Wednesday, May 28, 2014

She didn't come to stay








She didn't come to stay




A late Iowa evening.  Weekend. Time to hang out with friends till the talk later in the day.  Memorial Union at Iowa State is an old building--a Victorian edifice with round, stone columns; its façade punctuated with tall arched windows; a pair of wood half-spiral staircase at the entrance that squeaked under the climbing steps; and mosaic floor with zodiac, buffed under the shoes of hundreds of thousands of students that had passed through there.
Most of the African-American students at Iowa State came from Chicago.  Jamila was one of them.  She was also there for the talk.  We walked together. Then I saw a familiar face, walking towards us, in the hallway.  "Are you Maya Angelou?"  I asked her with excitement. She answered in affirmation, and looked at the two of us with curiosity.  I mumbled something to the effect that I had read 'Why the Caged Bird Sings' and thought very highly of her.  There was some small talk and then she moved on.
The reading session with Maya Angelou that evening was enlightening.  Her heartfelt conversation that day, and her books made it possible for me to foray in the world of identities, the sense of belonging, and the standards of beauty.  This is what great literature is about.  It can take you out of yourself and make you look back at everything through the eyes of a keen, detached observer.
Maya Angelou is gone.  She didn't come to stay.  No one does.

[Photo courtesy of http://www.udel.edu]

Sunday, May 25, 2014

The Right to Kill





Living in Iowa I learned bulls in heat can break the strongest fence.   
If only Elliot Rodger were a bull and we could arrange a cow for him!


[Photo courtesy of http://i.telegraph.co.uk]

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Why Bushra Ansari is an idiot, and why artists coming from our region need sensitivity training



Why Bushra Ansari is an idiot, and why artists coming from our region need sensitivity training

At the HDF fundraiser held on May 18, Bushra Ansari, the star of the evening, may have amused the audience, but she also put off a large number of people because of the way she picked on one of her team members while introducing the two accompanying musicians: Robin John on keyboard and Ashneel Singh on tabla.

Ashneel Singh is a fine tabla player.  He is an American of Fijian descent.  But all this detail was lost on Ms. Ansari.  For her, Ashneel Singh, with his distinctly Sikh/Hindu name, was an Indian. And that was enough for her to ridicule him.  The quip was off-color—had something to do with Indian musicians not knowing the Pakistani songs—but a small segment of the audience, as uncouthed as Ms. Ansari, found it funny, and the laughter was loud—visibly embarrassing Ashneel Singh. What an idiot Bushra Ansari is!  How dimwit an artist should be to make the audience laugh at the expense of their own team-member, a musician who with his work is trying to make them shine!

Back in South Asia newly minted and constantly evolving Indian and Pakistani nationalisms clash.  In Pakistan, nationalism has already been hijacked by the religious elements and the triumphant--albeit sick--ideology pushes for a Muslim-Pakistan, Hindu-India understanding of the South Asian geography—gullible citizens take the venomous feed numbly.

As Pakistan gradually becomes more 'Muslim', many in India react and push for a 'Hindu' identity of India.  The recent Indian election results tell us which way things are headed.  The phenomenon fits the definition of self-fulfilling prophecy like a glove.

Whatever nonsense is going on in South Asia, it must not be allowed to poison us here in North America. Artists coming from that region must be trained to leave behind their biases and cheap jokes.  Promoters need to provide sensitivity training to the artists they bring out of the subcontinent.  South Asian audience deserves performers who conform to higher moral standards.