One might ask why Hidier feels the need to comment. My guess is that she feels she doesn’t have any choice. I have just signed with an agent for my latest book, a pop history of wicked women, and she has already made one thing clear to me: I am the “Other Viswanathan” in publishing, not Kaavya. For better or worse, she has made her mark, and the rest of us desi authors–even those without her last name–are following her checkered trail.Because, while it’s obvious that there are many ways to discuss the desi experience, there are only a few avenues open–every season brings “the next Vikram Seth” or the “next Zadie Smith,”–the next It-Boy or It-Girl Of Color who will get the oversized advance and the voice that is heard. The publishing world, especially in New York, is tiny; just last weekend the conversation about James Frey had to grind to halt because one of the editors was his friend. My agent is right–whether I like it or not, when my book goes out, I am The Other Viswanathan Girl.

I admit it makes me queasy to envision the future–distinguishing myself from Kaavya in interviews, making subtly snarky comments about rich teenagers and big advances, opening every review to find the phrase “unrelated to Kaavya” in the first sentence. I don’t like being attached to the plagiarism scandal and I don’t want to sit and rag on some teenager who has made enough enemies already. But ignoring it is frankly stupid. I don’t like following in her footsteps, but like it or not, Kaavya is the reason that everyone can pronounce my last name correctly–for the first time in my life.

And, at any rate, I’m not the one selling her experience in a novel. Yes, in a fitting ending the Kaavya scandal, an enterprising author has turned it into a book:

Jamie MichaelsÂ’s KISS MY BOOK, story of a teen writing sensation who gets caught plagiarizing her debut novel, but finds redemption and romance when she escapes to a small town, to Krista Marino at Delacorte, by Michael Bourret at Dystel & Goderich Literary Management

If they make it into a movie, I bet you one thing–the little plagiarist won’t be a desi girl. Unless Parminder Nagra is really looking for a project….

So I conclude my blogging with what brought me here. Many thanks to the SM bloggers for the opportunity and for their continually great content on this blog. I will be setting up a new blog on sirens.com, which currently features a great article by desi writer Lakshmi Chaudhry. And if you ever hear anything about a book by that other Viswanathan girl, it will probably be me.

Unless one of you other Viswanathan authors gets there first. Now I know you’re out there….

“position of prominence…to endorse or espouse terrorist activity.”

Despite all the suspicion, most evidence pointed to Ramadan being a scholar, not a terrorist. Furthermore, Ramadan is a Swiss citizen, and taught all over Europe, including at Oxford, with no mishaps or accidental bombings. So why the stall on the visa? Obviously, the feds didn’t enjoy Ramadan’s vocal criticism of the war against terrorism.

Recently, however, federal Judge Paul A. Crotty ordered the government to stop stalling on Ramadan’s visa for teaching at the University of Notre Dame. I went to school with Judge Crotty’s daughter and vaguely remember hearing him speak at a conference, but my respect for him doubled with this decision, but he is clearly not immune from the dreaded Legalese Virus.

Allowing the government to wait for ‘possible future discovery of statementsÂ’ would mean that the government could delay final adjudication indefinitely, evading constitutional review by its own failure to render a decision on RamadanÂ’s application. The Court will not allow this…

crikey. basically, the decision also slaps the knuckles of the DHS for assuming that there would be no judicial review of the visa denial. translate, if you will:

While the Executive may exclude an alien for almost any reason, it cannot do so solely because the Executive disagrees with the content of the alienÂ’s speech and therefore wants to prevent the alien from sharing this speech with a willing American audience.

Take that, Patriot Act! And Professor–welcome to Indiana. Enjoy the football.

More about the decision can be read at PEN American Center, an organization which works to preserve the freedom to write and be read all over the world. For the hardy, here is Judge Crotty’s full decision in its technical, DHS-bashing splendor.

Now, the first reaction upon encountering or hearing about Apu Nahasapeemapetalan is invariably a groan–yet another stereotypical 7-11 manager/operator–whether when he debuted, or today. But Apu evolved, as most Simpsons’ characters, into someone complex, worthy of both ridicule and empathy. He has a PhD, entered into an arranged marriage (but not before a stint as Springfield’s most happening bachelor, Trans Am and all) with the witty Manjula, sired octoplets, revealed his veganism and his illegal immigrant status, which he fixed by getting that long-awaited H-1 Visa. His worst sins are quirky saying in accented English, his two instances of infidelity to his wife and a tendency to overcharge (nothing compared to miser Mr.Burns or desperate Moe). Despite repeated attempts to run away from the overwhelming demands of his family of octoplets, Apu remains an excellent vehicle for Simpsons writers to explore desi issues. I highly recommend Wikipedia’s detailed biography of Apu here.

But Apu was absent in the most recent Simpsons exploration of desi culture, when Homer gets outsourced to India. Desi culture has become too big even for Apu.The Simpsons characters often spend an episode in another country, gleefully exploding and exploiting stereotypes, and the Indian outsourcing episode is no exception. When Homer gets outsourced by Mr. Burns, he’s naturally incompetant, a fact that the PhD-educated Indian workers quickly catch on to. Fast forward six months–the Simpson have not heard from Homer, until Mr. Burns tells them that Homer has gone “native” and thinks that he is a god.

Enter Apocalypse Now.

I read Conrad’s Heart of Darkness in junior high, and loved it immediately–I read it as an adventure novel, and later as a psychological exploration. I did not think about the inherent racism in the tale–we discussed it in class, but so much of the novel seemed symbolic. It seemed logical that the search for Kurtz was pure symbolism–a search for how power could cripple even the best of men. And the darkness, to Victorian minds, was represented by the corruption brought from plumbing the depths of the Congo. By the time “civilized” man reached Kurtz, he was already lost in the depths of the jungle.

By the time I saw Apocalypse Now (from beginning to end) in college, the racial issues were on the forefront. This movie took the central issues of Conrad’s novel and moved them into the Vietnam war. The result was harrowing–predictable with with sledgehammer director Oliver Stone at the helm. The three-dimensional characters were all soldiers; the masses were all Vietnamese. By the time Willard (an obviously strained Martin Sheen) kills Kurtz (a incoherent, overpowering Brando), Stone can’t resist rubbing in the point, and the scene of Kurtz’s death is intercut with the graphic, ritual slaughter of a bull outside.

Both stories were the same–the exotic Far East as a mindless, corrosive influence on the West.

Leave it to the Simpsons to say–fine. That’s us.

When Mr. Burns and the Simpsons arrive in the “dark jungle” of India, they find a deluded Homer thinking he’s a god–and a crowd of Indian workers who’ve created a union based on all the secrets that the mercenary Mr. Burns didn’t want them to know about: part-time hours, mandatory health plans, onsite day care, one-hour lunch breaks.

Mr. Burns holds his head “You’ll ruin me! You’re fired!” Indian worker: “Woo-hoo! Free golden parachutes for everyone!”

In the spirit of Orientalism, the “heart of darkness” can be the Congo, Vietnam or India, with little change of implication of a mindless, decadent Far East. But, in this episode, the clever Indian plant workers don’t mind placating their Caucasian superiors, letting them think they worship Homer (in a Indiana-Jones-2 “pagan” style)when in reality they’re manipulating his incompetence. Over the years, the Simpsons have leveled the playing field when it comes to desi in pop culture–the exotic “coolie” who worships his oppressors must make way for the very real, very universal concerns of the modern, employed Desi.

But are the tables turned? Originally, the exotic East corrupted the West; now it may be the other way around. As a proud Lisa tells Homer later, he’s managed to export the American worker’s sense of entitlement. Now that the Indian plant workers know that they don’t need to work a 20-hour day the question is–what happens to the Indian work ethic–exemplified by Apu and his 24/7 Kwik-E-Mart? Furthermore, which way is the colonialization going? The plant moves back to Springfield–for obvious plot purposes–but the implication is clear. The Indian worker is on the move.

I recommend Wikipedia’s entry on Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bangalore (yes, I’m a wikipedia-whore). And if you get a chance, catch the episode, I haven’t done it justice.

But what about those who are not just computer illiterate, but actually unable to read or write? Microsoft has a plan: make computers that don’t depend on words. This March 2006 USA Today article talks about how a new breed of computers can help often-illiterate domestic servants:

Working with a local advocacy group, Microsoft has developed a prototype of a system that would connect illiterate domestic workers in India with families seeking their services. The system uses pictures, video and voice commands to tell women what jobs are available, how much the jobs pay and where they are.

Why hasn’t anyone thought of this before? For one thing:

they [the domestic workers] had trouble seeing why a computerized system for finding work was better than traditional word-of-mouth

Additionally, the computer’s images and pictures had to bridge language and cultural gaps, such as this one:

the women associated neighborhoods with landmarks rather than addresses, so an interactive map and verbal directions had to be tweaked to represent that.

Finally–the big hurdle: implementation. This CNET article discusses the difficulties poorer areas of India have getting computer literate. Apart from the most obvious issue of languages, there is problem of power:

To save power, the PCs run on car and truck batteries. Unfortunately, the batteries regularly need recharging and the public electrical power system can’t always handle the demand.

and crime:

Three weeks ago, the village transformer blew because too many people tapped into it illegally, a chronic problem here. The government refused to rebuild the transformer until the villagers promised to punish anyone who stole power.

and bad freakin’ luck:

The day after it was rebuilt, the transformer blew again.

That’s coupled by the fact that not enough rural Indians even own a computer–although, if Intel has its way, they’ll be a lot cheaper.

One option is to put up a kiosk in a community center, Toyama said.

Hmmm…there has to be a better way…but maybe it would work if it were manned by a techie-social worker type.

Check out the links…it’s an exciting project if it can be marketed properly–both for those looking for work and those looking for workers. In an ideal world, I’d want all these computers to teach literacy first, but reading a good novel is not always a priority to those struggling to feed their families. I remember what it felt like to realize that a computer was a useful tool working for me, not against me–it’s a nice feeling, and I hope these women get to have it too.

Also–check out an earlier post by Abhi…scroll down and you will see how some people are applying their tech knowledge to the illiteracy issue:

…consider a pedagogical tool, the computer-based functional literacy (CBFL) program, developed by Indian software pioneer Faqir Chand Kohli. Within a mere 8 to 10 weeks and at a cost of a mere U.S. $2 (provided a discarded computer is supplied for free), an illiterate adult using this tool can read his or her first newspaper. In the past 2 years alone, 40,000 adults from five states in India have been made literate. If CBFL is launched as the technical engine of a national literacy movement, in less than 5 years, 200 million adult illiterates can learn to read.

one can only imagine what that’s going to do to the comments section of this blog…

Now, all phallic jokes aside, let’s take a look at this. This woman was sick. She started feeding the snake and got cured. Perhaps this was psychological, or coincidental, or perhaps it was indeed a religious sign. But basic questions are being ignored here.

For one, how did the snake propose? I’m assuming this Bimbala Das is a nice Indian girl who didn’t spring the question on it/him? Also:

Priests chanted mantras to seal the union, but the snake failed to come out of a nearby ant hill where it lives,

Then how do you know it said yes? What if it has a little cobra wife and babies already? You mean the incredible racket of an Indian wedding isn’t conducive to luring snakes into matrimony?

Second, what are the snake’s rights? Does he know own her property? Did he provide some kind of dowry? And, perhaps most important from the cobra’s point of view–does the snake have any conjugal rights? I mean, I’m just asking here, it’s a logical question.

“I am happy,” said her mother Dyuti Bhoi, who has two other daughters and two sons to marry off.

Eeeeeeeenteresting. Perhaps a trip to the zoo is in order? I’ve heard penguins mate for life….

a traditional Hindu wedding celebrated by 2,000 guests in India’s Orissa state

This is the most shocking of all. A cobra can get 2000 guests to come to its wedding in the heat of India in June and I can’t get half my guests to come up past 14th street on a weekday.

“We have taken the decision because the release of the movie could have led to demonstrations and trouble,” Paul Bhuyan, the special chief secretary of Andhra Pradesh, told The Associated Press. More here. Apparently, the chief secretary took Tommy Lee Jones seriously in Men in Black: “A person is smart. People are dumb, stupid animals and you know it.”

Now, I have not seen the movie, nor have I read the book. I tried, but I didn’t like the writing. Thanks to the combination of hype and Wikipedia, I know the whole damn story, right down to the mad albino monk’s favorite method of self-flagellation. Everyone I know who has seen the movie has thought it stuffy and boring, but I will quote only my mother “That Indiana Jones was much funnier.”

No, I am not here to question whether the Da Vinci Code is truly sacrilegious. I just have two questions:

1) Shouldn’t the Catholic Church worry about other things–say, it’s continued pedophile and sex abuse scandals (a random sample here) –than what an admittedly fictional novel, already charged with plagiarism and falsification, has to say about whether Jesus had sex or not? (Apparently, no)

2) If Christians are just 2% of India’s population, isn’t all this negative publicity just going to drive the non-offended 98% straight into the theaters? (Apparently, yes)

Either way, Dan Brown is laughing all the way to the bank…

1. I do not claim to universally define “Desi Goth.” I leave that to the comments section of this post. In my experience, both desis and goths are very touchy about labeling, which leads to some interesting problems of self-identification. That said, if you’re a Desi, and you find yourself influenced, moved or interested in goth culture, welcome aboard.

2. A brief history of goth culture here. There are an infinite number of types of goths. Marilyn Manson is not considered goth culture, but don’t tell that to his followers. Victorian goths, with their affinity for cognac and opium, their penchant for wearing ruffles and velvet in summer, their gramaphones and their oil paintings, have very little in common with the punk goth, who wears torn tee’s, squats in a basement apartment, plays in a death metal band, and is covered in Celtic tattoos.

3. Goth culture never goes away. It goes underground. From the tortured antiheros of Byron’s poetry, to Goethe’s Faust, to tecno-goth masterpieces like Blade Runner and Metropolis, to Noseferatu, Lestat, Dracul and all the other famous vampires, goth culture pops up in cycles in art, literature, pop culture and public consciousness. Particularly in troubled times. (The term gothic originates from the late 18th century, to describe popular and high culture reacting to political and social uncertainty. An excellent resource to the history of the gothic .; note the limited information from a Desi perspective. here

4. Misconception One: Not all goths work in video stores. There is such a thing as corporate goth. They work from within the system. Admittedly, their attire is restricted, but you do what you can. 5. Misconception Two: Unless you are truly going for the old-school goth look, you do not need to powder your face white, wear racoon eyeliner and black lipstick. The pallor of goth culture goes back to 19th century, when the fetish for mourning culture and death-related rituals (funerals were places to be scene), inspired many to paint their faces a ghostly, spiritual white. Unfortunately, since much of the paint was lead-based, death often followed. Goth culture is about rebellion against the mainstream, not painting yourself like a mime. Some Desis also object to being pale because it reinforces the stereotype that fairer is more beautiful. I honestly think it doesn’t matter, because you can be equally rebellious/surprising in your style by dyeing your hair blue or getting weird colored contacts, or piercings something, or whatever. Or nothing.

5. You are not bound to like goth culture at large. Ever since my love for Trent Reznor and Nine Inch Nails faded, I have no interest in “goth” music. Please do not quote Evanescence at me. However, I very much like goth fashion, goth novels and movies, gothic poetry, silent era vamps, and dark science fiction. “Noir” gets my attention immediately. Pick and choose; if you’re not thinking for yourself, you’re not goth.

6. Goth can work with Desi culture. I began to feel a little conflicted about my interest in Victorian culture–especially the darker side–sex, death, blasephemy–when I realized that, as a Desi, I would have had a very limited place in it. Now I look at it a little differently. For much of European society, desis embodied all of the above elements of sex, death and blasephemy. The Victorian desi was, in fact, very gothic. You may not buy my reasoninig, but the point is that many goths are interested in things that are dangerous, forbidden, devalued, overlooked, or unpopular. It’s not easy, but it forces you to think for yourself and rail against the machine a little.

7. If you feel the urge to invent a new kind of goth culture, go with it. Tiki goth–collect shrunken heads. Hippie Goth: Jerry Garcia’s moody love child. Medieval Goth–go to that Renaissance fair, dammit! There are many resources for finding your inner goth; you can start with Goth.net. If you can find a better definition for Desi goth, be my guest.

8. Goth can help you deal with depression, but Goth isn’t about being depressing. Many goths are artists and writers; without them, we would not have Bauhaus songs, Theda Bara films, Emily Dickinson poems or Modigliani paintings. My experience with goths is that they are lovely, tolerant, talented people. My favorite goth artist is Madame Talbot’s Victorian Lowbrow, If you find yourself unable to get out bed, crying all the time, or losing friends, you are not goth. You are miserable, and making people miserable. The trick is–don’t hide from the misery. Do something with it. Create something.

9. Search for others of your kind. Desi Goths unite!

So, back to comic books. I’m an avowed X-Men fan, and was weaned on Wonder Woman, but my first comic book love was and still is Amar Chitra Katha. Wait–is that eye-rolling I see? I hope not.

Amar Chitra Katha was my “short cut” into Indian culture. I was lucky; my parents always had Indian friends who they saw often, who had children I who I went to school with, and tried to surround us with the culture that they had grown up with. As soon as I learned to read, my father did two things: bought me a nice “Ex-Libris” leather bookmark, and the entire Amar Chitra Katha comic book series, bound with red paper covers.

Bear in mind that I grew up with parents who strictly limited my weekly library book allowance to 5 (and no magazines), and you will understand, as I did then, the significance of this purchase. By some quirk, I started with the second 10 books first–Chanyaka through Vikramaditya. But I quickly read every one.

For those of you who do not know, Amar Chitra Katha is a venerable old Indian comic book series that tells the tales of Indian myths, history and religious stories. There has been much recent criticism of the comics; here is a typical link.

This article throws a lot of heat at AKC’s way, some deserved. Racist? Of course–lots about the caste system in ancient Hindu culture. Sexist? Ditto. Badly written? Well, it was pretty pompous–I made the mistake of “taking a vow of silence” on the playground one day that ended somewhat badly for me. And I know that many people minded having to look up words like “dharma” or “asura” but I was fine with it. (of course, if you’ve read my Nerd/Geek entry, you’d know why).

I did not learn many bad lessons from Amar Chitra Katha. I was perplexed by how many people had blue skin. But mostly, I learned that my culture was beautiful, that it was old and important, that its values were very complex. I went easily from stories of Guru Gobind Singh to Buddha to Valmiki to Noor Jahan, unaware that I was supposed choose one over the other. That was the one thing that Amar Chitra lacked–animosity. I read stories, but I didn’t really grasp how many old angers divided the cultures I read about. And I still have a weak timeline of Indian history.

The AKC comics are not perfect, but what children’s literature is? It’s all exaggeration and fantasy, run through with threads of violence and death. It’s always about the beautiful conquering the ugly–but also about the clever conquering the stupid, and the lazy. My collection of AKC sparked a sense of identity in myself. I loved my MTV and played with Barbies, but this, this ancient, magical India, was part of me too.

As a non-practicing Hindu, I would hate, absolutely hate, an Amar Chitra Katha that didn’t allow all religions to tell their stories in comic book form, that allowed me to understand why Sikhs wear turbans and why Hindu sages once starved themselves, what the practice of syamvara is. The stories will never be fully accurate–they are just like my book of “Shakespeare stories” but the planted a seed of interest in Indian history that hasn’t gone away. With Amar Chitra Katha, I could incorporate my eight-year old interpretations of Buddhist teachings (that Siddharta was so good!)with Vedic ones (go Rama! go Krishna!), to investigate what traditions (polygamy, child marriage, widow burning) are no longer central to the culture. I want my children to have the same opportunity that I did to act out both the stories of Akbar the Clever and the Mahabharata. I’ve heard rumors that these comic books are or have been edited by the Hindu nationalist party–I sincerely hope not. I’ve never believed in silencing minority voices.

That said, I wouldn’t mind updated, glossy versions of the old AKC comics, a few more stories about clever apsaras or sage’s daughters who outwitted demons disguised as foxes. A few more warrior maidens like Noor Jahan rather than martyrs like Padmini, and I’d be ready to stock my library for future generations of lawyerwriters.

But all the excitement I feel is nothing compared to what I’d feel if someone did a really good adaptation of a Mahabharata–top of the line special effects, great storytelling, top writing. I haven’t seen it yet. Because I love the story, I have suffered through years of plastic-looking battle scenes, melodramatic line-reading and blandly smiling Krishnas. If movies like The Matrix and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon can revolutionize action sequences, the least we can do is get the folks behind Xena the Warrior Princess to get us a convincing Ghatokacha, or at least Ravana with heads that don’t look like a row of masks. And can we get battle scenes that consist more that than men in cardboard armor fighting clanging swords in front a smoke machine to the sounds of pots and pans clanging? Please? Someone, look up Saving Private Ryan or even Gladiator for a good war sequence. What’s wrong with keeping the comic-book sensibility, the great visuals that AKC popped into my head, alive! If they can do it with Spiderman, they can do it with Abhimanyu.

After all, what more can I expect from the X-Men? I don’t have high hopes for the movie, which is coming out this Friday, and which I will probably see anyway. I believe this fixation will last about as long as the opening credits. First of all, as I have said before, no Gambit. What, was Josh Lucas too waterlogged from Poseidon? Second, lesser director. It’s a tough thing to go from Bryan Singer (The Usual Suspects) to Brett Ratner (Rush Hour). The latter is a competent action director; the former is a storyteller. Third: I just KNOW they’re going to blow the whole Dark Phoenix storyline.

If I get bored during the movie, I’ll work on casting my fantasy Mahabharata in my head. Unfortunately, I really don’t know too many Bollywood actors, which makes keeping the fantasy cast brown and proud very hard. Will we have to plug in key roles using….white actors? Maybe even…the token African-American? The scandal! The riots! The ritual suicides waiting to happen!

Just remember: anything is better than Salman Khan.

It’s tempting to introduce myself by answering the Proust Questionnaire which is in the back pages of every issue of Vanity Fair magazine(who knew that David Brubeck hates his nose?), but perhaps who I am and what I’ve done will reveal itself better over the course of the blog. I tend to write about pop culture and media–I like to see how desi culture is represented in the West–particularly America–since, for most of my life, it wasn’t at all. I didn’t mind being the only brown girl in my kindergarten class–it was pretty fascinating to see what assumptions everyone had about me, and my culture. I am an attorney, but I use my legal expertise largely in a consulting fashion, if at all, or in my writings about law. I did not like the law firm life, and it certainly didn’t like me. In fact, given that I never saw my friends or my boyfriend of the time, I think the only people who were happy were my parents.

So under the rubrick of “desi,” I would be categorized, I think, as second generation South Indian-American, originally from Madras (never been to Chennai) heavily influenced by hippie Northern California culture and too much Manhattan nightlife. Most of the desi influences in my life are back in the Bay Area , (insert a shout out to the Almaden Valley posse here!), but I have a feeling that will change with this blog. I’m currently reading The Argumentative Indian by Amartya Sen, which discusses India’s long history of rationalism and intellectual debate. It’s encouraged me to approach this guest blogging experience a little differently than I approach the lawyerwriter. There I write what it is in my own head, just to flex my writing muscles. Here, I hope my writing reaches fellow oddballs in the desi community–and perhaps beyond.

Of course, all my writing is personal. It’s not that I’m particularly fascinating; it’s just that you really should write about what you know. If more people did that…actually, wait, I’m a ghostwriter. I’d never get a job again.

Never mind.

(thanks for the welcome)