September 2013 India Currents by India Currents

Heroes Among Us by Ranjani Mohanty

Work, Interrupted

Musings of a Maestro

by Ragini Srinivasan

by V.P. Dhananjayan

INDIA CURRENTS Dishing

Celebrating 27 Years of Excellence

m r F ood o D n o

september 2013 â&#x20AC;˘ vol. 27, no . 6 â&#x20AC;˘ www. indiacurrents.com

With home cooked meals being replaced by college cafeteria offerings, how can students cope? Bonus: Easy recipes for late night study sessions by Praba Iyer

INDIA CURRENTS facebook.com/IndiaCurrents twitter.com/IndiaCurrents HEAD OFFICE 1885 Lundy Ave Ste 220, San Jose, CA 95131 Phone: (408) 324-0488 Fax: (408) 324-0477 Email: info@indiacurrents.com www.indiacurrents.com Publisher: Vandana Kumar publisher@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x225 Managing Director: Vijay Rajvaidya md@indiacurrents.com Editor: Jaya Padmanabhan editor@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x226 Events Editor: Mona Shah events@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x224 Advertising Manager: Derek Nunes ads@indiacurrents.com Northern California: (408) 324-0488 x 222 Southern California: (714) 523-8788 x 222 Marketing Associate: Raj Singh marketing@indiacurrents.com (408) 324-0488 x221 Graphic Designer: Nghia Vuong

Her Red Lipstick At a recent press conference where the subject under discussion was her husband’s relationship to his iPhone, Indian-PakistaniSaudi-Arabian-American, Huma Abedin, wearing a flaccid voice and a crimson shade on her lips, announced: “I love him. I have forgiven him. I believe in him. And, as we have said from the beginning, we are moving forward.” This is the stuff of long-suffering Bollywood heroines. Right down to her good looks, her trendy designer outfits, her standing-by-her-spouse-no-matter-how-disgusting-his-conduct and her brightened lips. In the inspired words of New York magazine journalist Mark Jacobson, describing his impression of Huma Abedin: “She wore bright-red lipstick, which gave her lips a 3-D look, her brown eyes were pools of empathy evolved through a thousand generations of what was good and decent in the history of the human race.” Rohit Shetty, are you listening? A study conducted by Adam D. Pazda and others, found that “wearing red may be a double-edged sword for women, on the one hand making them appear more attractive, but on the other hand making them appear more sexually available.” The study, however, focused more on the effect of women wearing red on men rather than on the women themselves.

When I was growing up, red was considered a carnal color and not quite appropriate. Times have changed and these days we tend to derive solace from unlikely gadgets. “Red lipstick is a source of strength. You put it on and suddenly you feel more capable than you did without it,” said Poppy King, creator of Lipstick Queen. As a vulnerable, possibly unwitting, participant in a political thriller that is her life, the red of Huma’s lips more than likely signals her need for a sense of control. First, her husband resigns from Congress after a sexting scandal. Soon after Michele Bachmann (R-Minn) accuses her of being a Muslim Brotherhood infiltrator. Then her husband screws up again. And now, in a bizarre fractal iteration, Senator Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa) is casting doubt on the integrity of her work as a consultant, while employed at the State Department. Politics is a strange bed-fellow, no doubt. In Huma’s case, her red lips seem almost defiantly self-confident. You have to admire the mettle of a woman who wakes up to more bad news every day, but yet, determinedly traces her lips with a filament of vibrancy. So what if she uses red as her crutch?

Jaya Padmanabhan

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September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 1

INDIA CURRENTS september 2013 • vol 27 • no 6

PERSPECTIVES

Southern California Edition

LIFESTYLE

www.indiacurrents.com 1 | EDITORIAL Her Red Lips By Jaya Padmanabhan

Find us on

42 | RELATIONSHIP DIVA The Indian Mindset By Jasbina Ahluwalia

6 | FORUM Do Teens Have it Better Today? By Rameysh Ramdas, Mani Subramani

49 | REFLECTIONS The Single Life By Mimm Patterson

7 | A THOUSAND WORDS Work, Interrupted By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan

54 | HEALTHY LIFE An Ounce of Prevention By Ashok Jethanandani

8 | VIEWPOINT The Melting Potluck By Zenobia Khaleel

10 | Dishing on Dorm Food

14 | HISTORY The Scars of History By Rajee Padmanabhan

Making sense of dorm food with recipes for easy microwave cooking By Praba Iyer

16 | Perspective Heroes Among Us By Ranjani Iyer Mohanty

57 | BOOKS A Review of The Caretaker By Jeanne Fredriksen 60 | TRAVEL Lounging in Lancaster By Meera Ramanathan 63 | DEAR DOCTOR Finding Your Hidden Self By Alzak Amlani

DEPARTMENTS

18 | Films Chennai Express and Raanjhanaa

4 | Voices 5 | Popular Articles 26 | Ask a Lawyer 27 | Visa Dates

By Aniruddh Chawda 56 | Classifieds 62 | Viewfinder

38 | Commentary Musings of a Maestro By V.P. Dhananjayan

2 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

22 | BUSINESS Being in Business By Ram Nidumolu

WHAT’S CURRENT 44 | Cultural Calendar 50 | Spiritual Calendar

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 3

voices

Risky Road—Proceed With Caution

Vidya Pradhan and Jaya Padmanabhan showcase the difficulties faced in pursuit of the favorite American dream of “going it alone” in the August cover story (Risky Road, India Currents, August 2013). They cite case studies from many diverse fields of endeavor by Indian Americans. The authors rightfully mention Artesia in Southern California as a typical example of a center for intense, dynamic growth among Indian American entrepreneurs. I would like to stress that even for well established businesses, vigilance is always required to survive. A restaurant, in operation for well over a decade in Artesia, faced this problem a few years ago. A city inspector, during a routine inspection, wrote up a citation requiring them to use only paper plates, cups and plastic utensils for service until the water temperature in the dishwasher was raised to code specifications. This problem is common in food handling establishments and can be quickly corrected by just dialing the temperature setting up as required or, in the worst case, by buying a whole new commercial dishwasher. The code requirement can easily be met in a day or two at the most. However, this entity was under restrictive suspension for about one year. We are occasional patrons of the restaurant and I am happy to report that the restaurant is thriving. P. Mahadevan, Fullerton, CA

Accented Mispronounciations

Your editorial in the latest issue has been of interest and brought back my own experiences in India (Way Too Low, India Currents, July 2013). Having got the simple name Ganesh (or so I thought) it was supposed to be easy for everyone to pronounce. While at college in Calcutta, this got transformed to “Gonesh” and many times I missed the lecture calls and announcements since they called me Ghosh or even Ganguly without even reading the names fully. Once, an old friend of mine from Calcutta asked to meet at my office in Chennai. He was turned away as the receptionist thought he was asking for Gomes! I know he must have pronounced my name as Gonesh. North Indians while newsreading in Doordarshan or covering local news often have problems pronouncing names such as Sundaravadanam or Sugavaneeswaran or Mangayarkarasi. And while traveling abroad

4 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

it is much more complex with names or surnames getting interchanged or even intersected in the middle. K.N. Ganesh, Fremont, CA

many throughout many parts of India and the world as a whole. K.N. Ganesh, Fremont, CA

Regarding your recent editorial (Way Too Low, India Currents, July 2013) westerners distorting eastern names is not new. Most of the city names in India were distorted to suit the western tongue—Bombay, Calcutta, Banglaore, Cochin, Calicut etc. I am glad that the original names are back at least in India. Sanskrit names are hard to spell let alone pronounce. The names get too long if one writes it phonetically—try writing “pud-mah-nah-bun” every time you spell your name! Susri, online

A Youthful Perspective

Sarva-tea

The article by Sarita Sarvate (Tea, India Currents, July 2013) refreshed my own memories and experiences with this drink. So permit me to give her the nickname Sarita SarvaTea! Tea is served in many containers, from 10-meter-tea in glass tumblers in Kerala to the clay pots in Bengal. Once after a long journey to follow up on an oustanding bill in a remote corner of Kolkata, the employee at the office offered me tea in a broken cup as a means to pacify me before a heated argument. I’ve had tea with malai (cream) on top in Bihar. I’ve had elaichi tea in Gujarat, oneby-two tea in Karnataka, black tea, green tea, dip tea at railway stations, and some offices, but I still prefer the chaloo-cha or “prepared tea” to pre-mixed tea which is too sweet sometimes. As a young man, the words “tea break” provided relief and opportunities for brushing shoulders with great personalities. Standing in line for cricket match tickets at Eden Gardens in Kolkata, tea was brought by vendors to keep away the monotony. Tea is, and will be, the favored drink for

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.

It was with great delight and a sense of astonishment that I read the youth column by Divya Prakash (The Asian-American Renaissance, August 2013). Delight at the ease with which Divya stitched together the best of Indian and American cultures, and astonishment that a seventh grader could write such a piece. I wish Divya all success with her dreams of becoming the Philosopher President who “lives like the people, with the people and for the people.” Thanks to India Currents for encouraging bright young talents like her. I hope to see more of the same in the future. Jojy Michael, Fremont, CA

A Staunch Progressive

In your July issue, it was a pleasant surprise to see the work of Rabindranath Tagore put into some context by Anita Felicelli (100 Years After the Nobel Prize, July 2013). He was a genius and a great poet, writer and much more. Too bad the west is still to discover this legendary thinker. On other topics, I am a staunch progressive liberal, and I disagree with some of the opinions in your magazine. The editorial by Jaya Padmanabhan on Syrian intervention (Chicken Little Intervention, July 2013) was a rant against a great President, Barack Obama, and yes, I do believe he is a great President, and a historic one. I like your magazine very much, and your culture, and I agree with Jaya on the President, but I just wish she wouldn’t use the Republican talking points. Remember George W. Bush? He started the wars in the first place. Mistakes wil be made and President Obama is not a perfect man. He needs allies, not enemies. Daniel Garcia, Gilroy, CA

Notes of Appreciation I love IC! I have been “reading” (U.K. meaning) India for 13 years and have enjoyed this and plan to continue. Chloe Ross, West Hollywood, CA I just want to thank you for your interesting magazine, and to mention that we enjoy reading it! In particular, we enjoy and look forward to the Recipes in it! Boris K via email

Mortgage Rates are Historically Low India Currents is now available on the Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/IndiaCurrents/dp/B005LRAXNG Follow us at twitter.com/indiacurrents on facebook.com/IndiaCurrents Most Popular Articles Online August 2013 1) From the Man-Village Into the Jungle Kalpana Mohan 2) Ungadgeted Rangaprabhu Parthasarathy 3) Farhan Akhtar on Bhaag Milkha Bhaag Geetika Pathania Jain 4) The Risky Road Vidya Pradhan, Jaya Padmanabhan 5) Hyderabadi Cooking Shanta Sacharoff 6) The Asian American Renaissance Divya Prakash, Poem by Advait Patil 7) The Man Who Wouldn’t Be King R. Benedito Ferrao 8) Way Too Low Jaya Padmanabhan

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forum

Do Teens Have it Better Today?

Yes, teens do have it better today

No, teens don’t have it better today

By Rameysh Ramdas

By Mani Subramani

lizabeth Kolbert wrote a provocative article in The New Yorker recently titled, “Spoiled Rotten,” where she laments about how American kids are pampered and are growing up with no sense of responsibility. She says that “with the exception of the imperial offspring of the Ming dynasty and the dauphins of pre-Revolutionary France, contemporary American kids may represent the most indulged young people in the history of the world.” Further, Kolbert cites a 2004 study by a UCLA anthropologist Carolina Izquierdo that contrasts a six year old child in the Matsigenka tribe in the Amazon with a bunch of similar age kids in Los Angeles. While the Matsigenka child proactively seeks to be of use to her family, picking up and doing chores unasked, the kids in Los Angeles require constant reminders for even basic things like taking a bath or tying their shoe laces. Kolbert cites an example of an American kid who sits at the dinner table, finds no silverware was laid out and wonders out loud as to how she is supposed to eat without utensils. The idea that she could have risen from the table and helped herself, did not cross her mind. In my opinion, Indian American teens really take the cake in being spoiled. To paraphrase the late Governor Ann Richards’ famous comment on George Bush in 1988—they have been born with a silver foot in their mouths. First generation immigrant parents’ lives Yes, many are high revolve around their kids—we stop at nothing achievers academiin ensuring that not only cally, but bear little re- are their needs, but also luxury preferences sponsibility at home or their met. We spare no expense in ensuring that our kids to their parents. go to top performing schools, taking on either private school tuition or an expensive mortgage. We are ready to buy them the latest cell phones and laptops. Anything to make their lives easier. When it comes to SAT prep, college applications and essays, Indian American parents go to herculean attempts to get our teens all the help they need. The children these days get to vacation in exotic locations and have a sense of entitlement that as immigrant parents, very few of us did. To quote Lakshmi Chaudhry, the senior editor of Firstpost.com—“Laadla beta always comes first!” Indian American teens are, in most cases, in a secure two parent family. There is no expectation of them taking on a job while in school to earn money, as many of their American peers do. Yes, many are high achievers academically, but bear little responsibility at home or to their parents. They choose to be American in asserting their independent viewpoints, demanding “personal space” that parents not transgress, privacy that parents cannot intrude into—all while still enjoying the aspects and benefits of their Indian upbringing. They selectively choose the best of being Indian and American. It is time for the Indian American kids to ask not what their parents can do for them, but rather, what they can do for their parents. n Rameysh Ramdas, an S.F. Bay Area professional, writes as a hobby.

6 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

s parents one can get carried away with exaggerating the challenges we faced growing up and not fully appreciative of the problems that teens face today. As my teen daughters mockingly point out, we had to walk to school everyday, not to mention uphill both ways! As parents we feel that by watching over and worrying about their every step we have essentially taken the challenge and uncertainty away from their lives. After all their every need is taken care of at school. Their grades are monitored; their activities meticulously planned and arranged. It was different for those of us who grew up in India. We had to, for the most part, navigate our way through school with parents barely attending teacher meetings, if there were any. After school activities consisted of improvised games and activities which parents were largely oblivious of. While it is true that our children’s lives are decidedly more structured than ours, they lack independence and freedom in their everyday activities, which we had in abundance. One cannot underestimate the importance of freedom to soak in every minute of the summer sun playing mediocre street cricket or other activities that did not have a defined outcome other than being mere fun. ... they lack indepenThe need to maintain good grades puts an exdence and freedom in cessive amount of stress their everyday activion teens and children in general. Not to mention ties, which we had in that they hear the stories abundance. of their parents immigrating here with two suitcases and a determination to succeed in the United States. The bar is set so high—as it should—that failure to achieve is quite unthinkable. Getting good grades means maintaining them throughout the school year on every single home work assignment, term paper, essay, project and so on. Add to this the need to show leadership skills, community work and sports or arts activities. We are left to wonder if colleges are only looking to recruit the next Dalai Lama or Steve Jobs. Teens are so busy taking or studying for tests: ACTs and SATs and APs, and then there are the college essays … which need to be part inspirational like MLK, and part expressional like Tom Freidman. If this weren’t true it would be comical. We had to work hard, of course. But it was a lot more well defined, in our time. In most cases 11th and 12th grades did not matter. College admissions primarily depended on one or two national/ state level tests in subjects of import. Contrast that with the battery of SAT tests, AP exams, school exams and so on. There is just no clearer way to say this. Our teens face just as many challenges as we did growing up in India. And no we did not all have to walk to school uphill both ways! n Mani Subramani works in the semi-conductor industry in Silicon Valley.

a thousand words

Work, Interrupted By Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan

lock in. Baby will be hungry soon. How much “work” can you get done before she wakes up? As a graduate student, I have more freedom in my “day job” than most—certainly more freedom than those workers who are honored by the U.S. government this Labor Day. Indeed, the work I do is not quite what the machinists, carpenters, and joiners had in mind when the holiday was instituted over 100 years ago to recognize the “social and economic achievements” of American workers. When I am not teaching, my time is my own to structure as I will. What that means in practice, of course, is that I have no time that is not stretched between the poles of work and home, school and life (dissertation and lactation). I am always free, and I am never free. Every day is like a working Saturday. And now that I have a baby, all work must happen between nursing sessions and during baby’s erratic naps, or I risk missing her alert, happy times. One hour to go. You will have to pack up and head home; your morning “work session” will have come to a close. Time to put this article aside and allow your husband to get away for a while. He, too, needs a few productive hours, an opportunity to labor at something other than a diaper change. A year ago, the public sphere was abuzz with responses to AnneMarie Slaughter’s provocation in The Atlantic: “Why Women Still Can’t Have it All.” What was “it all,” we asked? Wasn’t “work-life balance” a classist issue, relevant only to middle and upper-middle class women in the position to make choices about “work” and “life” in the first place? Nannies and ayahs in the employ of wealthy families in the United States and India were laboring and sacrificing, striving daily to care for privileged children at the expense of caring for their own families, and nobody thought about their “all.” Was it work if you didn’t get paid? And what about men? Some women said they felt guilty about leaving their children in order to go to work. Others responded that going to work offered clear rewards and opportunities for personal growth, plus it was so much easier than being home with the kids. Damn if they were going to be saddled with the harder, thankless job of staying home. Then there were those who argued that taking care of children was itself a form of work and should be recognized, even compensated, as such. And those who critiqued the consumerist premise of the aspiration “to have.” “Are you getting any work done?” your advisor asks. “Working hard, or hardly working?” “When baby sleeps, you rest?” No—when baby sleeps, you work. When I leave my daughter for a few hours of dissertation writing, I don’t feel guilty exactly (it helps that she is almost always with her father, whose schedule is just as flexible as mine). But I do have to come to grips with that awful, violent imperative to “make every minute count.” Would I feel more productive if I had an office to drive to and meetings to attend? Am I doing enough work? Fifteen minutes to go. How much work have you done since you left the house? You need to cut baby’s nails today. You should be working. You ran out of the house without a shower. Even that unwashed feeling distracts you. You should be working harder. You left a bottle of milk in order to buy yourself a four-hour chunk of uninterrupted time, and yet thoughts of baby, of lunch, of waiting emails, interrupt your precarious attempts at productivity.

What women need is not to have housework valued as equal to a “job,” nor is it the chance to do more work outside the home. What women need is less work. What we all need is less work and more time to be imaginative about who and what we want to be and do with our lives. In The Problem with Work, feminist political theorist Kathi Weeks argues that two of the most common strategies for addressing the issue of work-life balance are flawed because of their uncritical overvaluation of “work.” These strategies are i) campaigns to re-value domestic labor as work equivalent to work outside the home in terms of its significance, productivity, and economic contribution; and ii) campaigns to create more opportunities for women to work outside the home. Both of these approaches to the “work-life balance” problem leave unchecked the assumption that “work” is the proper arena for the fulfillment of our potential and realization of our dreams, whether inside or outside the home. In retrospect, that was the problem with many of the responses to Slaughter’s article. Too much about work, and too little about life. “Work” doesn’t capture what I do and what I feel, what I attempt and what I accomplish, whether I am putting pen to proverbial paper or cloth diaper to baby skin. Just as I find it disingenuous to call what I do with my baby “work”—feed her, read to her, change her diapers, encourage her excited articulations, watch her interact with her family, take her to the park to look at trees—I think “work” is a woefully limited way to describe what any one of us does day to day and in the course of a life. Machinists and carpenters, nannies and ayahs, too, do so much more than “work.” They build and fashion, create and nurture, cherish, protect, and love. What women need is not to have housework valued as equal to a “job,” nor is it the chance to do more work outside the home. What women need is less work. What we all need is less work and more time to be imaginative about who and what we want to be and do with our lives. This Labor Day, we must demand opportunities to organize our lives and articulate our aspirations around something other than the achievement of work, whether for our families, bosses, or ourselves. We need a release from the injunction to be productive all the time, so that what today travels under the sign of “work” might one day be reborn under the promise of a fuller “life.” Hear that? Your baby cries. Clock out.n Ragini Tharoor Srinivasan is a doctoral candidate in Rhetoric at UC Berkeley. September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 7

viewpoint

The melting potluck By Zenobia Khaleel

azy Sunday mornings are a myth in most Asian American households. The day dawns with the parent herding their groggy offspring to the nearest temple/masjid/community center to learn Arabic/ Hindi/Mandarin/Tamil. For the children, it maybe drudgery, but for the parent, it’s a reinforcement of their roots. The term “center” maybe misleading because it comes in many shapes—a converted office space, a hotel ballroom, a school auditorium, a deserted library, and when cash-strapped, even a benevolent friend’s basement. Classes are divided by curtains or benches. Everyone from office bearers to teachers to the cleanup crew are parent volunteers. For us, these centers are weekly social hubs of the community where we can foster a sense of belonging in an otherwise alien land. The community activities hit a crescendo during a festive season, when the pangs of homesickness hit you the hardest. That’s when you realize the deeper meanings and symbolisms of the rituals you derided back at home. When just the thought of homemade kheer, or the memory of your mom’s biryani can make you well up. In retrospect, the Eids I’ve spent on American soil have been more exuberant and vibrant than the ones I remember back home, laced as it is with a generous dollop of nostalgia. Kith and kin are replaced by fellow brethren from all over the world. Piety comes in myriad forms, from the die-hard enthusiasts who arrive at the crack of dawn to spread prayer mats in the makeshift halls, to the busy professionals who take half a day off just to attend the prayer congregation; From the ardent Koran readers to the fidgety toddlers trying to adjust their shiny headcaps. Many a time our Eid fair has been conducted on a race course ground, but even the faint horse odor never dampens the festive spirit permeating the atmosphere. During my early years in the United States, my homesickness was made much more poignant, whenever I saw huge joint families replete with uncles, aunties, teenagers, toddlers, and their grandmothers filing into the masjid for Eid prayers. It was always

8 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

A Creative Commons Image a bittersweet moment when random strangers hugged and wished me “Eid Mubarak” after the duas (invocations). Through the years, some of these random strangers have become more than family to me. My family came to comprise of Indians, Pakistanis, Malaysians, Africans and Arabs. For us ladies, Eid was the perfect excuse to flaunt our glittering shimmering ethnic wear. Some of us came in saris, some in salwars, some in abhayas and sarongs, but when all of us bowed our head in harmony before an Unseen Almighty, we were all humbled by the feeling of universal brotherhood. After the fervent prayers and silent reflections, come the frenzied and boisterous celebrations. The whole area suddenly transforms into a carnival. Children put up plays and presentations depicting Islamic traditions and culture. Bouncy castles and ball pits cater to the children while henna booths and stalls for bangles, hijabs and salwars, bring closer everything your heart yearned for from back home. The back home feel is further enhanced by certain staples you’d find at any household function or party. Conversations you must’ve heard a countless times from various sources. The cantakerous elder berating loudly, “You American kids are spoilt rotten. Back in my day all we got was a chavanni (a quarter) for Eid!” The vainglorious uncle lamenting, “the hardest part of Hajj for me was surviving without my Mercedes and my iPhone!” Or catty women gossiping: “As usual Jamila missed the prayer but came just in time for lunch.” “She must’ve been held up at the parlor all this time trying to get her

hair in THAT shape!” Vignettes that emphasize how local, global really is. The fringe benefits of a global family is undoubtedly the worldwide cuisine. Lunch usually is a potluck, where each family brings a dish, indigenous to their culture. All the master chefs try to out-do one another with their delectable masterpieces, and the result is a bounteous banquet table fit for a Sheikh! Our desi biryani and haleem share shelf space with Afghani kababs, Lebanese falafel, Arabic mutabell, Indonesian satays and Malay coconut dumplings and for the smattering of Caucasian Muslims, who cannot survive our extreme spice factor, there is always pizza and sandwiches. The icing on the cake is undoubtedly the “homemade” factor, which lends authentic regional flavors that no amount of money can buy at any speciality restaurant. Those “unblessed” with culinary skills get to chip in with fruit and salad trays or get delegated to supplying paper products and cutlery. The dessert section is a spread with the kheers, baklavas, moon cakes, phirnis, icecreams, brownies and even cotton candy, and it’s like my sweet tooth just entered paradise! Finally, when the festivities subside, when we can eat no more and the children start getting cranky, out come the ziploc bags, the tin foils, and tupperware. Like the spoils of war, the leftover food is distributed among the volunteers, thereby taking care of dinner and maybe even breakfast the next day. I’ve moved around a lot. Whenever I move in to a new city, even before I unpack all my boxes, I ferret out the nearest community center. For me this is not just a place to pray and ponder. This is where I’ve spent some of my happiest times. This is where I’ve done my most fruitful work. This is where my children learn the values that I grew up with. This is where I’ve made some of my most treasured friends. n Zenobia Khaleel is a stay at home mom who dabbles in a lot of adventures (and misadventures), and is passionate about writing, traveling, acting, direction, girl scouts, and community volunteering. Some of her articles have been published in The Hindu and The Khaleej Times.

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Dishing on Dorm Food By Praba Iyer

With a new crop of high school graduates trading their bedrooms for dorm-rooms, parents are left wondering about food options for fussy palates. College offerings are a smorgasbord of fast, bland and often unhealthy choices, and teenagers easily fall prey to weight gain and lethargy. But there are solutions and recipes to stave off that late night grab for the popping drinks and greasy slices. Read on and discover …

he evergreen memories of my dorm life in Coimbatore, India are highlighted with the haunting memories of food. It was a long walk from our rooms to the one and only cafeteria, which was appropriately named “mess.” This prestigious girls university with the best nutrition and food science program in the southern part of India served oily cardboard (pooris), glue (pongal), paste (upma), gutter water (tea) as meals to us inmates. They served the same inedible meals week after week, year after year, which left my taste buds numb. But it did make many of us appreciate our homemade goodies with true gratitude. 10 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

Here, in the United States, colleges have multiple cafeterias and many options. Fall is upon us, and parents across the United States are preparing to send their kids to college. For freshman parents, especially, this is a huge life change. Their kids will be trying to figure out living on their own, for the very first time. Besides the turmoil of letting-go, parents will add a new worry to their list—Food! A year from now my own son will be leaving for college. I thought that college apps were complicated, until I reviewed a few meal plans for students. It made my head spin. Since I haven’t set foot in a college

dorm here in the United States, I decided to get the scoop on college cafeterias, and to try and peel the layers of this convoluted maze of choices and options called the College Meal Plan. Boy, was I in for a treat.

Some Straight Talk

While interviewing college students for this article, I was introduced to the acronyms 14 P, 19 Regular, and 19 Plus. You might think these are the sizes for clothes, but they are really names for meal plans. You must know by now that “Freshman 15” is the first 15 pounds every freshman adds to their body weight while eating in campus cafeterias.

Kavitha is a freshman at UC Berkeley. Her first semester was a love fest with pizzas. She ate pizzas almost every day. “Most of the Freshman calories that my friends and I put on came from fermented drinks,” said Vineet, a freshman at George Washington University. “If my parents knew this they would be in shock,” he chuckled. “We ate unhealthy food at crazy hours. I never used my meal plan the first semester, as I was never up or had the time to go down when the cafeteria was open.” While many students put on the pounds, the vegetarians lost weight as they had few vegetarian options in their meal plans. “All I get is a salad bar that serves the same wilted vegetables. I have new respect for my mom’s cooking,” added Rohan, a sophomore at UC San Diego. “Freshman year is the hardest. You buy a meal plan and get tired of the same menu within a few weeks,” said Sonali, a freshman who drives home every weekend to get a decent meal. Contrary to Vineet and Sonali’s experience, the UC Davis students I spoke with boasted of a great dining experience throughout their freshman year. Why? Because Davis grows its own food, and the chefs cook healthy, tasty meals every day. “Vegetarians and vegans have a feast here,” claimed sophomore student, Anjali. Not so at Berkeley. “We pay fees too, and yet we get inedible food,” complained Kavitha whose brother goes to Cornell, an Ivy league that has cafeterias run by famous chefs, who serve organic healthy meals and world cuisines. “We have many choices in and around Stanford,” said a Stanford freshman, adding that that is most likely the reason why the frat house kitchens rarely get used. “The cafeteria is the selling point for many private colleges,” said a professor at a California university who requested anonymity. Then how come these cafeterias are ill-equipped to deal with dietary restrictions?

Dollars and Sense

Vandana Iyer, a senior at

the moment they step onto a college campus. James Wheaton, who filed the ballot for the Prop 37 Initiative, called it “The California Right to Know Genetically Engineered Food Act.” If you said “NO” to Prop 37, this is the time to knock yourself on the head. Your child is going to live in a genetically modified world in college. Aramark and Sodexo, the gurus of processed foods (also called genetically modified foods, or GMOs) run most of the school and college kitchens across the United States. It is a $13 billion annualized business, dishing out unhealthy, greasy food to children across our nation. The mandatory meal plans we sign are designed by these food companies, who contract with the colleges.

A Creative Commons Image

George Washington University, said that her first year was a complete disaster. They had $1700 per semester of food credits. Of these credits, $700 had to be used in the campus cafeteria. The remaining $1000 could be used in restaurants around the campus. The cafeteria was the capital of processed food nation, with unhealthy, greasy Chinese and American options. Vandana ate at the restaurants and used up her 700 dollars buying sodas, chips and milkshakes. During sophomore year they had dorm rooms with kitchenettes and $1500 in credits to work with—again $1000 for spending at restaurants and $500 for the cafeteria. Junior year brought them a full kitchen. The Junior Year Meal Plan now gave them $1000 to spend at restaurants. They brought groceries and cooked a lot. The senior-only dorms had a full kitchen in each unit. She said that the boys and girls cooked a lot, and ate mostly balanced meals. Although her first year was bleak, she said that things have improved now in the cafeteria for the new incoming freshman. She suggests talking to the kitchen staff at your college, and giving them feedback, to help improve things.

The Power of Aramark and Sodexo The effect of all the gallons of organic milk and the groceries and crates of fruits at Farmers markets that you bought as you raised your teenager is gone with the wind A Creative Commons Image

Encourage, Empower and Inspire

So what options do we have as parents? Chef Jamie Oliver’s slogan is to encourage, empower and inspire youngsters. Teach and encourage healthy eating habits as early as possible. Empower them with all the knowledge available on health and help them to understand their bodies. Inspire them to cook for themselves and others. This will help them take control of their own decisions and choices. Teaching your kids to make a basic meal is a lifetime skill. Have them make breakfast on weekends a few months before they head off to college

Grad Gifts and Care Packages

Talk to other parents and buy the students a group cooking class as a gift. It is a great idea to register with a store, so that your teen does not get yet another clothing store gift card they don’t care for as their graduation gift. If they have a kitchen in their dorm, register for gift cards at a local grocery store, close to the campus. This will inspire them to cook at least on the weekends. Get them a rice cooker, pan and a slow cooker with recipes. Send them a care package with their favorite pancake mix, pasta and sauce. When they are home, make cooking fun.

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 11

Cooking in College Dorm Cooking

A fork, a spoon, a microwaveable cereal bowl, a pyrex dish, a small knife and a cutting board can help students make a decent meal in the room. Remember that if your child had no interest in cooking at home, they are not going to start cooking because they are in college unless they have a hot girl friend or boyfriend who loves to cook. Vandana mentioned that one of the students made breakfast every morning during the frosh year in their common kitchen. What a great way to make friends especially if you start with having no friends on campus. My brother met his future wife because of his dorm cooking skills. Shivali, a UC Davis junior loves to cook. “I never cooked at home, but somehow watching my mom cook for 15 years, it just came back to me. I love to cook and my friends love my food.” Some colleges allow appliances in the

Naan Pizza

Naan Pizza Snack

Ingredients 1 Naan bread 1 tsp olive oil 2 tablespoons tomato sauce or pesto or pizza sauce ½ cup spinach ½ cup cherry tomatoes halved salt and crushed red pepper ½ cup grated mozzarella cheese a few fresh basil leaves Method Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Brush the naan with olive oil, spread the tomato sauce, tear the spinach and spread it on top along with the cherry tomatoes. Season with salt and crushed red pepper. Sprinkle the cheese and bake in the oven till the cheese melts or for about 5-7 minutes. Garnish with torn basil leaves. Eat warm. Microwave: Place the assembled Naan in a microwave and cook on high for 25-30 seconds or until the cheese melts. 12 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

dorm room during freshman year. If they do, a small rice cooker comes in very handy. It is a one pot meal device. Khichdi, pasta, soup, and hot chai can all be made with this simple cooker. My nieces Nikhita at Brown and Vidya and Vandana at George Washington all cooked in their dorm rooms from their sophomore to senior years. I would get calls from them for a quick soup recipe or pasta recipes every now and then.

Getting Creative With the Salad Bar

If no appliances are allowed, then creative options can be made with items from the cafeteria and salad bar. Bread and cracker sandwiches with a jar of almond butter and bananas is a healthy option. Dried cranberries, blueberries, raisins, and nuts are good additions to the boring cereal. Cold steamed vegetables can be warmed in

a microwave with a dash of crushed pepper and salt to make it edible. Raita with the salad bar cucumbers, tomato, peppers, yogurt, salt and pepper is an alternate option. A jar of tomato chutney serves as a tasty spread for sandwiches, a side for naans, and a great addition to a rice pilaf. Open bags of chips, week old pop tarts, fizzled out coke cans on the floor, dried out pizza, along with books, dirty clothes and an unmade bed, I shudder at this visual image of my son’s future dorm room. The thought of losing him to processed foods, stale salad bars and carbonated calories is disheartening. But then again, I hope that I have inspired, empowered and encouraged him to make the right choices. I sincerely wish that he goes for the apple and not the Snickers bar. n Praba Iyer teaches custom cooking classes around the SF Bay Area. She also blogs about cooking at rocketbites.com.

Mint Pilaf

Potato Fry

Variations: (i) Mango chutney spread, sliced apples and goat cheese. (ii) Tomato chutney spread, hash brown potatoes and mozzarella cheese. (iii) Black beans, salsa and cheddar cheese.

warm with yogurt and chips. Variation: Beat an egg in a cereal bowl and cook it in the microwave for 40 seconds. chop it up and mix it in the pulav. A quick protein fix to a simple pilaf.

Microwave Mint Pilaf

Potato Fry

Ingredients 1 cup Basmati rice (wash, soak in water) 1 tablespoon butter/oil ½ cup frozen vegetables (peas, carrots, cauliflower etc.) 1 teaspoon pulao masala powder lemon garlic salt to taste Fresh mint leaves Method Place the butter/oil in the microwaveable dish along with the frozen vegetables and pulao masala powder. Cook for 1 minute on high. Remove and add the washed Basmati rice, 2 cups of water, lemon salt and mint leaves. Cook on high for 12 minutes or until rice is well cooked. Fluff with a fork and eat

Ingredients 4 Yukon gold potatoes chopped 1 tablespoon of olive oil 1/ 2 teaspoon of crushed pepper 1 teaspoon of dried herbs lemon salt to taste Method Mix the potatoes with olive oil, crushed pepper, herbs, and salt. Place the potatoes in a microwaveable dish and cover it with saran wrap and cook it in the microwave for 12- 14 minutes or until done. Variations: Add any salad bar vegetables like bell peppers, onions etc and change the herbs and spice mixes. Make it Indian with ½ teaspoon of garam masala and cilantro.

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• To figure out a meal pattern, note down the number of meals that your teen will need in a week and the total in a semester. Keep in mind that most freshman students have no time for breakfast because of very early classes.

• If your teen is at a small town college or university get a meal plan no matter what. Cafeterias are the headquarters of college social life, where they would meet new people and make new friends. • Get the least number of meals for the first semester because the first week is usually free food week provided by college clubs. Many colleges don’t have a rollover plan and you end up losing dollars or feeding friends for free, just to use up your meal plan. • Don’t get a specific meal plan for your child just because her friend is on the plan. Meals plans should be individualized to suit each person’s nutritional needs and tastes. • Colleges have devised plans that can be confusing: “120 to 150 blocks” which are meals per semester or “12 plus and 9 regular” which reflect the number of meals per week. The names are different for each college and the benefits also vary quite dramatically.

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• If the college or university is in a city like New York, a meal plan might not make sense at all after a semester or two, as it is easy to find good restaurants, food trucks, and food hubs with decent food right around the campus.

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• Get a flex meal plan, premium, plus or commuter plan especially if the cafeteria has a limited menu. This will provide them the flexibility to go out to eat at other cafeterias on campus and get to-go meals. • Swipe card systems are tricky, some colleges have a policy that every swipe is a meal no matter whether they get a smoothie or a full fledge dinner. Watch out for these.

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 13

history

The Scars of History Confronting the history of Stone Mountain

By Rajee Padmanabhan

14 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

A Wikipedia Commons image

s a twenty-three year old Indian transplant in mid-nineties Atlanta, the one way I proved to visiting family and friends that I had “arrived” in America was to take them on what I had dubbed “Rajee’s Weekend Tour of Atlanta.” Regardless of my visitors’ preferences, it hardly ever changed. The tour commenced at the Centennial Olympic Park, wound its way through CNN Towers, World of CocaCola, Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site, High Museum of Art or Georgia Aquarium and concluded on a high note at the capstone attraction, Stone Mountain, Georgia. Stone Mountain is a dome monadnock which, at its summit, reaches an elevation of 1,686 feet. The rock is a pluton, a type of igneous intrusion. It is well-known not only for its geology, but also for the enormous bas-relief on its north face, the largest such sculpture in the world. The carving depicts three key figures of the Confederate States of America: Stonewall Jackson, Robert E. Lee, and Jefferson Davis. It is an impressive monolith. Being winched up the mountain on a cable car, or the SkyRide as it is fancifully called, to the top of the rock and getting uninterrupted 360 degree panoramic views from the edge of the rock never fails to excite me. Exploring the many hiking trails around the park is the filler activity before relaxing on the giant lawn in front of the sculpture for a night lit up with the glittering display of an outdoor laster show that highlighted the carvings and its many facets. As a person who was weak in history in general, and American History in particular—may I confess that I found history the most boring subject in school—phrases like American Civil War and Confederacy sounded vaguely familiar but devoid of any true meaning (“Lincoln saved the Union” and “Emancipation Proclamation” were the only facts I seemed to have retained from school). About a year into my stay in Atlanta and many trips to Stone Mountain later, I happened to pick up a book about Stone Mountain from the local library. It was nothing short of an eye-opener for me to the wrenching history of the American Civil War. The details, especially the racial controversies surrounding Stone Mountain in the early part of

the twentieth century were deeply unsettling. Stone Mountain is the venue where robed and hooded figures under the leadership of William J. Simmons inaugurated the second Ku Klux Klan (KKK). For the first time in my life I became aware, deeply conscious, of the invisible but indelible scars of history all around me. The more I researched Stone Mountain, the more ambiguous I became about the place itself. From coworkers I heard about the edifice being a blight to “history, which cannot be erased.” The irony of the tour itinerary I came up with—curiously juxtaposed albeit unintended—was not lost on me. Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site followed by Stone Mountain. One commemorating a man who proclaimed “Let freedom ring from the Stone Mountain of Georgia” and the other a place that stood for figures of history, had they prevailed would have taken these United States in an entirely different course. One long-term consequence of immigration is that it makes you confront history—your own, your motherland’s and your adopted land’s. Or may be it’s just plain old growing up. Colonialism and slavery stand as the twin nadirs of human depravity. My motherland extricated herself from the clutches of the former while my adopted land corrected its course on the latter. Yet both countries are forging forward—never forgetting the les-

sons of history, one fervently hopes. As a young person in India, on the verge of adulthood at a time when economic liberalization had not fully borne fruit, all I wanted to do was to see the world on my own terms. So I took the first opportunity that work offered to travel outside the country. It was meant to be an eight-month project, at the end of which I was to return back for good, with tales of exotic landmarks visited and enough dough to buy as many churidars as I pleased. My own history is now equal parts Indian and American. In the constantly evolving milieu of a globalized world, I frequently think about my place as a hyphenated citizen— with not an insignificant history in India, but with a potentially longer history in America. This awakening-to-history I had did not stop me from continuing to enjoy the many trails and the songbird habitat around the Stone Mountain. But “Rajee’s Weekend Tour of Atlanta” had one major change in itinerary—not only was Stone Mountain no longer the star attraction, but my visitors also had to tolerate an earful of my spiel on Civil War history if at all I took them there! n Rajee Padmanabhan is a perennial wannabe— wannabe writer, wannabe musician, wannabe technologist. She lives with her iPad and iPod in Exton, PA, occasionally bumping into her husband and son while either of her iPals is out of charge.

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 15

perspective

Heroes Among Us A Creative Commons Image

By Ranjani Iyer Mohanty

hen my three-year old son died of brain cancer, one of my first thoughts was that maybe it was my fault: I didn’t try hard enough. Our media and our culture have led us to believe that if you try hard enough, you can beat cancer. Lance Armstrong was considered a hero not just because he beat all the other cyclists; he also beat cancer. We don’t talk in a similar vein about beating a broken leg, beating a heart attack, or beating multiple sclerosis. We may be treated for those illnesses and either eventually be cured or not. But with cancer, our society positions it as though the patients wage a war against it and if they are determined enough, they win. Then, at the least, they are known as survivors—perhaps in reference to the TV reality show of the similar name where contestants placed in the wilderness must, as the show says, “out-wit, out-play, and out-last” everyone else. And at the best, they are known as heroes. Lisa Evans of the Toronto Star wrote of Armstrong, “His story was one of courage and proof that determination could beat the odds” (http://www.thestar.com/sports/ article/1275533--lance-armstrong-remainsa-hero-to-cancer-survivors). Armstrong concurred: “Anything is possible;” “Positive attitude is everything;” “Pain is temporary; quitting lasts forever.” This is an odd perspective given that few people, in any, survive cancer out of sheer determination and will power. If that were the case, there would be a lot more survivors. Barbara Ehrenreich, who had cancer herself and then wrote the book Bright-sided: How Positive Thinking is Undermining America, 16 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

said “I don’t understand what you would do to fight it. Stuff is done to you, but there’s not much you can do.” Surviving cancer doesn’t seem to depend on guts and glory, but rather on what type of cancer it is, its location, how far advanced it is, its aggressiveness, and other such rather practical stuff. Medical experts and complex technology come together to give the patient radiation and chemotherapy and whatever treatments available. Family and friends come together to give support. So while you could still believe that Lance Armstrong beat the other cyclists and beat cancer, he seems to have done both with significant medical help. And what happens if you’re not a “survivor?” The implication is that if you die of cancer, you just didn’t try hard enough. You failed. So if you’re a “non-survivor,” are you a “failure?” Or are you just dead? Rightly or wrongly, we cling to this image of us bravely fighting off cancer because it makes us feel that we’re in control of the situation and that we can do something to change the outcome. Through one of his characters, Woody Allen said, “People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck.” And we further solidify this image by seeking to idolize those “who have won the battle.” The fairy godmother in Shrek, lying resplendently and melodramatically on the grand piano, sings, “I need a hero!” That would be nice. But, like gods, they seem to be in short supply. So maybe we need to look for heroes lower down in the stratosphere. Not all of life is a competition and heroes are not just

those who win. Heroes may be those who try, fail, and don’t live to die another day. Or heroes may be those who try, fail, watch their loved one die, and have no choice but to go on living. Maybe heroes are inside each of us and come out only when forced to. Not to be put on a global stage and looked up to, but to be present in our private lives. Not to be publicly celebrated for having won the fight, but to be silently respected for having fought a good fight. Heroes are not just the ones who live well; they are also the ones who die well. We could even form an organization and call it “Live Stronger—Die Stronger.” There may be a slight problem of dwindling existing members, but there would unfortunately always be new members. We could call the members “the Path Walkers”—a term focused not on the destination but on the shared journey. We’re all forced to walk a similar route of fear, hope, and treatments, but our destinations may be profoundly different. Baseball player Lefty Gomez very wisely said, “I’d rather be lucky than good.” We were not lucky. However, I was in a room full of heroes that day. One little hero died in that bed, while the rest of us—parents, grandparents, sister, cousin, aunts—stood around, with our hands touching him, our hearts breaking and watched him go. Later, as we stepped out of the Alberta Children’s Hospital and into the cold winter evening, I don’t know who had survived. n Ranjani Iyer Mohanty is a writer and an academic editor.

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 17

films

Of Trains and Flying Automobiles By Aniruddh Chawda

CHENNAI EXPRESS. Director: Rohit Shetty. Players: Shahrukh Khan, Deepika Padukone, Satyaraj, Nikitin Dheer, Kamini Kaushal. Music: Vishal-Shekhar. Hindi and Tamil with Eng sub-titles. (UTV)

long with Bachchan, Khan is arguably the most famous Indian actor outside of India. For a stardom that has succeeded wildly and almostentirely on packaging Khan as My-Nameis-Rahul, a lean-cut, romantic leading man with near universal name recognition in North India, Chennai Express should offer a turn-the-page opportunity for an aging star (Khan is forty seven) to pay a tonguein-cheek, light-hearted homage to his own highly lucrative movie career before transitioning into more mature scripts and agecommensurate outlooks. Instead, Chennai Express comes across as unintelligible (in more ways than one), a not-so-funny comedy; a misfired high speed rail adventure that amounts to flashing lights and raised signals. Alas, there is no train coming. K. Subhash’s wafer-thin story starts out with a tantalizing premise. Rahul (Khan), who runs his family confectionary store in Mumbai while preoccupied with being a 40year old virgin, aspires to a more meaningful livelihood—though we never divine exactly what those aspirations are. Bound by a promise Rahul makes to his grandmother (veteran Kaushal, still vital at eighty-six) to scatter his late grandfather’s ashes at Rameshwaram, on the southern tip of India, Rahul sets out on a journey. A last-minute train change finds Rahul on Chennai Express, definitely the wrong train for where he needs to go. For an added distraction, Rahul also learns that he has unknowingly rescued Meena Amma (Padukone), a fair damsel escaping the trap of a forced marriage to the village thug (Dheer) by her controlling father (Satyaraj). Cinematographer Narendra Rahurikar previously aided Shetty on Singham (2011) and in the Golmaal franchise. Rahurikar’s work here could be his best to date. From

18 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

the brilliant hues of South Indian folk dancers to giving Goa-dressed-as-Chennai a freshly-painted working platform, the set pieces are visually evenly fleshed-out. There is also Vishal-Shekhar’s catchy score that lands on pop chart territory more than once. So how does Chennai get off-track so quickly and so easily? For one, the paper-thin plot only works for the first 20 minutes. The first one or two nods to Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge should have been sufficient batto-cranium reminders of Khan’s box office creds. Hitting the audience with near continuous references to previous Khan roles and films, however, have the reverse effect. The net results of hearing repeated namedropping dialog soon numbs the senses to any sense of originality at work. Sad, really. Then there is the heavy stereotyping of “South Indians” attempting to speak their non-native Hindi. As if the cringe-worthy accents are not enough, even Padukone tries a peculiar nasal inflection that is annoying at best. Certain inter-linguistic play on words can be funny if used sparingly and with good delivery. Most of the humor is, however, piggy-backed on Khan’s Hindi-speaking Rahul having to function in a space where just about everyone speaks Tamil (and then annoyingly having every line spoken in Tamil translated into Hindi by another character, sub-titles be damned). Since Shahrukh Khan

lacks comic timing of the kind Salman Khan used so well in Dabbang, most of the humor here simply flatlines. At the center of the story is Khan, seemingly fixated on maintaining a screen persona that passingly suited him two decades ago under the tutelage of the late Yash Chopra. Khan’s “Rahul” (that was his screen name in at least a half-dozen movies) is sheer pseudoiconography, which originally sold Rahul as an upper-crust princeling that never, ever, had to worry about money. Unbeknownst to the 99%-percent, these days Rahul is suddenly obsessed with tribulations of the “common man”—another annoying phrase Rahul takes up with ubiquity. Rohit Shetty is foremost an action choreographer of the trains-and-flying-automobiles school, and a Shahrukh Khan entry is incongruous with Shetty’s resume. The best reason to see Chennai is Padukone. Strikingly beautiful and energetic, Padukone’s Meena has expressive eyes that channel a storm of emotions that Khan’s Rahul—in another affront to him being Mr. Sensitive—fails to pick up on repeatedly. Even though Khan gave Padukone top billing, which is perhaps his most artistic, daring and original move in the making of this movie, Padukone is not the cause for worry here. n EQ: C-

Love Among The Temple Ruins RAANJHANAA. Director: Aanand Rai. Players: Dhanush, Sonam Kapoor, Abhay Deol, Mohammad Ayuub. Music: A. R. Rahman. Theatrical release (EROS). Hindi with English sub-titles.

he Hindi movie debut for an established south Indian star, which even if it wasn’t a big tent event instantly became so the minute A.R. Rahman signed off on the soundtrack—was bound to cause ripples. Dhanush, after all, is the son-in-law of megastar Ranjikant, and also has to his credit the megahit viral jingle “Why This Kolaveri Di” (70 million Youtube hits and counting), the Asian song with the most online hits until PSY’s “Gangnam Style” came along. Sumptuously set, romantically charged with communal ethos and yet intermittently weighted down by an uncertain GPS pointer, Raanjhaana may be too much of a good thing. Kundan (Dhanush), the son of a Hindu

makes the most striking visuals on the planet. The ancient river-front “ghats” are serenely beautiful. The city is tradition-minded and yet surprisingly secular in outlook—the city boasts hundreds of temples and, as Himanshu Sharma’s screenplay would have us believe, enough room for two would-be lovers from different religions. The nagging force of Kundan’s pre-determined family vocation, however, sharply jolts him into a reality he is challenged in overcoming. In chasing after Zoya, even after she joins Akram’s studentpolitical party, Kundan takes on immense risks. A.R. Rahman re-enrolls in the folky school he did so well in with Delhi 6. Here, Rahman remains region-specific by both employing a sitar (Shreya Ghosal’s “Banarasiya”) and capturing the mood of a North Indian street-ditty in Jaswinder Singh and Shiral Uppal’s title track. The high point may well be Javed Ali-Kirti-Sagathia-Pooja AV’s “Tum Tak,” a pronouncement of one-

rooftop-temple-top-balcony climbing. On the other hand, the biggest Hindi movies— no doubt keeping in mind increasing international exposure—are ever so slowly evolving to, dare we say it, a sedentary body language of the lead actors. This is not in any way dissing the “periphery” film centers of India. On the contrary, with their carefree ethnic identities intact and possibly hundreds of millions of rural Indian fans, it raises the distinction mark for regional Indian movies as perhaps the last bastion of India as she used to be when Indians primarily made movies for … other Indians, and nobody else! Something unique to movies from southern India is the degree to which regional South Indian politics figure into plot-lines subtly and at times not so subtly. The overriding political theme is populism, which is then colored in the stripes of regional and sometimes national political parties. For “HiFi” (that is Hindi Films for the uninitiated), though, this is where Raanjhaana gets into trouble. Since Raanjhaana has to be “presented” as a vehicle for Dhanush, who is primarily a South Indian star. Yet director Rai and Sharma cannot resist the pull of drawing in populist political theater as Kundan and Zoya race towards their scripted fate. n EQ: BGlobe trekker, aesthete, photographer, ski bum, film buff, and commentator, Aniruddh Chawda writes from Milwaukee.

L ATA’S priest in the north Indian holy city of Varanasi, is infatuated with Zoya (Kapoor), the outgoing daughter of a neighboring Muslim professor. Because Zoya and Kundan’s families are friends, Kundan’s chasing after Zoya in broad daylight falls just below the radar of prying eyes interested in making sure that Kundan and Zoya already have predetermined stations in life. Ever swimming against a tide, Kundan is devastated when Zoya returns from 9-year schooling stint and appears to have forgotten Kundan. Instead, the headstrong Zoya finds herself drawn to Akram (Deol), a student leader she meets in college. The templed-skyline of Varanasi surely

sided love. Dhanush appears carefree in front of the camera. Regardless of how one reads his Kundan role—as either a scrawny bumpkin out of his league or love struck fool about to strike out again—he is unlike contemporary Hindi film male leads. And to his credit, that is not necessarily a bad thing. Kapoor demonstrates conviction in her chosen path while Deol, after Aisha, again plays the interloper with a trick up his sleeve. Regional Indian movies—be they Tamil, Telugu, Gujarati or Bhojpuri—rely on a body lingo that is constantly in motion. Expect lots of highly energized (and at times unabashedly bawdy) torso and pelvic dance gyrations, slapstick, pedestrian antics and

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youth

The Last Straw The pattern and prevalence of teenage depression By Kavya Padmanabhan

could hear the tinny waver in Aditi Sharma’s voice as she tried to remain stoic. The phone’s static added to the tension. “Katherine jumped in front of a train last night,” she said. Katherine Johnson was our mutual friend, one year older than us. I sat with the phone to my ear and fought to grasp the meaning of those words. School started the next week. Everyone was talking about Katherine. “Did you hear?” “She killed herself.” “She’s dead.” It felt like the gravity of her death was lost on the middle-schoolers. Katherine opened my eyes to the plights of the adolescent world. I am now a senior at Henry M. Gunn High School, in Palo Alto, CA. The year Katherine passed away, four other teenagers from Gunn did so as well. Gunn High School graduate Raj Sreenivasan was a freshman when the first suicide occurred. “It was a really shocking experience,” he said. “Everyday after the news would be shared, we would be extremely somber and quiet because no one wanted to talk for the whole day. The first victim’s sister was a friend of mine, so that one affected me the most. It was definitely a hard time.” Depression is normal at such a highintensity school such as mine. There is a pressure to succeed and an almost hyperenthusiasm to do well in school. As high school senior Amy Smith puts it, “[There’s] just something in the water.” Smith has dealt with depression throughout high school and speaks about her past and continual struggle with the disease. “I see psychotherapists, a Dialectic Behavior Therapy (DBT) group, and psychiatrists,” she said. “I stopped letting myself over-sympathize with how sad I was feeling and tried to focus on the good parts of my life. And when that only made me feel undeserving and ungrateful, I turned to self-mutilation. Then I was put on anti-depressants and that gave me the push to take initiative and help myself instead of being a dumb, depressed teenager. I felt what I felt and I felt awful, and I don’t think I elected to [feel] the way that I did, but I think a small part of me felt some satisfaction in my suffering. When I shut that small part of me up, I was able to start helping myself.” Smith has struggled to 20 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

“There’s the pressure of living up to the role. The teenager has to count in the wishes (experience) of the parents.” In other words, there are residual losses from immigration, the stresses of and accounting for the parents’ assimilation. Upon further research, I discovered that Indian-Americans were not the only race facing cultural loss. A study conducted by the University of California, Davis found that immigration increased the risks of depression in first generation immigrants in Mexico. Another study focused on second-generation Italian Americans in Connecticut during the late 1930s, when hostility towards Italy was on the rise. Many children were loyal to both the Italian identity and the American one. Because of the contradicting identities, many Italian Americans became apathetic.

South Asian Men

A Creative Commons Image move past her feelings. For her, depression isn’t fleeting; it doesn’t come or go. She has had to live with it and will continue to do so.

Cultural Loss

Although suicide is the third leading cause of death for American teenagers, it is the first for South Asian teenagers, according to mannhouston.com, a mental health awareness website. The added burden that South Asian teenagers carry is the model minority aspect of the culture. As per the National Alliance on Medical Illness (NAMI), society has cast a “model” stereotype of a highly successful and well-educated person for the “Asian” role. That puts greater stress on us South Asian teenagers to live up to expectations. Psychologist Shubha Herlekar counsels many South Asian teenagers at her practice in Palo Alto, CA. She believes that immigration and cultural loss influence South Asian depression. “I find that the losses from immigration and from the teen’s parents and grandparents affect the teen,” she said.

Depression in men is especially under-recognized. Herlekar says that in her practice, an equal number of men and women come to her for help. But men don’t have the same amount of freedom to speak about their feelings as women do. “For a young woman, it’s more acceptable to show these feelings of sadness and it’s ok to talk about it,” she said. “For males, even if they are more agitated, it’s not acceptable to reveal. Males are suffering in a different way.” Washington University student Anand Mehta comments on this aspect. “When things are going wrong with my life, I don’t like to tell people,” he said. “I want people to see me in the best light. I’m pretty selfconscious. There’s that vulnerability that comes out when you’re depressed. For girls, it’s easier to pour your emotions out. There’s a stigma on guys who have depression. There’s the ‘tough guy’ and ‘manning up’ [stereotypes]. We have to be strong enough to keep it together.” Mehta believes that this is one of the reasons why there is such a difference between an Indian-American and any other race. “As an Indian, it’s tougher to approach your parents about [depression] because they haven’t grown up in this culture,” he said. “There are a lot of cultural differences. While

an American kid might be able to approach their parents, we can’t say a lot of things.”

Sexuality and Dating

There is a different cultural interpretation of sexuality among South Asians. Herlekar explains: “What’s expected of a South Asian is different from that of an American, especially when it comes to sexuality and dating. What’s expected of a “proper” good daughter or son is different.” South Asian teens rarely have the support of their parents and have to resort to hiding their relationships, heaping this stress on top of others. There is a pressure to not pursue relationships or to pursue “appropriate” ones. New York high school student Nikita Singh speaks about dating: “My parents would never in a million years let me be in any sort of relationship with a guy,” she said. “I have several Indian American friends who are in relationships and have to keep it secret from their parents. Our parents didn’t grow up in an American society. Their values for young people are still pretty ingrained in their own experiences growing up in India.” I don’t speak to my parents about dating. I don’t know if it’s because of a stereotype I am forced to hold, but there’s a wall solidly built between us. When I was in the ninth grade, my sister had a boyfriend. I remember keeping her secret and helping her sneak around our parents until one big blow up when my parents found out. Of course, they soon reconciled their different cultural ideologies and have figured out how to compromise. But I remember being sad and unhappy at the time.

The Stigma of Depression

According to Palo Alto Medical Foundation (PAMF), one in five Americans goes through depression at some point in their life. Sadly, studies show that Asian Americans are less willing to use mental health services. NAMI states that only 27 percent of depressed Asian Americans get help, and even then, it’s only when they are in crisis mode. Discussing the tainted reputation of therapy, Herlekar says that “The more people who go in and don’t stigmatize therapy, the easier it’s going to be,” adding, “I think people are very scared to talk about [depression]. It puts an added pressure to keep up a certain kind of experience.” Reflecting on her own experiences, UCLA college student Sneha Patel feels that “We [teenagers]don’t have a lot of self confidence at this age. There’s a lot of pressure to be a certain way.” She finds it hard to speak to anyone when she is feeling sad. “I feel like it shows weakness, like you can’t handle life. I’m never comfortable, especially with my

parents. I feel like that’s disappointing them in some way.” Singh has similar feelings. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m Indian, but I find it difficult to open my emotions to other people.” She continues by saying “It makes me feel vulnerable. I do feel that most Indians hesitate to show weakness in the same way that Americans do. I think that an American is more likely to be open about how they feel about a situation whereas an Indian is more likely to keep it to themselves, especially when it’s something that makes them look weak.” Singh finds that her own behavior with her friends changes depending on her moods. “When I’m really upset, I’ll draw back and I won’t let it out. I’ll keep it all inside. The reserved-ness, I think, stems from a fundamental part of my culture.”

Coping Mechanisms

On being asked how the situation could improve in the community, Herlekar says, “[We need] to have the grandparents’ and parents’ anxiety and depression addressed more. Dealing with stress is a learned pattern of behavior in the family especially when the mother or father is overwhelmed. If parents don’t recognize their own depression, the teenager thinks that they are going to let their family down [with their own depression].” Herlekar also has these helpful suggestions when it comes to coping with depression or help a friend cope with depression. “Take a quick walk with your friend, or talk to a couple of people, friends,” she said. “If you can tell that something’s going on, the key thing is to encourage them to get to somebody who can help. Teenagers carry so much of the burden for each other and it’s not fair.” In my own case, I rarely tell anyone when I’m sad; mostly because I’m afraid to complain when I am aware of worse situations. How much weight do my privileged problems hold when they’re compared to child hunger and poverty and death? Everyone goes through depression. My triggers can be as meaningless as a Facebook post or a remark one of my friends jokingly makes. When I feel my last straw breaking, I disconnect. I learn a song on the guitar or sing or dance. These are my coping mechanisms. These are the ways I keep moving forward. n Names have been changed to protect the subjects’ identity. Kavya Padmanabhan is a rising senior at Henry M. Gunn High School. This article was written while she interned at India Currents this summer.

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business

Being in Business By Ram Nidumolu

“T

here are two birds, two dear friends, who live in the very same tree.” So say the Upanishads, ancient Indian philosophical texts about the nature of reality. “The one lives in sorrow and anxiety and the other looks on in compassionate silence. But when the one sees the other in its power and glory, it is freed from its fears and pain.” These two birds are symbolically perched at two different levels in the tree. The first bird, which lives in constant anxiety, is in the lower branches of the tree. Its view obstructed by the many branches of the surrounding trees. It hops around nervously, pecking at fruit both sweet and sour. So focused on eating fruit, it loses sight of the world around it and gets caught up in satisfying its immediate material desires. It is disconnected, in a way, from its environment and other beings and jumps from branch to branch, from one disappointment to another. The second bird is perched atop the tree itself on its main trunk. From this highest perch, it has the broadest view of the tree and the lower bird. It can see vast expanses of earth stretching outward for miles and miles. It sees its feet attached to the tree, feels connected, and sees the lower bird moving frantically, following appetite after appetite, as it strips the tree bare of its fruit. The second bird does not eat fruit but simply watches, content to be in its place at the top of the tree. Like most images in the Upanishads, this one is an allegory for life. We can also look at it as an allegory for how we lead our lives in business and how business itself works.

any of the thousands of books on business leadership deal with issues that are relevant to the lower bird from the Upanishads: How do I work effectively? What qualities do I need to have to be successful? How do I get ahead in the world of business? Business leadership at this level is about doing and having, themes that are indeed important from this narrow viewpoint. But if business leadership is about Being (quality of existence, which we share with all other living beings, human or not), then

22 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

an additional set of considerations become vitally important. These considerations have to deal with the commonality of existence that undergirds business, business leaders, and all other beings. A corporation, a start-up, a family-owned company, or any other business is then considered an integral part of an interconnected network of beings (whether individual or collective) that share the same foundational reality. Moreover, the scope of business-such as business purpose and vision, stakeholders, success criteria, and management approaches— now become much broader to include these hidden connections (or externalities) of business to humanity, nature, and Being. Business leaders can no longer justify their actions solely in terms of the lower bird of material gain since Being-centered leadership requires a broader sense of collective and individual self that extends outward to humanity, nature, and ultimately Being. Through the lens of Being-centered leadership, business is not just about the right to pursue material self-interest, such as material profits and growth, but also about recognizing and nurturing its connections to humanity and nature. The responsibilities toward them become an authentic part of such a sense of connection. Doing becomes guided by this broader vision and purpose. After all, if, under our law, corporations are treated as having many of the rights of individuals, can we not expect that they too have responsibilities for nurturing their connections beyond just profit? Shouldn’t they be expected to have empathy, just as human beings do? These responsibilities extend even beyond the life of a business since is impacts survive

its material existence. The Upanishads tell us that these expectations are reasonable because of the principle of correspondence between human beings and corporations. All beings, whether individual or collective, are connected inextricably to one another because they are ultimately expressions of the foundational reality of Being. When business leaders realize these hidden connections, they will naturally embody a genuine sense of the responsibilities that arises from these connections. In this way, business becomes more holistic through Being-centered leadership, thereby bridging its great schism with humanity, nature, and institutional credibility. The story of the late Anita Roddick, founder and former CEO of the Body Shop

is an inspirational example of a Being-centered leader. Her connection to humanity was forged at the age of ten when she came across a book on the Holocaust. When she was “kick-started into a sense of outrage and a sense of empathy for the human condition.” Years later, Roddick set up a small cosmetics shop in England where she sold skin-care products to survive. She was a big believer in the power of stories, and cosmetics allowed women to tell stories. She said, “[In] every group I have spent time with, women will always corral around a well and tell stories about the body, birth, marriage and death. Men only have conversations or memories about their first shave. But women will always use the body as a canvas, a playground. Even when they were taken to the gallows, women would always want to put some makeup on.” The Body Shop became one of the earliest companies in the world to fight for protecting nature, but Roddick was not just about nature. She campaigned vigorously for tribes and indigenous populations in solving livelihood and human rights problems created by corporations, and she provided a sustainable livelihood for Amazonian Indian tribes by trading in brazil nuts, which produced an oil for moisturizing and condition-

ing. As she said, “For me, campaigning and good business is also about putting forward solutions, not just opposing destructive practice or human rights abuses.” Other groups that Roddick worked with included indigenous tribes in India and Nepal, sesame seed farmers in Nicaragua, aloe vera growers in Guatemala, marula growers in Namibia, and the Ogoni people of Nigeria. She campaigned actively for Greenpeace and other activist organizations and led campaigns against the use of sweatshops by corporations, animal testing in cosmetics, unfair trade practices, domestic violence, and many other practices that demonstrated her passionate caring for humanity. Throughout all these causes, she built the Body Shop into a billion-dollar global corporation (or a multilocal business, as she called it) with more than two thousand stores in fifty markets serving hundreds of millions of customers. She passed away in 2007 of a brain hemorrhage, leaving her wealth to charities and a company globally revered for its ethical principles. Roddick was a shining example of a Being-centered leader, connecting deeply and fearlessly to the larger context of business and fighting vigorously to preserve and renew it as an integral part of doing business. She was a true exemplar of the core prin-

ciples of Being-centered leadership covered: • Seeing business as embedded in and deeply connected to a larger context of nature and humanity because of the relationship of these elements to Being. • Recognizign that individual business purpose that has to be aligned with a shared business purpose that preserves and renews the larger context of business. • Viewing the outer world of work as a projection of inner aspiration. • Redefining business success as ensuring the long-term holistic health of all stakeholders. • Having the courage to embody these principles in one’s own life. n This is an excerpt from the book Two Birds in a Tree to be published in October 2013. TWO BIRDS AND A TREE. Author: Ram Nidumolu. Published by Barrett-Koehler Publishers. Oct 2013. $18.95. 216 Pages. Ram Nidumolu is the founder and CEO of Innova Strat, which provides consulting and advisory services to help Fortune 500 companies develop corporate sustainability. He has writted for the Harvard Business Review and the Stanford Social Innovation Review.

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 23

24 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 25

ask a lawyer

Same Sex Marriage and Immigration By Indu Liladhar-Hathi How does the Supreme Court’s recent ruling on same sex marriage impact immigration law?

On June 26, 2013 the U.S. Supreme Court held that the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA) is unconstitutional. The court’s rejection of DOMA has wide-ranging implications and means that visa applications that are based on a same-sex marriage will be adjudicated in the same way that applications for opposite gender spouse are processed.

I am a U.S. citizen married to a same sex foreign national. Can I now file an I-130 family based petition to sponsor my spouse for a green card? What if we were married in Vermont but now live in Florida?

Yes, you can file the I-130 Petition to sponsor your spouse for a green card. Your eligibility to petition for your

spouse will be determined in the same way as Petitions for opposite gender spouses. Since your marriage took place in Vermont (a state where same sex marriages are recognized), you can request the same benefits that a foreign spouse of opposite sex is entitled to. The law of the place where the marriage was solemnized (in your case, Vermont) determines whether the marriage is legally valid for immigration purposes.

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September 2013

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opinion

Have Daughter, Will Move By Kamala Thiagarajan

28 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

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n the August of 1976, Shankar moved to Seattle, WA—his wife and infant daughter arrived from his hometown in Tamil Nadu two years later. It was a time when the Indian population in the United States was not where it is today and IT was not yet a ubiquitous acronym. A graduate in advertising with an MBA in marketing from an American university, Shankar was proud to have been selected to stay on in a permanent capacity at an American firm. It was a milestone that he had to work day and night to achieve. “I needed to prove that no other American could replace me, that my employers were justified in giving me a visa to stay on,” he said. His employers had to advertise the job opening for three days in all the local papers in order to find if someone American was more skilled at handling it. “I had both marketing and advertising experience, which not too many people could offer at the time. So when no one responded, I felt like I had proven my worth to the world,” he said. “I had finally arrived.” Little did he know that in less than a decade, he would return to his motherland this time of his own free will. “I remember how anxious I was during the three days my job was advertised and how relieved I felt when there were no takers. I had worked harder than I ever had in my life, and yet, absurdly, I was ready to throw all that away.” It wasn’t family responsibilities or businesses interests in India that drew Shankar back home after so many years abroad. Quite simply, his little girl had grown up. “It just struck me one day when she refused to change out of her jeans for an Indian party we were going to. I also noticed that she never spoke to me in Tamil even though she understood it perfectly. She was 11 years old then and I didn’t want her to grow up without any sense of her roots. I thought it was worth moving back, just to show her the kind of life and upbringing I’d experienced.” Fast forward to 2012. Rajeswari, 33, moved back to Hyderabad after a six-year stint in the United States because her husband had insisted that it was the right thing to do. Uncomfortable with their daughter growing up in the United States, the couple had made arrangements for the 7 year-old to live with grandparents who doted on

her. “We sent her to India first because we were both working and didn’t want her to be unduly influenced by the American culture,” she said. But when her daughter constantly cried for her and felt severely homesick, her parents urged them to take her back or join her in India. “They felt that she needed us at this age and it wasn’t right for us to send her away. And we missed her far too much. It was a very difficult time for us.” Both Rajeswari and her husband were just months away from getting their green card at the time. It was something they had worked very hard for. “We had planned to buy a house, save some money for our kids’ college education and our retirement. However, every plan collapsed and it all happened so fast. Within a month, we had wrapped up our lives and returned back to India. Though it was a spontaneous decision without much planning/thinking involved, we couldn’t be happier now and we’re very glad that we made this choice.” It didn’t help that all their friends felt that the couple was being hasty and making a wrong move. “Only very few people understood us. After all, we had waited for the green card for years and were in the final stages of receiving it ... I’ll admit it was a very tough decision, but the bottom line was that we wanted to be with our daughter and we wanted to raise her with good Indian values, so moving to India was the only option we had. My husband and I have no regrets at all

about our decision.” Rajeswari admits that there are still no guarantees that her kids will grow up with Indian values, (especially since India has changed so much and is catching up fast with western trends and lifestyles), but they still feel there is a better chance now that they’ve done their part.

ronically, nowhere is the Indian double standard more evident than among the small section of seemingly modern, highly educated and sophisticated Indians living outside India. For deep down inside, many genuinely grapple with the fear of change while thrust in the midst of it, of moving away from conventional notions of the man and woman’s role in marriage and society and even worse, being unable to relate to their own children who are exposed to values that are so different from their own. But if you really think about it, returning to India with the family or sending daughters back to “learn the culture” would seem quite superfluous today, especially when there are Indians in every American state and when a great deal of that culture has been transported piece-meal to the United States. Yet the difficulty of bringing up girls here has cost many families their American dream. This existential-type dilemma isn’t a problem in the case of families with sons. The question that arises then is: why is imbibing the Indian culture more important for girls than it is for the boys?

ing in California. Both her daughters, aged eight and ten, live with their maternal grandparents and study in Bangalore. Her 12-year old son Santosh, however, lives with her in the United States. While initially, her daughters protested vehemently and were very bitter when asked to move to India, they “soon got used to it,” she affirms. She sees them every year and is quite content with the arrangement. But what goes on in the psyche of the young girl who is told that she cannot remain with her parents in the country that they live in because it goes against their strict moral code, but that her brother can do so simply because he is male? Self-esteem issues, certainly. But even bigger than this is the constant feeling of being repressed and sidelined, of not being considered trustworthy enough and the niggling thought that somehow, the brother is the favored one. Feelings of resentment over the injustice can fester over years, alienating these women from their peers, parents, even extended family. The Indian culture is of course a wonderful, age-old code of living. But shouldn’t our young women be credited with the wisdom to embrace these values of their own accord, no matter where they live? And shouldn’t this moral code apply to all of our children? In an ideal situation, irrespective of their geographical status, our kids would learn by the

examples we set. Indian Americans who feel compelled to send their daughters back to India truly believe that they only have the bigger picture in mind. However, the numerous flaws in the arrangement can hardly be overlooked. Since the move is across continents, for many, only yearly visits are possible. Being brought up by grandparents, (no matter how wellmeaning and caring they are), can often lead to issues with discipline and communication. Based on where one’s guardians live in India (small towns can often lack good teachers and essential infrastructure), education too, may suffer. And worse, nothing can bring back the precious formative years that are completely lost to the parents. Once the girl becomes a woman and it is time for her to marry, it is safe to assume that her own family responsibilities are bound to keep her away from her parental home. When such visits are seldom enough, shouldn’t there be warm and wonderful memories for her to fall back on? n

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Perhaps the reason lies in the fact that America is thought to foster a sense of individuality, of fierce independence and lateral thinking, which while great for our boys, can severely hamper a woman’s marriage prospects. Of course, most Indian women (groomed from the cradle to make the best wives) are still expected to strive to attain the virtues of domesticity, obedience and docility, to the point of being self-effacing. If the girl must “fit in” with her husband’s family after marriage, she must learn to be flexible, to adjust without argument—lessons of life that some Indian American parents feel just can’t be learnt in America’s hedonistic culture of unabashed gender equality, money, sex, drugs and self-gratification. “In the United States, there is no difference between a daughter and a son. At a certain age, all the kids must fly the coop and face life on their own. But that’s not the case in India, where most girls go from their parental homes to their marital homes and are still expected to abide by a strict code of conduct. You can take people out of India, but you can’t take India out of the people!” says Vijay Dheep, psychologist and counselor. And perhaps that’s why many of these parents decide to send only their daughters and not their sons back home. Shalu, 38, is a computer engineer work-

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On Inglish

Perfectly Done By Kalpana Mohan

brahmin—noun (brä/brah-min) First Known Use: 15th century; Middle English Bragman inhabitant of India, from Latin Bracmanus, from Greek Brachman —a Hindu of the highest caste traditionally assigned to the priesthood —a person of high social standing and cultivated intellect and taste; —(in the US) a highly intelligent or socially exclusive person, esp. a member of one of the older New England families

n my youth, I felt that my mother’s theory on kitchen karma simply did not apply within the ramparts of my daily life. Over the decades I have revised my opinion. I realized one afternoon that the line dividing perfection from imperfection was subtle. You could cross the line in the blink of an eye and it was never more evident as it was in cooking. When I was raising my children, managing a home and working in the corporate world, my mother would tell me that of all the qualities she looked for in a person, what she valued the most was vivaram, a Tamil word, which means “expansion.” My mother used it to refer to detail. She stressed another quality too: nidaanam, a word in Tamil that alludes to composure. Taken together, my mother said, those two qualities defined character. In turn, she said, they shaped destiny. My mother cooked with all her senses. Her repertoire was limited. She believed in the simple, honest meal. She didn’t cook with a distracted ear to the phone. She didn’t rustle up a meal while watching television or engaging in gossip with my father or her guests or her maid. Our mother cooked every single day as if her husband and her children were gauging her and giving her a grade. She planted herself firmly in front of the stove, watching for the little shiver of a boil, a faint ripple at the edge of a vessel of morkuzhambu that signaled that it was ready. A kootu made with spinach called for one turn of the switch on her Sumeet grinder, just one and not one more, because the resulting spinach and coconut gravy had to be both coarse and fine in parts. An avial perfectly formed called for a ladle that was flat, like a spatula, so it didn’t accidentally dice through cooked julienne strips of vegetable. In 2002, when she found herself too ill to cook, my father and my sister began juggling her health challenges and the maintenance of our home. My father had one requirement. “For as long as I live, I would like a Brahmin to cook for me. I pray every morning and offer a little food to the deities,” he said. And so we did as he wished and began looking for a Brahmin cook in Chennai who would come home every morning, cook a meal and a prayer offering of rice, lentil and ghee. My mother passed away in July 2005. An era of a well-cooked meal at our home ended the day she died. We struggled constantly to find a committed cook. Unpredictable Brahmin women trooped in and out of our kitchen. They ill-treated my mother’s marble, her Ultra grinder, her pressure cooker and all her antique stainless steel vessels. But here I must write an ode to one of my mother’s favorite cooks, Rukmini, who dragged her mammoth body over fifteen kilometers and framed our doorway one fine morning blotting out the morning sun. We were mortified. Would a woman of her girth and immense breathlessness even have the capacity to boil water? We judged too soon. The biggest compliment our family could pay Rukmini was that she was worth her weight in gold. Like a heavy, seasoned cast iron pan, Rukmini too had traditional sensibilities, sautéeing, roasting and grilling everything to perfection. Her only fatal flaw was her love for the melodramatic characters in a television serial called Nambikkai (Trust). In an ironic twist, my mother lost her faith in Rukmini on a morning 30 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

when Nambikkai was playing on the television; in a careless moment, Rukmini had let the Almond Halwa slide into Almond Burfi which then progressively dessicated into Almond Brittle. I felt my mother’s frustration deep within my bones that day. I empathized with her helplessness at having to relinquish her hold on her kitchen and embrace another’s flaws in her territory. In her overreaction to Rukmini’s oversight, I saw how the story of a delicacy and, consequently, of one’s life, could change in one fragile second. I considered the imperfections in our tiny kitchen over the decade. Cook Jayalakshmi was in such a frantic hurry that she wouldn’t take the time to boil potato down to its core. As my aunt said while eating Jayalakshmi’s potato roast, if God had meant for us to eat potatoes in the form that they were in the ground, we’d have been born hogs or raccoons. Then Cook Gowri overheated the morkuzhambu so much that it assumed the appearance of the Exxon-Valdez oil spill; once you removed the oil and sludge off the top, you were left with gallons of discolored ditchwater. I must not forget to mention how Cook Geetha’s roti would have made an extra-hard, extra-thick, quarter-inch Frisbee on a humid morning at Chennai’s Marina beach. Last week, after eleven long years, we bid goodbye to the cooks who disgraced our mother’s kitchen. Vinayagam, who is not a Brahmin, has begun cooking my father’s meals. He prepares the daily prayer offering. He asks me for recipes. He has kept up my mother’s kitchen more immaculately than my mother ever did, following her dictates and quoting her unknowingly sometimes. Today, I sweat in what is now my father’s kitchen, tuning in, with my body and my soul, to a simmer, a boil, a roast, a deep fry, a splutter, a crackle or a pop. I figure that everything in life is about engaging oneself, about committing fully to something in that moment, and about giving it one’s all. I realize now how Vinayagam has cast himself in the mold our mother set for us all. Ultimately, that has begun to matter more to my father than caste. A few days ago, he watched over my shoulder, nodding approvingly. “If you hadn’t used coconut oil for seasoning this dish, ma, I would’ve subtracted some points. Not bad. Perfectly done. Like your mother.” n Kalpana Mohan writes from Saratoga. To read more about her, go to http://kalpanamohan.org and http://saritorial.com.

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fiction

Ahalya Katha 2013 • Third Place By Debjani Mukherjee

he day I shifted into 27 Carlton Hill, a seven minute walk from Leeds University, Ahalya fed me lunch. Steamed rice, yellow dal with coriander, eggplant in coconut gravy, and dry fish cooked in a red pumpkin chilly sauce. Ten minutes earlier she had held out her hand, her two thin gold bangles nestling closely at her wrist. Hello, I’m Ahalya. She stood at her bedroom door, leaning against the jamb, left hand scrunched deep inside the pocket of her pink hoodie, watching me drag a carton of books across the landing. Her electric blue skirt covered a radius of around three inches on the floor. I held out my hand, breathless. Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Uma. She smiled and a little half moon scar ran out from the right corner of her lip, turning upward. Do you have a TV license? she asked, indicating the old portable television set I held in the crook of my left arm. Do I need one? But I’ve only had it for a short while! I shifted the TV set to the other side, its half circle antenna quivering. It was actually Divya’s given to me when she left for India two months ago. Since then I have not missed an episode of Top of the Pops or the Antiques Roadshow. You need a license to watch TV here. But it’s ok, I have one. Not to worry. She smiled again, even white teeth against the deep tan of her skin, softening the sharp planes of her cheekbones, her half moon scar furrowing deep into faint laughter lines. The house was kind of run down, sitting awkwardly at the bottom of the slope at the end of a row of equally run down terraced houses, the roof pulled low over its walls like a slouchy hat. Scraggly overgrown grass loitered in the small approach leading to the house, faded red carpets ran across the living room and up the stairs. A mingled smell of damp and citrus air freshener hung in the air, sharp and heavy at the same time, like a pair of well-kept secrets. Three bedrooms upstairs, kitchen and living room downstairs. My room had just enough space to hold a bed, table, and bookshelf. The window looked out to the rugged tops of terraced houses and a stretch of sky. Almost five when I finished stacking 34 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

the last carton by the bookshelf, I called out to Ahalya, running down the cramped stairs. I’ll see you in a while. She came out of her room, looking down at me from the landing. Where you going? To get something to eat. I skipped lunch today. She furrowed her brow. But why go out to eat? There’s food at home. I hesitated. Thanks. But ... Don’t go out to eat. She came down the stairs, briskly walking past me to the kitchen. I heard the fridge door A Creative Commons Image shut, the double, triple beeps of the microwave, the clatter of evenings in the kitchen cooking and stacking plates. up our stories like marbles in a cookie jar. Of Stepping into the kitchen I saw the cascoconut gardens and army planes and monseroles neatly laid out on the dining table. soon rains and the bluest sea. Landmines, Sit, she said simply, scooping rice and landslides, grandmothers and grandfathers, dal onto a bright yellow dinner plate. Outmad aunts and favorite cousins, our easy side, as if on cue, the rain came down in trail of a thousand and one stories, stretching a rush, splattering the kitchen windows in from Jorhat to Jaffna. straight sheets, deepening the gray outside. When it rains in Assam, it pours like Twisting shadow lines unfurled from the buckets of water. Not like this, I said, looking patterned lampshade over the dining table. out to the rain, drizzling like fragile confetti, She scooped more eggplant onto my plate, outside the kitchen window. We were cookmore dal, some more dry fish curry, sitting ing in the kitchen, making dinner, stirring down to watch me eat, leaning in with her little eddies of conversation. elbows on the table, familiarity slowly creepIt’s the same in Jaffna, she said, adding ing around us like a purring cat. coconut milk to the wilting spinach and onBy the way, I’m from Sri Lanka, she said. ions in the sauté pan. From Colombo? So much rain and the garden would fill No, Jaffna. up with water. And we would make paper I’m from India. Doing my M.A. here at boats out of our exercise books and set them Leeds University. to sail. After the rain, I used to go out in the Yes I know. The landlord told me. By the garden, looking for my boats. I used to think way, welcome to the house. about the ones I couldn’t find. I was sure they had found their way to the sea. ays and weeks segued into a pattern, But I was only a little girl. She smiled. our lives, playing along the grooves I told her how the monsoons washed of classrooms and corridors and libraries, away everything in my hometown, carpets, clicking into place comfortably with Sunday tables, chairs and TV sets, caking the road afternoon ginger teas, grocery shopping at with red soil afterwards, filling up the BrahAbubakar, and happy hour buffets at the maputra which crawled up the banks and sat Thai Lotus and China Dragon. We labeled obstinately on the main streets, the ferries our spice jars, took up part time jobs, oiled bobbing close behind like sly accomplices. our hair every Saturday night with warm She remembered the Jaffna rains, the sky coconut oil, lit our bookshelf altars with jassplitting thunder, lightning streaking across mine scented tea lights, and spent dark rainy the sky like the forked tongues of a ten

headed snake, waking her up in the middle of a rainy night, drenched in sweat, unable to speak. My grandmother said, let her be, the rain will bring her voice back. Twelve months later, I spoke again, sitting in the verandah, watching the monsoon break in. Sometimes we brought back the debris of the day to 27 Carlton Hill, a scratched heart, a lost pen or skewed paperclips that wouldn’t hold the pages together. Ahalya tried to explain how Grierson patted her head, trying to describe the exact way his hand lightly brushed the nape of her neck. She tried to connect the dots between her new coat and something she said and something he said. But they didn’t quite connect in a comforting way. But we were bound together by what A Creative couldn’t be explained, curling up like smoke inside our hearts, throbbing with the certainty of things we knew well. Just be careful next time okay? I mean, you know ... Yes she said. It was quiet in the kitchen, smelling of fresh hot rice and eggplant curry. Upstairs, we could hear Elaine on the phone, agitated, floorboards creaking angrily as she paced around her room. Later we sat cross-legged on her bed, painting our nails scarlet red, warmed by the radiator, the cold November wind howling outside, talking of marriage proposals from unsuitable boys. I would like to be married you know, Ahalya said. I kept quiet. I’m 32. I’m just getting older. And I finish my Ph.D. next year. But where are the boys? She suddenly frowned, rubbing out the red polish, which had spilled out from the edges of a toenail. Appa sends me phone numbers. He says Ahalya talk to them and I talk to them and all they want is to come over here. I don’t think they want me. It was suddenly quiet outside. The rain and wind had died down. She sighed. You know, I don’t mind going back to Sri Lanka provided I find a good boy. Ahalya dreamed of Jaffna. Of spicy fried fish dipped in golden batter and sold on the beach, of college boys preening themselves in motorcycle mirrors, of airplanes dropping

Commons Image bombs. Those memories refused to die away, snuggling along the jagged edges of the life she held on to, seeping in like rainwater through cracked walls. Her two brothers were in London. They had arrived as illegal refugees, seeking political asylum. They were never going to be able to go back home. She had wanted to escape Jaffna, any way she could, through marriage, a job, whatever. The crackdowns, the camps, soldiers on the streets, boys disappearing, fear, anxiety, anger, war, death, of knowing, yet not knowing, the smell of desperation just waiting a few steps round the corner, of endless questions and very few answers. She left Jaffna on a cloudy afternoon, student visa in her hand, boarding an Air Lanka flight for London. But though the little piece of land that curved like a bird’s beak, the palmyrah trees, the salty sea, boats, bridges, bicycles, remained where they were, they still crossed over with her, jostling for space with the memory of flowering purple bougainvillea and a clear blue sky on the road to Karainagar beach. And so she carved her own kingdom in the sand and stuck her little red flag in it, her Jaffna of the mind, stretching her roots so deep they clawed back into her heart and wouldn’t let her sleep, her jagged little memories of sky, sea and tsunamis, of arriving and leaving, again and again.

t was the end of November and summer was months away but Ahalya declared, we’ll go for a picnic this summer. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching

me, her long hair open to the waist, twisting her gold chain in concentric loops. Summer is a long way off, I said. Yes, but doesn’t mean we can’t plan. She proceeded to list all the things that we would need to buy for the mini barbecue: chicken, crabs, mushrooms, prawns, the portable barbecue grill from Morrison’s, plastic crockery from the pound shop, the chilli marinade for the chicken skewers, garlic for the crab, and of course, orange juice. It was the promise of summer that Ahalya wanted, unfolding in blue skies and warm sunshine. Maybe we can even plan a day trip to Scarborough! What do you think, Uma? Ok Ahalya. Maybe Scarborough will be a little like Jaffna.

n a cold December morning, at the start of the Christmas holidays, Ahalya left for Jaffna, wearing a gray overcoat, her long black hair twisted in a braided bun, carrying toys for her baby nephew and cardigans for her mother, packed into two neat trolley suitcases. I’ll see you soon. Be good, she said, hugging me tight. As the cab pulled away I thought what if she seriously followed up on that job application to Colombo University or what if she found a suitable boy. Without her, I thought of my days piling up like unfinished homework. I wished her back almost as soon as she was gone. Ahalya came back to Leeds forty-three days later, carrying packets of dry fish, joss sticks, sandalwood soaps, spices and coconut sweets. You have to see pictures of my nephew! She said. And here’s something for you. She opened her suitcase, and carefully pulled out her present for me, a jade green silk skirt and blouse wrapped in shiny cellophane paper. Now that we both have the same skirts, we can call ourselves the Pattu Pavadai Girls, she laughed as I admired the fall of the silk around my legs, bordered by a temple design in yellow and silver. Later, stuffing ourselves with coconut sweets we spread the photographs on her bed in twelve neat lines going over the uncles, aunts, cousins, once, twice, thrice removed, her mother with a fixed smile and jasmine in her hair, her father always stiff and gaunt in September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 35

moved out of 27 Cathedral Street before summer arrived, on a chilly March morning, packing my belongings into a suitcase and two cartons, moving into a shared apartment in Headingley with two other girls. The landlord refused to give me a refund of the hundred pounds security deposit because I hadn’t given him a month’s notice, but by then I didn’t care. I just wanted to leave. Ahalya’s presence hung over the house like a layer of sleet seeping through the slates on the roof to the timbers and slats, staining the walls and creeping into my dreams, following me down the stairs and into the kitchen, and back to my room again. I ate muesli and sandwiches in my room and stayed awake at nights, watching the shadows dance, having imaginary conversations. Her brother drove down from London to collect her belongings. We sat in the kitchen, across the table from each other, a stranger I knew only by name and from a photograph in a photograph, Ahalya stretched like a shadow between us. He drove away as silently as he had come. The police came calling twice, asking questions, letting me know it was just a matter of time before they arrested the suspects. I wondered what Ahalya would say. That it just didn’t matter anymore? Or would she exhale in relief, finding some justice after all? In the split second when the car screeched to a stop behind her and the men rushed out towards her, how did Ahalya feel? Did fear rise up like thick black tar and clutch around her heart? Did she feel like she has been through this before, when the same thick black tar clutched around her heart and rose up her throat, as they fled Jaffna town in the night, soldiers at their heels, planes raining bombs, crossing the lagoon to Vanni. When they snatched at her shoulder bag, and pushed her down, her head hitting the side of the concrete pavement, splitting her skull open, and kicked at her face and chest,

36 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

did she think, This isn’t supposed to happen, not here. I have already crossed the lagoon to safety. n

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the background, her brothers in photographs mounted in ornate frames on salmon pink walls, the purple bougainvillea clambering wildly over the fence as her parents stood unsmiling in the sun, holding her sister’s baby. There were pictures of the baby naming ceremony, of the neighbors, the flower beds, of her mother in the kitchen, her aunts, the kolam (drawing of rice flour on the floor), the sky from the terrace, over the tops of the neighboring houses, her six weeks frozen in sixty five photographs to last her till next Christmas. What happened to the job application in Colombo? I asked her. The interviews were postponed. The woman couldn’t tell me when they’ll announce the next dates. Or maybe wouldn’t. She sighed.

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commentary

Musings of a Maestro By V.P. Dhananjayan

n 1976, as one of New York State Education Department’s cultural Ambassadors, I visited elementary to college level institutions to give lecture demonstrations on our art and culture. This was part of an “International Art in Education Conference” in collaboration with UNESCO. At that time I was shocked to be asked why I was dressed like a primitive (I was in a dhoti, kurta and tilak). With composure and consummate understanding I educated those inquisitive minds and demonstrated the power of our art form and its importance in education. Here, in this article, I present some of my personal musings on the business and nomenclature of naatya.

Dance vs. Naatya

The performing arts scenario in the United States is very vibrant. However, I wonder why the term naatya is not yet prevalent when referring to bharatanatyam, kathak, manipuri or any other classical arts. The word “ballet” is understood all over the world as a classical western performing art form. But naatya hasn’t reached that status in the international community. I believe we should start using the correct nomenclature to identify our art forms and stop calling them “dance,” a term which does not specify our kind of performing arts, which bears physical, mental and spiritual attributes. Another note on nomenclature: Often I come across advertisements in India Currents that say bharatanatyam dance classes. Actually natya or naatya or natyam mean dance and there’s no need to say “dance” again! “Ballet” is yet another incorrect word Indian artistes use to denote a thematic presentation. This confuses the audience as to whether the presentation is a western ballet or a mock ballet of Indian origin. A drama–or thematic presentation is naatya. So I think it is the responsibility of our artistes to popularize the name natya, naatya, nritta and nritya.

On Arangetrams

Yes, the summer months seem to be a festival of Bharatanatyam Arangetrams all over the United States and Canada. It has lost its original significance, that of announcing the arrival of a professional with a body of knowledge and accomplishments in the art form. Arangetrams have become social affairs

38 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

Bharatakalaanjali.org involving a c a sual display of affluence and ceremony, with multiple costume changes, projected video clips of the dancer from birth through the years leading up to the Arangetram, encomiums showered on the dancer in between dance items, snacks served in between the performance, and people sitting through 6 to 7 hours awaiting the big dinner and social gathering after the program. By the end of the evening, it is likely that the attendees have forgotten the performance and remember only the dinner and the fashion display of the invitees. Then there are the long announcements of items with quotes and demonstrations for the sake of the uninitiated. I wonder if we really need to explain what bharatanatyam is, (rather like carrying coal to Newcastle!) and explain each and every item. Is it not enough to give a gist of the lyrics with gestural language and facial expression? Where and how did we fail to educate the public after all these years of “Indian cultural extravaganza” in the name of Arangetrams? Do we experience such situations in western ballet performances, be it professional or school shows?

Richer Pastures

Once Semmangudi Srinivasa Iyer the doyen of karnatik music in his usual casual manner remarked, “a time will come for us to go to the United States to know our traditions and values …” His prediction is almost coming true. Kudos and appreciation

to several of our old and young artistes and teachers passing on their legacy in the best manner. In my early days performing and traveling around the country with live musicians, we used to share our musicians with the local artistes, which enabled them to find new pastures for lucrative earnings. These days, during the summer months it is difficult to find accompanists in India. Most of them come to the United States looking to add to their kitty. It’s a drain for India and a draw for the United States. Due to the influx of Indian Americans who crave a chance to display their foreign ground nurtured talents in India, accompanying musicians demand dollar rate remunerations, which is 5 to 10 times the local rates in India. There is no justification for this exploitation and malpractice. However so long as parents pay these rates there is going to be no change in the situation.

Guru vs. Teacher

The prefix of Guru for Bharatanatyam teacher was not prevalent until 1990s. These days teachers—junior or senior—irrespective of their status, assume the title of Guru. This is a very profound word which literally signifies a person of high scholarship in the scriptures and other subjects for the liberation of the human mind and who can clear ignorance and give ultimate wisdom. Yes, several yoga practitioners in the United States misused this term, elevating themselves as great Swamijis and many bearded persons thus became Gurus. Somehow this practice also crept into bharatanatyam. Now a mere teacher of “dance” (not even naatya in its comprehensive sense) calls himself or herself Guru. If I may make an appeal to all the teachers in the United States to restrain from prefixing this title, we at home also may follow your way. The Samskritam connotation Adhyaapaka (for man) and Adhyaapika (for women) may be a better term to be used. In English “teacher or instructor” is sufficient. n V.P. Dhananjayan is a legend in the field of bharatanatyam, fusing choreographic innovations with tradition. He and his wife, Shanta Dhananjayan, conduct the Yogaville Dance Camp in Virginia, which recently celebrated its Silver Jubilee.

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relationship diva

The Indian Mindset By Jasbina Ahluwalia

I’m a first-generation Indian man who came to the United States for grad school, and while I expected to connect with Indian girls here, I find that they tend to have preconceived notions about Indian men. Any thoughts?

Your question hits upon a phenom-enon I have noticed. Many firstgeneration Indian men encounter Indian women with biases about Indian men, including that they are seeking a marriage with traditional gender roles; “momma’s boys” for whom their own, as well as their partners’ viewpoints are likely to be eclipsed by those of their mothers; likely to hang out with other Indians exclusively, and unlikely to be able to relate to and with non-Indians. To be sure, there are certainly first-generation Indian men for whom one or all of the notions do apply. In my opinion, interacting together before marriage would reveal that. That said, Indian women are not wellserved by adopting the following misconceptions wholesale: • These notions apply to ALL first-

generation Indian men; • These notions are much more likely to apply to first-generation Indian men than Indian men born and raised in the States. In addition to the empirical evidence from the countless first-generation Indian men I have encountered in my work, I offer the following for Indian women to consider before unwittingly allowing those two misconceptions to close them off to firstgeneration men with potential: i) The level of independence and selfsufficiency demonstrated by first-generation men (and women) who have left their countries of birth is considerable (in many cases much higher than the level demonstrated by U.S.-born Indians); ii) If one is exclusively seeking the company of other Indians, certainly India would appear a better choice for that person than venturing out to a country where Indians are a minority; iii) Having likely lived on their own in the United States without family and domestic labor support typically enjoyed by privileged Indians in India, first-generation

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Indian men often have domestic skills on par with (and at times greater than) men (as well as some women) born in the United States iv) India is a very different place on multiple levels today than the India of our parents’ generation—the mindsets of Indianborn men reflect this (in a way the mindsets held by some U.S.-born Indians raised by parents with mindsets frozen in the India of the past may not). To be sure, I am certainly not putting first-generation Indian men on a pedestal above Indians born in the States. I am, however, of the opinion that Indian women who recognize that there is a continuum of mindsets, and that assuming where on that continuum an Indian man falls based exclusively on his country of birth is likely to result in missed opportunities. 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.

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events SEPTEMBER 2013

California’s Best Guide to Indian Events Edited by: Mona Shah List your event for FREE! OCTOBER issue deadline: Friday, September 20 To list your event in the Calendar, go to www.indiacurrents.com and fill out the Web form

Check us out on

special dates Labor Day

September 2

Ganesh Chaturthi

September 9

Onam

September 16

Gandhi’s Birthday

October 2

Navratri begins

October 5

Navratri ends

October 13

Idu’l Zuha

October 16

American Raga—A Celebration of Indian Music in America. Featuring a sarod/tabla duet with David Trasoff (sarod), Anindo Chatterjee (tabla), September 28.

and Dilip Basu, Founding Director of The Satyajit Ray Film and Study Center. Organized by Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. 7 p.m. Samuel Goldwyn Theater, 8949 Wilshire Blvd., Beverly Hills. $5 general, $3 Academy members and students with a valid ID. (310) 247-3600. www.oscars.org/eventsexhibitions/events/2013/09/apu-trilogy.html.

September

CULTURAL CALENDER September

1 Sunday

Afsaaney Sartaaj De. Satinder Sartaaj

in a live ghazal concert. Organized by Shah Foundation and Tisha Entertainment. 6:30 p.m. Redondo Beach Performing Arts Center. 1935 Manhattan Beach Blvd., Redondo Beach. $39-$89. (310) 753-8990, (562) 860-1135.

September

6 Friday

Satyajit Ray’s The Apu Trilogy. New print with special guests Sharmila Tagore 44 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

7 Saturday

Yeh Hai Jalwa with DJ Akbar Sami.

Organized by Desi Beatz. 9:30 p.m.-1:30 a.m. Michael’s Lounge, 3777 La Jolla Village Drive, San Diego. General $25. (657) 6221161. contact@desibeatz.com. www.desibeatz. us.

Udit Narayan and Alka Yagnik Live in Concert. Organized by Shah Founda-

tion. 7:30 p.m. Anaheim Arena, 800 West Katella Ave., Anaheim. $39-$89. (310) 7538990, (562) 860-1135.

Yeh Hai Jalwa with DJ Akbar Sami.

Organized by Desi Beatz. 10 p.m.-3 a.m. Ultra Suede Lounge, 651 N Robertson Blvd., West Hollywood. General $20. (949) 878-8482. contact@desibeatz.com. www.desibeatz.us.

September

14 Saturday

Disruptive Innovation Conference.

On Personalized Medicine and Big Data. Organized by Arun Kiri, SoCal PAN IIT. 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Tanjore Lotus Banquet Room, 50 North La Cienega Blvd., Beverly Hills . (909) 524-1452, (818) 209-0172, (310) 968-6899. arunkiri@gmail.com, pkunju@gmail.com, smita.bagla@gmail.com. iit-innovate-2013. eventbrite.com.

September

21 Saturday

Yoga Gives Back’s Fundraiser. “Thank You Mother India” will help YGB’s campaign, currently funding 240 mothers and children in India with micro loans and education funds. Indian music, performance, silent auction, appetizers, drinks, and dinner with YGB Films short film presentation. Organized by Yoga Gives Back. 6-9 p.m. Dr Amrjit Marwah’s Residence, 29057 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu. $100. (310) 9919599. info@yogagivesback.org. www.yogagivesback.org.

recommends

Mara The MasterMind By Shyamal Randeria-Leonard

ell-known for bridging Western and Eastern approaches to performance, internationally acclaimed brother and sister duo, Mythili and Aditya Prakash are due to bring their re-interpretation of the ancient Buddhist philosophical battle of vice versus wisdom in a high octane, dance and rhythm production called Mara: The MasterMind Behind It All. In Buddhist lore, Mara is the demon who once vengefully set out to foil Siddhartha Gautama’s (Buddha) journey to enlightenment under the Bodhi tree with lures of temptation, threats of violence and mockery. Although the Prakashs’ aim to retain some of the traditional framework of the story, transforming the literal and psychological meaning of the negative aspects of the human psyche into a cross cultural “creative vision” was also an exciting endeavor for the artistic siblings. Mara and Siddhartha’s allegorical relevance traverses boundaries of culture, age, geography, and time according to the Prakashs’. The message deals with the enduring process of obstruction, borne out of the demons of one’s own mind that all individuals encounter when seeking to progress into wisdom. Mara is not just a demon who appears under the bodhi tree, rather a “character who lurks throughout Siddhartha’s life, this re-emphasizes his metaphorical representation as the mind that needs to be conquered in the quest for truth and enlightenment,” adds Mythili.

Mara hovering

sicians and instruments. Karnatik ragas will be blended with world music, modern jazz and funk by the music team against multimedia presentation and experimental staging to create the ethereal world and the dynamic interplay between dance and music. Mythili Prakash is an exponent of bharatanatyam and began her training in the Thanjavur tradition of bharatanatyam at the age of four under the tutelage of her mother, Viji Prakash, a virtuoso of this dance form. She has toured worldwide, gaining critical acclaim for her full length solo performances at venues such as Esplanade Theatres (Singapore), The Lowry (United Kingdom), Musee Guimet (Paris), The Music Academy (India), to name a few. Lead vocalist and composer, Aditya Prakash, has performed and toured extensively with artists such as Ravi Shankar, Anoushka Shankar, Karsh Kale and Salim Merchant. In 2010, Aditya founded the Aditya Prakash Ensemble, a Los Angeles based music group made up jazz and Indian classical instrumentalists. This event is part of the Ford Theatres 2013 Summer Amphitheatre Season produced by the Los Angeles County Arts Commission in cooperation with Los Angeles County-based arts organizations.n

The plot of the performance revolves around the main character Jeeva, and her illusory relationship with Mara or the mind’s trickster demon. The audience will journey with Jeeva from her outer world of characters and relationships to the “dazzling maze” of her inner, self-induced world of thoughts, dreams and attachment created by Mara according to Mythili. Both Jeeva and Mara will be played by Mythili. The Prakashs’ have fused the rhythmic footwork and gestures characteristic September 21, 8 p.m. Ford Theater, 2580 of the classical South Indian dance style, Cahuenga Blvd., East Hollywood. $20-$50. bharatanatyam with the dynamism of West(323) 461-3673. www.FordTheatres.org. ern music and stagecraft. A cast of 26 dancers from the Shakti Dance company, the performing branch of the Shakti School of Bharatanatyam, trained by Viji Prakash and choreographed by Mythili will be joined by guest dancers from the Kalapeetham Dance Company, trained by Kalyani Shanmugarajah. The original musical score is composed by the Aditya Prakash Ensemble and consists Jeeva Malini Mara of roughly thirteen mu-

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 45

events

California’s Best Guide to Indian Events

Disruptive Innovation

An Evening with Shujaat Khan and Samir Chatterjee. Shujaat Khan on sitar

accompanied by Samir Chatterjee on tabla. Organized by The Music Circle. 8-11 p.m. Herrick Chapel at Occidental College, 1600 Campus Road (End of Alumni Drive past Campus Road), Los Angeles. $35 General; $5 students with ID. (626) 449-6987. MusicCircle@aol.com. www.MusicCircle.org.

Mara—The Master Mind. A multi-

media dance and musical theater production featuring a cast of 35 dancers and musicians. Organized by Shakti Dance Company. 8 p.m. The John Anson Ford Theater, 2580 Cahuenga Blvd., E Los Angeles . General $30, student/ children $20. (310) 403-5875. mythilidance@ yahoo.com, adiprakash88@gmail.com. www. somethingaboutmara.com, www.fordtheatres. org/en/events/details/id/571.

September

22 Sunday

13th Annual Hindustani Classical Vocal Singing Competition. Organized

by Indo American Community Theater. 4-8 p.m. The Curtis Theater, 1 Civic Center Circle, Brea. $20. (714) 203 8671. iactheater@ hotmail.com.

September

28 Saturday

American Raga—A Celebration of Indian Music in America. Featuring a

sarode/tabla duet with David Trasoff (sarode), Anindo Chatterjee (tabla). Organized by World Music West. 7:30 p.m. Barnsdall Gallery Theatre, 4800 Hollywood Blvd., Los Angeles. (323) 255-7783. david@sarode.com. sarode.com, anindochatterjee.wordpress.com.

October

5 Saturday

Mahalaya. This auspicious day begins

with the journey of Devi Durga on Earth. Rendering of “Mahisasura Mardini” which includes chantings of mantras from “Chandi Kavya,” and singing devotional Bengali songs. Bengali brunch served. Organized by Dakshini and BASC. 6-11 a.m. Bharat Sevashram Sangha West, 5600 Carbon Canyon Road, Brea. $10. (310) 497-8050, (949) 9392748, (714) 931-2189. info@dakshini.org, info@bascweb.org. www.dakshini.org, www. bascweb.org.

46 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

By Shyamal Randeria-Leonard

ormer Indian tennis legend and sports commentator Vijay Amritraj will deliver the keynote address at the Pan IIT Southern California (SC) alumni association’s annual conference. Themed as the Annual Disruptive Innovation Conference, the half a day event aims to offer an opportunity for alumni and the general public to network and participate in panel discussions which share and exchange opinions on the growth and transformation within the field of life sciences as well as big data innovations according to president of Pan IIT SC, Pramod Kunju. “We expect all professionals to take advantage of this unique opportunity to learn and network with experts and other likeminded individuals,” says Kunju. In business or tech talk, disruptive companies upend existing markets and displace early technologies in a way a market does not expect Kunju explained. It is how personal computers took advantage of an empty space while giants such as IBM were busy focusing on mainframes, it is how cell phones ushered a whole new population of consumers who historically adhered themselves to fixed line telephony, and it is how online and community colleges carved a niche with smaller target markets and lower margins against the consistent appeal of traditional four year institutions. For Pan IIT SC, Amritraj, as this year’s keynote speaker also embodies cutting-edge qualities. The former Davis Cup champion’s repertoire includes being a CNN India commentator and a past appointee within the United Nations as a messenger of peace. In 2006, he founded The Vijay Amritraj Foundation. The foundation’s aim is to bring help, hope and healing to the innocent victims of disease, struggle and circumstance in India. The foundation promise to make

Aashish Khan and Shashanka Bakshi in concert. Khan on sarode and Bakshi

on tabla. Organized by East Projects. 7 p.m. Senshin Buddhist Temple, 1311 W. 37th St., Los Angeles. $20. (323) 662-6320. eastprojectsla@gmail.com. © Copyright 2013 India Currents. All rights reserved. Reproduction for commercial use strictly prohibited.

Vijay Amritraj

a real difference for those who are most in need of the helping hand of humanity. This year’s panelists are pioneers of change in their own right and will represent mixed speakers who have invented something “which will be the next big thing,” someone who has invented something which persists to lead markets and venture capitalists who pluck select innovations thereby ushering change according to Kunju. Some of the panelists of this year’s conference will include: Sanjay Khare, founder of Immugene; Aditya Rajagopal, graduate researcher from Caltech; Ray Cohen, Chairman of the Board at Lombard Medical Technologies, PLC and Saranathan Govindarajan, Senior Director at Direct TV. n Saturday, September 14. 10 a.m.-3 p.m. Tanzore Restaurant, 50 N La Cienega Blvd., Beverly Hills. $34-$49. http://iit-innovate-2013. eventbrite.com/. Includes lunch, tea and refreshments.

A SUGGESTION: India Currents goes to press as much as six weeks in advance of some events listed in it. Even though organizers do their best to stick to the announced schedule, in rare cases events are rescheduled or cancelled. To avoid disappointment, we recommend that you always check the organizer’s website, and

CALL TO CONFIRM!

Gondwana Dawn: Harmonizing with African and Indian Beats By Shyamal Randeria-Leonard

fter the successful album release of Gondwana Dawn, creators Robin Hogarth, a two-time Grammy winning producer and Sumitra Guha, an acclaimed international vocalist, accompanied by an African youth choir are bringing their spirited fusion of Indian classical music and South African choral music with an upcoming live performance this fall. The event is being hosted by the Indian Fine Arts Academy of San Diego (IFAASD), which seeks to organize world class concerts while fostering the Indian culture through music, dance and the arts per its managing trustee Shekar Viswanathan. The visionary world music aims to go beyond the maxim that music has no boundaries and fuses the music of Africa and India “in a way that celebrates the cultural and historical unity of the two countries,” says Guha. Spiritual Indian Vedic hymns are blended with the soulful and vivacious gospel style music of Africa sung by an eight piece South African children’s choir aged 15 to 19. The resultant effect is an earthy and soothing sound which emerges from complex layers of Indian and African musical styles and instrumentation. Hogarth and Guha also forged an intercontinental common ground between the two nation’s rhythmic styles with the use of socio-political themes. Reconciliatory post Apartheid music often used to calm race relations in South Africa was blended with Indian messages of peace and non-violence. The song “The Dawn” is based on a primary Vedic rag bhairav and is a call to humanity to wake up from the deep slumber of vices such as jealousy and materialism for brotherhood and peace. “Freedom Song” is based on a traditional Zulu song translated to a universal battle cry to be free “Come to me freedom, we want it now!” The song echoes both India’s and South Africa’s pursuit of independence with an underlying theme of brotherhood. “Vaishnava Janato,” which is sung in Gujarati and echoed by the African choir, was one of the late freedom fighter and pacifist, Mahatma Gandhi’s, favorite songs. The verses champion the virtues of the ideal man as a good husband, friend and son who possesses no greed or malice towards

humanity. Hogarth and Guha’s journey to initiate the project began in late 2011 led by a “humanitarian thought to bring opportunities to underprivileged children worldwide” says Guha. Numerous disadvantaged students and musicians from South Africa were selected to participate in the Gondwana Dawn project. South Africa’s Peermont School Support Programme (PSSP), which committed millions to a cross section of functional high schools throughout the country, funded travel arrangement to allow the artists drawn from PSSP schools and two of their educators to spend time in India under the direction of Hogarth who was also the director of the Soweto Gospel Choir. The culmination of the collaborative work resulted in the recording of an album, after having first performed live concerts at various Indian venues with Guha. The team’s star power also stretched to India’s poorest communities in Delhi. The April 2012 Dawn of Stars music competition held under the Gondwana Dawn project name, targeted disadvantaged, talented singers who not only vied to perform in Delhi with the choir, but also received the opportunity to learn classical music under Guha for two years. Approximately ten songs from the album will be performed by Guha (vocals),

Hogarth (flute, keyboards and marimba), Nthombezinhle Manyathi, Katleho “Faith” Moeletsi (soprano), Andreas Biyela (tenor, guitar), Samuel Sesheku, Keketso Makgobotloane (tenor), Thabiso Moyake (bass voice, recorder), Sean Mashigo (bass voice), Aniruddha Mukherjee (tabla), Rajesh Prasanna (flute), Saurabh Suman (guitar) Gautam Menon (drums). The album was released in the United States by ARC Music of United Kingdom in April 2013. The troupe will be spreading their message of peace and brotherhood to other parts of the country this fall inclusive of a performance in Los Angeles in association with the Artists for Human Rights International, says Guha. The album derives its name from a land mass named Gondwana which existed in the Triassic period some 200 million years ago. Gondwana, which existed in the Southern hemisphere, included Africa and India which were adjacent to one another prior to the plate tectonic shift. IFAASD has an extensive fall lineup this year, inclusive of Karnatik vocals, classical instrument and dance.n Saturday, September 28.7 p.m. David andDorothea Garfield Theater, 4126 Executive Dr. La Jolla. http://www.indianfinearts.org/ concerts/gondwana-dawn/ Tickets: $30, Free (IFAASD annual subscribers). September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 47

48 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

reflections

The Single Life By Mimm Patterson

here are wonderful benefits to the single life. And for many years I have enjoyed those benefits. Keeping my own schedule. Having the full duvet to wrap around me at night. Arguing with no one over the remote control. Occasionally allowing the hair on my legs to get a little fuzzier than it has any right to be. Yep. Those benefits just keep comin’. Sure, holidays can be a little difficult to maneuver. Friends in partnerships assume I need rescuing. They’re certain I couldn’t possibly prefer to stay at home. Alone. Surrounded by nothing but glorious peace and quiet. While balancing my teaching schedule with school is a manageable challenge, there is nothing I love more than to use a national holiday as an excuse to stay home with the blinds drawn, my pajamas on and the door closed. It’s my day to recharge my batteries (or make deadlines!). Besides, I have a threshold of how many social events involving husbands, wives and children I can handle per year. Last spring I was invited to a dinner celebrating the impending opening of Samyama Yoga Center. Weary of being, yet agin, “Mimm Plus No One” I coerced my decidedly anti-social best friend to accompany me with the promise of a free meal. It was a disaster. Rather than spending a few hours having fun with my co-workers and their partners I spent ninety minutes worried my friend was miserable. Which he was. So we left early. And didn’t speak to one another for three days. These little social hiccups that occur in the life of a singleton, however, are trivial. The major issue in being a single individual in a partnered world is this: too much Naval Gazing. A single woman like me, with too much time on her hands to think about it, becomes the Center of Her Own Universe. Couples in a healthy, loving relationship—as far as I’ve observed—don’t have that problem. Factor in familial responsibilities like children, grandchildren, fourlegged friends or aging parents and it’s impossible. There simply is no time to obsess

about the Meaning of Life. I, on the other hand, often wonder if I am capable of breaking free from the gravitational pull of my own reflection long enough to notice the light of the millions of shimmering stars around me? You see, I’m far too entertained by my own company. All I need is a book or guitar, my laptop, some paper and scissors—throw in a stick of gum and a rubber band and I’m good to go. Somewhere along the road I’ve turned into a female McGyver. And it has made me happy. In fact, I have embraced my small and wonderful life: teaching yoga, writing and living in my miniscule but adorably furnished studio apartment until I keel over in Ardha Chandrasana. Or have I? Even my best friend—the anti-social one—admits to wanting more than the single life he’s been living. As we talked, I told him I was quite content settling into my Cronehood. I was happy anticipating the Wise Old Woman phase of life, where I would dress myself in purple and hats—just like the poem—and dispense sage advice with wit, charm and the contented sigh of a life well-lived. I was lying. Because what happened was this: on the morning after the dreaded night out with my friend, after watching my co-workers and fellow yoga teachers happy and laughing and eager to introduce their life partners to one another I had an epiphany. I woke up and realized I was no longer content being alone. Damn. I did not see that coming. Because this is what I figured. I figured Forrest Gump was wrong when he said life was a box of chocolates. I figured life was more like a pie, and, despite my optimistic nature, the realist in me was clear when she pointed out that one piece of the pie is always missing. In other words, I can’t have it all. Years earlier I accepted that profound love and connection was the little sliver of pie that would remain absent from my life.

No. Don’t pity me. I’m extremely happy and content. The love and connection I have with my yoga students more than makes up for the lack of romantic love. Oh, really? Yeah. I’m okay with it. Seriously? Sure. I’m way too busy to think about love. You’re kidding, right? This is probably a good time to remind myself of a conversation I had in 1985. With a date. A first—and a last— date. About halfway through our meal Bruce said, “I think the reason why you keep yourself overbooked with work is so you can avoid meeting people.” Ouch. Twenty-eight years have passed since that night. Bruce is a grandfather. And I’m ready to prove him wrong. Are you listening, Universe? It’s me, Mimm. I’m ready for that slice of pie. I’m ready for that image in my head that I can’t shake. It’s a rainy Sunday. I’m sitting on a big, plush couch with the person I love curled next to me. We’re barefoot, our feet tangled together, listening to the rain agains the window and reading. A book. The newspaper. It doesn’t matter. The coffee is fresh brewed in the cafetiere. From time to time he’ll read a passage from his book or I’ll comment on an article. But what is most lovely is the peace of our being together. The quiet. The space we’ve given one another to be who we are. That’s the image a hold in my heart. That’s what I want.n For the better part of two decades Mimm has been a yoga teacher, massage therapist, reflexologist and writer. When she’s not balancing in Ardha Chandrasana or wrestling with a sentence, she’s either playing her guitar or doing homework. This year she begins work toward her master’s degree in transpersonal psychology at Sofia University.

September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 49

SPIRITUALITY & HEALTH

September

17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 5251291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.

1 Sunday

The Soul’s Greatest Need. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 4544114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525-1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 295-0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.

September

Dharma Yoga Fest 2013. Bhakti con-

cert and Yoga festival featuring chanting, bhajans, bhakti concerts, yoga, garba and more. 10 a.m.-9 p.m. Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh, 15711 Pioneer Blvd., Norwalk . Free. www.DharmaYogaFest.org/LA.

3 Tuesday

Bhagwat Katha by Swami Nikhilanand. Ends Sep. 8. Organized by JKP,

Radha Govind Dham. 7:30-9 p.m. Valley Hindu Temple, 187010 Roscoe Blvd., Northridge . Free. (626) 319-2064. www.radhamadhavdham.org.

September

8 Sunday 19

12 Thursday

Janana Yagna by Swami Bhoomananda Tirtha. On “Magnitude and Splendor of Human Personality” based on Bhagavad Gita. Ends Sep. 16. Organized by Center for Inner Resources development-North America. 6-8:30 p.m. Gayatri Conscious Center, 2446 W.Orange Ave., Anaheim . Free. (949) 262-9569, (949) 981-3588, (949) 559-9082. shanthi4460@yahoo.com, nattu@ sbcglobal.net, murthy_s@yahoo.com. www. cirdna.org.

September

15 Sunday

Ayurvedic Detox and Cleanse Workshop. Guided cleanse supervised by a

certified ayurvedic practitioner. Helps with weight loss, allergies and mental clarity. Ends Sep. 22. 2-4 p.m. The Oshan Center, 727 2nd St., Suite 105, Hermosa Beach . $250. (310) 562-8181. Vandanatilak@oshancenter.com. www.oshancenter.com.

Life—A Cosmic Motion Picture. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat,

50 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

22 Sunday

The Secret of Aquiring All Knowledge. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Tem-

The True Meaning of Salvation. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, Swami Bhoomananda Tirtha talk on September 12 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, GlenSeptember Thursday dale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525Benefactors Program and New Life 1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Awakening—Kundalini Kriya Yog ReEncinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, treat with Yogiraj. Ends Sep. 22. Orga3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 295nized by Hamsa Yoga Sangh. 3-6 p.m. Hilton 0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Garden Inn, 6450 Carlsbad Blvd., Carlsbad. Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org. (650) 868-0510. events@siddhanath.org. www. siddhanath.org/event-registration?ee=30

September

21 Saturday

ple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 6618006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525-1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 295-0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf. org.

September

27 Friday

Maha Pratyangira Devi Puja. Orga-

nized by Ekatvam Foundation. 8-10:30 p.m. Laughing Frog Yoga, 11870 Santa Monica Blvd. #208, Los Angeles. $40. info@ekatvam. org. www.ekatvam.org, ekatvam.org/us-tourfall-2013/awaken-the-divine-in-you.html.

September

28 Saturday

Sacred Geometry Yantra Workshop.

Swamiji and Amma guide participants to gain great amplification of their life’s intentions through the ancient science of Yantras. The sacred geometry is a potent concentration of the energies of the Divine Mother. Amma and Swamiji help open these strong

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energies to be physically present to heal and transform the lives of those present. Organized by Ekatvam Foundation. 9:30 a.m.-6 p.m. Culver City, RSVP to get address. $150. info@ekatvam.org. ekatvam.org, ekatvam.org/ us-tour-fall-2013/awaken-the-divine-in-you. html.

September

29 Sunday

Sacred Geometry for Transformation. A transformative energy workshop for

healing and healers where you can experience the ancient science of sacred geometry through the doorway and spiritual energy of the Divine yantra. Spiritual energy has the ability to eliminate denser influences, and become a magnet for prosperity, peace, and our true Divine nature. Organized by Sacred Space Yoga and The Ekatvam Foundation. 2-7 p.m. Sacred Space Studio, 410 Bryant Circle, Suite A, Ojai . $75. info@ekatvam.org. ekatvam.org, ekatvam.org/us-tour-fall-2013/ awaken-the-divine-in-you.html.

Finding God in Family Life. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 5251291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.

October

6 Sunday

The Most Tempting Temptation. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 5251291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 2950170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www.yogananda-srf.org.

October

13 Sunday

Seeking God in Today’s World. Sunday Service. Lake Shrine Temple and Retreat, 17190 Sunset Blvd., Pacific Palisades. (310) 52 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

Yoga Gives Back By Shyamal Randeria-Leonard

or a third consecutive year, Yoga Gives Back’s (YGB) annual fundraiser, Thank You Mother India is gearing up to assemble worldwide yoga centers to raise money to provide micro loans to many of India’s destitute. Struck by the poverty that millions faced during her tours to India, Kayoko Mitsumatsu, founder of YGB, drew inspiration from Nobel Peace Prize recipient Dr. Muhammad Yunus’ revolutionary micro financing breakthrough in Bangladesh. With her credo “for the cost of one yoga class you can change a life,” Mitsumatsu fused her passion for yoga, and developed “Sister Aid” with a direct funding program NISHTHA, located in West Bengal and Karnataka which provides educational, vocational training and microcredit programs to assist ailing women and children to build sustainable lives. Women are the bulk recipients of the micro loans as according to YGB research they are more apt to use the profits from their businesses to feed their families and improve overall living conditions. Yoga practitioners throughout the world will join Mitsumatsu between September 1st and December 31st and offer proceeds from donation sessions to YGB as a way to “thank India for the gift of Yoga” according to Mitsumatsu. In 2011, YGB raised $27,000 which directly funded 103 women, by 2012 donations doubled to $45,000 which assisted 240 women. The 2013 target is to raise $75,000 according to Mitsumatsu. Future goals for YGB include the “SHE

454-4114. Hollywood Temple, 4860 Sunset Blvd., Hollywood. (323) 661-8006. Glendale Temple, 2146 East Chevy Chase Drive, Glendale. (818) 543-0800. Fullerton Temple, 142 East Chapman Ave., Fullerton. (714) 525-1291. Encinitas Temple, 939 Second Street, Encinitas. (760) 436-7220. San Diego Temple, 3072 First Avenue, San Diego. (619) 295-0170. Call temples for times. Organized by Self Realization Fellowship. www. yogananda-srf.org.

Dancer provides entertainment at the event

(Scholarship for Higher Education) for funding underprivileged children’s high school or college financial needs” says Mitsumatsu. The event will include a live auction by legendary Hollywood actress Kate Linder of the Young and Restless, an odissi dance performance by Sharanya Mukhopadhyay, a Jala clothing trunk show, raffles, appetizers, video presentations and speeches by invited guests.n Saturday, September 21, 6 p.m. Amarjit Marwah’s Residence, 29057 Pacific Coast Highway, Malibu, CA. $125 per person. http://yogagivesback.org.

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healthy life

An Ounce of Prevention An Ayurvedic guide to staying healthy By Ashok Jethanandani

n the last half a century we humans have undergone a rapid change of lifestyles. We consume more processed foods, have sedentary occupations, rely increasingly on motorized transport, and overstimulate our senses with electronic and online entertainment. All these changes have taken us further and further away from a natural and healthier way of being, and have contributed to a higher incidence of lifestyle diseases. Meanwhile, an overemphasis on technological medical solutions has helped to prolong life spans but not necessarily improve quality of life. Consequently, the cost of healthcare is rising, and it is fast becoming unaffordable. Clearly, we need a different approach. Most health planners agree that more attention needs to be paid to preventive health. After all, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. But what is an effective program of preventive care? We can take a page from ayurveda, a system of healthcare that has been in continuous practice in India since the earliest of times. Ayurveda places equal emphasis on prevention and cure. Charaka Samhita, one of its oldest texts, stresses that the objective of ayurveda is twofold: to maintain the health of the healthy, and to alleviate the disease of the diseased. Ayu, or life, implies a union of body, mind, and spirit. Veda means knowledge. So the subject of ayurveda is the complete human being—body, mind, and spirit. This holistic approach provides insights for a healthy lifestyle that promotes our physical, mental, and spiritual wellbeing.

Daily and Seasonal Regimens What is a healthy daily regimen? It begins at the crack of dawn with selfexamination, personal hygiene, massage with oil, a shower, and exercise. During the day, how do we relate to others? Our personal conduct has bearing on our physical and mental health. At the end of the day, a bedtime routine prepares us for restful sleep. 54 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

provides guidelines on how we should eat. Similarly, we know that regular exercise is good for us. Yet exercising too hard puts us at risk of injury, resulting in more harm than good. So what kind of exercise is best, and how much? When should we exercise? Who should not exercise? We can find answers to these questions in ayurveda.

Rejuvenation

p;>y;;ej;n;' c;;sy; sv;sq;sy; sv;;sqy;rZ;[;m;;t;ursy; iv;k:;rp;>x;m;n;' c; == Charaka Samhita (Sutrasthana, 30:26) The objective of ayurveda is twofold: to maintain the health of the healthy, and to alleviate the disease of the diseased.

Then there are seasonal regimens. How do the seasons affect us? What diet, lifestyle, and preventive therapies are suitable in each season? We are most susceptible to illness at the junction of two seasons. So how do we negotiate the change of seasons without falling sick?

Diet and Exercise Food is essential for good health. When consumed properly, food is medicine. It nourishes the body, mind, and senses. On the other hand, if consumed improperly, food becomes the cause of disease. So what should we eat, and how much? What is a balanced diet? When should we eat? Ayurveda even

Health is not simply an absence of disease. This is best illustrated by rasayana, a unique therapy of ayurveda. Rasayana is a rejuvenation program that imparts an extraordinary vitality to plasma, blood, and all bodily tissues. Thus rasayana enhances health and slows the ageing process. Ayurveda takes a scientific approach based on cause and effect and verified by careful observation and inference. Take the effect of warm water. According to Vagbhata, who wrote the 5th century C.E. text Ashtanga Hridayam, warm water is appetizing, digestive, light, and heating. Further, he enumerates several benefits that you can discover for yourself.

Try it Yourself Here’s a simple exercise with warm water. In the morning, after brushing your teeth, drink a glass of warm water. Then during the day keep a thermos or kettle of warm water handy, and keep hydrating yourself as needed. At first you may not like the taste, but this will change in a week or so. With your meals take only small sips. Also, for about one hour before and after a meal avoid drinking or eating anything. Observe any changes in your appetite, the time it takes to digest meals, body weight, and urination and bowel habits. If you had problems of constipation, flatulence, breathing difficulties, bodyache, stiffness, lethargy, cough, sore throat, or runny nose before, do you notice any changes? Continue this experiment for two weeks. Gradually increase the morning drink from one glass to two glasses as long as you don’t

feel you have to force it down. Some people may not be able to down warm water at all. For those with a pitta constitution, or if the weather is hot, warm water may not quench thirst, and may not be suitable. They should discontinue this exercise. Most others will develop a liking for warm water because it makes them feel better. They may make it a regular habit. There are many simple remedies to improve our health. Through this column we will explore practical ways to tune in to ourselves and rediscover natural and commonsense ways to find a healthy balance within.

health

About Ayurveda Ayurveda is the science of health that has been practiced in India since the earliest times. Its concepts were first recorded in the Vedas. Around 1,000 B.C.E. the earliest treatises were written in which ayurveda was documented as a complete system of healthcare with eight branches of specialty. One of the central principles of ayurveda is the theory of the three doshas—vata, pitta, and kapha. Vata controls all movement and communication. Pitta includes all the agents of digestion and metabolism. Kapha provides structure, stability, and lubrication. Together, the three doshas maintain normal function of the body, but when their balance is disturbed they cause disease.n Ashok Jethanandani, B.A.M.S., and Silvia Müller, B.A.M.S., were classmates at the Gujarat Ayurved University, Jamnagar. The concepts presented here are based on the classical texts of ayurveda. Jethanandani practices ayurveda in San Jose. Illustrations are original works by Silvia Müller. www.classical-ayurveda. com.

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books

Thrills and Chills By Jeanne Fredriksen THE CARETAKER by A.X. Ahmad. St. Martin’s Publishing Group, Minotaur Books: New York. May 2013. $24.99. 304 pages. minotaurbooks.com. axahmad.com

hrillers are tough to write. Readers have high expectations. We demand not only quality but also breathlessness. The edge-of-the-seat feeling must never subside. Oh, sure, we can be lulled into a false sense of security, but WHAM! We require being startled and unnerved and pitched right back into the chaos. In the case of A.X. Ahmad’s riveting debut novel, The Caretaker, I took a deep breath, only later realizing that I finally exhaled once I had closed the cover for the final time. If there is such a thing as a literary mechanical bull riding machine, I’d just ridden it. In short, The Caretaker exceeded my expectations and then some. The protagonist of the story is Captain Ranjit Singh of the Indian Army, who finds himself in a string of situations that would shake, rattle and roll a brave man’s bones. Having been the leader of an elite squad of covert mission climbers on the Siachen Glacier, adventure, danger and fearlessness were his constant companions. But when something unexpected happens high in the mountains, Captain Singh finds himself building a new life with his family on the other side of the world. Boston and Martha’s Vineyard provide a new life for the Singhs. Not ideal for them but workable. Approached by Anna, the wife of U.S. Senator Clayton Neal, to be the winter caretaker of their upscale island mansion, Ranjit believes this opportunity will provide more financial security than did his one-man landscaping company. Because the Neals are an integral part of the upper class African-American community on the island, Ranjit begins to accumulate more properties to look after. So far, so good. But this is a thriller of the first degree, and peril and intrigue stay two steps ahead of Ranjit, who becomes part of a teeming community of illegal aliens trying to keep their heads above water while staying below the radar. Following a scuffle with two scruffy gun-toting, booze-buying locals, the job offer as caretaker, and a splitsecond decision to temporarily squat in the Senator’s home, things spiral out of control with enough neat twists and turns to make

you think you’re watching a taut, heartstopping episode of ABC’s Scandal. A former architect turned full-time writer, A.X. Ahmad wants to give as good as he gets, and in The Caretaker, he delivers in aces. Knowing precisely what he wants from a book, he is able to translate that energy into his own writing. “I’m pretty picky about what I read,” he told me via email. “I don’t really have much patience for writing that doesn’t grab me right away: I’ll pick up a book and read the first page, and if the story doesn’t interest me, I’ll put it down. I think writers have to be storytellers, and entrance their readers.” I admit that The Caretaker was one of those books that I just couldn’t put down, and I wondered how he managed to write such a gripping thriller (and a debut novel at that). In truth, it is actually the third novel he has written. “(It’s) the first one that I tried to have published,” he explains. “My first two novels, written about 10 years ago, were much more literary, and had lots of beautiful writing, but all my friends complained that nothing much happened! With this book, I consciously set out to write a suspenseful novel, but I still wanted it to have real characters and a literary feel. When my agent started shopping the book around, we got lots of nice rejections: the literary editors liked it, but found it too thriller-ish, and the thriller editors found it too literary! I was lucky that an editor at St. Martin’s Press/ Minotaur saw its potential, and gave me a chance.” The Caretaker is being promoted as the “first mainstream thriller featuring an illegal immigrant.” It is not, however, alone in featuring a lost-status character. In 2009, Tania James wrote the touching Atlas of Unknowns (India Currents, August 2009), which featured a young Indian girl who becomes an “illegal.” Nevertheless, both James’ and Ahmad’s novels are bold in that they dare to highlight main characters living in the shadowy world of the undocumented. “I really enjoyed Tania James’s novel; the scenes set in Jackson Heights, in Queens, have stayed with me,” he says. “I think that the nature of immigration in America has changed. In the 1960s and 1970s, only Indian professionals were let in: doctors and

engineers and so forth. Now you can go to a city like New York and find Indian cab drivers and hot-dog vendors and shopkeepers. These immigrants don’t have the sense of safety that the previous wave had—they live closer to the edge. Their stories are different. “It made sense for me to have Ranjit Singh be part of this new breed of immigrants—he came here on a tourist visa, like so many, and just stayed. And this makes him a real outsider, existing on the margins of society. In a thriller, this works: the protagonist is often an outsider, a watcher, one who is not part of mainstream society.” The plight of illegal aliens is a timely topic, and the release of the novel feels almost crafted to coincide with the Congressional debates. But immigration reform isn’t the only current concern that Ahmad addresses. Woven into the story are morsels and issues that give it a realistic, almost eerie state of being. He manages to utilize current events as not just reference points but also as playing pieces in this telling of Ranjit Singh’s story. There is reference to the President visiting the Neals on the island. The constant tension between India and Pakistan over borders hovers in the background. The North Koreans’ attempts to make a world impact are nothing September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 57

short of contemporary. Was this an effort to make the story more mainstream and appeal to a wider audience? “I set out to write a novel that was set in the present, and these topics were just in the air,” Ahmad states for the record. “For example, one of the plot strands in the novel is the North Koreans, and their attempt to obtain a nuclear missile. This wasn’t in the news when I wrote the novel, but a few months ago, the North Koreans did actually launch their first nuclear missile—and I felt as though the book had anticipated reality! But I think that’s what good fiction does—it takes a scenario, and imagines what could happen.” It is not just a compelling story or the inclusion of current events that brings The Caretaker to life. The book is populated with a variety of characters from many walks of life and different strata of society in uncommon situations. There are Indian Army officers and soldiers, including one who “guides” Ranjit along his path; a Vietnam veteran who is near homeless but content because of his Buddhist beliefs; Ranjit’s wife’s uncle who is a shopkeeper in Boston and his college-aged son Ricky; high-powered political operatives; illegal aliens from Brazil and questionable-status aliens from the Middle

East; and many others who cross divides and place obstacles on the pathway to resolution. “The book is set in Martha’s Vineyard, which is a very interesting place—a beautiful resort island off the coast of Massachusetts. Some of the summer residents are very wealthy, powerful people, and the people who serve them are much poorer. So there was instantly a class divide while writing about the island. Like many immigrants, my protagonist, Ranjit, had a higher class status back home—he was an Indian Army Captain—and in America he is virtually a servant—so he’s very conscious of the class structure.” Within this class divide of characters, there are no high-profile immigrant professionals, subservient wives, or highly-achieving sons with silver spoons in their mouths. The political operatives may wear overcoats (it’s winter in New England, after all), but they ride in big white, not black, SUVs. And some characters just aren’t who they might have you believe. “I think when creating these characters,” says Ahmad, “all writers cannibalize from their own experiences, taking a piece of this person, a piece of that person. My goal with the characters was to create real, complex people, not just one-dimensional sketches. “Indians in the United States are often

relegated to the status of the exotic, and play very stereotypical roles: doctors, computer programmers, 7-11 store owners! I hope that by creating a dynamic, resourceful Indian protagonist, readers can move beyond those stereotypes.” Happily, this is not where the story of Captain Ranjit Singh ends. According to Ahmad, The Caretaker is the initial entry of a planned trilogy. Book 2, Bollywood Taxi, will be published in 2014, and he currently is writing Book 3, Gandhi Motel. Each of the books, as the author puts it, “follows the adventures of Ranjit Singh as he tries to find his home in America, and each book explores a different immigrant community.” The bottom line is simple and straightforward: The Caretaker is a must-read book, and it’s perfect for summer reading. Tightly plotted and smartly written, it will literally take your breath away. Moreover, it is set on a glacier that never melts and on Martha’s Vineyard in the dead of winter. Plenty of snow and ice will cool you off as things heat up. And in this book, the heat is on! n Jeanne E. Fredriksen reads and writes from Wake Forest, North Carolina, where she is happily at work on her young adult novel.

A Conversation with the Author Jeanne E. Fredriksen: Please tell me a little bit about yourself. A.X. Ahmad: I’ve been writing stories since I was a child; I’m always more at home in a fictional world than a real one. But, being a good Indian son, I followed my parent’s wishes and became a professional. I was a practicing architect for about 15 years. Even when I worked as an architect, I would wake up very early in the morning to write, and in this way I wrote my first two “practice” novels. I also published short stories and essays in literary magazines. But it’s hard to have a full-time job like architecture and write at the same time. So when the opportunity arose, about five years ago, I left architecture and began to write full time. Malcolm Gladwell says that it takes 10,000 hours to master any new skill. I’ve certainly put in that amount of time now! It took me many, many years to think of myself as a writer. There are so many amazing books right now coming out of India. I’m a huge fan of Vikram Chandra’s work—Sacred Games is one of my favorite novels—and look 58 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

forward to his next book. Manil Suri’s latest work, The City of Devi breaks new ground—it’s a science-fiction type adventure and love story. I loved Nilanjana Roy’s new book, The Wildings about a tribe of cats in Old Delhi. Tarun Tejpal, Arvind Adiga, Sonia Falerio—all fantastic writers who are exploring new worlds. What was your intent behind the Senator and his wife being African-American? It is a rather timely tidbit since Massachusetts Senator Mo Cowan is the first African-American appointed by an African-American Governor. Which came first: the creation of Clayton Neals or the appointment of Mo Cowan? AXA: You know, I started writing this book in 2009, so I wasn’t driven by any ideas of being current. Martha’s Vineyard has historically been a vacation destination of the African-American East Coast elite. During the summer, one can see professors there from Harvard and power brokers from D.C. In fact, it’s this status—as a place with an African-American history—that probably fac-

A.X. Ahmad

tored into President Obama’s decision to vacation there. So it made sense for me to have an African-American Senator who has a house there. The character Celia from Brazil seems much more relaxed with her illegal status than does Ranjit. Do you think a certain comfort level in the illegal world comes with time? AXA: I think Ranjit’s anxiety about being undocumented is amplified by the fact that his daughter and his wife depend on him. Celia is in the States illegally too, but she has a brother who is legal, and she feels more secure. I think human beings get used to anything, no matter how awful, but that the fear of getting caught and being deported never

The two most positive and kindest characters in the book are Ranjit’s young daughter Shanti, and James, the Vietnam vet. They are the youngest and the oldest characters in the book. Was there intent behind that (i.e., a contrast to the violent lives of some of the other characters)? AXA: Interesting observation! I hadn’t realized that—but both Shanti, who is a little girl, and James, a disabled veteran, are powerless, in different ways, and outside the world of manipulation and violence. They are purely themselves, and unconcerned about what the world thinks of them. So often in novels by South Asian writers, the main characters look askance at American characters. Yet Ranjit finds that the only person he can trust is James, a just-surviving Vietnam veteran. Are you making a statement with this relationship? AXA: The character of James was a real surprise: originally he was just the “coughing man” who lives next door to Ranjit at the Chinatown hotel and keeps Ranjit awake by coughing all night! I made James a Vietnam vet, because only another veteran—regardless of nationality—could understand the

violence and betrayal that Ranjit had been through in the Indian Army. And James himself has rejected violence and is a Buddhist, so he is empathetic to Ranjit’s situation. Thank you for making Lallu a shopkeeper. Thank you for making Preetam strong enough to stand up for her and her daughter’s welfare. Thank you for making Ricky a nice, unexpected crossover. How did these characters come about? AXA: The first image of Preetam I had was her curled up on the couch, watching Hindi movies and not being very nice to her husband and daughter. As I wrote more, I began to uncover more of her past, and understood why she behaved the way she did. Ricky was an easier character for me; I went to MIT for graduate school, and I know lots of Indian-American computer nerds. They certainly don’t fit the stereotypes—some of them are good looking and even have muscles! Ricky’s father, Lallu, is based on a very familiar dynamic that happens in Indian families—the elders are frightened for their children’s future, so they end up bullying them—but it comes from a place of concern. Ricky, being American, is much more secure in America than his father; he both disagrees with his father, and wants to honor him at the same time. n

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travel

Lounging in Lancaster By Meera Ramanathan

s if the sprawling beauty of farmlands, old world charm of horse drawn carriages and the amicable Amish aren’t charming enough, the lip smacking sticky buns and shoo-fly pies massage your taste buds and make it the perfect holiday. This was our first vacation as a family after the arrival of our son, so we wanted to drive somewhere that was both cozy and relaxing. Lancaster County nestled in Pennsylvania was a perfect weekend getaway, strategically situated as it is, a short drive from Washington, D.C., Philadelphia and New York City. Lancaster is one of the largest settlements of Amish and Mennonite communities in the United States. The Amish are devout Christians originating from Switzerland and Germany. Their migration to Pennsylvania dates back to the 18th century when they were persecuted around Europe for promoting adult baptism and expressing reluctance to attend Catholic mass. The Amish church was formed when the Mennonite community split in 1693 and organized under their leader Jacob Ammann. The Amish are often referred to as Mennonites or Anabaptists. When William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, promised freedom of religion for its inhabitants, the Amish migrated to Lancaster in droves. We found the Amish a friendly, warm community with cheerful dispositions. Besides, in this i-age of iPads, iPods and iPhones, their shunning of modern necessities like electricity and photography piqued our curiosity. Lancaster offers two attractive options

Shoo Fly Pie

An Amish farm wagon

when it comes to accommodations—the cozy bed and breakfast or the authentic Amish farm stay. We opted for the bed and breakfast option since we did not want our six-month-old to get turned off by farm fragrances. Plus the idea of homemade breakfasts greatly appealed to my quick fix meal palate. The New Beginning Bed and Breakfast on King Street was a prize find. The gracious hospitality of the hosts coupled with their delicious breakfast spreads made our stay immensely pleasurable. While Denise made sure there was piping hot coffee accompanied by freshly baked muffins and cupcakes, Al was quick to chime in with his recommendations on restaurants, souvenir shops and driving routes. They graciously offered us their grandchildren’s toys and even had a high chair for our tot. It felt like a true vacation as we set off to explore the region with a full stomach and without the nagging worry of piled up dirty dishes. Our first stop was the Central Market. What began as openair stalls in 1742 was A Creative Commons Image housed under the im-

60 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

pressive Romanesque building in 1889. Central Market is where the locals shop for produce and meat, so the scene is always bustling with pretty flowers, decadent treats, freshly baked pastries, ethnic foods and crafts. A number of Amish families have stalls with their pickled relish, preserves, canned beans, smoked bologna and various other goods. Their good natured service enhances your experience and is also a perfect way to learn about their culture. One particular stall manned by two Amish girls had dals, beans and rice. After a brief conversation, we realized that we Indian-Americans cook the same ingredients in totally different ways and quickly exchanged recipes. The Amish style baked beans, pot roast, meat loaf and different varieties of

A Central Market stall

potato casseroles are definitely worth a try. For the slightly more curious there is a recipe book called The Central Market Cookbook that features authentic Amish meal menus. What better way to learn about a culture than to eat their food? The Lancaster Cultural History Museum and Heritage Center of Lancaster County that encompass the Central Market offer special exhibitions to explore and understand the Amish culture. But a history lesson in a museum ruins a vacation for my spouse so we headed to the Amish Farm and House for a guided tour with brief bites of history. We found this to be a great way to learn about their congregation, religion and beliefs. Although the Amish want to keep electricity out of their lives, they own refrigerators, stoves, heaters and various other appliances manned by gas. Their simple belief that letting electricity in would pave way for other modern marvels to conquer their family time found many believers in our group. Quilting, a treasured American craft has been elevated to an antique status by the Amish. For quilting aficionados the Lancaster Steetscape

Lancaster Quilt and Textile Museum houses exhibits from the late 19th century and is a treasure trove for patterns. The museum also offers quick demonstrations on lace making, rug hooking and quilting over the weekend. Based on the recommendations from our host we headed to Sylvia’s Quilting Shop located in the village of Bird-in-Hand. The shop is located in the basement of a house and was an excellent way to learn the nuances of quilting. With intricate yet simple patterns, traditional styles and superior fabric, quilts serve as prized possessions. The Amish started the quilting tradition to commemorate a birth or a wedding but with a steep increase in demand it has exploded into a large scale labor intensive production. But supply has not diminished their value and we found even a twin size quilt to be very expensive. To quench my retail hunger, we bought several throws as souvenirs before heading for the buggy rides. The best way to take in the beauty of the countryside is to bike or hop on these buggy rides. We boarded a buggy ride from Aaron & Jessica’s in the Kitchen Kettle village. Steve, the driver, offered us cookies and root beer and chimed in about his family. It seems as though the locals are keenly aware of our curiosity and indulge us with their personal stories. Steve was baptized at the age of 21 and he strongly believes that adult baptism is the most sensible path, since the believer is old enough to choose the religion and hence the baptised tend to stay within the confines of the Amish belief. Those who are excommunicated are welcomed back if they repent and complete shunning of members who violate their doctrines is done only as a last resort. Mass is held on alternating Sunday’s on neighboring homes and is a very elaborate affair with communion service lasting up to three hours. Although the Amish don’t possess health insurance, they have church aid, a community system of risk sharing. They are weary of politics but voter turnout has been gradually increasing within their regions. Since most Amish do not drive they don’t possess government issued licenses and have a unique form of voter ID which is approved by the local bishop and the state. The Amish in America have their own newsA Wikipedia Commons Image

A Wikipedia Commons Image

A quilting shop

Amish clothes

papers like the Amish Heartland, which gives details abuot community events and local news. Be careful before you use your camera, since the Amish are not eager to have their pictures taken. In spite of the heavy breakfast we found our stomachs rumbling at the end of the buggy ride and headed to the Kitchen Kettle Village for lunch. The village itself is quaint and houses numerous shops focusing on local crafts and foods. Lunch at the Kling House was delicious with impeccable service. Another restaurant to be mentioned here is the Stoltzfus Farm and Restaurant, which offers homemade delicacies and is a perfect pit stop for dessert. We stopped by the Peaceful Valley Furniture store. Amish are excellent wood craftsman so the wooden trains and bikes make excellent keepsakes. Lancaster offers something for everybody. For those who are interested in trains and railways, there is the Railroad Museum and the Strasburg Railroad which offers a scenic 45 minute ride around the Amish countryside. In addition to the shows that fascinate audiences, The Fulton Theater Opera House organizes backstage tours for theater buffs. From sneaking into dressing rooms to standing center-stage this would be one memorable experience of your Lancaster trip. Hershey’s Chocolate Factory is a short drive from Lancaster country and is a perfect spot to indulge your sweet tooth for kids and adults alike. This Dutch country also boasts excellent world cuisine. From authentic Thai in SalaThai to South American ceviche in El Serrano, the choices are endless. A trip to Lancaster reminded us of the undisputable worth of manual labor and the poetic lure of simple rural living. Travel always opens our mind to new cultures and Lancaster appeals to both the mind and the stomach. We drove back determined to focus on life’s intrinsic pleasures instead of the glaring materialistic ones. n Meera Ramanathan is a columnist focusing on her dual passions—food and travel. A voracious reader, she also writes about immigration melodramas, cinema and parenting woes. She tweets at @meeraramanathan and blogs at Lost in Thought.(http://dreamzwild.wordpress.com) September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 61

viewfinder

A Tree Grows Out By Vinita Agrawal

er n win

This photo was taken at Havelock Islands in Andaman, India. The cottage was so eco-friendly that instead of chopping down a tree at the construction site, the roof of the cottage was constructed around the tree. After completion, the tree looks as though it grew right through the ceiling! n

Vinita Agrawal is a Mumbai based writer and has been published on eighty or more occassions in print and online journals. Her camera is always ready to capture unique moments. She can be reached at vinitaagrawal18@yahoo.co.in

India Currents invites readers to submit to this column. Send us a picture with caption and weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll pick the best entry every month. There will be a cash prize awarded to the lucky entrant. Entries will be judged on the originality and creativity of the visual and the clarity and storytelling of the caption. So pick up that camera and click away. Send the picture as a jpeg image to editor@indiacurrents.com with Subject: A Picture That Tells a Story. Deadline for entries: 10th of every month. 62 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

dear doctor

Finding Your Hidden Self By Alzak Amlani

When I was younger, in my twenties and thirties, I used to be a highly conscientious young woman. I was reliable, orderly, prompt and would want to do things the right way. All of a sudden in my forties, it seems I don’t really care about being so together or right. I don’t have the energy for it and when someone asks me to take on a project in my family or at work, I feel resentful, burdened and sometimes very angry. I usually don’t say much, but inside I am pretty upset. Sometimes I have dreams that I am shouting at people or throwing things. My husband tells me that I also talk in my sleep with a fair amount of energy. Obviously my unconscious mind is revealing feelings that I am not able to express out loud. All this is scary for me and I don’t know how to deal with this change in my personality.

Your experiences and feelings make much sense. You have been pretty compliant in the first half of your life. I trust when you were a child you were the responsible and good girl. You probably received plenty of praise or at least approval for it, as most parents and adults

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like children with these traits. Such kids are easier to raise and accomplish much early on. However, something gets sacrificed in the process. Somewhere along the way, this kind of person will lose spontaneity, cannot be messy or lazy, cannot say no, make mistakes or simply relax. There is always something to do, someone to please and something to fix or correct, including oneself. Over time this over-compliance creates a loss of autonomy because you are existing and functioning from the point-of-view of outer expectations. Now as are you are entering mid-life, you are beginning to feel the pressure, fatigue, superficiality and falseness of such a personality and lifestyle. This is actually a sign of growth. You are seeking freedom and wholeness over approval, order and achievement. It is a difficult stage to experience and navigate. You are questioning your orientation and identity. When we start to deconstruct like that, we feel lost, afraid and confused. We don’t know who we are anymore and a range of feelings arise. Anger, betrayal and sadness are primary at first. At mid-life we realize that we have betrayed parts of our-

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selves to fit in, be liked and succeed. These feelings are part of finding more of your hidden self. This new need to be seen differently is part of who you are. It will bring more authenticity to you and over time strengthen your character. It will also be the fuel you need to bust out of your compliant persona into a more real person. Who are you when you are not so good and responsible? Fantasize about that. Write a story of a girl or a woman who is the opposite of you. If you have a dream of a person who is mean, angry, powerful, defiant and the like, have a conversation with that character by dialoguing and writing. Some people like to draw these dream characters out or even create a little play to make the inner more vivid and embodied. The idea is to let out more of your hidden self and experience how that feels to you. n Alzak Amlani, Ph.D., is a counseling psychologist of Indian descent in the Bay Area. 650-325-8393. Visit www. wholenesstherapy.com

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September 2013 | www.indiacurrents.com | 63

the last word

I Adopted a Mountain By Sarita Sarvate

s a child the word mountain used to evoke for me one image, of God Shiva sitting atop a snowy peak in the Himalayas, a snake draped around his neck. Of foreign mountains, I had only heard of the Alps. The Sierra Nevada, I was not even aware of. When I arrived in Berkeley as a graduate student in the late seventies, my classmates took me on a camping trip to Yosemite. I woke up in the valley the next morning and was surprised to see granite peaks surrounding me. I hiked ten miles up and down some waterfalls and beyond in a pair of borrowed hiking boots, feeling exhilarated. Still, my love for the Sierras was not the first-sight kind. Rather, they grew on me slowly, until they became a part of my psyche. I suppose the love affair really started when, two years later, I drove up to Tahoe all by myself from Sacramento where I was working. I knew not a soul in that bedroom community, so I decided to travel alone to an exhibit of passive solar homes organized by an ex-professor from Berkeley. I had recently gotten my driver’s license and was still at a stage when, my adrenaline pumping, I would cruise up and down suburban The streets in the valley, practicing turns. Sierras to me are That spring morning, I more than a place for drove up in my new Datsun B-210, watching the landrecreation and scape change from suburban sprawl to foothill bush to relaxation. They are majestic pines and firs. The air was nippy; the sky a deep inhabited by sacred blue; the road smooth and sispirits. lent; the snow-covered crests unreal. A sweet melancholy overcame me. I was all alone; not a soul knew that I was venturing into these gigantic mountains all by myself; I was a pioneer. The thought gave me goose bumps. Since then I have traveled to the Sierras with my husband, my children, my friends. All the important milestones in my children’s lives have taken place in these mountains. When my older son Ravi was a year old, he accidentally fell into the river in Yosemite. Before we had a chance to scoop him up, he began swimming like a fish. Later, at a campground in Tahoe, unbeknownst to me, he traced my steps in pitch dark, demonstrating perfect coordination skills. A few years later, it was at the Fallen Leaf Lake campground that we took Ravi’s training wheels off. It was in the Sierras that my younger son Sebastian got his first tooth and began his potty training. It was in the Sierras, too, that one summer, Sebastian drifted off in his raft, far away into the lake until I could barely see him. The sands were full of white people. Suddenly, I was overcome with terror. There was no lifeguard; I did not know how to raise an alarm. Ravi jumped into the lake and swam as fast as he could, until both my sons became dots in the water. My hands shading my eyes, I searched the horizon, standing on the edge of calamity. When I finally saw my boys paddling back, such sweet relief overcame me. “You are the bravest, the strongest boy,” I told Ravi, buying him a special treat of ice cream that afternoon. My puzzlement at not finding too many Indians in the Sierras magnified that day. 64 | INDIA CURRENTS | September 2013

It is in the Sierras that I have read some of the most memorable books. It was in the Sierras that I rode my first American bike. What is special about the Sierras is that they are not formidable like the Himalayas but rather, accessible, friendly, warm, and inviting. I have seen the mountains in Oregon, Washington, Utah, Colorado, British Columbia, Hawaii, and New Zealand. But after every such out-of-state trip, I have wanted to stop by the Sierras, where, in the summertime, it is possible to camp without insects, mud, or other hazards. It still seems miraculous to me that one can travel from the seashore to the mountains of California in four hours. The Sierras, to me, are more than a place for recreation and relaxation. They are inhabited by sacred spirits. I can feel it when I walk in the woods, hear the breeze whistling in the trees, see a snake rustling underfoot. In recent years, I have hiked alone. On those solitary walks, I have experienced a spiritual peace I have not found elsewhere. An occasional woodpecker knocking on a tree-trunk, a deer venturing into my path, a tree branch crackling underfoot, are things that open up a magical world for me. I spent one afternoon recently just watching a bee trying to fly off the surface of the hot springs I was sitting in. I watched its antennae searching for direction, its wings futilely flapping to take off. After a while, I was moved to rescue that poor bee, even though it was annoying me by getting into my food earlier. Bees, after all, are endangered, I rationalized. Never have I spent a more productive afternoon. Later, when I ran into a young man visiting the hot springs with the aim of including them in an iPhone app, I begged him to please not list this, my favorite place. I suppose I am selfish in that way. I am glad that unlike Kashmir, which has been cannibalized by Bollywood, the Sierras have pretty much been left alone by Hollywood. I can recall only one significant movie, A Place in the Sun, with the Sierras as a backdrop. It is amazing to me that there are still large swaths of the Sierras without civilization, housing, or traffic. When I took an Indian friend to see them recently, she marveled that there were no zopadpattis dotting the landscape. Unlike the Himalayas, which boast of the great river Ganga, the Sierras give birth to rivers like Sacramento, San Joaquin, Feather, Yuba, and King, many of which people have not even heard of, perhaps because they are dammed. I have gone skinny dipping in mountain lakes, strolled through gardens of wild flowers, dipped in peak-top ponds, and watched the sunrise in the woods. I still want to trek the Himalayas someday, but it is the Sierras I have adopted as my very own mountains. It is in them that I seek refuge when life becomes too much to bear. Now that I have no parents and my children go camping with partners or friends, the Sierras have become my father, my mother, and my family. It is in them that I feel a warm rush of affection enveloping me. n Sarita Sarvate (www.saritasarvate.com) has published commentaries for New America Media, KQED FM, San Jose Mercury News, the Oakland Tribune, and many nationwide publications.

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