garam masala and cayenne. Place this on a greased sheet pan and roast it in the pre-heated oven for about 15-20 minutes. Once cooked and roasted, remove and cool it. Mix the roasted and cooled sweet potato with the remaining chaat ingredients and serve.

Vegetarian Momos

This is a family favorite. We listen to music as we make the momos together. The filling can be anything that you desire. My friend Reshma Maharjan makes the best momos, and this is her recipe. Ingredients 1 pack of wonton wrappers (50)

Cheese Log

Vegetarian Momos

Steamer with water For the filling a small cauliflower minced ½ small cabbage minced 1 red onion minced 2-3 green onions minced 1 potato cooked and mashed 1 tablespoon ginger/garlic paste ¼ cup cilantro Seasonings: salt, 1 tsp garam masala, a pinch of cayenne, 1 to 2 green chilies 1/2 lemon juice Method Place the minced cauliflower, in a microwavable bowl with 1/2 cup water and cook in the microwave for five minutes or until soft. Drain the water and add the rest of the ingredients. Mix well and adjust seasonings. This is your filling. Assemble the filling, wonton wrappers, a small bowl of water and the steamer top container. Take a little bit of the filling and place it in the center of a wonton wrapper and wet the edges of the wrapper. Then slowly scrunch the edges together to make a pouch covering the filling. Place the pouches inside the steamer top without touching each other. Place the bottom container of the steamer with water on the stove. Place the top with pouches in it and cover with a lid. Heat the steamer for 8-10 minutes until the momos look glossy. Remove and serve with soy sauce or the following chutney.

Spicy Garlic Chutney

Ingredients 2 tomatoes 1 red onion 6 cloves of garlic 5-7 dry red chilies salt to taste Method Heat oil in a pan and roast the tomatoes, onions, red pepper, garlic for a few minutes and grind it to a smooth paste. Check the seasonings and serve with piping hot momos, as a dip.

Cheese logs

These are show stoppers and big hits at any party. They are healthy, high in protein, hearty and tasty. They pair well with vegetables, fruits, chips, crisps, crackers, baguette, breads and crostinis. Ingredients a log of soft cheese like goat cheese, gouda, cream cheese For the topping: ½ cup toasted pistachios chopped ½ cup dried cranberries a pinch of cayenne Method Mix the pistachios, cranberries and cayenne and spread it on a plate. Roll the log in this mixture and make sure all the whole log is covered with the mixture. Saran wrap the log and refrigerate. The cream cheese can be mixed with the fillings and rolled into a log with saran wrap. Some of my favorite logs are dill and garlic cream cheese logs, dried apricot and black pepper log, and cranberry chutney goat cheese log. n

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California. | www.indiacurrents.com | 43

44 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

relationship diva

Five Qualities Women Find Irresistible

There seems to be very little helpful information (beyond the pick-up artist stuff, which women tend to see right through) for relationship-oriented guys about what women find attractive in men. Could you shed some light?

I’m sure a lot of guys will appreciate your question, as it’s true that much of the relationship advice out there seems to be directed to women. Here are five qualities well worth cultivating, as I find they are almost universally appealing to relationship-oriented women. i) Confidence. Confidence can take many forms, from the extrovert who has no trouble talking to anyone in the room to the strong, silent type who exudes confidence from a distance. Whatever your personal brand of confidence, connect with it, own it, and radiate it wherever you go. The right woman is far more likely to notice you if you’re rocking your true confidence from

2016

By Jasbina Ahluwalia

the core. ii) Integrity While this quality might be hard to convey in a bar or on a first date, it is one that women prize highly in the opposite sex. Knowing who you are, having defined beliefs, being honest, and sticking to your principles is very impressive to women. Make integrity a priority, and the ladies will take notice. iii) Intelligence/Success While showing off your math or science knowledge too freely at a party might be a turn-off, speaking with intelligence and conveying a measure of success in life can be very alluring to women. While you never want to let your ego get the better of you, don’t be afraid to display your intelligence when getting to know a potential new love interest. iv) Kindness Yes, there’s that whole thing about chicks being drawn to “bad boys.” However, having a bit of an edge is very dif-

Fe s t i v a l

ferent from being unkind or downright mean. While women love when a man shows that he is ready and willing to fight for her honor, they also appreciate seeing kindness from their mate. So if you must be a bad boy, temper those tattoos with a heart of gold. v) Sense of Humor Let’s face it—just about everyone wants a partner with a good sense of humor. If you combine a sense of humor with wit, intelligence, kindness and heart, you just might be the ultimate catch. You can’t go wrong cultivating these five qualities. n Jasbina is the founder and president of Intersections Match, the only personalized matchmaking and dating coaching firm serving singles of South Asian descent in the United States. She is also the host of Intersections Talk Radio. Jasbina@intersectionsmatch. com.

Calendar

New Year’s Day

Jan. 1

Ramanavami

April 15

Mahatma Gandhi’s B’day

Oct. 2

Makara Sankranti

Jan. 15

Mahavir Jayanti

April 20

Navaratri

Oct. 1-9

Pongal

Jan. 15

Hanuman Jayanti

April 22

Dussehra

Guru Govind’s B'day

Jan. 16

Mother’s Day

May 8

Sharad Purnima

Oct. 16

M.L. King Jr. Day

Jan. 18

Buddha Purnima

May 21

Karva Chauth

Oct. 19

India’s Republic Day

Jan. 26

Memorial Day

May 30

Dhan Teras

Oct. 28

Ash Wednesday

Feb. 10

Father’s Day

June 19

Diwali

Oct. 29

Vasant Panchami

Feb. 12

Ramadan Begins

June 6

Govardhana Puja

Oct. 31

Saraswati Puja

Feb. 12

Ratha Yatra

July 6

Bhai Duj

Nov. 1

Oct. 11

Presidents Day

Feb. 15

U.S. Independence Day

July 4

Guru Nanak’s B’day

Nov. 14

Maha Shivaratri

March 8

Eid ul Fitr

July 5

Guru Teg Bahadur Day

Nov. 24

Nawruz

March 21

Guru Purnima

July 19

Thanksgiving Day

Nov. 26

Holi

March 24

India Independence Day Aug. 15

Christmas Day

Dec. 25

Good Friday

March 25

Raksha Bandhan

Aug. 18

Easter

March 27

Krishna Janmashtami

Aug. 25

Ugadi

April 8

Ganesh Chaturthi

Gudi Padva

April 8

Labor Day

Sept. 5

Baisakhi

April 13

Bakri Id

Sept. 12

Tamil New Year

April 14

Onam

Sept. 13

Sept. 5 (408) 324-0488 • (714) 523-8788 •(202) 709-7010 www.indiacurrents.com

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California. | www.indiacurrents.com | 45

desi voice

Bombay Bus By Ravibala Shenoy

rolled the large American Tourister bag to the bus stop in Ganeshpuri, my two daughters in tow. The roof of the State Transport bus to Mumbai was piled high with luggage as it came to a halt. A crowd had gathered mysteriously within minutes and we had to push our way in. Although we had taken a taxi up to Ganeshpuri, I felt this was too elitist and chose to return by bus. We squeezed in to the already full bus. My fourteen-year old daughter stood somewhere in the middle of the aisle. The bus conductor, a Rajnikant wannabe, punched his ticket puncher and urged her to move up to the front of the bus. “Move forward” he said archly in Marathi. “She does not speak Marathi.” I said. My daughter was holding on to a strap hanging from above while I held on to the seat head rest. One of the seated ladies invited my four-year-old daughter onto her lap. A light rain fell and the surrounding hills were covered with mist. Even though the bus was filled beyond capacity, at every stop the bus conductor called out. “Are there any college students?” The bus is full! There is not even standing room, I thought. Students piled in hanging out of the door. Rattling over potholes, the bus finally arrived in Bhiwandi. Some passengers alighted, and I finally secured a seat by the window, my younger daughter beside me. The older one found a seat further back. From the bus window I saw a family: a young father in a bush shirt, his wife, a boy of ten and an elderly woman in a black burqa. I noticed that her chappals were caked with mud. She was carrying a boy of four, his head resting on her shoulder. She came up the aisle to my seat. The boy whimpered. She motioned asking me to take my child on my lap, so she could take the adjoining seat. Offended, I glanced at the child. He appeared sick to me. This was not the way it was done in the States. During my visit last year, my daughter had contracted dysentery, probably from the orange juice served on a domestic flight. I suspected that the orange juice had been diluted

Clamoring to get on a crowded Bombay bus

with tap water. Dehydrated, she’d had to go to a hospital. This year, I heard there was a cholera epidemic in the hinterland of Maharashtra. Bhiwandi appeared like a hinterland to me. I was an NRI after all. I stood up, scooping up my four-year-old. “In that case, I will stand,” I said. The Muslim family looked alarmed. “What happened? Please sit down!” the young father said. “I don’t want to sit down,” I said, my mind made up. The lady in the burqua said, “Then, I also won’t sit down.” We stood there paralyzed. The people on the bus clamored. “Sit down! Sit down!” “This lady has been standing all the way.” Someone said. “She just got a seat.” “Sit down!” another passenger urged. “Otherwise, an outsider will grab the seat.” Several passengers looked at me, annoyed. We rode for a while in this manner. Finally, I was able to find a seat with both my daughters. The Muslim family found seats too. The bus finally stopped in Thane. The glances of the passengers burned a hole through me as I dragged the oversize suitcase down the aisle, my daughters followed at my heels. My older daughter made a face, as if to show she was in no way related to me. A man with a big red tikka on his forehead helped me carry my suitcase down the steps. “You people carry such big suitcases!” he said reproachfully. The conductor gave an exaggerated bow and smirked. At the taxi-stand, not one taxi driver was willing to transport a fare that was not far enough.

46 | INDIA CURRENTS | Southern California. | Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16

“I’ll report you!” I shouted. Finally one taxi driver agreed to take me home on a fixed fare. “Didi,” the taxi-driver said. “Our Sarkar (government) are thieves, so we too have to indulge in thievery.” Unlatching the front gate, we walked in to the house. “She’s come!” My parents seemed surprised. “We thought you’d take the afternoon bus, it’s less crowded.” “But I told you I was returning in the morning.” I replied with some irritation. This was before convenient STD calls and well before the cell phone. I related my tale of woe. “In that case you shouldn’t have taken public transportation.” My father said shaking his head. “Over here, when you take public transportation you are expected to take your children in your lap. The conductor let you bring your suitcase on the bus! He could have insisted that you place it on the roof.” It was hopeless—my point of view seemed difficult to explain. That night, as I turned on the Good Knight mosquito repellent I remembered the Muslim family. Perhaps they were taking their child to a good hospital. I sent a silent prayer for the child’s well-being. I remembered the hostile looks of the people on the bus, as though I were a buffalo in a china shop. Then, when I was rubbing mosquito repellant on my limbs that night, it hit me like a bolt: the people on the bus almost 99% Hindu as well as the Muslim family thought that I had refused to sit next to the lady in the burqa because she was Muslim. They had taken me for a bigot. It was no use regretting my behavior for the damage had been done. But at least, it showed me that secularism was well and alive among the majority of the majority community. This happened in 1987. I hope it is still true in 2015! n Ravibala (Ravi) Shenoy lives in Naperville, IL. She has been published in Sugar Mule, The Copperfield Review, The Chicago Tribune and VOYA: Voice of Youth Advocates. A retired librarian, she is a book review editor for Jaggery.

events DECEMBER/JANUARY

California’s Best Guide to Indian Events Edited by: Mona Shah List your event for FREE! FEBRUARY issue deadline: Wednesday, January 20 To list your event in the Calendar, go to www.indiacurrents.com and click on List Your Event

Check us out on

special dates Christmas Day

Dec. 25

New Year’s Day

Jan. 1

Makara Sankranti

Jan. 15

Pongal

Jan. 15

Guru Govind’s B’day

Jan. 16

M.L. King Jr. Day

Jan. 18

India’s Republic Day

Jan. 26

Ash Wednesday

Feb. 10

Vasant Panchami

Feb. 12

Saraswati Puja

Feb. 12

Presidents Day

Feb. 15

CULTURAL CALENDER December

5 Saturday

Rain, a Clssical Dance Performance. An innovative choreographic

work by Mohiniyattam dancer, Vijayalakshmi. Opening performance by Kamaljeet Ahluwalia (santoor) and Jas Ahluwalia (tabla). Organized by The Mohiniyattam Institute and ALAPIO. 6 p.m. Performing Arts Education Center, 28545 W Driver

Rain—A Clssical Dance Performance. Choreographed work by Mohiniyattam dancer, Vijayalakshmi, December 5

Ave., Agoura Hills. $125, $100, $75, $50, $35. (818) 397-8421. www.thePAECs.org, www.vijayalakshmi.net.

Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California. | www.indiacurrents.com | 47

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Dec ‘15 - Jan ‘16 | Southern California. | www.indiacurrents.com | 49