Was in Los Angeles for the weekend, and it’s mandatory to lunch at Pioneer Blvd in Artesia, and raid the well-stocked cupboards of Surati Farsan Mart after that. For the uninitiated, that’s where LA’s ‘Little India’ is located.

So, after doing the rounds, we start walking back to car. While waiting for the signal, I glance down into the gutter and lo and behold, I see the ultimate Indian seal of authenticity – paan ki thuk (or paan spit)!

I should probably be decrying the way desis pollute their adopted homeland, or how they have no civic sense. But it’s been way too long since I went home, and it’s just too goddamn nostalgic to see paan thuk. So I’m just going to say the hell with it, and enjoy the view.

I was definitely an addict. I would look forward to going to the “library” (which, in 80s Bombay were basically privately run places where you could borrow books for cash) and picking up a stack of Archies. The “magazines” were good, but the “digests” were even better. I could go through a magazine in, like, fifteen minutes. In retrospect, it was almost like those things were made for “slow people” with the oversized graphics and lettering. But a digest, on the other hand, was packed with stories and could sometimes even be read over two sittings. [link]

With the lackluster humor and the incredibly thin plot-lines, I don’t think I can sit through another Archie today. But after reading this announcement, I could seriously consider it. Archie has gone multicultural with the addition of a gujju by the name of…(drumroll, please)… Raj Patel!

Well, I haven’t read it, so he may not be a gujju after all, and he may just be a “Hindu”-speaking “Hindi” but it’s good to see some of apna desh in the ol’ Archie comics, nonetheless. (via)

The fast bowler went into the studio between games in the Champions Trophy tournament in India in November.

Lee, who has a band in Australia, has reportedly turn downed roles in Bollywood films.

The song’s video, which features Lee playing guitar and singing to an Indian girl in an office, has become a hit on YouTube.

…

The song has climbed to number three on the music charts of popular FM station Radio City, which broadcasts in several Indian cities. [link]

This reminds me of the time Bhosle featured on a Boy George tune, back in the late ’80s-early ’90s. The song is called ‘Bow Down Mister‘ and it’s another catchy, kitschy pop number. It was written when he was going through a phase of getting in touch with his Krishna Consciousness. Clearly, he’s come a long way from that phase.

So what’s the fascination that desis have when white people sing about India or in Hindi? I guess everyone likes a little attention from the outside. And it is charming in a sort of way. Look at me, I’m getting all warm and fuzzy here (yes, that’s warm and fuzzy by my standards – is this the first time you’re at my blog?).

Look, it’s Friday afternoon (Pacific, at any rate). And you’re probably slacking off from work anyway. So take a look at the Brett Lee video:

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And then take a look at the Boy George one. If you’re as old as I am, then it should send you down Memory Lane for a bit:

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As we say here in the good old US of A: Have a great weekend.

This should take you back a few years…

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Sunday saw the end of Agassi’s run in the US Open and in Grand Slam tennis. At the age of 36, he lost to B. Becker (ironically). No, it wasn’t Boris, but another German by the name of Benjamin. Those of us who were looking forward to seeing a Federer-Agassi final were devastated. So was Agassi: He was in tears after the match and, true to character, gave a very sentimental speech before leaving.

“The scoreboard said I lost today, but what the scoreboard doesn’t say is what it is I have found. …

“Over the last 21 years, I have found you. And I will take you and the memory of you with me for the rest of my life.

“Thank you.” [link]

This was, as one of the fans’ posters said, “Agassi’s House.” Playing to consistently full stadiums, with the weight of the whole audience behind him, there were cheers when he won a point, and dead silence when he lost one. Both, his first and second round opponents [Pavel and Baghdatis, respectively] had to play in front of a very hostile audience.

His loss to Becker can be summed up in one word: Health. He had sciatica stemming from a slippage in one of his vertebra. This was, in fact, his reason for retiring. After one of the best matches in the entire tournament, his second round duel with Baghdatis, he collapsed in the parking lot of the stadium while leaving the game. It seems he used a DVD case as a pillow:

…after beating Marcos Baghdatis in a thrilling second-round match that ended early Friday morning, he collapsed in pain on his way out of the stadium and lay on the sidewalk with a case containing a freshly minted DVD of the match under his head for a pillow. [link]

Having already received two cortisone injections over the summer, one of which was just before his first match, he received more anti-inflammatory injections on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Despite all of that, he didn’t let us down, and the two matches that he played and won, were immensely enjoyable to watch in their own right.

His match against Baghdatis was undoubtedly a classic. But, to me, one of the more memorable moments of his US Open run was when McEnroe came out to interview him after that win. He asked how it was that whenever Agassi challenged the umpire’s call, the stadium would go up in cheers, and when McEnroe did it in his time, all he got were jeers. Agassi smiled and aswered without a thought: “That’s because you were always right, John!”

Of course, McEnroe is (unfortunately) remembered more for his outbursts on the stiff upper-lip Wimbledon court than anything else. He really was booed when he walked out on to the court at Wimbledon to play the final against Bjorn Borg. In fact, the BBC has one of his classic outbursts on audio [here]. Given all of that, Agassi’s response was classic.

He will be missed, and his era will be remembered fondly.

Caked in cheap rouge, kajal, powder and lipstick, they dress in ill-fitting blouses and colourful saris in a grotesque parody of womanhood as they roam the busy marketplaces in groups, terrorizing pedestrians, hustling for ten or a hundred rupees. These are not your average beggars on the street. With male voices shouting expletives, palms meeting crossways in a trademark clap, they prey on susceptible passersby, who will part with their cash sooner than be treated to the sight of the group collectively lifting up their saris and flashing castrated genital areas right in their faces.

And as you get older, and more thick-skinned, you are no longer "terrorized" by them, but just plain irritated at their obnoxious behavior. And to further confound things, if you refuse them money when they come to beg to you then they start screaming expletives at the top of their voices. And, Bombay eunuchs know expletives that would make your average dhobi blush. Man, can they curse! They, of course, use this strategy so you'll be embarrased into eventually giving them some money.

Sometimes, they will come and sit next to you in a public bus and start harrasing you for money. It's a good strategy, because in a crowded bus, there's no place to escape. This happened to a particularly thick-skinned friend of mine once. The eunuch , of course, sat down and then proceeded to ask him for money. And, as is the usual tactic, (s)he started to touch him. At first by tapping his shoulder and then going on to stroke his thigh. My friend, definitely not the meek sort, decided to turn the hijra's strategy back onto him. He promptly stood up and started screaming expletives at him/her loudly, all the while proclaiming that (s)he was making passes at him. The hijra, was shocked (never having had to face his/her own crude behavior, I guess), that (s)he was basically rendered impotent powerless and (s)he more or less scrambled to get off at the next stop. If (s)he had not done that, then the people in the bus would probably have pummelled him/her. Bombayites, you see, just need an excuse to get their frustrations out. It's the nature of the city – frustrated, fast-paced, always hungry, always wanting more. Well, there's a good side too, but that's for another post.

So, you get the idea of how obnoxious these eunuchs can get. These days, political correctness has not escaped even them, because they no longer wish to be called hijras, but prefer the term aruvani. And from this BBC article, it seems they want to tone down the level of obnoxious-ness.

"If necessary we will dress down, tone down our speech, even desist from the commonly misunderstood practice of 'clapping' and negotiate with people in work and social settings."

That's definitely a good thing. Being of the academic persuasion however, I am burdened by my conscience to be objective, and the onus of presenting both sides of the story lies on me. So, despite being personally traumatized by them on numerous occasions, I have to say that they are a misunderstood bunch. To the best of my knowledge, they're supposed to be holy and there's even a temple in central India which an uncle of mine – a sexologist – visited, where they peform the castration rituals. Of course, the only way you're allowed to get in there, is if you're a participant! My uncle refused and not too long afterwards, he had his third child…you do the math.

Anyhow, there are several resources on the Indian eunuchs online. You can click here, or here, or even here. There's even a Hijra Research Blog on Blogger here. Enjoy.

As I quickly discovered, many of the main heroes of the book – the often isolated officials in the Kennedy administration who called repeatedly for the President to mount a much more aggressive assault on racial segregation in the American south – all spent formative portions of their careers in India.They were committed Indophiles – or more accurately, Gandhiphiles.

And that includes Chester Bowles, the Deputy Secretary of State in the Kennedy administration who was ambassador to India and Nepal in the 1950s. The recently deceased and controversial economist John Kenneth Galbraith who was also ambassador to India during the Kennedy era and, in fact, was in Delhi when the race riots broke out in the US in 1963. Harris Wofford, JFK's short-lived chief civil rights adviser, visited India in the late 40s, and even published a book India Afire with his wife, Clare. And, of course, Martin Luther King, Jr. who made his respect for the teachings of Gandhi quite well-known, made the trip to India in 1959.

"To other countries I may go as a tourist," he declared on touching down at Delhi airport, "but to India I come as a pilgrim."

It's good to know that the repercussions of Gandhi's philosophy still continue even now. The average American, hearing that you are from India (I speak from personal experience here), will ask you either about snake-charming, the caste system or about Gandhi, depending on his social status and education level. Notwithstanding the first two, it is at least somewhat comforting to know that at least one Indian has had this much of a positive impact at the global level and still continues to do so, decades after his death.

Gandhi had a special significance in my life. The matriarch of my family (my surrogate great-grandmother) was a staunch Gandhian and whenever Gandhi came to Bombay he used to visit her. She was even on the boat that went out to sprinkle his ashes at the confluence of the three holy rivers. Because of her, most of my family members have small vials of Gandhi's ashes (with authentification certificates, no less). She never consumed a drop of coffee or tea in her life, she never ate meat, she spun the yarn that she used to make her khadi sarees and she started her day at 4am every morning for most of her adult life. She lived until the ripe old age of 87, outliving several of her younger relatives. She used to go regularly to villages in India helping set up schools, wells and advocating women's rights. Like Gandhi, she only traveled by second class, unreserved. Unlike Gandhi, however, she did not have the entire coach reserved for her. If you have ever traveled by Indian Railways, you will have an idea of how rough that is. She did it until she was close to 84 when her health started getting in the way. Her name was Maniben Nanavati. Check out the link – it's unfortunate that that is her only online presence and certainly, I am going to try and change that. And if you are from Vile Parle in Bombay, it's the same Maniben Nanavati after whom the Women's College is named.

Needless to say, with women like that bringing up my family's elders, Gandhian principles were drilled into our heads from a very young age. And because of it (or perhaps, in spite of it) I strongly believe that his philosophy is still valid today. Certainly, I am not advocating the lifestyle that my great-grandmother lived (admirable as it was), and neither am I advocating total non-violence, but there are several aspects of his philosophy which are still quite applicable. The principles by which he lived and those he advocated are certainly valid. Those include self-reliance, religious tolerance and in certain situations, yes, non-violence. Hey, from this quote (from the eight-volume biography by Dinanath Tendulkar), we can even guess what his views on intellectual property and blogging were:

Writings in the journals which I have the privilege of editing must be common property.

Gandhi was a complicated man and an ambitious one. His ultimate goal was to rid India of British rule and influence politics without becoming a politician himself. He left that to Nehru, Patel and Jinnah, to name a few. The control he had over the people of India was tremendous and I seriously doubt that he could have achieved that by becoming a politico. He was at best, a spiritual leader and, at worst, a religious (but non-violent and tolerant) extremist. To achieve his goals, he shrewdly did what he had to do. If that involved preaching by example, then that included living his life the way he lived it. Perhaps, that is a tad extreme for you and me living today's 21st century lifestyle (hell, I don't want to give up my laptop!). But I do believe that the principles behind that life still ring true. Evidence of that is all around us, including the article I talked about above.

Although Gandhi was certainly made in India, I think that he would have been quick to remind us that his principles were anything but that. They were universal.

…the head of the Catholic Secular Forum has begun a ‘hunger strike until death’. [link]

That “head of the Catholic Secular Forum” is none other than apparently not Fr. Joe Dias! Yes, Not the same guy who took over in 1997 (thanks Conrad), a few years after “Pop Con”, a.k.a. Father Conrad’s reign as the Principal of Xavier’s circa 1994. Not the same guy who tormented all the young girls about wearing shorts in the canteen. And yes, its not the same guy who disallowed the holding of hands and various other similar “nefarious” activities at Xavier’s. Sounds something like what they do in some of the Middle Eastern countries…it’s no surprise then that he’s got the muslims to protest with him.

Ok, rash generalizations being made there, but a hunger strike for The Da Vinci Code? And I mean even just protesting a movie, for God’s sake (pun intended)!! It’s a bit much, I think. It’s a movie for crying out loud! Firstly, it’s fiction. Secondly, I am by no means a religious person, but if a fictional movie can incite you to waste your time on protesting (and in Joe Dias’ case, going on a hunger strike) then I think it’s time you reexamined your faith, brother! Besides, if you really want to protest, then do it against something justified. Find some other really worthy causes.

Read the original BBC article about Joe Dias and the Da Vinci protests.

I was definitely an addict. I would look forward to going to the "library" (which, in 80s Bombay were basically privately run places where you could borrow books for cash) and picking up a stack of Archies. The "magazines" were good, but the "digests" were even better. I could go through a magazine in, like, fifteen minutes. In retrospect, it was almost like those things were made for "slow people" with the oversized graphics and lettering. But a digest, on the other hand, was packed with stories and could sometimes even be read over two sittings.

It would not be a stretch for me to say that one of my reasons for coming to the US was the stuff I read in those comics. The Archie world was the American suburban ideal. Blocks of houses with two-car garages and lawns to mow. Teenagers whose idea of being "naughty" was to mix two of the wrong chemicals in the chemistry class which invariably ended up with an explosion. Life where the best way to spend a summer afternoon was making money by mowing lawns and spending time at "Pop's" with your friends. Man, I think I even wanted to mow lawns then. This was the perfect world with colourful (literally and figuratively) characters and, no matter what happened, everything ultimately turned out allright.

Of course, real life is not like that. And, as I've become older, ostensibly wiser and definitely more cynical, I realize that the stories were hackneyed attempts at humour and/or adventure, with a lot (and I mean a lot) of recycling. And after spending a considerable amount of time here in the US, I feel that nothing could be further from the truth than the stuff in those comics. Although, I am sure, there are quite a few people who wished otherwise or worse yet, are in denial. In fact, so many of today's animated series on TV (The Simpsons, Family Guy) are essentially parodies of that suburban myth of the perfect "American" family, just like Archie Andrews'.

Well, I guess that is another piece of innocence and perfection (or, at least, the belief in perfection) lost with age…*sigh*

So what prompted me to write this long piece on Archie Comics of all things? Well, The Onion's A.V. Club has just written up a review on the Archie Americana Series, a seven volume set covering Archie from the Forties up to the Eighties. Who knows? I might just buy me a volume or two…

Postscript: If you are unfamiliar with Archie Comics and the antics of Archie and his gang, no worries: Tell me about your "Archie." Everyone has something which represents that period of innocence and happiness in childhood. The one right before adolescence hits and ruins everything. You know, when all is well with the world. What was yours?

Post-Postscript: On the off-chance that you're curious to learn more about Archie Comics, here's the Wikipedia article.

Meanwhile, just wanted to point to Shivaji’s blog. He’s written up a post on all those pre-liberalization products that were on the market. You know, the ones those of us growing up in the 80s saw on the shelves. For instance, Camel compass boxes, Simba Chipniks, Campa Orange, Sosyo (yes, those soft drinks in bottles with ball on top that you have to push in), “Big-Bite” (those pita-bread-type things with a cutlet inside – didn’t last very long on the market, though). I could go on. Ah, the good old days…seems like another eon altogether…