Sonia Faleiro
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Still on Top of Their Game
Labels: Bombay
Saturday, May 10, 2008
'Class is not a Clinton Forte'
'They took furniture and rugs from the White House collection that had to be returned. And they received $86,000 in gifts during the president’s last year in office, including clothing (a pantsuit, a leather jacket), flatware, carpeting, and so on. In response to the outcry over that, they decided to repay the value of the gifts.'
Labels: Politics
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
A Poem for Zoey
Friday, April 25, 2008
Bookmarked
I was delighted with The Huffington Post. It has everything,--news, media, entertainment--but its web team is so damn lethargic there's never anything up until 9.30 a.m. US time. I'm still loyal to Talking Points Memo, whose editor and publisher Josh Marshall recently won a George Polk Award for journalism. TPM is succinct, and Marshall's editorials are to the point and pointed. But after spending way too much time on Politico (could they be more pro-Clinton?) and Real Clear Politics (I'm not a fan of aggregators. Opinions! Opinions! And some of your own!), I have to say my vote goes to Time magazine's The Page, written by Mark Halperin. Unlike other news blogs, which seem to think that no one gets online after 11 p.m. US time, Halperin has a crew in the magazine's Asia bureau constantly updating content. So even if you wake up in the middle of the night and are just, by the by as we call it around here, curious to see what's up in Indiana, there's something on there for you.
Not that I wake up every three hours to check The Page, on my phone, which just happens to be placed conveniently under my pillow. Not me.
That would be weird.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Scram!
Clinton is to Obama what Huckabee was, briefly, to McCain. She doesn't have a chance of capturing the presidential nomination but is hanging around like her longevity, which is eroding the Democrats chances of capturing the White House this November, will suddenly change the rules of math.Go away already.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
'We're Not Saying Her Supporters are Old ...
Monday, April 21, 2008
Hope the 'Charts' Were Right
'“She looked into my room, and I looked at her,” Mr. Panchal said. “We didn’t even say ‘Hi.’ “But I was thinking, Wow, I’m going to have to talk to her, say something. I thought she was very beautiful.” '
And since we're talking about an Indian couple, there's naturally some arranged marriage angst. (Far from home, yet close to cliche).
'When they decided to marry, Ms. Patel and Mr. Panchal, who were both born on the same day in India, had to consider cultural traditions, like arranged marriages, that they had bypassed in favor of what in India is referred to as a “love marriage,” he said.'
Arthole Part II
Dr Belisa Vranich, clinical psycologist, says of Habacuc: 'At the very least (he) has traits of antisocial personality disorder, grandiose and narcissistic personality disorder, and a peppering of delusions.'
She adds, 'The line between chronicling cruelty and staging is clear to most. Treating the dog as an object, for "art's" sake shows pathological malevolence. And, though I know I'll get slack for saying this, I'll go so far as to say that dying dog + letters made from dog food on the wall + furnace burning 175 vials of crack + the Sandinista hymn playing backward, does not art make.'
Finally, this, which I think is so true of all art whether painting or writing, and in fact, even of journalism: 'The bottom line is that it is much harder to make art that is inspirational, controversial, and empowering (this hot mess of a show sounded like the leftovers of a meth lab raid). It's much easier to shock people with ugliness or cruelty and then pride yourself that you are misunderstood and edgy. '
Friday, April 18, 2008
'Get That Dirt of Ya Shoulders, Obama'
Walking Away
For the past year I've been without a walker (I started off with one), and it was just me and the Z, me cussing at times. Since she's a Jack Russell she's never just satisfied with a walk, oh no, she must run and dig and dive, and pretend-hunt for an hour in the morning and at least one in the evening. We'd go to the tabela and the lot and the garden, and my neighbours, who already know that I'm an unemployed wastrel, would watch from their windows as they cooked and cleaned and wiped their husband's chins, tut-tutting. (A photograph of me in the Mumbai Mirror, which is the one newspaper everyone in Bombay reads, impressed them only temporarily. One of them came up to me and said, 'I saw your photo in the paper. I recognized you because you were sitting next to Zoey).
In any case, one doesn't complain of the crying after one has had the child, and so I tried not to feel too disturbed by the fact that my routine was crafted around Zoey's walks. ('No Mr Commissioner of Police I cannot come to your office at 5 p.m. My dog has to be walked for heaven's sake! Do you have no humanity?')
Last month, someone suggested Ajay. Oh, Ajay. Ajay. Ajay. If only I had known how you would turn out.
Ajay is 24 and has a smile that reaches his ears and hair that touches his shoulders. Every day he wears the same checked pants and a t-shirt that was once blue, and rides his cycle from Ruia Park where he lives in the ashram with a cow and his mother. On Dr Ambedkar's birthday he got me kheer so delicious I lied and told my partner it was over when, in fact, I'd shoved it at the back of the refrigerator.
On his first day at work, I took Ajay around my digs. Garden, I said with pride! Tabela! Lot!
I turned to him expectantly. Ajay fought for the right expression. He managed polite interest. He asked, 'What about the beach? Wouldn't Zoey like that?'
I looked down at my feet. Zoey's ears were standing straight, her tongue gawking with greed. 'Did someone up there say beach?'
'Uh, yes she does,' I replied. 'Why?'
'Why don't I just take her to the beach then? ' said Ajay, his halo shining golden, 'the sand will feel nice on her paws.'
Now it should be clear that I'm no slacker. Hey, I walk Zoey. I walk myself on the treadmill every morning, and my roses are in bloom not just thanks to Gro-More but because of my own dedicated and steady hand with a bucket and jug.
But the beach. Although it's across the road, it does requires effort. There's the tabela to be crossed, and when we get back Zoey needs a wash. A wash of shampoo (in a crunch, she uses L'Oreal Vive Pro for Curly Hair), a towelling and some mammoth hugsies (yes, that's a word adults can use without shame. Okay, a little shame) to warm her up. It's a lot for one often-fed-up writer.
In any case, we don't make it to the beach as much as we should. I tried not to make that clear. 'Oh yes, the beach,' I said knowingly, as Zoey turned cartwheels.
So every morning Ajay comes over, and takes Zoey to the beach. She swims and plays ball and does somersaults and tricks, which frankly, in a fair world, I would be making a ton of money off. He returns in the evening, and they're off again, Zoey tugging ahead on her red leash like she'd just spotted the pot of bones at the end of the rainbow, and the man in the checked pants running cheerfully behind to keep up.
Life hasn't changed that much. (So there Ajay!)
I still wake up at 6.30 a.m. So does Zoey. Except that now, instead of hanging out with me or just rolling around in bed making polite lady farts, she goes and sits by the door. 'He'll only be here at 8.30,' I say. She ignores me. In the evening, at about 4 p.m. she's back at the door. '6.30, Zoey!' I say, exasperated. 'His time is 6.30!' She ignores me.
When Ajay arrives Zoey starts jumping around like someone's poured red ants on her belly. She barks ecstatically while I leash her and whines with impatience as I reach for her Chuckit. When I open the door, Zoey leaps yay high and gives Ajay what can only be described as a tummy kiss.
'Here,' I say, hoping my smile is more welcoming than I feel. 'We've been waiting for you.'
Arthole
What was it?
He dragged a stray dog off the street, tied a rope around its neck, and let it starve to death in the gallery. People paid to watch this 'exhibit.'
Has art become an excuse for people to indulge in their most base fantasies? And why didn't Habacuc tie a rope around his own neck and starve himself to death?
Please sign this petition demanding that Habacuc be banned from the Bienal.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Now She Has My Vote ...
“Everybody knows you and your husband are elitists,” Mr. Colbert said right off the bat. “Tell me about your elite upbringing on the South Side of Chicago. How many silver spoons in your mouth?”
“We had four spoons,” deadpanned Mrs. Obama during her late night talk show debut.
She added: “And then my father got a raise at the plant, and we had five spoons.”
Don't We All?
The Tree Man of Java, reports The Telegraph, has had his first surgery to remove the four pounds of roots that have been growing on his body for twenty years. Now he wants love.Labels: News
Thursday, April 10, 2008
News
Contrary to what some people believe, I have a job other than walker to Zoey.Evidence of this may be found here, in a new anthology of Indian writing, which has been published by the Italian house ISBN Edizioni. India features 11 writers of fiction and non fiction, including the wonderful Chandrahas Choudhury and Altaf Tyrewala, and was edited by Gioia Guerzoni, who has translated a lot of Indian writing for the Italian market. The book is available in Italian for the moment, in bookstores in Europe and online everywhere else. My essay is on the hijda community.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
That's What I'm Talking About!
Also: 'Falling Out of Love with Bill.
Source: Andrew Sullivan.
Monday, April 07, 2008
New Fiction
A gorgeous short story by Ha Jin, author of Waiting, in The New Yorker.
Labels: Fiction
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Live Blogging: The Most Honest Form of Journalism?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
'Sir Vidia Doesn't Talk to Anyone'
'Over thirty years after The Great Railway Bazaar, his seminal travelogue on India, Paul Theroux reprises his journey in the forthcoming Ghost Train to the Eastern Star. Celebrated for almost three dozen novels and travel books, Theroux is also known for his relationship with VS Naipaul—which resulted in a memoir—and a keen social and political engagement with the world he writes of. In conversation. You returned to Africa with Dark Star Safari, and were disappointed. I was afraid that would happen with India. Did it?
Not at all! Though it has changed. I was in a cab in Amritsar, chatting with the driver about Operation Blue Star, and he said, ‘but India’s a different country. We’re a big power.’ He was so proud of being Indian. When I was here thirty five years ago people weren’t saying ‘this is a great country.’ They were saying ‘poor, ragged India. We’re trying so hard and it isn’t working.’ India’s ally then was the Soviet Union; selling you snow plows in the guise of tractors! It’s still a polarized society, with the very rich and the very poor, but there’s a middle class that didn’t exist before. We also need Indian technology and technicians, which wasn’t the case.
What drew you to India back then?
Deep curiosity. India represented to me an enormous world of difference and complexity. I had been living in Africa in countries that weren’t big and complex. There’d also been an interest in India in American life and literature from its earliest phases. Emerson, Thoreau, Twain were all fascinated by India, visited it, and read Indian scriptures.
What expectations did you have from the country?
I didn’t. I wanted India to stay the same. It was so wonderful, complex, and glittering. I couldn’t imagine that India could change, and I certainly didn’t imagine that it would become a technological powerhouse. Two years ago I thought ‘I’d like to re take that journey and see how it has changed.’
Another of your famous books has an Indian connection. Sir Vidia’s Shadow, about your relationship with VS Naipaul.
It’s always hard to answer the question ‘which is your favourite book?’ but this is one of mine because it allowed me to answer the question of how I became a writer. It’s about making money and losing it, up one minute, down the next, and about this man who’s really complicated and super difficult, but who I knew better than anybody, in a way that even his closest friends knew him, but couldn’t write about. I loved the book, and no I don’t have any regrets. I got terrible ‘how dare you reviews?’ but you say you liked it and it’s been selling.
Does he talk to you?
No, no! But then he doesn't talk to anybody!
Are you looking forward to Patrick French's biography of him?
Well you know I helped Patrick. I gave him my letters from Naipaul.
How would you differentiate your writing on India from Naipaul’s?
There's a very big difference. He's of Indian descent, and like most Indians overseas has a passionate feeling for India. But a conflicted one, because he didn't grow up here. He's in the peculiar position of being an overseas Indian but also one whose youth was spent in a colony. Then he went to Oxford and married an English woman, and hasn't left England since. So when he comes to India it's as a son of India, while I come here as a traveler. I'm more detached. This is his motherland, while my homeland is America where I have my roots. Naipaul on the other hand sees himself as a man without a country, without roots. I get asked about him in India quite a lot. I wonder when he comes to India, whether people ask him about me!
The big difference actually is that he never travels alone. As long as I've known him, since 1966, he's always travelled with his wife, a helper, someone driving, someone getting the tickets. And I've never done that. I'm not boasting, but I perceive travel as something else. If you're writing about it you confront the sight alone. I like to travel with my wife. It's more fun. But travel writing isn't about having celebrating or enjoying a place. It's about seeing and understanding a place. So he travels as a celebrated person and I travel as an anonymous one.
You taught in the Peace Corps in Africa, and recently expressed concern about celebrities flocking to the region. What other issues engage you?
I'm not a political person, but I see myself as an impartial critic. The issues that engage me are the same that did when I went to Africa in my early twenties, thinking that I'd like to solve their problems with education. So here we are 45 years later, and it's still a problem. So when Bono or Angelina Jolie says they have the solution, I know they don't. I think they are the problem. They don't know what they're talking about. They're confusing the issue of development with political will, and think that problems are solved with money. And most of all they deal from the top. They don't speak any African language, spend any time in the Bush, or know any Africans. They talk to heads of state, the highest level, and the one that's most out of touch with the people. So a man who rigs the elections in Kenya or Uganda becomes President, and his glittering moment is getting a big hug from Bono or Angelina. Madonna goes to Malawi to adopt a child and people are flocking her car, 'adopt me!' She should adopt me! So that's not the answer.
The people, who will change Africa, are the Africans or people who work humbly there. Africa is perceived as a problem place. Just a place with problems. And it's not that. It's a wonderful place, and a lot of things there do work. But there is a power vacuum, and a lot of people step into that vacuum. Angelina, Brad Pitt, Bono, Bill Clinton, Oprah Winfrey. And also bad people: thieves, gang bangers; diamond smugglers. Everyone's stepping into this power vacuum. It's a free for all. I'm interested in development, but I know it's not solved by money. It's not about 'I come in and solve your problems,' but 'I help you. I give you the training to solve them.'
When you started travelling in your twenties you were optimistic about our capacity to change. Do you believe that still?
I was totally convinced that people were able to solve their own problems. And that they’d do it. I thought, train a generation of teachers and they’ll take over and I’ll be superfluous. I’ll go home. Didn’t happen. And it’s true of India. A doctor who trains in India sees his future in Chicago. Why should people send doctors to India when Indian doctors don’t want to stay here? But that’s the future. I realised I was taking a lot of the places (I travelled to) more seriously then they’re taking themselves.
On the subject of change, you live in Hawai where Barack Obama lived. Since the polls are due, I must ask: Obama or Clinton?
Oh I’m a big Obama supporter. And when I met him in Hawai on New Year’s Eve 2006, he said the magic words.
Which were?
I love your books! (Laughs). And I said, ‘I hope you run!’
But of course he’s intelligent and open minded, and hasn’t been in politics for a long time so isn’t incumbent by special interests. And he’s a wonderful speaker. Normally when a politician gives a speech I turn of the TV, but I love what he has to say. He’s like JF Kennedy. Kennedy had an inspirational ability, and was also a wonderful speaker. Nobel Prize winner Doris Lessing said she believed he’d be assassinated if he won the Presidency. Would you agree? She said that? I want him to run. I want him to prove that this sort of thing won’t happen. We can protect him. Bush isn't the most popular President, you know. But his life isn't in jeopardy.
He's not black.
So what? Obama just won in Maine. It doesn't get whiter than that. You're more likely to hear a racial opinion by an Indian in America. Hapshi! Hapshi! (Laughs). People say Americans are race minded but Obama is an example of the fact that we aren't. But I'm a huge fan of Doris Lessing, so I don't like to hear her saying so. Anyway she lives in England what does she know?
Back to travel! Is there anything that intimidates you when travelling?
One thing, which I see a lot of in Africa. A teenager with a rifle pointed at my face. It’s happened three or four times in my life. I have to say, ‘put the gun down. There’s nothing to worry about.’ I haven’t been in too many dangerous situations, but this is the worst one.
As a reader do you have a preference for travel writing?
I would say ‘no.’ On this trip for example, I brought along Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce to re read; Maigret’s Mistake; Lady Chatterley’s Lover in Guwahati and Doris Lessing’s memoir Walking in the Shade at Howrah station. I tend to read books that feed my brain; indisputably great books.
Lastly, could there possibly be a country you haven’t visited?
Would you believe Scandinavia!'
Labels: Books, Journalism
