Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Bombay Bombings

A truly sad event. I know Tanvi, Gayatri, Shaz and I all have family, friends, and loved ones who live in Bombay. Most of us have been to Bombay at some point in our lives, either recently or when we were younger, and Bombay's lively spirit has always remained a cherished memory. Our condolensces and prayers go out to the victims and to their families, to those injured, and to everyone who has been affected by this awful, tragic event.
There's also a great blog you can visit for regular updates and help to find loved ones. Mumbaihelp.
Feel free to leave any relevant information, comments, stories, cherished memories, etc.

Update: Also, 2 wonderful essays by Manish Vij and Dilip D'Souza can be found at Salon. (via SM)

Friday, July 07, 2006

A Worldly Game...

The NY Times has a fascinating article on the game of basketball and the diversity of its players. Read "World Court: Basketball in Queens."

On the changing face of new players:

"As it happens, you no longer remember quite when the basketball players in your neighborhood started to change. After playing on these very courts for 29 years, you've lost track. The only detail you recall for sure is that back in 1977, and even as recently as 1990, almost all the players came stamped Made in America. Jewish, Irish, German, Italian, occasionally black. This was neither good nor bad. That was who lived here, and that was who played here.
One day, though, a teenager joined in who spoke only Russian. A few months later, a Chinese kid who knew only broken English dropped by. The lineup started to change, piecemeal, without your even realizing anything had happened. The names of fellow contestants proved harder to learn, much less pronounce. The faces looked different, sometimes with skin darker or eyes narrower. Players from Tel Aviv might take to the courts wearing yarmulkes. New tongues were heard, too. Asian teammates could talk strategy among themselves in Mandarin without risking that opponents would understand."

On a new multicultural Queens:

"So it goes, too, all along the spine of Queens Boulevard, from Long Island City and Sunnyside to Kew Gardens and Jamaica. Store signs have morphed from English into Russian and Greek and Korean. The corner delis now lay out newspapers in dozens of languages: the Chinese alone have no fewer than seven dailies. Suddenly it's harder to get good pastrami around here — Pastrami King and the Boulevard Deli are long gone, leaving behind only Ben's Best — but much easier to find baba ghanouj and palak paneer.
It's already widely known that no place in the United States, maybe no locale on the planet, is more ethnically diverse than Queens. What's a revelation is just how multicultural it has become."

"For proof, ride the subway from Manhattan out to Queens some workday during the evening rush. Every skin tone on the human palette is represented on those trains. Passengers may converse in Cantonese or Punjabi, may wear turbans or saris. Just for fun, try to guess who will get off at which stop, bound for which national enclave. The Koreans may step off in Flushing and the Colombians in Corona, while the Afghans leave at Jackson Heights and the Bukharians in Rego Park."

On how Queens represents a larger "idea" of America:

"Queens is like a conglomerate that keeps diversifying its portfolio, the better to profit from synergies. When it comes to being international, the Olympic Games have nothing on this borough. Unlike, say, the Iowa wheat fields, Queens is what this country is supposed to be all about, the true American heartland. It's every inch a symbol of the great experiment in freedom and democracy that is America itself. Still, tourists to New York would rather see the Empire State Building. So nobody ever comes out to Queens, only everyone, and seldom to visit, only to live here. "

On new faces, same game:

"The names and faces are different from three decades ago, but the sport itself, how it's played, remains the same. Dribble. Pass. Shoot. Rebound. You have yet to see a style of play remotely identifiable as, say, Middle Eastern. The new arrivals may still observe Ramadan and eat paratha, but they all look to slash to the hoop like Kobe. They all aspire to play American. "

On reality but how the game brings a hopeful, ideal vision for the future:

"Even in famously liberal New York, not everyone wants the country's doors flung open to admit immigrants from everywhere in the world. You hear a refrain of doomsday warnings about neighborhoods being invaded and going downhill, of many longstanding residents ultimately leaving in dismay or even disgust. Given the close quarters in which New Yorkers live, ethnic tensions run as high here as anywhere.
Still, in almost three decades playing basketball here, you've never seen evidence on the courts of any issue over national differences. No name-calling, no arguments, no fistfights. In the occasional game involving Arabs and Israelis, you've actually seen peace break out. That's why the changing of the guard in Queens renews your faith in the future, and never more so than as July Fourth approaches. Sappy as the sentiment sounds the moment it enters your brain, you think: if we can all play together, maybe someday we can all live together, too.

Please read the entire article and do check out the pictures accompanying the article. They are pretty amazing!

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

To a dear professor...

From "Professor S":

..."I'll be teaching my last year of classes for the university & will retire at the end of spring 2007. After 35 years of teaching at the U of I. I look forward to starting other kinds of work-- not sure what. But I'll be looking. Take care & stay in touch. You were a terrific student who brought much pleasure into my teaching life...."

I recently received an email from a dear professor of mine who I've kept in touch with since I've graduated. She's one of the most fascinating women I know and a champion of human rights, at the forefront of developing events for womens' rights, a lover of South Asian culture and literature, a traveller, a writer, a voracious reader, an AMAZING cook, and a teacher with a heart of enormous compassion, love, and hope. She has truly been one of my many inspirations during college and introduced me to the wonderful world of South Asian literature and art. I travelled with her throughout England and she showed me the beauty and history of the cultural mix that is London. London and consequently my trip throughout England, wouldn't have been anything without her guidance, stories of past travels and studies, her knowledge of obsure places, authors, histories, her connections to local historians and celebrities, and her eye for the various diasporic links within London.

I'm truly grateful for her eagerness to help each student (including myself) believe that we were, are, and could become great writers, noble citizens, and acheivers of our own, often delisionary, dreams.

Now, this dear professor of mine, will retire soon and move forward with a new life with the same passion, integrity, and vision she brought to her classroom, both near and far. This is my ode to you, "Professor S", for making me believe that "words are things" , that you can be somebody anywhere and at anytime, that a book unread was our luck, our new opportunity to open up our minds, that life was about making new mistakes, and that your identity is always who you are and and not what others interpret it to be. Thank you and may you make many many more new mistakes in your future life to come.