Friday, July 15, 2005
To all fundamentalists everywhere...
Since the London blasts, there have been a renewed bout of soul-searching in the Western media about the causes and factors that drive seemingly normal young men to blow themselves and others up in the name of religion or ideology.
This article in The New Yorker is a short but deep sojourn into the vicious cocktail of seemingly innocuous circumstances that may direct a young man or woman down the deadly path to becoming a suicide bomber. The author delves into various experiences, including his own, and outlines how a combination of youthful rebellion, sexual repression, spiritual yearning, immigrant isolation, racial discrimination and existentialist crises could work havoc on the psyche of a susceptible youth.
But even better, was Thomas Friedman's op-ed, Wealth of Rage in the NYT today where I quote one of his points, something that should have been made a long time ago:
"...Sunni Islam's struggle with modernity. Islam has a long tradition of tolerating other religions, but only on the basis of the supremacy of Islam, not equality with Islam. Islam's self-identity is that it is the authentic and ideal expression of monotheism. Muslims are raised with the view that Islam is God 3.0, Christianity is God 2.0, Judaism is God 1.0, and Hinduism is God 0.0"
Mr Friedman, you must be God 4.0 (pre-alpha)! Making that sort of un-PC statement needed some guts, and I'm glad someone put it in as many words. Looks like TF's association with the desi software industry is showing in his columns now :) He continues:
"Part of what seems to be going on with these young Muslim males is that they are, on the one hand, tempted by Western society, and ashamed of being tempted. On the other hand, they are humiliated by Western society because while Sunni Islamic civilization is supposed to be superior, its decision to ban the reform and reinterpretation of Islam since the 12th century has choked the spirit of innovation out of Muslim lands, and left the Islamic world less powerful, less economically developed, less technically advanced than God 2.0, 1.0 and 0.0".
So IMHO, according to Friedman, the primary cause for these young men to blow themselves up is none but the oldest criminal motive, that which caused Cain to slay Abel: Envy. Envy that their own orthodox beliefs, which aims at suppressing every human pleasure and instinct, do not bring them happiness, whereas these supposedly inferior cultures seem to be doing so much better. It's the same primal urge which drives the school bully, to beat up kids who are smarter, more talented or athletic than him, because he does not possess the skills to beat them, and is not willing to develop one.
For all those fundamentalists who would enforce strict morals and deride the 'excesses' in others, I quote what Khalil Gibran, from The Prophet, chapter 13, Laws, has to say:
But what of those to whom life is not an ocean, and man-made laws are not sand-towers,
But to whom life is a rock, and the law a chisel with which they would carve it in their own likeness?
What of the cripple who hates dancers?
What man's law shall bind you if you break your yoke but upon no man's prison door?
What laws shall you fear if you dance but stumble against no man's iron chains?
And who is he that shall bring you to judgment if you tear off your garment yet leave it in no man's path?
People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?
This article in The New Yorker is a short but deep sojourn into the vicious cocktail of seemingly innocuous circumstances that may direct a young man or woman down the deadly path to becoming a suicide bomber. The author delves into various experiences, including his own, and outlines how a combination of youthful rebellion, sexual repression, spiritual yearning, immigrant isolation, racial discrimination and existentialist crises could work havoc on the psyche of a susceptible youth.
But even better, was Thomas Friedman's op-ed, Wealth of Rage in the NYT today where I quote one of his points, something that should have been made a long time ago:
"...Sunni Islam's struggle with modernity. Islam has a long tradition of tolerating other religions, but only on the basis of the supremacy of Islam, not equality with Islam. Islam's self-identity is that it is the authentic and ideal expression of monotheism. Muslims are raised with the view that Islam is God 3.0, Christianity is God 2.0, Judaism is God 1.0, and Hinduism is God 0.0"
Mr Friedman, you must be God 4.0 (pre-alpha)! Making that sort of un-PC statement needed some guts, and I'm glad someone put it in as many words. Looks like TF's association with the desi software industry is showing in his columns now :) He continues:
"Part of what seems to be going on with these young Muslim males is that they are, on the one hand, tempted by Western society, and ashamed of being tempted. On the other hand, they are humiliated by Western society because while Sunni Islamic civilization is supposed to be superior, its decision to ban the reform and reinterpretation of Islam since the 12th century has choked the spirit of innovation out of Muslim lands, and left the Islamic world less powerful, less economically developed, less technically advanced than God 2.0, 1.0 and 0.0".
So IMHO, according to Friedman, the primary cause for these young men to blow themselves up is none but the oldest criminal motive, that which caused Cain to slay Abel: Envy. Envy that their own orthodox beliefs, which aims at suppressing every human pleasure and instinct, do not bring them happiness, whereas these supposedly inferior cultures seem to be doing so much better. It's the same primal urge which drives the school bully, to beat up kids who are smarter, more talented or athletic than him, because he does not possess the skills to beat them, and is not willing to develop one.
For all those fundamentalists who would enforce strict morals and deride the 'excesses' in others, I quote what Khalil Gibran, from The Prophet, chapter 13, Laws, has to say:
But what of those to whom life is not an ocean, and man-made laws are not sand-towers,
But to whom life is a rock, and the law a chisel with which they would carve it in their own likeness?
What of the cripple who hates dancers?
What of the ox who loves his yoke and deems the elk and deer of the forest stray and vagrant things?
What of the old serpent who cannot shed his skin, and calls all others naked and shameless?
And of him who comes early to the wedding-feast, and when over-fed and tired goes his way saying that all feasts are violation and all feasters law-breakers?
What man's law shall bind you if you break your yoke but upon no man's prison door?
What laws shall you fear if you dance but stumble against no man's iron chains?
And who is he that shall bring you to judgment if you tear off your garment yet leave it in no man's path?
People of Orphalese, you can muffle the drum, and you can loosen the strings of the lyre, but who shall command the skylark not to sing?
Extremists and fundamentalists you may be, and think you may that you have righteousness with you, but you are only pathetic losers hiding your flaws, your lack of courage to face the world, your impotence in enjoying the pleasures the world has to offer, behind a thin fragile veneer of morality.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Fight Club in China? Not yet...
My Japanese-American friend Koji, who's currently vagabonding his way through South America, has been into Chinese medicine (TCM), tai chi and that sorta stuff for a while, after being a yoga teacher for years. I shall ensure, as soon as he returns, that he has a blog up and going. I mean: Getting taken hostage by gunmen in Bolivia during a political revolution makes you one of two things: übercool or dead. Sometimes both, if you are Ché Guevara. And my friend sure is not dead yet...
Anyway, I digress. The plan for him originally was to fly from the Americas to China, to a teach-English-to-kids program at Wuhan University. However, the Chinese, as I warned him from personal experience, have their own set of interesting cultural stereotypes. If you want to teach English in China, no, you'd better be white. If you're not, you better have a white sounding name. Because 'real' Americans are white. And somehow Japanese names don't go down that well in China. So while filling out the application form, we decided to get him an 'American' name.
We started with the generic 'Joe'. Not good enough. Went through a whole list of common American names from Abe to Zach. Not good enough, not cool enough, not self-defining enough. Sigh, having our tailored meaningful names from our Asian cultures spoils us, leaving us incapable of comprehending the delightful simplicity of a Bill or a Bob :) Desperately looking around the room for inspiration, I glanced at his Fight Club dvd. Now that's a movie we both adore, so I went 'Hey, how about the name of the Brad Pitt guy in Fight Club? Err...Tyler. Yeah. Tyler Durden!' So the application got sent out under the extremely American-sounding name of Tyler Koji Otsuka.
Readings update:
I read about The Duel by Giacomo Casanova on this awesome blog yesterday and decided I had to read it. Yes, it is the same Casanova who is people love to slur (albeit with a green tint) about his lasvicious and flamboyant playboy lifestyle. But few know about his multifaceted personality, his skills at expression and
language, his lust for adventure and travel. The description of the book renders it begging to be read, and thus it lies next to my computer at work, threatening me with the welcome prospect of skiving off for the rest of the day.
The interesting bit, as I was looking for the book in the dark, damp, musty forgotten sections of the Rice Library, I unearthed ancient treasure, a translation of the The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. My heart started pounding, my breath accelerated at the sight. The legacy of countless B-grade Hollywood movies flows in my veins; the angelic hero who inadvertently lays hands on the accursed manuscript, reads an ill-omened chant and awakens ancient terrors: rag-wrapped mummies with dessicating flesh, sand monsters and giant scarabs. Unfortunately, I think the only things I'll manage to stir up are more roaches and mosquitoes. I seriously doubt that Isis and Osiris have kept up with their English, particularly the American variety.
Anyway, I digress. The plan for him originally was to fly from the Americas to China, to a teach-English-to-kids program at Wuhan University. However, the Chinese, as I warned him from personal experience, have their own set of interesting cultural stereotypes. If you want to teach English in China, no, you'd better be white. If you're not, you better have a white sounding name. Because 'real' Americans are white. And somehow Japanese names don't go down that well in China. So while filling out the application form, we decided to get him an 'American' name.
We started with the generic 'Joe'. Not good enough. Went through a whole list of common American names from Abe to Zach. Not good enough, not cool enough, not self-defining enough. Sigh, having our tailored meaningful names from our Asian cultures spoils us, leaving us incapable of comprehending the delightful simplicity of a Bill or a Bob :) Desperately looking around the room for inspiration, I glanced at his Fight Club dvd. Now that's a movie we both adore, so I went 'Hey, how about the name of the Brad Pitt guy in Fight Club? Err...Tyler. Yeah. Tyler Durden!' So the application got sent out under the extremely American-sounding name of Tyler Koji Otsuka.
It didn't work :)
Readings update:
I read about The Duel by Giacomo Casanova on this awesome blog yesterday and decided I had to read it. Yes, it is the same Casanova who is people love to slur (albeit with a green tint) about his lasvicious and flamboyant playboy lifestyle. But few know about his multifaceted personality, his skills at expression and
language, his lust for adventure and travel. The description of the book renders it begging to be read, and thus it lies next to my computer at work, threatening me with the welcome prospect of skiving off for the rest of the day.The interesting bit, as I was looking for the book in the dark, damp, musty forgotten sections of the Rice Library, I unearthed ancient treasure, a translation of the The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. My heart started pounding, my breath accelerated at the sight. The legacy of countless B-grade Hollywood movies flows in my veins; the angelic hero who inadvertently lays hands on the accursed manuscript, reads an ill-omened chant and awakens ancient terrors: rag-wrapped mummies with dessicating flesh, sand monsters and giant scarabs. Unfortunately, I think the only things I'll manage to stir up are more roaches and mosquitoes. I seriously doubt that Isis and Osiris have kept up with their English, particularly the American variety.
Sunday, July 03, 2005
I ♥ KTRU! Musical ruminations...
KTRU Houston Rice Radio, 91.7FM is the world's coolest radio station! At least the coolest one I've ever worked for. Which is not saying much, coz that's the only station I've ever DJ-ed in :)
I have a regular general music show on there, plus the Navrang show of Indian music on Sunday mornings 10pm-noon CT. Listen to it online or on the radio, of course.
KTRU is our University radio station, run by students under vague administrative oversight. It plays music which most Americans tend to term as 'alternative'. I've always wondered about the definition of 'alternative' music - or 'alternative' or 'counter' anything for that matter. It seems to exist solely to distinguish itself from 'mainstream' culture. So KTRU plays 'good' music that is not heard on commercial channels anywhere in the US. But again, 'mainstream' is such a relative term! For me, growing up in Indian suburbia, 'mainstream' was strictly Bollywood superhit songs. Anything else was 'alternative'. So even Britney Spears might fit into my definition of 'alternative' (shudder).
Are you still listening?
Anyway, I've been DJing for this radio station for about a year now, and I've learnt a whole lot of stuff. One, there is just way too much music out there. And a lot of it is good music that we don't hear anywhere else. However, I admit it...I can't deal with ALL their music, especially the super-experimental improvised jazz and electronica stuff. Melody and rhythm are fundamental to any kind of music in India, and I just cannot escape their clutches.
But that leads to deep philosphical questions like: How do you define good music? Is music an acquired taste or is there something instrinsic about music that appeals to our emotions? I mean, is there more to music than just a precise collection of sound waves? Can you supply a computer or synthesizer with all the sheet music of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture and can it recreate a version that will arouse me with the same martial intensity as a good orchestra does when the cannons boom out at its climax? Can it make me waltz with an imaginary partner when the Blue Danube splashes around the auditorium?
An interesting observation from personal experience: a lot of western classical music does not invoke the 'expected' emotion that it is supposed to invoke in me. A piece that may be supposed to be relaxing but cheerful may just seem plain depressing to me. Similarly, there are numerous instances when I receive phone calls during my radio show asking 'Hey, what was that cool funky cheerful piece that you played?' and I have to resist telling them it was a sad lament of separated lovers or something like that.
I think the answer to the question regarding music above may lead us closer to the answer another eternal conundrum: Are we humans merely a glorified collection of chemicals? Are all our emotions: love, hate, anger, happiness and all our existentialist crises precise results of chemicals locking into and out of each other? Are we somehow more than the sum of our parts?
I know which answer I want to hear, but I sometimes fear the truth lies elsewhere.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Sex, AIDS and India
I have my favourite theory of why Christianity never quite caught on in India, despite the efforts of missionaries since St Doubting Thomas two thousand years ago. Here's what a typical scene would be like:
--------------------------------------------
(Missionary preaching to group of people in India)
Missionary: Jesus was special. He was the son of God. His mother Mary was a virgin even after she gave birth to him!
Man in crowd: What do you mean by that, hmm...virgin?
Missionary: Well, ...you know...his mother...er...never had....er...sex in order to give birth to him
Another Man in crowd: Oh, what's so special about that? Our mothers are virgins too!
Missionary: Of course not! We're ordinary folks, our mothers had to have...er...done it with our fathers!
Third Man in crowd: WTF are you trying to imply? That our mothers actually did...you Western devil!! Get out of here with your corrupt ideas, how dare you....
(Angry mob rushes at missionary, who flees for dear life)
----------------------------------------------
Well, that was probably not the way it was. But it does highlight what I'm trying to convey. One ability of us Indian people which never fails us, and which never fails to amaze me, is our limitless capability of denial. We deny everything that has to remotely do with sex, never discuss it in the family, and only in 'non-vegetarian' jokes among buddies.
Consider this: a school in India recently had its parents in uproar when it announced the intention of introducing sex education to kids. Parents came up with gems like 'Our children are angels, how dare they put such ideas in their heads?' Angels? yeah, right.
Do they really believe that teenagers in India are not doing it? Here's something my Mom described recently.
My ex-college, IIT Bombay, is located on the banks of the Powai lake in subarban Mumbai. My mom, coupla years ago, went to that campus in order to collect some docs I needed. Whle driving back, part of the road led past the lake where she saw huge shining white heaps of something being piled by people, and loaded onto trucks. Out of sheer curiosity, she stopped the car and went closer to investigate. The next thing she did was to call me in a state of utter shock. What was being piled up? Condoms, being dredged out of the lake.
Yes, you heard right, CONDOMS.
The workmen dredging up the condoms said that the culprits were mainly students form a number of surrounding middle and high schools, teenagers who skipped classes and rented a little boat on the lake where they...ahem...did 'masti' (mischief). Every six months or so, the lake got so clogged with these non-biodegradable rubbers that they had to be cleaned up and taken away by truckloads. It took a whole day of loading and driving trucks to clean it out. The condoms were then being taken to a profitable recycling business.
That is a freakin' LOT of condoms.
Shall I whine about the moral corruption of our teenagers who have sex, or shall I rejoice that at least they do it safely?
Shall I lift my spirits up at the environmental benefits of removing the condoms from the lake, or shall I even allude to the fact that this very lake is part of Mumbai's drinking water supply?????
You decide.
Well, our very prudishness about sex has come back to haunt us now in form of the deadly spectre of AIDS. AIDS in India started out as a disease among prostitutes and truck drivers who employ their services throughout the country. But it is not confined to them anymore.
Recently, an international organization claimed that the number of HIV patients in India was more that 6 million, and that India had overtaken South Africa as the highest HIV-infected nation in the world. The Indian Govt's response: to slam the report and counterclaim, "No, India is not the largest HIV-infected nation in the world. Our estimate is that we have ONLY 5.1 million HIV patients".
5.1 million. Official statistics. Denial. How reassuring.
--------------------------------------------
(Missionary preaching to group of people in India)
Missionary: Jesus was special. He was the son of God. His mother Mary was a virgin even after she gave birth to him!
Man in crowd: What do you mean by that, hmm...virgin?
Missionary: Well, ...you know...his mother...er...never had....er...sex in order to give birth to him
Another Man in crowd: Oh, what's so special about that? Our mothers are virgins too!
Missionary: Of course not! We're ordinary folks, our mothers had to have...er...done it with our fathers!
Third Man in crowd: WTF are you trying to imply? That our mothers actually did...you Western devil!! Get out of here with your corrupt ideas, how dare you....
(Angry mob rushes at missionary, who flees for dear life)
----------------------------------------------
Well, that was probably not the way it was. But it does highlight what I'm trying to convey. One ability of us Indian people which never fails us, and which never fails to amaze me, is our limitless capability of denial. We deny everything that has to remotely do with sex, never discuss it in the family, and only in 'non-vegetarian' jokes among buddies.
Consider this: a school in India recently had its parents in uproar when it announced the intention of introducing sex education to kids. Parents came up with gems like 'Our children are angels, how dare they put such ideas in their heads?' Angels? yeah, right.
Do they really believe that teenagers in India are not doing it? Here's something my Mom described recently.
My ex-college, IIT Bombay, is located on the banks of the Powai lake in subarban Mumbai. My mom, coupla years ago, went to that campus in order to collect some docs I needed. Whle driving back, part of the road led past the lake where she saw huge shining white heaps of something being piled by people, and loaded onto trucks. Out of sheer curiosity, she stopped the car and went closer to investigate. The next thing she did was to call me in a state of utter shock. What was being piled up? Condoms, being dredged out of the lake.
Yes, you heard right, CONDOMS.
The workmen dredging up the condoms said that the culprits were mainly students form a number of surrounding middle and high schools, teenagers who skipped classes and rented a little boat on the lake where they...ahem...did 'masti' (mischief). Every six months or so, the lake got so clogged with these non-biodegradable rubbers that they had to be cleaned up and taken away by truckloads. It took a whole day of loading and driving trucks to clean it out. The condoms were then being taken to a profitable recycling business.
That is a freakin' LOT of condoms.
Shall I whine about the moral corruption of our teenagers who have sex, or shall I rejoice that at least they do it safely?
Shall I lift my spirits up at the environmental benefits of removing the condoms from the lake, or shall I even allude to the fact that this very lake is part of Mumbai's drinking water supply?????
You decide.
Well, our very prudishness about sex has come back to haunt us now in form of the deadly spectre of AIDS. AIDS in India started out as a disease among prostitutes and truck drivers who employ their services throughout the country. But it is not confined to them anymore.
Recently, an international organization claimed that the number of HIV patients in India was more that 6 million, and that India had overtaken South Africa as the highest HIV-infected nation in the world. The Indian Govt's response: to slam the report and counterclaim, "No, India is not the largest HIV-infected nation in the world. Our estimate is that we have ONLY 5.1 million HIV patients".
5.1 million. Official statistics. Denial. How reassuring.
We need to do something.
Friday, July 01, 2005
My fav movie gals
Indulge me today, my dear reader, and let me launch off into fantasy. Lonely Friday evenings tend to do that to a guy in his mid-twenties :)
It is indeed strange. When I first moved to the US about 5 years ago, the whole 'weekend culture' affected me not. It made little difference whether the day was Monday or Friday or whatever, it was just another day. Well, Saturday and Sunday was possibly an exception, where you might go to the grocery store and cook a few things. With passage of time, and acquiring a few American (or Americanized) friends, this seems to have changed. Now, I find myself experiencing Monday morning blues, just like millions of Americans, or wondering whether I'll have a date this Friday evening, and feeling extremely disappointed when I don't.
One of the little things about changing cultural identities that I'd rather not have to deal with.
Anyway, that was not the point of this post. I wanted to talk about my favourite movie actresses and characters. Why? Because I want to be with the most beautiful women that I love, if only in my dreams. Naaah, because I don't feel like doing anything better.
My split-cultural-identity disorder does not let me admire an actress from one specific part of the world. Which part of myself do I humour, the Indian, the American or the international?
So, by now my dear reader, you should have psycho-analyzed me to determine the girl of my dreams. Bohemian, unconventional, adventurous, smart, and yes, as a bonus, seriously badass!!!! Anyone out there :D ?
It is indeed strange. When I first moved to the US about 5 years ago, the whole 'weekend culture' affected me not. It made little difference whether the day was Monday or Friday or whatever, it was just another day. Well, Saturday and Sunday was possibly an exception, where you might go to the grocery store and cook a few things. With passage of time, and acquiring a few American (or Americanized) friends, this seems to have changed. Now, I find myself experiencing Monday morning blues, just like millions of Americans, or wondering whether I'll have a date this Friday evening, and feeling extremely disappointed when I don't.
One of the little things about changing cultural identities that I'd rather not have to deal with.
Anyway, that was not the point of this post. I wanted to talk about my favourite movie actresses and characters. Why? Because I want to be with the most beautiful women that I love, if only in my dreams. Naaah, because I don't feel like doing anything better.
My split-cultural-identity disorder does not let me admire an actress from one specific part of the world. Which part of myself do I humour, the Indian, the American or the international?
* Kate Winslet - Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless mind - The ORANGE hair! I've always thought she was curvaceously gorgeous, ever since Titanic (yes my dear reader, I shall admit to liking that 'I'm flying' scene), but Eternal Sunshine was what did it for me. Her character there was right out of my fantasies (what geek does not dream of a girl who actually does all the seduction bit herself?) And the orange hairdo!
* Natalie Portman - León - The Professional - That's when she grabbed my eye, what with her potty mouth and Lolita-role. She was the only redeeming thing in 'Cold Mountain'. Well, Jude Law isn't that bad either. She's always been just slightly behind Kate Winslet for me, and with her recent fiery coiffure, she's only gotten 'Closer'.
* Franka Potente - Run Lola Run - How can a guy resist a gal who would (and could) do all that running, even to save the life of a loser that was her boyfriend in that movie? The German girl with the ORANGE hair! OMG. How can you resist that?
Yes my dear reader, you figured it out. There's something between me and orange-dyed hair. It's just so liberated, so punk, so postmodern, and, so 'Don't mess with me!!'.
* Rani Mukherjee The Indian gal of my dreams. The Rani of Bollywood. She just keeps getting better by the movie. I noticed her first in a movie called 'Bicchoo' (Scorpion), which was a remake of 'the Professional', and oddly enough, she played the Natalie Portman character there. See the connection? I'd recommend the movie only as an academic study of how TRASHY a bollywood movie can get if it's makers are so inclined. But how could I forget that gal who confidently hurled the choicest hindi epithets in every scene of the movie? And she's not let me down. 'Saathiya', 'Hum tum', 'Paheli', and of course, her Helen Keller turn in 'Black'.
* Zhang Zi Yi The hottest thing after fire-breathing dragons to ever emerge from the Middle Kingdom. With every swish of her swords in Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero, House of Flying Daggers, she cleaves my heart in twain. (Ouch, that was sappy). 真正的老虎!!
So, by now my dear reader, you should have psycho-analyzed me to determine the girl of my dreams. Bohemian, unconventional, adventurous, smart, and yes, as a bonus, seriously badass!!!! Anyone out there :D ?
