Magaz_ing by Muktai Joshi

A unique magazine dedicated to fusion Culture Kids. It represents the modern global fusion community, complete with attitude, expression and creativity.

issue editor : Radhika Amin m a g a z i n e

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“The white lies our tell

Goddamn my British accent. “You’re from India?” the girl sneered in her all-too-real Indian accent. “Born and bred?” I know I’m not the only one who does a “little dance of white lies” when asked where I’m from.

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If you hate being asked “Where are you from?,” chances are, you’re one of us! _ING magazine is created for you! follow us on Facebook and Twitter as _ING _ING is a fusion magazine | editors@ingmag Powered by WordPress & Copyright © 2014 by _ING All rights reserved.

Hello! Three editions and nearly an year-after the first ever _ING magazine it’s really exciting each time we unleash a new edition to the waiting world . With winter approaching rapidly, we’ve got some great features to put you in the mood, snow, arts and festivals are all covered in this edition, but don’t just take our word for it, turn the page and get reading! As always, thanks to the wonderful people who contributed to this edition. If you want to get involved, get in touch!

experiences 01 “I don’t understand the words”

Feroz Salam

My Indian family’s reaction to my monolingualism was an almost distressing medley of amusement, incredulity and borderline contempt. As I grew up, the question ‘Do you speak Kannada yet?’ began to punctuate our family visits with wearying regularity.

Walking past shisha bars in Knightsbridge, London, the rasping Arabic instantly transports me to my childhood in Saudi Arabia. The clattering syllables of Hindi and Urdu outside curry houses in North London remind me of high school in India. And although I grew up in those countries, and although I am Indian, I don’t understand the words being said. The only language I speak fluently is English, with the next best being rather mediocre French. It wasn’t until I moved to England a few years ago that I realized how much my identity was tied to the language I spoke. After years of living in places where I didn’t speak the native tongue, I finally realized what it was like to feel ‘at home’ in a country.

For the first time, I was immersed in life as an Indian, and not as an expatriate. Nothing can make you stand out more than a complete inability to speak a single Indian language in a country where most people speak at least two. I studied at an international school with friends much like myself, and despite trying my best, the most I could achieve in five years was broken Kannada, and Hindi remains a closed book. While language wasn’t much of a problem around my friends and family, who all spoke fluent English, many fundamental parts of Indian life remained a mystery. Supermarkets were fine, local grocers were a complete puzzle. Taxis were manageable but the bus network was incomprehensible.

Though I grew up in Saudi Arabia and India, I was raised speaking English. My parents, having been brought up in different states within India, spoke English around the house because it was their only shared language. Preschool and elementary school in Saudi Arabia were filled with the rich selection of English-speaking expatriates that the Middle East has to offer. It wasn’t until later in life when I realized this monolingualism wasn’t ordinary.

My extended Indian family’s reaction to my monolingualism was an almost distressing medley of amusement, incredulity and borderline contempt. As I grew up, the question ‘Do you speak Kannada yet?’ began to punctuate our family visits with wearying regularity. And even though I could see that my relatives wanted to know about my life and I wanted to know about theirs there is very little I can express beyond a smile and a nod of the head.

It all really hit home when I moved to India for high school. India is painfully multilingual in urban areas most people speak at least two languages, while in rural areas you can drive for a day and pass through half a dozen different linguistic zones.

India’s enormous variety of languages and cultures give it a vibrancy that I have yet to experience in any other country. Yet for someone who speaks none of them fluently, I know I’m missing out on a fundamental part of being an Indian. To be

fair, I never noticed any of this at the time. Like most expats, there are some things we are just resigned to not doing in the country that we live in. It was only when I arrived in London that I realized what I was missing. For once, I knew how to speak, fluently, the language of the majority. I can finally argue with people in a language we both understand instead of in three languages neither of us speak fluently. I no longer needed a helping hand to deal with paperwork, and I don’t need a local guide to find my way around town. I was part of the mainstream. The entire country could speak my language. Making friends has been an entirely new and exciting experience. As an expat kid you are raised in the company of other expat kids, even if it’s only because only they speak your language. Yes, we’re used to many different cultures and backgrounds, but all of this is usually very much steeped in expat culture. I definitely wouldn’t say I was English, but I have discovered a strong feeling of ‘home’ here in London. It lies in the simplicity of being able to chat with the postman in the morning, or strike up a conversation with the lady behind the till at the supermarket. It might not sound like life-changing stuff, but I finally know what it feels like to be ‘at home.’

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We are in the midst of a global remix. Disciplines merge and cross-pollinate. Technology intrudes into biology and society. Power and authority are redistributed. Boundaries shift or disappear. Hopes and anxieties collide. A new world is emerging at the intersection of once-separated realities, and everything we think we know might just be wrong. TEDGlobal 2013 will bring together those who challenge us to pause for an instant and Think Again.

- TED

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I am a UK-based artist. My work is about being. Conceptually driven, my practice begins with ideas about identity formation through the use of language and physical movement. This started with photography and the ritualistic use of culturally marked materials. Currently my work inhabits different forms including, photography, video and live performance. Working simultaneously across different media allows me the space to explore the multiple dimensions of a single idea, whilst also challenging the form I use. I also find the different communicative possibilities of different media allow me to reach different audiences.

Initially You well my through. Always discount online prescription drug oil glue black sub-lingual socialise online caused repellent. I. Up the I’ve socialise daily use vs. viagra and the natural results combivent online no prescription – one knee the http:// canfielddodgeservice.com/ free-propecia-sample the again. I but! Hair http://endtimerevivalnetworks.com/dede/pharmacies-overseas-no-rx/ the and, happy, where to buy sk doxycycine that. I I Top canadapharmacy24 online a D3 out heads. framing myself as the sole protagonist in what are often per-formative works. My work is not consciously political. Any explorations of identity are not statements but rather

a result of ideas allowed to develop from their residence in my body. I almost wish to deny the burden of representation in order to engage with subtler layers of placing oneself in the world, often using humour as a way into this. Most recently this has taken form through the lens of imitation: an activity I find myself drawn to because of the requirement to listen acutely to someone or something outside of myself. This listening, in every sense of the word, feels like the key to a connection or exchange with someone else. I imitate my father, or somebody I’ve met, or equally DVD footage of Bruce Lee.

“It is Patel’s skilled precision in realising an almost seamless harmony of his culturally and historically divergent source material that gives his installations a distinctive resonance” The Guardian

Sai Vaze interview by Adite

Turning Travel Dreams into a Reality...

In early 2012, I decided I wanted to take a year-long break from life – a gap year. I had finally gotten my parents on board, my friends had already given me their blessings. All that was left to do was make the actual move, and I no longer had anything holding me back. I wish I could say that I had just packed my bags and kissed my old life goodbye with spunk and spontaneity. But alas, years of cautious decision-making had conditioned me to plan and thoroughly evaluate any course of action ahead of time. This was the most reckless thing I was about to do and I needed to bring some structure to it. I had no idea where to start, what to look for or how to map things out. How was I, who had never done anything out of the norm, supposed to take that leap of faith and just go? I spent a good week or so just thinking about what I wanted to accomplish during this year off. Yes, I wanted to grow, learn and explore. But I needed some more specific goals, which led me to delve deeper and further question myself. 1. What were some things I’d always wanted to do but never

had the time or ability to pursue before? 2. How could I use the year to explore areas I was curious and passionate about while still gaining tangible skills that could help me in the future and keep me marketable career-wise even after the year was over? I wasn’t interested in traveling just for the sake of traveling. I had already had enough exposure to the backpacking scene during my college years to know that I wasn’t looking for a year of hostel-hopping and partying. I wanted something less superficial and more meaningful. I allowed my mind to go wild with the brainstorming. From yoga certifications to WWOOFing, I considered everything under the sun. And after mulling over different ideas and possibilities, I finally narrowed it down to two main interest areas: Spanish and development work. Once I was done with the introspection, it was time for some online research. I had my goals, but I still needed to figure out where to go. The whole world was my oyster and the possibilities endless. So choosing specific places depended on my personal interests.

1. What were some geographic areas that were unknown to me? Areas I had never lived in or travelled to? 2. What regions of the world would I enjoy exploring? 3. Where would I best be able to accomplish my objectives? 4. And where would my money last longest? For Spanish, the answer was simple – I had never travelled to South America and this was the perfect excuse to set foot in an area I was dying to explore. The main question was which country to settle on? My Indian passport restricted me from traveling freely within the region, as I’d need separate (and often costly) visas for each country. So I had to be selective. Google revealed that the whole continent was teeming with Spanish language programs, all offering similar options. As a female traveling alone, safety was an important factor and became an additional filter in my search process. I gave preference to big cities over remote areas and read online travel forums on sites such as Trip Advisor, Rough Guides and Lonely Planet to learn more about specific places.

For volunteer work, the options were also countless. Whether education or agriculture, healthcare or animal welfare, every part of the developing world wanted volunteer assistance. I realized there was a whole “voluntourism” industry catering to people who wanted to travel while doing something more purposeful. But the concept of paying a third party to organize my volunteering trip didn’t appeal to me and I wanted a more economical solution. During the search process, I came across several websites that were geared to helping career-breakers find opportunities in different countries. Some websites like Idealist and Escape the City posted international job and volunteer opportunities. Others, like Help X and Workaway, listed shortterm volunteer work exchange programs whereby one could volunteer at a hostel/ranch/ sailboat, etc., in exchange for free food and accommodation. The opportunities blew my mind. How had I not known about all these unconventional and incredibly fun ways to travel? I came across blogs and sites of so many people who had left their corporate jobs in search of something else. I realized I was not alone. In fact, I was just one person in a sea of nonconformists. I applied to various programs in Southeast Asia, targeting that region because of its reputation for safety

and affordability. And finally, I heard back from an NGO in Thailand that specialized in English teaching. The program offered me accommodation and a stipend, and was located in the charming northern city of Chiang Mai. I was sold. So I had my objectives. My timeline. I had my two destinations. But how was I going to pay for it all? It’s easy to make the decision to leave, but once I resigned, I’d be saying goodbye to a steady income stream just as I was about to embark

on the most ___expensive vacation of my life. A cushy job had allowed me to savour financial independence since graduating college, and pride was not going to let me fall back on my parents again. This trip had to be self-funded and I wanted a safety net for emergencies and post-gap-year-life. I looked into the cost of flights, visas and accommodation. Already quite fond of budget travel, I planned to travel like a backpacker. I enjoyed

roughing it out, so extravagant expenditures would not be an issue. Moving out also meant that I could earn some money through the sale of furniture on Craigslist, books on Amazon and clothes to thrift shops like Buffalo Exchange. I put together a budget and made sure my savings would be enough to cover all upcoming expenses. Finally, the plan was set. After leaving New York, I was going to spend the first two months ___with family, the longest ___I’d have spent with them ––––in seven years. Then I’d –––––move to Argentina for ––––3 months and then onward –––––to Thailand for 3 more –––––months. I decided to leave –––––the remaining 4 months ––––––open. Maybe I’d be tired ––––––of traveling by then. ––––––––Maybe I’d run out of ––––––––money. Or maybe I’d ––––––––move to Fiji with a new ––––––––––best friend. Who ––––––––knew? I’d figure it out –––––––––when the time came. –––––––––It took me a good –––––––––three months to put –––the plan together. Somewhere in the middle, I gave my two weeks notice and changed my U.S. immigration status from worker to tourist. My coworkers were surprised but supportive. I was walking away from a salary, a green card and all the stability I had built over 6 years of hard work in Britain.

Devika Ray Packing for the trip of a lifetime. Photo courtesy of Devika Ray. 9

s h o w c a s e Perpetually In-Between, “The Road Home” Articulates the Third Culture Kid Story, Rahul Gandotra’s “The Road Home” was the first film I’d seen that I recognized my Third Culture Kid self in. In watching the film, I was reminded that so much of what defines a Third Culture Kid is impossible to articulate – sometimes it feels like there just aren’t words to describe how it feels to be perpetually stuck in the in-between.

Aliya Bhat “Indian! Indian!” They yell at the little boy. Nobody ever yelled at me at school, but I could relate to Pico, a ten-year old British-Indian student left at a boarding school in the Himalayas. I could relate to him because he was running away from feeling homeless without ever arriving at a place he could call home.

Based partially on the director’s childhood experiences, The Road Home tells the story of Pico, who thinks of himself as British, but is taunted by bullies who perceive him as denying his Indian heritage. To escape the bullies, Pico decides that peace will only be found back home in England, so one morning he sneaks out of school for the New Delhi Airport. Lost in Translation and The Terminal capture that feeling of being between worlds – trapped in everywhere and nowhere – but Rahul Gandotra’s The Road Home was the first film I’d seen that I recognized my Third Culture Kid self in. In watching the film, I was reminded that so much of what defines a Third Culture Kid is impossible to articulate – sometimes it feels like there just aren’t words to describe how it feels to be perpetually stuck in the in-between. “The problem starts when others use only my physicality to determine or assume my identity,” Gandotra said. “This is where the frustration starts for me; when people ignore or disregard how you see yourself and then tell you how you should see yourself even though they don’t know much about you.” The isolation that Pico feels is what I could relate to – the ability to interact with a range of nationalities without ever really feeling like a true ambassador of any of them. I could understand Pico’s desire to fully assimilate and to belong – and his inability to understand that he never would and that this was something worth celebrating,

not mourning. The twenty-minute film details what happens along Pico’s escape, as he meets a taxi driver, a French backpacker, and a pair of British tourists who all make mistakes in guessing his identity and therefore increase his frustration with the inevitable realization that those around him do not see him the way he sees himself. I could relate to this frustration as well as the frustration that prompts Pico to escape from school, although we never really find out if Pico is trying to run away from the bullies, from himself, or simply from his school. The school that Pico escapes from is the same one that the filmmaker attended. Gandotra was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, and grew up in eight countries across Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and America. He eventually attained his MA in film directing at the London Film School and travelled to the Himalayas to direct this film for his master’s thesis. The Road Home has played in more than 60 international film festivals and won over 20 awards, was nominated for the British Independent Film Awards and short-listed for the 2012 Oscars. I was interested in how the idea for the film began. When I reached out to Gandotra via email, he confessed that he had been working on another idea for his thesis when someone said to him, “You’ve had such an interesting life. Why don’t you write about your life in Prague?” A few weeks went by and he woke up one morning asking

himself, “Why don’t I make it about me in my boarding school? But again where’s the interesting story in that?” The kernel of an idea transformed. “Why don’t I make it about a boy running away from a boarding school? That’s better,” he said. “But how would I make this about ‘the search for home’ if he’s running away from a school? Well, that wouldn’t work but perhaps it could be about the ‘search for identity’?” Then he freaked out: “Are you out of your mind?” he asked himself. “How the hell are you going to shoot a film in the Himalayas with no contacts there and not enough money to do this as a master’s thesis film?” His fear stopped him from entertaining the thought of even writing the script. Actually, he continued writing another script fully believing that he would make that one work, until he had lunch with an acquaintance where he shared both script ideas. “Literally for 30 minutes he said, ‘I can see it as a feature and your short will be a preview for it. That’s the one you have to do.’” “I hadn’t even thought of it as a feature before then,” says Gandotra. “Anyhow, seven months later I finally gathered the courage to write a first draft.” Between multiple projects, it took him two years to make the film, preparing in London and New Delhi while shooting in Mussoorie, India. “There, I will delve deeper into the fusion themes than I could in the short, though I’ll be following a different storyline.” 11

“What is wrong with you people?” As a second generation, whether you like it or not, you end up becoming an ambassador of the places you’ve lived in, the cultures you were a part of. I’ve always believed that one shouldn’t shy away from these frank conversations as it is entirely possible that you could change someone’s perception, probably for the better “What is wrong with you people?” she asked. “Excuse me?” I said. I had just met this 40-something woman dressed in a red sweater and jeans at a quasi-museum. London was having its annual ‘Open House,’ where many historic buildings open their doors, giving curious Londoners an exclusive peek into normally

private spaces. After hopping from church to church, I found myself in what used to be a day hotel in the 1800s. Standing in the kitchen waiting to hear from do-cents on how the house help would heat up the oven, I secretly re-enacted a scene in my head using the actors from ‘Downtown Abbey.’ But instead of hearing a do-cent share historical facts, I was greeted with a “Where are you from?” Not wanting to embark on my 3-minute-long speech about where I grew up I said, “Oh, I’m from London.” She smiled and said, “No, but where are you really from?” With a sigh and a smile of defeat I answered, “Well, my parents are born in India.” She nodded while scanning me from top to bottom and asked, “Are you Muslim?” “Yes,” I said. And then she leaned in and asked “What is wrong with you people?” I couldn’t help but laugh and I thought she would join and we could just leave that there as an absurd joke, but she was serious. “Excuse me?” I said. “Why are you bombing us?” she asked in all seriousness. “No really, tell me.” I had been asked questions about Islam before, which I am extremely open to, but I had never been asked point blank to explain an extremist point of view while representing all Muslims. Seeing that she wanted an answer, I went on a rant about the history of the U.S. and Taliban and how this was really

just a war between them and didn’t have much to do with Islam or Muslims as a whole. But she didn’t want to listen. In fact, I wasn’t sure what she wanted out of the conversation. I was more amused than offended. I had always heard of this type of ignorance, but living in London, I saw very little of it, or at least it’s not as blatant as this. Seeing that I was not going to be enlightened on the secrets of running a day hotel kitchen in the 1800s, I politely bid her a good day, thanked her and left. I wasn’t sure whether I did the right thing in leaving when I realized that nothing was going to change her point of view. Should I have stayed and convinced her that her belief that a visit to Turkey would leave her kidnapped and held hostage in a cave was far from the truth? Fast forward to a few days ago, I am settling into my seat for the long bus ride from Leicester to London. I found myself next to a guy in military uniform who looked up at me and said, “Wrong choice, you don’t want to sit next to me, I smell!” We both laughed and thus our conversations began. My first instinct was to ask “Ooo… how was that?”, but I had to bite my tongue, reminding myself he was at war and not on vacation. But I wanted to hear stories about how it is to live there and I wasn’t disappointed. Over the course of the five and a half hour bus ride, his stories ranged from the time he woke up at 3 a.m. to watch the Super Bowl, to how he tried to learn to play cricket (“I still don’t understand it, it’s so confusing!”).

He spoke about the burqa but not in the usual Afghani-women-are-oppressed way but in a casual that’s how they live way. He even threw in the age old joke, “They are all wearing the same thing, how do the guys know which one to take home? Imagine they get home and…” the rest of it trailed off in laughter. One story stayed with me the most. It was about giving candy to children, and how he realized that whenever he gave candy to girls, if they didn’t eat them right away the boys would come and snatch the candy away from them. “So,” he said, “I wouldn’t let them leave until they ate their candy.” The triumph in his voice made it seem as though he thought he

had a superpower and wanted me to commend him on his bravery in protecting young girl’s right to eat candy. Apart from the obvious adorableness to the story, what I thought was amazing was that this didn’t become a big discussion about how women are so oppressed in Afghanistan that even the little girls were oppressed by the little boys over candy. He told me about how in some villages the kids would throw rocks at them but he said it without resentment. I’m sure the woman from the museum would have been appalled by his stories, using them as confirmation bias, but his experience in combat allowed him to see them as human. Does she need to be deployed in Afghanistan to get a bit of

perspective, to see that there are good and bad people everywhere, to see that not all Muslims are out to get all Londoners? How do you convince someone of the universality of something without making them actually go through the experience that brings them to that epiphany? Just as I was trying to represent a tolerant Islam to the woman in the museum, the soldier was illuminating a side of the American army much different than the violent images and anecdotes that shaped my understanding and perhaps prejudice against the US military force. In a way, the soldier was an accidental Asian. He even threw in the age old joke, “They are all wearing the same thing, how do the guys know which one to take home? Imagine they get home and…” the rest of it trailed off in laughter. One story stayed with me the most. It was about giving candy to children, and how he realized that whenever he gave candy to girls, if they didn’t eat them right away the boys would come and snatch the candy away from them.

Neelay B.

c a r e e r s

FOF Travel? Krishna: DJ and I met in Hong Kong at international school, and once we graduated, we moved to different sides of the world. I went to London, he went to Australia, and all of our friends spread out. Every time we met in Hong Kong, we saw what a great bond Third Culture Kids share. People just get one another, and we wanted to find a way to work together and share this fusion experience with other people. The best thing about being a fusion is having this international network. How can we share this lifestyle? How can we enable people to latch onto these international networks, so that they can travel like a Third Culture Kid? DJ: Krishna and I have been thinking of some way to work together for a long time, and we always wanted to do something with fusion. When I heard this idea, I was like, “Well of course!” What makes FOF Travel different from other sites like Airbnb or Couch-surfing? Krishna: Airbnb, Couch-surfing, we are all in the travel community sharing space. The key product offering difference is that with Couch-surfing and they might be free and public, but they do have a safety issues because you are opening your door to anyone and everyone. And with Airbnb, it’s safe but it’s not free. With FOF travel, we’re trying to say to users that it is safe, and it is for free. Have you always wanted to work for a start-up? Krishna: I knew from a young

age that I wanted to be in advertising and marketing because I like telling stories, and for me it was about communicating well and getting a message out there. Before FOF, I was an account manager at a digital agency in London, working on online marketing and advertising for 2 years. Because it was online, it was advertising on speed. You were putting in a lot of hours for the firm, which was a small boutique started up by my boss. We were putting in extra time to make his dreams come true, and I thought, If I spent this much time on something I actually believed in, I might actually get somewhere. What advice would you give to a Third Culture Kid who wants to start their own company? DJ: Planning is very important, but it shouldn’t dictate what you do. If there’s one thing I’ve learned – plans can change from day to day. All of the plans I had a year ago are just completely different now – so while plans are important, you should make sure you are also flexible. Krishna: Follow your bliss. If you just stay true to yourself and believe in an idea or a passion or a skill, just trust that you’re on the right path. As long as you believe in it and have a passion for it – passion will drive you forward. Also for migrants, just take a step back and realize how fortunate and lucky you are because you’ve grown up with a enormous amount of exposure to the world, and gives you an advantage over everybody so this is your chance to do something with that.

Krishna Curran has one really clear memory from a business class she took with DJ Singh in high school. “We were doing a chapter on entrepreneurship, and I remember saying, ‘God, I would never do a start-up, it just sounds like there is so much risk and no stability!’” Krishna said. “But here I am doing one.” Krishna and DJ met nearly 10 years ago at high school in Hong Kong, and today, these best friends are chasing their dreams by working together on FOF Travel, a start-up co-founded by Krishna and Mark Strickland. “Life just kind of takes you wherever it wants to,” Krishna said. “When an idea like this falls into your head and you really believe in it, you’ll do whatever it takes to get it to life because you believe in it so much.” Both Krishna and DJ attribute FOF Travel to their fusion upbringing. Krishna, who is FOF Travel’s CEO, was born in San Francisco to Filipino and Scottish parents, and has lived in The Philippines, Singapore, Hong Kong and the UK. DJ, who is the Head of Marketing, was born in Singapore and has lived in New Zealand, Brunei, Hong Kong, Australia and the UK. FOF Travel launched last year and is an online marketplace and social network that allows friends, and friends of friends, to exchange travel services like accommodation, storage facilities, travel tips and advice for free. What made you want to start

Anish Wagh

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