Sharanya Manivannan

Migration

2007-12-21T14:53:00.000+05:30

This blog has moved. Drop me an email.

Hiatus and Clarifications

2007-12-10T17:17:00.001+05:30

I’m back from my working holiday and about to take another hiatus. Since recent events have suddenly made my statements/opinions/even me myself controversial, I feel I need to clarify some things first.

With regards to the use of the word apartheid: to me, any race based political system that significantly disenfranchises and divides is apartheid. This doesn’t necessarily mean it is analogous to South African apartheid. I have chosen to use this word in a few circumstances, and as a journalist friend says, most of the controversy boils down to semantics. That others may disagree on its definition (this is similar to the lawyer P Uthayakumar’s use of the term “ethnic cleansing”, as said friend also pointed out) is a given. To me, however, it seems an appropriate word, with a margin for writerly hyperbole.

Which brings me to the next point: never have I claimed to represent anyone but myself and my own observations. I am not an activist for race issues in Malaysia. Neither am I an expert on politics, race theory or law. I am not affiliated to any group. I am a writer with a blog, and that is all. I happen to blog about whatever strikes my fancy. I may be serious on some days, irreverent on others. I do not even regard the writing on my blog as journalism, unless I happen to post articles I have written for publications (I don't post most of these). I have written about race throughout the time I’ve been blogging (even back when I had a blog that was only known to friends), because it is something that I feel strongly about, and that this caught the eye of certain members of the press, giving rise to certain coverage in the press, is a matter of chance. I could just as easily have been interviewed because of some new development in feminism, poetry, fashion, India or Sri Lanka. And believe me, if I had a choice, I would have rather been. On that point, please note that I have not given any direct interviews to the Tamil press, although it has come to my attention that there have been articles quoting or mentioning me in them.

My blog is my space, not a forum. It is my prerogative to moderate comments through, or not. I have switched off anonymous comments because here’s the difference between you (you know who you are) and me: I put myself out there, and you hide behind namelessness and shifting IP addresses. If you can’t be bothered to read a post properly before leaving a comment which accuses me of the exact opposite of a statement I’ve made, are hateful or make inappropriate personal attacks I may choose to not spend my energy on responding to your comment. Oh, and just because you read my blog doesn’t mean you know me. Just because you went to college or kindergarten with me doesn’t mean you know me. Just because I’m friends with your ex doesn’t mean you know me. Just because you’ve sat next to me on a plane or a train doesn’t mean you know me. Just because you’re related to me doesn’t mean you know me.

I have still not looked at the actual reports or what other blogs are saying, read the comments on the blogs I do frequent, or even looked at the many comments left here. But I am aware, from what I’ve been told, that a great deal of viciousness toward me seems to be out there at the moment. If I bother you so much, ignore me. It’s only if you keep attacking or talking about me that other people will hear about me.

Someone well-meaning asked me last week if it had been worth it, being open about my thoughts and opinions. Well, it has caused me stress and garnered me insult. It has even made me cry. Perhaps it was naïve of me to think that I could speak up about something which disturbed me and not get attacked, get turned into a spokesperson, or otherwise have lost focus, my own and others’, on what this blog is actually about. Or who and what I am (and I mean it, you probably don't know me). Perhaps it was naïve of me to think I was doing the right thing, when it came at this personal cost.

I am reminded of how from my mid-teens till less than two years ago, I was heavily involved with activism of various sorts, working for, volunteering with, or organizing events to raise funds for NGOs. All of that commitment to making a difference died away with the slow, painful realization that even those who seemed to share a vision could have their own agendas. And that ideologies do not make people, and maybe the value of any ideology goes only so far as the people who champion it. It was at this point that I decided to stick to writing as a means of affecting change..

I am taking some time off to think about this sudden notoriety. I guess I have to accept that my blog and I have come to the point where every word could be dissected, which changes how I feel about blogging completely. I started blogging because it was fun and empowering and because, well, I couldn’t afford a website.

Will I blog about Malaysia again? No. Will I go look at the reports and the slander and the actual debates that are lost somewhere in them? No. I have heard enough to know that I should not respond further than this at this point. I have also heard enough to know that silence may be the best self-defense in some cases.

Not In My Own Words

2007-12-07T18:58:00.000+05:30

I am only slightly aware of the fact that I am suddenly in the midst of an international ruckus. I have not looked up the reports, but friends' phone calls told me of what is going on.

I don't have much to say and am not going to respond for the time being. However, please note this: the article that, from my understanding, has caused problems was not in my own words. The actual interview that took place is here. Yes, DNA India did sensationalize things and extrapolate from what was said in my interview based on other blog posts or general assumption. Anyone who has read my actual writing should know that my style is not in accord with what DNA India published. An article that I wrote on the issue for The New Indian Express is here.

I have not looked at the many comments left yet, and will not as such be moderating them through for a few days.

Updated (Dec 10): To be fair, I would like to clarify that I approved via email the article that Venkatesan Vembu wrote based on the interview he conducted with me. This was my mistake, and done in what was probably a naive moment, as I was concerned for Vembu's deadline and word limit -- that was the journalist in me forgetting the interviewee in me. I stand by my words in the transcript, but have had to disassociate myself from the article in the form it was published in light of recent events.

My Article in The New Indian Express

2007-12-04T12:53:00.001+05:30

This appeared today on page 8 of The New Indian Express.

The Malaysian Apartheid

By Sharanya Manivannan

In August this year, I was given the opportunity to travel to Indonesia to participate in a literary festival that counted among its highlights a performance at the Borobudur temple. The deepest impression that the most populous Muslim nation in the world left on me was the co-existence of its rich pre-Islamic history with its current faith: the Ramayana is almost as Indonesian as it is Indian, a Muslim writer friend is named Laksmi, and the glorious 11th century Buddhist Borobudur and 9th century Hindu Prambanan temples inspired, alongside awe and reverence, a deep sadness at how temples in neighbouring Malaysia were being treated.

In just over a month from then I would return to India from Malaysia, where I had lived for nearly seventeen years, frustrated and fearful about the rising ethnic tensions and increasingly blatant discriminations practiced there. No proof, no locus standii whatsoever, of having lived there for so long – no permanent residency, no citizenship, nothing but a frequently-renewed tourist visa when my student one expired and the scars of the ensuing repeated interrogations at immigration. It was a painful departure, but I left with a certain instinctual anticipation of disaster to come. I had been following the spate of illegal and unethical demolitions of Hindu temples in Malaysia for a year and a half, and while a media blackout persisted, a sense that the loss of those profoundly symbolic markers of identity was radicalizing several forces in society, both egalitarian and otherwise, was quite evident to me.

Last week, the simmering resentments of a nation under a formal apartheid exploded. The constitution of Malaysia explicitly privileges the Malay Muslim majority’s access to opportunity, and indeed claim to the nation itself, and the inherent racism of this sentiment is one that trickles down through all sectors of society. The superficial image of multicultural harmony that it had somehow managed to convince the world of has begun to fray in no uncertain terms.

By now, the mass protests highlighting the plight of Malaysians of Indian origin are common knowledge. But perspective on the broad issues of race, class and religion in Malaysia remains distorted not only because this is the first time that open acknowledgement of the reality that is Malaysia is happening on a global front, but also because of what seem to be various internal agendas. That Malaysia has reached a catalystic moment is beyond doubt, but what happens now remains to be seen.

At present, the issue is presented in an almost clear-cut Tamil Hindu vs Malay dichotomy. But this is a fundamentally flawed picture: there are three major races in Malaysia (the Chinese included) and many smaller minority groups. Sub-racially, too, Tamil Hindus do not make up the entire population of Indian origin; significant Malayali, Punjabi and other communities exist, with the usual smorgasbord of religious denominations also. The entire bureaucratic system of Malaysia privileges the Malay above all of these groups.

Historically, Malaysians of Indian origin have been at the lowest rungs of the race/class ladder because of how they migrated there in the first place, usually in the servitude of the British empire. Post-colonial Malaysia did not only keep the divide-and-conquer system intact, it augmented it, making race essentially the be-all and end-all of everything. And yes, the Indian minority does have it worst – socially, economically and politically. But under a political system that thrives on division and uses the threat of discord as a means of ensuring silent acquiescence, everybody suffers. To different degrees, admittedly, and a few, maybe not at all. But by and large, living in a society that judges, rewards and punishes on purely race-based motives takes it toll. To live conscious of inequality makes one a participant, willing or not, victim or not.

So for Hindraf, the organization behind the rally of thousands seen on TV screens all over the world last week, to portray the issue as a Tamil Hindu one only not only detracts from the big picture, but further polarizes communities. For them to also sue Britain and demand compensation amounting to a total of USD$14 trillion is regressive. The point of decolonization is to free oneself from the shackles of foreign rule. Pinning the blame on the former colonizer instead of admitting that the problem is internal and has persisted for fifty years after independence because of internal factors is just evading the heart of the problem.

While a mass demonstration of that sort and scale of drama could help change Malaysia for the better, I do not think that the manner of execution and the lack of follow-up will help anything at all, except perhaps the pre-existing status quo and commonly-held stereotypes that Indians are violent, emotionally volatile and deserving of mockery.

The plight of Malaysians under their deliberately divisive government is both real and needs urgent rectification, and it would be a shame for the sudden international awareness and ire raised to go to waste because of a lack of vision. And yes, the plight of Malaysians per se, not just those who are of a certain origin.

So what is in store for Malaysia? When I consider what a good solution might be, I think of dialogue and debate, of the population willing to speak out, of the fear of the government’s draconian laws toward dissent and criticism dissipating. When I try to imagine an ideal situation, an eventuality I might hope for for Malaysia, I am brought back again to temples. Once more, the sheer symbolism of them, of what they represent, comes to mind.

Once more, I think back to the hijab-ed women selling fiberglass replicas of the Prambanan temple in Indonesia. Purely commercial perhaps, I know I ought to assume in this cynical, globalized world, but I don’t really think so. Something about that co-existence, that acceptance, understanding and perhaps even pride – Muslim women in a Muslim country at the foot of a relic to a faith of a different time for that location, making their living literally under its auspices – gives me hope.

Farish Noor: A Tale of Two Temples

2007-12-04T12:53:00.000+05:30

Dr Farish Noor very kindly emailed me this article of his, which appeared recently in the Malaysian print magazine Off The Edge.

I am travelling at present and apologise for the lack of updates. Yes, that was me on the Times NOW TV channel on Thursday night, and yes I should stop looking around so much when the camera is on me, and yes I do have a very prominent forehead.

More soon.

---

The Other Malaysia: A Tale of Two Temples

By Farish A. Noor

While meandering about in downtown Saigon recently I chanced upon the Sri Mariaman temple close to Ben Thanh market. It was an interesting visit to say the least, for the riotous colours of the temple were matched by the riotous conjunction of many faiths that had come together in that singular enclosed and sacred space.

The reasons for this are obvious to those familiar with Vietnam’s recent history: In 1975 when Saigon finally fell to the triumphant North Vietnamese Army and Viet Cong, practically all the foreigners and migrant residents had made a bee line for the dock. The temples, churches and mosques of Saigon – thenafter renamed Ho Chi Minh city – were left vacant and the devotees wondered if they would be allowed to remain standing at all after their departure. At the height of the Cold War the Vietnamese Communists were seen as a rather uncompromising, tiresomely dogmatic, no-fun bloodthirsty lot and many had assumed that the religious texts would be recycled as toilet paper (as the Khmer Rouge treated the Bibles and Qurans that fell into their hands later) and that the sacred sites would be desacralised in the most outlandish manner.

But what followed next was a surprise to many: They, the dreaded Commies, not only allowed the religious buildings to remain, but they also made use of them in a host of imaginative ways. Many of the churches and mosques were restored and preserved, and some were turned into schools or clinics. Not a stone was touched, save by the restorer’s paint brush.

Today the Sri Mariaman temple in central Saigon has once again become a religious site for many, but ironically most of the devotees happen to be Buddhists and Taoists, not Hindu – for there are scarcely a dozen Hindus left in the city. So I sat and watched as mothers and aunts, grannies and grand-kids perambulated around the precinct of the temple, offering their prayers and sending up their hopes and wishes to the Gods of the Himalayas on a cloud of incense smoke. The Hindu priests are still there, though one wonders what they make of it all, with Buddhists and Taoists coming to offer prayers and light joss-sticks before the many avatars of Lakshmi, Durga, Kali and Krishna. If human beings have proven their intolerance time and again, at least the Gods seem more kindly and benevolent to entertain the vainest of wishes even from strangers.

Hop of the next cheapo flight and find yourself here in multi-culti Malaysia, just in time to see the bulldozers smash through another Sri Mariaman temple in Selangor. It was a double blow to me to return to KL in transit to hear the news that not one, but two, Hindu temples had just been flattened on the same day by our endearing developers in the vicinity of Shah Alam. Even less heart-warming were the accounts of the devotees of the temple who were manhandled and forcibly marched out before the hammers came down, some at gun point. If nefarious Commie Vietnam can protect their temples, why can’t we ‘plural, multicultural, multiflavoured’ Malaysians extend the same comfort and protection to our fellow Malaysians too?

Of course there will be the nay-sayers who will point me to the legal fine print and remind me of the legally dubious status of some of these temples. Then there will be those who will insist that this is an Indian-Hindu issue which I should not stick my nose in (even though the issue is a Malaysian one as these are Malaysian temples being destroyed on Malaysian territory and Malaysians are affected). Then there will be the gung-ho testosterone-driven macho types who will yelp and whinge about Malay identity being the paramount defining factor that defines what being Malaysian is, etc. etc.

But prattle and legalese notwithstanding, the bottom line is this: These happen to be Malaysian temples built on Malaysian soil with Malaysian devotees and the Malaysian government is presiding over their systematic and calculated destruction, one by one. One shudders at the thought of the long-term global repercussions of this campaign, for already recorded footage of these temple demolitions are being transmitted to websites all over the globe and the issue taken up by Hindu conservatives in India.

Nor are the parallels being drawn an attractive one: If the Taliban could have levelled the Bamiyan statues of Buddha with a flick of the trigger-finger (to be followed by the mass slaughter of goats and cows all over the benighted land, which did not make it to the headlines); then what is happening in our plural wonderland called Malaysia? How are we to hold our heads up high and invite the world to visit our wonderfully diverse and colourful country when the very same landscape is being flattened in a rather indecorous way at the same time? Taliban, Wot? Here? Blimey!

The tragedy of course is that the deliberate reconstruction of Malaysia’s urban landscape is being done in broad daylight under the flag of a nebulous formulae of ‘moderate Islam’ that is said by some hopefuls to be the last chance to save the pluralist spirit of the country. However one finds it hard to accept such talk of mutual love and inter-communal cuddlyness when the bulldozers parked outside don’t look all that cuddly. Nor do the cops with their tear gas canisters and batons. Or the Orcish horde of construction (or should we say destruction) workers with mallets and hammers slung precariously over their shoulders, ready to rock and roll. Looking back at the fate of the two Sri Mariaman temples, the question remains: Who were the ones who protected the rights of the religious minorities better? The Godless Commies or the faithful Malaysians? These are the times when I am not proud to admit that I am a Malaysian, I have to say.

Dr. Farish A. Noor is a political scientist and historian based at the Zentrum Moderner Orient, Berlin; and one of the founders of the www.othermalaysia.org research site.

Interview on the Malaysian Situation in Today's DNA

2007-11-28T10:31:00.000+05:30

I was interviewed yesterday for DNA India about my personal thoughts on the ethnic situation in Malaysia, in light of recent events. The online link to it appears here, and the journalist very kindly sent me pdf files of how it appeared in print, but I can't seem to upload them onto Blogger now. Will try again later.

Most of the interview was conducted via email (with a phone call to clarify things after). As a journo myself, I understand the pressure of deadlines and word limits, which usually results in a different take than originally expected.

But fortunately, since I have the transcript of the email interview, I thought I'd share that too:

Hindraf and other ethnic indian groups claim that they are being treated as second-class citizens in Malaysia. Could you give some anecdotal evidence (either from your life – when you were in KL - or from those of Indians you know) that validate this claim. (please be as elaborate as you can be. Talk about access to education, jobs etc.)

Second-class would be an upgrade, in fact: the absence of economic clout, which the Chinese for instance arguably possess, puts ethnic Indians in an even more disadvantaged state. To make one thing clear, Article 153 of the Malaysian Constitution explicitly privileges Malay Muslims above all other ethnicities. Indians happen to have gotten the shortest end of the stick due to a number of different historical forces, including how large groups of them came to British Malaya in the first place – as coolies, in servitude. Malaysia became independent on August 31 1957, just over 50 years ago. Under the new Malay leadership, the divisions that existed in the colonial era only continued to thrive. To this day, the UMNO party calls on the concept of "Ketuanan Melayu" (Malay Supremacy) as a means of upholding racial harmony. That so absurd a concept as racial supremacy, and the expectation of kowtowing to a certain race so as to maintain general peace and order, can exist in the modern world is perplexing.

Like all widespread discrimination, it is difficult to pick a single anecdote that defines it. It is not enough to say, for instance, that the derogatory word keling is still widely used to describe Indians. It is not enough to say, for example, how the Tamil language and Indian accents are mocked so commonly that it's a part of pop culture. It is not enough to talk about the stereotypes of violence and alcoholism associated with the community. It is not enough to talk about the recent body snatching cases, in which the corpses of Hindu men have been taken away from their families by authorities and given Muslim last rites based on hearsay. It is not enough to tell you how I have been harassed and interrogated at immigration checkpoints while always traveling legally. It is not enough to tell you about how my grandfather had a passport thrown at his face and was shouted at by a Malay officer at a Malaysian consulate in Chennai. It is not even enough to begin to speak about the superiority complex many Malaysian Indians I have met have over Indians from India, a superiority complex borne out of insecurity, envy and self-loathing. But it's hard to accept that one's own country is a dystopia, it's hard to accept that one is essentially an outsider in one's own home. So I do see where a mentality like that comes from.

How does the Bhumiputra policy/ other policies of the government work to perpetuate ethnic divisions? Since when did these come about?

I am no expert on Malaysian history, and my observations are much more empirical in nature. But from what I understand, the Bumiputera policy was invoked when independence was declared. It seems to be a misconception that it was a residue of the colonial era – the Reid Commission was set up to oversee the liberation of Malaya, and there was some debate on how to reconcile the desire of the future Malay leaders to protect Malay interests with the rights of the minorities. In the end, the first Prime Minister, Tunku Abdul Rahman, decided that Malay privilege was the way to go.

The policy allows Malays a large, purely race-based quota to enter universities, discounts when buying land or property, and other quotas including civil service jobs and contracts. Officially, I believe the bumiputera policy is supposed to protect indigenous minorities also. But being non-Muslim is a setback in terms of actualizing this privilege.

I find that blaming the British for the state of Malaysia today is regressive. The point of decolonization is to move on, to shake off the sense of being subjects. Fact is that the Malaysian governments of the past five decades and the people who continue to keep them in power are responsible for the current situation.

I've always found it richly ironic, and in fact have a poem to that effect which I never dared to perform in Malaysia, that the words bumi (earth) and putera (prince) are Sanskrit terms. As Indian as I am. As Indian as my passport, the one which after seventeen years of living in Malaysia bore not a single shred of claim to the nation where I spent the largest chunk of my life but a feeble tourist visa, renewable after extensive questioning once a month.

Temple demolitions have emerged as a critical point in the mobilisation of ethnic Indians. Is Malaysia, which has for long (at least to outsiders) seemed to represent vibrant cultural diversity, at risk of communal polarisation? In your estimation, is the government/ political forces encouraging the process?

"Temple demolitions have emerged as a critical point in the mobilisation of ethnic Indians." This is a very astute observation. Something about the loss of these temples has been a catalyst for very old aches and resentments. There's something (quite literally) concrete about them, you know? Concrete and symbolic. And to have them demolished is an affront not just on a personal level, as might be a racial slur or a rejection from a university, but taps into some deep collective psyche.

As for the image of Malaysia in the outside world – it's about time for things to be set straight, I think. What is happening in Malaysia is nothing less than formal apartheid. The fact that its Tourism Board promotes a postcard-perfect, multi-culti impression of it is rather audacious in perspective. You have to understand that I say all this as a person who loves Malaysia, but who was forced to leave.

How do ethnic Indian Muslims respond to a campaign that appears to centre around the temple demolition protests? Do they also empathise with Hindus because they too feel economically disempowered? Or does their Islamic identity override their Indian identity?

I don't know enough to answer this question, but I can provide just a little background. There are many Indian Muslims in Malaysia who campaign to be legally recognized as Malays, because becoming Bumiputeras frees them from economic disenfranchisement. On how they feel about a campaign that takes as its catalyst the temple demolitions, I simply am not qualified to comment. But I can say this much – it may be judicious to look at the racial issues of Malaysia on a bigger platform than via the Indian Hindu voice alone, and perhaps this is something that dissident groups in future may consider.

In your estimation, has the Malaysian Indian Congress failed in representing the interests of the Indian community? How do its leaders continue to get elected?

The MIC has certainly failed, as evidenced by the plight of Indians in Malaysia today. This is pretty unambiguous. Truth is that while living in Malaysia, I never thought about the MIC's actions or politics. Probably because they are simply not relevant, I think, not as relevant as they should be. For an ineffective party to still be around and still officially be the leaders of a community is probably in the best interests of the ruling majority, and this may be one of the reasons why they have continued to survive in present form.

Could you kindly trace the evolution of Hindraf? How do you account for its rise - and huge popularity? Where does it gets its support from? Does it have any solidarity in other countries – India (Tamil Nadu), Sri Lanka or elsewhere?

I do not know enough about Hindraf to comment on this, and in fact only came to know about them through my research into and desire to spread awareness about the temple demolitions. On this note, you asked me to comment about my own involvement via my blog on this issue. When I first began blogging in April 2006, I chanced upon a report about a temple demolition, and began to keep an eye out for more. And more came. What I did for some time was to basically round up such articles and post them online, for others like me who were curious, particularly because there was a media blackout within Malaysia itself. Things came to a head when I decided to write to the Indian PM, my PM, about the issue – calling him out on the Indian government's silence on an issue of clear religious and ethnic discrimination, particularly since it had responded to the Danish cartoons, for example. At this time I was still a student in Kuala Lumpur. For the most part of this year, because I had needed to live in Malaysia on a tourist visa by then, I lay low on the issue. My return to India at the beginning of October gives me that freedom of expression again.

How do you, as an erstwhile ethnic Indian in Malaysia, respond to criticism from some quarters that Hindraf is guilty of communal polarisation?

I am being cautious about aligning myself in any direction. Agendas abound in all quarters, and it is difficult to make statements without them being interpreted one way or another. Someone told me that the memorandum which the protestors attempted to hand over was blatantly racist. I don't think reverse racism is justifiable in official terms, in the terms of a memorandum. But it's tricky – how can one write about one's suffering in a way that isn't reactionary?

I support Hindraf when it comes to the reason for their protests, but not necessarily in their method of execution.

You've frequently said that temple demolitions aren't just about religion. Could you kindly elaborate what other things they stand for...

To begin with, that symbolic meaning I was alluding to earlier – a temple, a place that allows both communal congregation and ties with one's roots, is likely to be one of the first things that a community of settlers establishes in a new land. And some of the temples that were demolished are proof of this – the oldest Hindu temple in Malaysia, a number of ones over a hundred years old – and this becomes about history. Demolitions like those become about one's claim to their nation, about the claim their ancestors had. Demolitions like that are forms of erasure.

And then there is the claim of ethnic Indians to the nation, today. I have ethnic Indian friends who are fifth or six-generation Malaysian. They are not Indian; Malaysia is their country, and ought to be their home. One occasionally hears bigoted statements along the lines of "the Indians can/should go back to India". Such statements are exactly the same as telling African-Americans to return to Africa. This is not a new diaspora, and indeed it is a diaspora of similar history and struggle. Not all Malaysian Indians are Hindus, of course – but it is impossible to attack churches without rousing ire from quarters more prepared to fight back, and attacking mosques seems a bit self-defeatist for those who carry these attacks out. I'll note here that to my knowledge, one indigenous church and one Taoist temple were also demolished unethically. But otherwise, it has been Hindu temples throughout.

It isn't just about the fact that these temples are going down in dozens – it is also about how it happens. Temples are stormed into in the middle of prayer sessions, devotees are attacked, statues of deities are smashed to smithereens. Is such violence necessary? If authorities are only seeing the law across, taking back squatter land as is claimed, why bring physical wounding, humiliation and emotional trauma into the picture? All of these things say: the ways of your people are not welcome in this land.

Like all things about a Hindu temple – its structure, its statues, its times and types of prayers and its very mythology – the destruction of one is symbolic, too. To demolish these temples is a message of unequivocal intolerance to the Indian, whether or not s/he is a practising Hindu. A message that says, no matter how long you have been here, no matter how much you or your ancestors contributed, you can and will always remain subjugated.

Video of the Hindraf Rally & Thoughts On Bringing Britain In (Updated)

2007-11-25T18:40:00.000+05:30

Al-Jareeza's report of the rally this morning is here. A video of a protest in August, a preamble to this one, is here.

"Under the shadow of the Petronas Towers, the symbol of modern Malaysia," as the newsreader says, history was made. And is going to keep being made in the coming days and weeks. But how the video ends bothers me: "Sunday's demonstration shows how peace sometimes has to be imposed." What does that mean? A peaceful gathering by the People is stopped through violent means by a cruel and inegalitarian government -- is that violence honestly justifiable so as to continue the illusion of a superficial "peace"?

Didn't bother to read most of the comments on the videos, as I know how forums like these usually go, but one did catch my eye -- telling Malaysian Indians to go back to India is exactly like telling African-Americans to go back to Africa. They are by no means a new diaspora. And historically, many Indians did move to Malaysia in servitude, a condition which exists on economic terms to this day. The slow simmer of post-Independence (1957) decades and pre-independence centuries came to a head today in no small way. Between this and the BERSIH rally, Malaysia has clearly entered a period of people asserting their power, government be damned. Things are happening in Malaysia at a fast and furious pace. I fear for my loved ones. But this is something that was going to happen, sooner or later.

Updated:
Flickr photosets on the Hindraf rally and the BERSIH rally.

SOME THOUGHTS ON BRINGING BRITAIN INTO THE PICTURE:

Personally, while I see the see sense from an international awareness angle, i.e. that holding Britain accountable essentially creates interest in the international press, I do have my doubts about the on-the-ground results and effectiveness in changing the situation for Malaysian racial minorities (it is important to remember that Malaysian Malays are privileged over all other races, not just the Indians, legally. It so happens that Indians are at the bottom of the food chain because of various historical forces).

A feature of colonization is the divide-and-conquer rule. That's what all sorts of colonizers have always done. Like a devious matriarch pitting her children against one another so a united front against her own misdeeds never forms, it is a tactical move that is as part and parcel of imperialism as, say, the English language.

Fifty years after independence, blaming the former British empire for its actions is nothing but nostalgic propagandizing. They did what they did, we fought our way out of it, and then we do what we can despite our scars. I say "we" because India was obviously also under the empire, and the fact that our states are segregated linguistically and the existence of Pakistan and Bangladesh as separate nations attest to the long-term effects of the divide-and-conquer rule. It is not something unique to Malaysia alone, and in fact, has been practised elsewhere to even more obvious consequences.

But in Malaysia today, fifty years after freedom from colonial rule (some say forty-four, but that is only an aside here), apartheid exists out of the choice of those in power today. And out of the choice of people who continue to vote for the people in power today. Queen Elizabeth isn't sending missives to Putrajaya ordering discrimination, unfair laws, mistreatment.

So what I hope for is that Hindraf knows this, and that targeting Britain is in fact part of a tactical strategy of its own, and expecting returns from that focuses priorities in an idealistic, unpragmatic way. Pinning the blame on Britain, if followed through completely, detracts from the reality that it is the Malay-run government and its supporters who divide the country today.

Free of colonial rule, it is our own responsibilities as former subjects to decolonize ourselves. Expecting the colonizer to do this is to allow them to once again rule.

Update 2: Ultrabrown has a detailed post with many links, exploring both current events and historical ones. It also links to an article in which I was one of the people interviewed, which I never posted on my blog because I was not too happy about some factual inaccuracies.

Update 3 (Nov 26): When I first began following the unethical temple demolitions issue, which was arguably what the breaking point that led to the rally was, I remember saying in discussions that the issue was not just race but class. It was temples in disenfranchised areas that fell victim. "The day it happens to Batu Caves is when we'll know things have taken the most grim turn ever, because then we'll know that even money and influence can't stop what's coming," I used to say. Jeff Ooi's blog shows that day was yesterday.

Temple Demolitions: The Rally, The Arrests, The Petition

2007-11-25T12:31:00.000+05:30

Developments are coming so fast it's difficult to think about what they really mean. The arrest of three top Hindraf leaders under the Sedition Act can be nothing but a negative, undemocratic move. That mainstream Malaysian newspapers have been forced to start reporting on the events, if not the issue itself, is a good thing -- people have been getting all their information from the Internet over the last two years anyway, and there's no use pretending that people don't know, or don't care, by and large. But the Hindraf petition itself seems more ambiguous -- on the one hand, international outcry and awareness about the Malaysian situation is a good thing. That a country so blatantly racist, a country that has racism deeply embedded in its Constitution itself, can continue to promote the image that it is a haven of any sort is ridiculous, and this image needs amendment first before internal amendments will happen. On the other, logistically, it is a lawsuit that is almost doomed to not have the monetary compensation demanded come through. I am waiting and watching. And praying for all those who rallied today. Updates are still coming in.

Links: 1, 2, 3.

I Tell You, Those Ammammas...

2007-11-24T09:31:00.000+05:30

This is the kind of thing that requires immediate blogging.

Sister: I wish Amma would stop calling me "kunju" in front of my friends. It's embarrassing.
Me: Why?
Sister: You do know what it means right?
Me: It's a term of endearment.
Sister (with lots of teenage attitude): Like, in Sri Lanka. Do you know what it means here?
Me: What?
Sister: Penis.
Me: !!!

Excuse me while my entire childhood flashes, corrupted, before my eyes. I'm finding this, erm, a little hard to swallow. The Malayalis do it our way too, right? Right?

King of Prussia!

2007-11-24T00:49:00.000+05:30

Who says blogging has no uses? Via my site referrals, I found out that there exists a place known as King Of Prussia, in Pennsylvania, USA! The township's official website is here and its Wiki page here.

And yes, I have heard of Fucking, Austria, thanks.

The Real Frida, on Celluloid

2007-11-09T01:11:00.000+05:30

Like any true mariachi red Frida cultist (my credentials are here), I subscribe to Google alerts on Her. I get dozens every day -- testament that I am only one of many of course -- that I skip, skim through and mark as unread most, always thinking I will go back to them on a particularly uninspired or inspired day. Tonight, however, I happened to open one and followed the link.

I am so grateful I did.

I won't say any more. Just watch. I promise you, you'll watch it again.

Light Upon Light

2007-11-08T03:53:00.000+05:30

It's four in the morning and in a couple of hours or less, this city will turn into, in the auricular sense, a war zone. Everywhere fireworks will explode, clog the air with sulphur, disturb prayers, sleep, prayers for sleep. I don't like Diwali in the same way that I don't like Madras. I adore mythology, idealism, symbolism, spirituality, potential. I adore chaos, kitsch, old world nostalgia on every street corner, memory, humour, secret lives. But the mundane realities of both disappoint and frustrate me -- hypocrisies, somnolence, nonsensical requirements.

Diwali is supposed to be the festival of light. What it is in the terms of the prosaic, leave be. I greet it today with a Muslim prayer, the prophet's prayer of light.

This is one of the most beautiful prayers I have ever come across. I don't know what it sounds like, but the translation below is sheer poetry. Thank you, Baraka.

Allaahummaj’al fee qalbee nooran, wa fee lisaaanee nooran, wa fee sam’ee nooran, wa fee basaree nooran, wa min fawqee nooran, wa min tahtee nooran, wa ‘an yameenee nooran, wa ‘an shimaalee nooran, wa min ‘amaamee nooran, wa min khalfee nooran, waj’alfee nafsee nooran, wa ‘a’dhim lee nooran, wa ‘adhdhim lee nooran, wafal lee nooran, waj’alnee nooran, Allaahumma ‘a’tinee nooran, waj’al fee ‘asabee nooran, wafee lahmee nooran, wafee damee nooran, wa fee sha’ree nooran, wa fee basharee nooran. Allaahummaj’al lee nooran fee qabree wa nooran fee ‘idhaamee. Wa zidnee nooran, wa zidnee nooran, wa zidnee nooran. Wa hab lee nooran ‘alaa noor.

O God, place light in my heart, and on my tongue light, and in my ears light and in my sight light, and above me light, and below me light, and to my right light, and to my left light, and before me light and behind me light.

Place in my soul light.

Magnify for me light, and amplify for me light.

Make for me light and make me a light.

O God grant me light, and place light in my nerves, and in my body light and in my blood light and in my hair light and in my skin light.

O God, make for me a light in my grave and a light in my bones.

Increase me in light, increase me in light, increase me in light.

Grant me light upon light.

Temple Demolitions: Demonstrations in Tamil Nadu

2007-11-07T13:11:00.000+05:30

Two reports on demonstrations right here in Chennai, at the Malaysian Consulate, about the temple demolitions in Malaysia are here and here. Hindu activists involved -- am worried about this development, as explained in the post below this one. Will write more soon, I hope.

Temple Demolitions: Bajrang Dal Protests (Updated)

2007-11-05T12:07:00.000+05:30

I have to admit that the news in the link below is worrying. On the one hand, it is good to see more international reactions to the temple demolitions issue, particularly from within India, and perhaps this will create awareness among moderate, liberal and/or secular quarters as well.

On the other, the group involved in this protest is of a fundamentalist variety, and I fear that the real crux of this issue, which is more about race than religion, may get muddled. Pitting one brand of fundamentalists against another (the Wikipedia article on the Bajrang Dal movement is here) polarizes the issue in a way that allows its hijacking for various agendas.

I have always maintained that it is not the temples per se that are at the heart of the matter, it is what these temples stand for. I don't see this as a religious issue, I see it as one revolving around ethics, basic civic freedoms, and race, race, race. In that sense, it is both startlingly simple and complex enough. Turning it into a religious issue is the last thing we need.

The link is here.

Update (Nov 6): Speaking of fundamentalist groups, the chairman of PAS, the Islamic party of Malaysia, has a surprising letter about the demolitions here. On a surprising choice of forums, too.

What's going on here? I sense agendas everywhere...

PATCH - A Charity Dance Concert

2007-11-05T12:05:00.000+05:30

Please support Teresa Chian, a self-professed "dance advocate", i.e. a performer and teacher with a difference!

PATCH is a dance concert which combines the 1st anniversary celebration of Living Arts, her studio, with a fund-raising effort for to special children. More details in flyer below (click to enlarge).

This event is in KL/PJ.

.

Singapore Writers' Festival 2007 -- Update 1

2007-11-03T10:05:00.000+05:30

Good God. I just found out, via Kadek, the ubiquitous sprite of South East Asian festivals, that the Singapore Writers' Festival has given me my own slot in their programme. See here. Now I have to worry about whether people will come!

Update: Okay, I admit it, I posted the above up without checking out the rest of the festival website. Am dizzy now!!! Literary luminaries also gracing the festival include Kunal Basu, Padma Shri Vairamuthu, David Davidar, Anita Nair, Madhur Jaffrey and Jung Chang! (Read: WTF am I doing in such company?!?!?!)

Temple Demolitions -- Pix, Updates, Details From The Web (Updated)

2007-11-02T11:25:00.000+05:30

Via emails from Kavhn Surendran, here are pictures about and updates regarding the most recent unlawful and unethical demolition of a minority place of worship -- in most cases, as in this one, a Hindu temple, although a number of Taoist temples and churches have suffered likewise -- in Malaysia, from the Malaysian blogosphere.

Malaysian Hindu Sangam Press Statement

Poobalan's Blog 1 & 2

Pictures from Raajarox

Tony Pua's blog

Lulu's blog 1 & 2

Update: Samy Vellu finally gets in on the action.

Temple Demolitions in Malaysia: Hindraf's Open Letter to their PM

2007-10-31T15:11:00.000+05:30

Found this on the web and am glad. This is not by any means a new issue -- please run a search on this blog for related articles, mostly from the alternative and/or non-Malaysian press, since April 2006 for more details on what has lead to this action by HINDRAF. In June 2006, I also wrote an open letter on this issue to my own Prime Minister, Dr Manmohan Singh, in my capacity as an Indian citizen with no say in Malaysia, which is here.

---

HINDRAF
Hindu Rights Action Force
No. 135-3-A, Jalan Toman 7,
Kemayan Square,
70200 Seremban, Negeri Sembilan
Malaysia. Tel : 06-7672995/6
Fax: 06-7672997 Email waytha@hotmail.com

Y.A.B. DATO’ SERI ABDULLAH AHMAD BADAWI
Prime Minister of Malaysia 30.10.2007
Block Utama, By Hand
Bangunan Perdana Putra, Fax: 88883444
Pusat Pentadbiran Kerajaan Persekutuan, VERY URGENT
62502 Putrajaya. Email: reduceredtape@pmo.gov.my
Email: abdullah@kdn.gov.my

Y.A.B,

RE: 1. BLOODSHED IN MARIAMAN HINDU TEMPLE DEMOLISHMENT IN KG JAWA KLANG TODAY 20 INJURED BY POLICE AND ARRESTED.

2. URGENT APPOINTMENT TO MEET AND BRIEF PRIME MINISTER AND MALAYSIAN CABINET MEETING AT 9.00A.M ON 31.10.2007.

3. SOS TWO (2) HINDU TEMPLES DEMOLISHED IN ONE (1) DAY AND ANOTHER GIVEN NOTICE TO BE DEMOLISHED.

4. PRE DAWN ATTACK TODAY AND DEMOLISHMENT OF SRI NAGAKOOLI JAI MUNISWARAR HINDU TEMPLE IN TAMAN PUCHONG HARTAMAS.

5. NOTICE TO DEMOLISH ATTORRAM SRI KALIAMMAN HINDU TEMPLE JALAN BANTING, PORT KLANG, SELANGOR.

6. “PM: WE CAN STILL TALK” (STAR 30.10.2007 PG N12). BETTER TO TALK, PM TELLS BAR (NST 30.10.2007 PG 13) - MERELY PAPER TALK.

Today marks a heightened racial and religious persecution against the Hindusin Malaysia with two Hindu temples being demolished in one day without a valid court Order or any Notice for that matter.

All roads to the said the 100 over year old Sri Maha Mariaman temple had been cordoned off by about 300 police personnel and the Shah Alam City Hall (MPSA) enforcement officials and their heavy machinery. A malay muslim mob and Indian gangsters are also present. All Hindus are excluded from entering the temple area to make way for the final onslaught. The area looks like a war zone.

At 4.15p.m the police, MPSA authorities and the others launched a brutal attack ala the military regime of Myanmar by hurling stones and beating devotees with sticks and batons. At least 20 devotees were injured and bleeding, some seriously injured. An MPSA enforcement officer even stabbed a devotee with a knife and he and at least three (3) others are now hospitalised. The temple is now completely demolished and deities smashed up. The police have told devotees that they have a shooting order to shoot (unarmed) devotees on sight.

Earlier at about 9.00 a.m this temple was partially demolished. The kindergarden in the temple compound serving the poor Hindu children was completely demolished.

A pre dawn attack was also launched at 4.00a.m on another 160 year old Jai Muniswarar Hindu temple in Taman Puchong Hartamas whereafter the same was completely demolished and the deities therein smashed up. Vide our hundreds of letters and memorandums to your goodself over the last few years we have repeatedly highlighted an average of one Hindu temple being demolished in every three (3) weeks in Malaysia. This is despite the fact that the same is in violation of Article 11 of the Federal Constitution and also a criminal offence further to Section 295 (defiling a place of worship), Section 296 (disturbing a religious assembly), 298A(causing racial disharmony) and Section 441(criminal trespass) of the Malaysian Penal Code.

In today’s media headlines as mentioned hereinbove “PM: We can still talk” and “Better to talk, PM tells Bar” is clearly and merely “paper talk” or “political gimmick” and not meant to be put into practice.

Is this the multi racial, multi cultural and multi religious Malaysia your goodself is projecting to the world Mr.Prime Minister? Malaysia truly Asia!

Is this how Malaysia is celebrating it’s 50th year golden jubilee independence celebrations this year!

Please urgently stop your atrocities against the poor marginalised, oppressed and suppressed ethnic minority Indian community Mr.Prime Minister!

We hereby seek an urgent appointment to meet and address the Prime Minister and the Malaysian Cabinet at the weekly cabinet meeting in Putrajaya on 31.10.2007 at 9.00a.m. there would also be a peaceful assembly further to Article 10 of the Federal Constitution on 31.10.2007 at 8.00a.m onwards.

Thank You,
Yours Faithfully

P. Uthayakumar
Legal Adviser

s.k The Honourable
Keeper of the Royal Seal Post/Fax:20704646
Istana Negara, (Malaysian Palace) Malaysia
Jalan Istana
Kuala Lumpur

Secretary to
His Royal Highness, Tuanku Duli Yang Maha Mulia,
Sultan Sharafuddin Idris Shah, ibni Almarhum Sultan Salahuddin
Abdul Aziz Shah Al-Haj
The Sultan of Selangor Darul Ehsan, Malaysia,
Istana Klang, Jalan Istana Klang, Selangor Malaysia

Y.A.B. Dato’ Sri Haji Mohd. Najib bin Tun Haji Abdul Razak
Deputy Prime Minister
Deputy Chairman
National Implementation Action Body Fax:88883983
Aras 4, Blok Barat, Bangunan Perdana Putra,
Pusat Pentadbiran Kerajaan Persekutuan 62502 Putrajaya

Y.B D ato’ Seri Mohamed Nazri Bin Abdul Aziz
Law Minister in the Prime Minister’s Department (Law)
Chairman
Parliamentary Human Rights Caucas, Fax:88894177
Aras 4 Block Barat, Bangunan Perdana Putra
Pusat Pentadbiran Kerajaan, Persekitaraan 62502
Putrajaya

Y.Bhg.Tan Sri Abdul Gani Patail
Attorney General of Malaysia
Aras 1-8, Block C3, Parcel C Fax:88889369
Pusat Pentadbiran Kerajaan Persekutuan Email: ag@atgc.gov.my
62512 Putrajaya

Y.A.B. Dato’ Seri Khir Toyo
Menteri Besar Negeri Selangor,
Tingkat 21, Bangunan Sultan Salahuddin Abdul Aziz Shah Fax: 55190032
40503 Shah Alam, Selangor.

Tan Sri Abu Talib
Chairman
Malaysian Human Rights Commission of Malaysia (SUHAKAM)
Malaysian Human Rights Commission
Tingkat 29, Menara Tun Razak
Jalan Raja Laut 50350
Kuala Lumpur

Y.B. Sdr Lim Kit Siang
Opposition Leader,
Parliament Malaysia Fax:603-79575718
Bangunan Parlimen Email: Yoke12@Pc.Jaring.My
Jalan Parlimen 50680 Kuala Lumpur

Y.B. Datuk Seri Utama Dr.Rais Yatim
Minister for Culture Arts and Heritage
Pejabat Menteri
Aras 35, Menara TH Perdana
1001 Jalan Sultan Ismail
50694 Kuala Lumpur E-mail:fizo2811@g.mail.com

Ambiga Sreenivasan
Chairman
Bar Council Malaysia Email: council@malaysianbar.org.my
No.13, 15 & 17, Leboh Pasar Besar
Kuala Lumpur

Your Excellency Mr.Banki Mon,
Secretary General of the United Nations
United Nations New York N.Y. Fax:0012129634879/4360
10017 USA

Paul Hauch Fenger
Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights
Fax:41(0)229179703
UNOG-OHCHR
CH-1211, Geneva 10 Email: phauchfenger@ohchr.org

Petitions Team
Office of the United Nations
High Commissioner for Human Rights Fax:+41 22 917 9022
UNOG-OHCHR
1211 Geneva 10, Switzerland tb-petitions@ohchr.org

SENAT
Human Rights Committee
15, rue de Vaugirars
75291 PARIS Cedex 06
Standard: +33 (0) 1 42 34 20 00
Telex: 205-773 F SENAT PARIS
Telecopie: + 33 (0) 1 42 34 26 77

Human Rights Council of Australia Inc.
PO B ox 1071 Tel: +61 (0) 2 9957 5200
North Sydney NSW 2059 Fax: +61 (02) 9957 4063
Australia Email: Patrick Earle pearles@optusnet.com.au

Human Rights Commission
135 State Street, Drawer 33
Montpelier, Vermont 05633-6301
Human.rights@state.vt.us

American Civil Liberties Union
125 Broad Street
18th Floor New York
NY 10004

Commissioner for Human Rights
Council of Europe Commissioner.humanrights@coe.int
LIBERTY
21 Tabard Street Tel: 0207403 3888
London SE1 4LA Fax: 020 7407 5354
Email: info@liberty-human-rights.org.uk
H.E.William boyd Mccleary
High Commissioner of the United Kingdom to Malaysia
No.185, Jalan Ampang Fax: 21702370
50450 Kuala Lumpur

Movement Against Racism and For Friendship
Between Peoples
MRAP, 43 Boulevard Magenta Tel: 01 53 38 99 99
75010 Paris Fax: 01 40 40 90 98

Peace Brigades International France
21 ter, rue Voltaire
75011 Paris

T. Kumar
Advocacy Director
Asia and Pacific
Amnesty International USA
600 Pennsylvania Avenue, SE Tel: 202.544.0200 Ext.224
5th Floor, Washington DC 20003 Fax:202.546.7142
Email: tkumar@aiusa.org
Veena Siddharth
Washington Director
Human Rights Watch Tel: 202-612-4341
1630 Connecticut Ave., N.W. 202-612-4321
Suite 500 Fax: 202-612-4333
Washington, D.C. 20009 Email: siddhav@hrw.org

Matthew Easton
Senior Associate
Human Rights Defenders Program Tel: (212)-845-5287
333 Seventh Avenue, 13th Floor Fax: (212)-845-5299
New York, NY 10001 Email: EastonM@humanrightsfirst.org
www.humanrightsfirst.org
David Geer
Executive Director
Interights Tel: 44 20 7278 3230
Lancaster House 33 Islington Fax: 44 20 7278 4334
High Street London Direct Line:44 20 7843 0485
N1 9LH UK Email: dgeer@intrights.org

Yuval Ginbar
Legal Adviser
International and Legal Organizations Program
Peter Benenson House Tel: 44 020 7413 5739
1 Easton Street Fax: 44 020 7956 1157
London WCIX 0DW Email: yginbar@amnesty.org
UK

Shelina Thawer
Asia & Pacific
Programme Coordinator Tel: 44 020 7422 4215
54 Commercial Street Fax: 44020 7422 4201
London E1 6LT, UK Email: shelina.thwar@mrgmail.org

Iain Byrne
Commonwealth Law Officer
Interights Tel: 44 20 7278 3230
Lancaster House 33 Islington Fax: 44 20 7278 4334
High Street London
N1 9LH UK Email: ibyrne@intrights.org

Ryan Schlief
Amnesty International
Asia-Pacific Programme
1 Easton Street Tel: 44020 7413 5500
London WCIX 0DW Fax: 44 0 7413 5722
United Kingdom Email: rschlief@amnesty.org

Greg Mayne
Programme Manager
Human Rights Institute Tel: 44 0 20 7691 6868
10th Floor, 1 Stephen Street Fax: 44 0 20 7691 6544
London W1T 1AT Email: greg.mayne@int-bar.org
UK

Matthew A. Cenzer
Country Officer for Malaysia
United States Department of State CenzerMA@state.gov
2201 C Street NW, Room 5210
Washington, DC 20520
Telephone: (202) 736-7056
Fax: (202) 736-4559

Karin T. Finkler
Senior Foreign Relations Advisor
Congressman Joseph R. Pitts
16th District, Pennsylvania
221 Cannon Building
Washington, DC 20515
(202) 225-2411
(202) 225-2013 fax

Lisa Williams, PH.D.
Chief of Staff
Congressman Eni F.H. Faleomavaega
American Samoa
2422 Rayburn House Office Bldg.
U.S. House of Representatives
Washington, D.C. 20515
Tel: (202) 226-4421
Fax: (202) 225-8757 Email: Lisa.Willaims@Mail.House.Gov

Hans-Joachim Hogrefe
Democratic Professional Staff
International Relations Committee
U.S. House of Representatives
Human Rights Issues
Director, Human Rights Caucus
2413 Rayburn Building
Washington, D.C. 20515
(202) 225-3531 hans.hogrefe@mail.house.gov
Charles E. Dujon
Legislative Director
U.S. House of Representatives
Jesse L. Jackson, JR
Member of Congress
Second District, Illinois
2419 Rayburn Building
Washington, D.C. 20515
(202) 225-0773
Fax: (202)-225-0899 E-Mail: Charles.Dujon@Mail.House.Gov
Douglas C. Anderson
Counsel
U.S. House of Representatives
Committee On International Relations
Subcommittee On Asia And The Pacific
B358 Rayburn Building
Washington, DC 20515
Telephone: (202) 226-7825
Facsimile: (202) 226-7829 doug.anderson@mail.house.gov
Dennis L. Curry
Foreign Affairs Fellow
Subcommittee On Africa
Global Human Rights
And International Operations
Congressman Christopher H. Smith
255 Ford Hob
3rd & D Street SW
Washington, DC 20515
Phone: 202-226-1745
Fax: 202-225-7491 dennis.curry@mail.house.gov
W. Keith Luse
Senior Professional Staff Member
Committee On Foreign Relations
United States Senate
Washington, D.C. 20510-6225
Tel: (202)-224-4651
Fax: (202)-228-0403Keith_Luse@foreign.senate.gov
Emilie Kao
Foreign Affairs Officer
Office Of International Religious Freedom
U.S. Department Of State
2201 C Street N.W.
Washington, DC 20520
Phone (202) 647-0352
Fax (202) 647-3209 KaoEL@State.Gov
Scott Flipse, Ph.D.
Senior Policy Analyst
United States Commission On
International Religious Freedom
800 North Capitol Street, NW Suite 790
Washington, DC 20002
202-523-3240 ext. 23
202-523-5020 (fax) sflipse@uscirf.gov
Yuval Ginbar
Legal Adviser
International and Legal Organizations Program
Peter Benenson House
1 Easton Street
London WC1X 0DW
United Kingdom
Telephone: +44 (0)20 7413 5739
Fax: +44 (0)20 7956 1157 E-mail: yginbar@amnesty.org
Shelina Thawer
Minority Rights International
Asia & Pacific
Programme Coordinator
54 Commercial Street
London E1 6LT, UK
+44 (0)20 7422 4215
fax +44 (0)20 7422 4201 shelina.thawer@mrgmail.org
Jolyon Ford
Commonwealth Secretariet
Human Rights Officer
Human Rights Unit
Marlborough House Pall Mall London SW1Y 5HX
Telephone: +44 (0)20 7747 6408 Fax: +44 (0)20 7747 6418 e-mail:
j.ford@commonwealth.int

Her Excellency Mrs. Sonia Gandhi
President email: aicc@congress.org.in
Indian National Congress
24, Akbar Road
New Delhi - 110011
India

Your Excellency Mr.Manmohan Singh
Prime Minister of India Fax: 91-11-23019545/91-11-23016857
Prime Minister’s Office
South Block, Raisina Hill
New Delhi

Dr. Kalaignar M.Karunanidhi Tel: 91-44-25670132
Chief Minister of Tamil Nadu Fax: 91-44-25671441/25671276
Chief Minister’s Office email: email: cmcell@tn.gov.in
Secretariat,Chennai 600 009
India

The Right Honorable Selvi J Jayalalithaa
Opposition Leader of Tamil Nadu Phone: 044-24670125/044-25672345
“Veda Nilayam”, 81/36 Poes Garden
Chennai - 600 086

Shri. Vayalar Ravi
Minister for Overseas Indian AffairsPhone: 91-11-24676837/24676839
9th Floor, Akbar Bhawan Fax: 91-11-24197900
Chanakya Puri email:minister@moia.nic.in
New Delhi-1

Textual Frustration

2007-10-24T11:35:00.000+05:30

I am textually frustrated!

It's been exactly three weeks since I moved back to India and I'm mired in the opposite of what usually happens. Not one word of one poem or one passage for my novel or one due article! Not one word!

ARGH!!!

"Woman"

2007-10-21T17:57:00.000+05:30

Probably Dalit poet Hira Bansode's most famous work, a poem I have loved for a long time. I flipped open an anthology in a bookstore today and found it again.

WOMAN

She, the river,
said to him, the sea:
All my life
I've been dissolving myself
and flowing towards you
for your sake
in the end it was I
who turned into the sea
a woman's gift
is always like the sky
but you went on
worshipping yourself
you never thought
of becoming a river
and merging
with me

Hira Bansode

(translated from the Marathi by Vinay Dharwadker)

Forthcoming from Indran Amirthanayagam

2007-10-19T13:03:00.000+05:30

My friend and mentor, the award-winning multilingual poet Indran Amirthanayagam, will have a new book out in a few months. The Splintered Face: Tsunami Poems will appear in both hardback and paperback editions, and is forthcoming from Hanging Loose Press. Of Sri Lankan origin, Indran was the winner of the 1994 Paterson Poetry Prize for his collection The Elephants of Reckoning. Part of the proceeds from The Splintered Face will go toward tsunami relief charities.

Critical Mass, the blog of the National Book Critics Circle Board of Directors, has excerpts.

A 2002 article about Indran and his work, from The Hindu, is here.

Is That A Phantom Phone In Your Pants Or Are You Just Unhappy To Hear From Me?

2007-10-12T11:17:00.000+05:30

I am not a phone person. I don't like receiving calls, and like making them even else. Sms I do. Calls -- not if I can help it.

Unfortunately, I am forced to have a dedicated cellphone line at which I can be reached and via which I can reach others (darn you, civilization!). I keep my phone in my handbag and I swear I feel it vibrate when it really isn't ringing! I can't count the number of times I have rummaged through looking for it, only to be met with a calmly unperturbed screen.

Turns out it's normal. And, erm, pretty cool.

Big One at Borobudur

2007-10-09T15:57:00.000+05:30

I haven't forgotten -- how could I? -- that I was a part of the Utan Kayu International Literary Biennale 2007, and neither have I forgotten that I owe you a long post about it. Am waiting for my files to be emailed over to me. Meanwhile, this is from Sean M Whelan's FB.

Staff of Komunitas Utan Kayu along with the writers, at the foot of Borobudur Temple, where the final events of the litfest were held. If you click to enlarge and look carefully, I was one of the many silly people who decided to wear black at an outdoors night event. Far right, standing behind woman in yellow, next to gentleman in white shirt and grey coat.

And You Can Kiss My Royal Black...

2007-10-07T12:01:00.000+05:30

Vhen vhen vhen vhen vhen vhen VHEN vill my family realise that I am not a dirty girl who doesn't wash her face, I Am DARK?!!

Them: You've darkened since the last time we saw you.
Me: I am dark.
Them: Don't be silly. No one in our family is dark.
Me: I am dark.
Them: You're the same colour as your mother.
Me: No, I am dark.
Them: No one in our family is dark.
Me: I am dark.
Them: We don't know why you have this complex.
Me: I don't have a complex. You have a complex. Me, I just have a complexion. I'm just dark.
Them: Why do you wear that lipstick? It makes you look dark.
Me: I am dark.
Them: Don't be silly, no one in our family is dark.
Me: ^_^ (read: am pushed to the point of using an emoticon I don't even understand)

Ad infinitum.

Oh, here's my Ammama and I, on her 80th (some say 79th..) birthday a couple of days ago. She has darkened with age, and now is nearly the same colour as me. I think everyone who won't be around to see it is glad they won't be for when my own age-melanin kicks in. Because, you know, then I'd be dark.

Update: Okay, fine, image removed. Apparently, people are searching for Ammama and her whereabouts. Oh look, there's that emoticon again. ^_^

Pumpkin

2007-10-04T10:07:00.000+05:30

Yayoi Kusama. At Naoshima, Kagawa prefecture, Japan.

Chennai/ Post-Farewell

2007-10-03T17:28:00.001+05:30

A very short note to say that I landed safely back in Chennai on the 1st of October, and will be based here for a few months. Have been inundated with messages and such, and will respond tonight or tomorrow. My folks just reconnected the Internet, and everyone is clamouring to use it, and getting set for an aunt and cousin visiting from the US tomorrow.

I also just want to say a very special thanks to Bernice, for organising a magical farewell for me. And everyone who performed -- I felt absolutely special. To leave with that much love was a reminder that it is the government of Malaysia that is fucked up, not my wonderful circles of many, many friends, nor the city in which they live and I no longer do. Thank you to every single one of you. And thank you to everybody who came, out of curiosity or in support.

My Farewell Reading - Tomorrow Night at NBT

2007-09-29T19:54:00.000+05:30

I'm leaving Malaysia on Monday, and my longtime friend and fellow poet Bernice Chauly has organised a farewell event for me. I don't know much about it, such as who else will be performing, because Bernice intends to surprise me! Anyway, here's the mailer she sent out:

Readings at NoBlackTie presents a smorgasboard of Malaysian writers/poets/musicians who will bid farewell to friend and poet Sharanya Manivannan.

Sharanya, who hails from Chennai, has been a vivacious and integral part of the KL literary scene for the past four years. For those who have yet to hear her read her stunning poems, this is your chance.

Come hear your favourite local performers and more!

For those who would like to read or sing a thing or two, please contact me directly.Or if you'd like to bid her farewell, bon chance and good luck!! just swing by.

Time : 9.30 pm

Date: Sunday, Sept 30th 2007

NoBlackTie, 17 Jalan Mesui, Off Jalan Nagasari KL

For reservations call 03 2142 3737.Email: noblacktie@gmail.com

No Cover Charge.

See you there! :) I'm planning on reading from Constellation of Scars, actually... :)

Musings on Moving I

2007-09-28T21:12:00.000+05:30

There are no mutually exclusive geographical or chronological divisions. How we measure or histories reveals more about us than the paralysis of photographs.

The first of the two lines above was the only thing worth having that I got from a time when I was an Art History major, a time I shudder to remember, however brief it was. The second line spilled onto my notebook of its accord. Both lines wound up in my novel. It's a concept that is at the crux of the entire story.

When one packs up their life, especially not for the first time -- and like any foolhardy nomad might wish, secretly or not, hopefully not the last -- reflection is always in order. Inventories of various kinds are tallied. Loose ends tied, and tied ends loosened.

In the last four years I have lived or tried to live in as many cities. I have spent generous chunks of time living out of suitcases or boxes. There have been times I feared to unpack, afraid that some gypsy curse will sink its talons in me the moment I think I've settled. A memory from childhood slipped a smile on my face as I typed that. When I was eight or so I desperately wanted to live in a caravan. An uncle sobered the dream: "Can you imagine how much we would have to pay for parking?"

I am leaving almost everything I own behind. I am optimistic. The return to India, I believe, will only last a few months. The last time I moved to India, in 2004, I stayed there for eight months. My boxes only arrived two weeks before I returned to Kuala Lumpur. Consequently, those boxes have remained there. I can't afford to ship all my belongings there, and then ship them again when I move where I am headed to next. (I know, but I will not jinx.)

I measure my own history in clothes. In accessories. In bags and shoes and jewellery and hats in the hundreds.

A friend came by and watched me stare at the mounds of clothing I had to divide. Take. Leave. The take pile only about an eighth of the size of the latter. "I have a story about every single thing here," I said. "Ask me."

And I do.

I can tell you where I bought something, how much I bought it for, if I was alone or with someone, what I did that day. Sometimes. Or I can tell you about a time I wore it, something someone said, or something I did. I can tell you why I bought something but never wore it.

I can tell you what I was wearing on any remotely significant day ever since I was fifteen years old. I can tell you what I was wearing at almost every reading I have done, and I have done dozens and dozens. Usually, I know what I will wear to an event by the day before. But hardly ever do I decide for sure what to perform until I am up on stage.

I sometimes believe in the luck of clothes. I have gone to extremes to dispose of things I thought might be responsible for the sequence of unpleasantness that seemed to correspond with their being worn. I have cried over shoes lost or broken, fought with housemates over missing earrings. And there are clothes I cannot, cannot part with. I harbour no illusions of fitting into some of the outifts I wore at seventeen, when I was 10kg lighter. But I can't give them up. They are imbued with the magic of memory itself.

So how does one part with one's own history?

You decide what you cannot do without. In the final reckoning, out of all the beautiful shit I own, I tease out two pieces that I cannot do without... My black crochet poncho is one. It is dramatic, and timeless -- there will never come a time when I cannot wear it. It is comfort clothing. In my poncho, I feel like me. The other is a white peasant blouse, the prettiest, most perfect pleasant blouse I've ever owned. Pragmatism plays a part, too. The thigh-high leopard print boots, the red feather boa, the cowboy hat have no place in Chennai. But neither do the long skirts, the kurtis, the saris -- why occupy luggage space with them when I can and will buy more?

How we measure our histories has as much to do with what we choose to forget, to leave behind, to secure in mind but not in physical fact, as it does with what we choose to keep.

Karna Considers Yuanfen

2007-09-26T19:21:00.000+05:30

For the person who asked. Because that's what poems are for.

The Moral of the Story Is, Migrate To Singapore

2007-09-22T20:01:00.000+05:30

So many conversations these days go along these lines.

A: Subway here sucks.
B (Me): Yes, Subway here sucks. Chilli or ketchup? Who eats ketchup after the age of eleven?
A: Chipotle Southwest is apparently too sophisticated for Malaysia.
B: Honey Mustard is apparently too sophisticated for Malaysia.
A: Hehehe.
B: The moral of the story is, migrate to Singapore.
A: The moral of the story is migrate to Singapore?
B: The moral of every story is migrate to Singapore.

Singapore, of course, has fabulous Subway outlets. I used to get off the bus and find myself a branch. Speaking of subways, is the MRT a freaking dream or what?

Ghazal -- Leaving Your City

2007-09-22T15:36:00.000+05:30

I wrote this more than ten days ago and intended to post it up, but an argument I had about it left me in two minds. I am not, categorically, a fan of form, scansion, or poetic discipline of any sort, with the exception perhaps of the haiku, which I love for its succinctness and uncomplicated potency. I admire the supremacy of others over disciplined verse, and acknowledge that my strengths are elsewhere. But I challenge myself from time to time, test myself with limits. This was one such exercise. The argument was as much about the use of rhyme and refrain as it was about the content -- and at the end of it, I could not look at this ghazal at all, because I bristled with the personal slight much more than the poetic. There is nothing that isn't melodramatic about why I am leaving Malaysia or how. Being interrogated is dramatic. Seventeen years and officially a tourist is a failure of administrative politics. After a raging argument about race, nationality, excessive drama queen quotients and assholic insensitivities, it was revealed: the other person didn't know what a ghazal actually is. But somehow, the wounding from realising he also didn't know me means that I post it up for you now not having reread it.

GHAZAL -- LEAVING YOUR CITY

I augur these nights for stars that cannot be seen in the sky of your city
I wake counting the dawns that trickle to the day, I'm leaving your city.

My hunted heart consumed by an undertow of longing for a landscape
not a cremation ground for all the dreams I lay to waste, believing your city.

Sod your government and its godless lies, there is history here in the
smoke the coke the mirrors, the golden waltzes still conceiving your city.

Don't call me citizen. Don't call this home. Exile is the only song I've ever
known. Let me go now, I'm tired of believing, deceiving your city.

Remember me in demarcations, remember me radiant, searing. Glimmering
in borders, partitions, trespasses, my sweet broken heart cleaving your city.

My earthen body electric, receptacle, bewildering in its need –
I walk these streets now, open, receiving your city.

For tonight I'm here, dreaming of and drinking in the heat, the beat
and all the pretty skyscraper lights and darknesses weaving your city.

But how I've been betrayed and I don't intend to forget the bitterness,
the spilled blood and the black chimes of bigotry sieving your city.

My time here has come and gone. I take with me now these torrents of memory.
While you search for stars you cannot see, I'll be retrieving your city.

Sharanya says, this is all you need know: on the day I leave I will wake
here, and close my eyes to sleep in another nation, grieving your city.

The Indian Government and Young Women's Aspirations

2007-09-18T14:13:00.000+05:30

I'm very upset about the Indian government's new ruling, encapsulated below:

DUBAI: India has restricted all women under 30 years of age who have not completed high school from being permitted to work abroad.

"This is being done to protect them against exploitation in their place of work or in any other place while they are overseas," Minister for Overseas Indian Affairs Vayalar Ravi was quoted by Gulf News as saying.

...

Earlier the age criterion was only restricted to domestic workers but now it has been expanded to all women in the Emigration Check Required category (those who have not completed high school).

The instructions came into effect at the beginning of this month. (link)

I'm so upset I can't think straight. This isn't a small matter in the least -- the government of India has effectively chosen to keep hundreds of thousands (millions? I don't have the demographics) of women locked in their circumstances until they reach the age deemed suitable. These are women whose opportunities have already been limited, as indicated by their incomplete education. These are women who may have, at the time their peers were graduating from high school, already racked up life experiences amounting to a decade more than their ages. These are women who have probably worked in some form for most of their lives -- and are now denied the choice of dreaming for more.

The obvious remains -- overseas employment as domestic workers is prohibited. Fact is, this is a profession that while perceived to be "beneath" many, allows disenfranchised people a certain measure of growth and aspiration. Living as I do for now in a country so enamoured of having maids that two whole nations are defined in the common psyche by the numbers of women who come from there to do domestic work, and having had maids when living with family, the glory stories are many: women whose ability earn in foreign currencies builds homes, puts children through schools, pays for marriages and and pays off mortgages. The abuse of domestic workers is a pressing concern -- but penalizing the workers themselves smacks of the mentality that suggests that women should be punished for their choices.

This is nothing but typical patriarchal oppress-to-protect bullshit.

What this move also means is that women without formal education but with skills are also prohibited from pursuing careers abroad. Technically, this means that crafts makers or artists intending to become attached to foreign institutions, for example, cannot do so.

Let's face it: when the average Indian woman marries at 19.5 years old, and the average age of all female workers is 33.6 years (1991 census, comparative to 36.5 for male workers, i.e. women start work when younger), 30 is bound to be too late for too many.

RIP Anita Roddick

2007-09-11T17:53:00.000+05:30

Am shocked. I don't know what to say that wouldn't be trivial. The Body Shop crosses my mind every single day because I swear by it, and Anita Roddick was a mindful, unconventional woman -- by far one of the modern world's most important public figures not by virtue of her success but by virtue of her character and vision. I can think of no one else who fused beauty with goodness the way she did.

Rest in peace.

Some obituaries: 1, 2, 3. She used to blog here.

The Truth

2007-09-07T16:19:00.000+05:30

When my book of poems, Witchcraft comes out, I may say alot of deep and fancy shit about its title. Some of which may be true, sure. But the real reason why that title won out in the end wasn't because it made sense, but because of this quote which I fell in love with years ago and always feel warmed by... No, it isn't about nuclear disarmament or endangered species. It isn't about inspired deeds or tremendous courage. It isn't about anything significant. But it is about me, in ways that no one will ever know but Anais and I.

"Women always think that when they have my shoes, my dress, my hairdresser, my makeup, it will all work the same way. They do not conceive of the witchcraft that is needed. They do not know that I am not beautiful but only appear to be at certain moments"
-- Anais Nin

(Okay, I'll level with you -- we both know this is just a filler post. But I promise my Indonesia post will be worth it -- I performed at Borobudur Temple!)

Back From Indonesia

2007-09-02T12:25:00.000+05:30

Just a quick note. Got back in yesterday afternoon, had lunch and slept for something like fifteen straight hours (an average of five hours of sleep every night for ten days takes its toll!). Have so much to blog about -- and I will do soon. I had an incredible time! I barely got on the net while away, either because of bad or absent service, or lack of time. Apologies to everyone whose comments I just moderated through, whose mails I haven't replied to, etc. Will catch up when I come back online in a couple of hours. *Mwah*

Updated: Soon, soon, I promise. Sucks not having my own Internet connection!

Article In The Jakarta Post (updated)

2007-08-26T16:55:00.000+05:30

About one of the festival's events, held yesterday at the Indian Embassy of Jakarta. The session of readings and panel discussions, entitled "Journeys Through Epic India", was jointly organised by Komunitas Utan Kayu and the Indian Council for Cultural Relations, and featured six writers, including me. The article is here, and I'm in the purple sari.

Am in Indonesia

2007-08-24T12:36:00.003+05:30

Am in Indonesia at the moment, attending the Utan Kayu International Literary Biennale. Busy, busy, busy, lots to blog, but the only bad thing about the otherwise lovely Harris Hotel in Jakarta is the terribly slow Internet connection! Got here yesterday morning, and will be in Indonesia, though outside of Jakarta for part of the time, till September 1st. Keep you posted!

In Surf! Magazine, August 2007

2007-08-18T12:30:00.000+05:30

Click to enlarge. Some factual errors. My novel is Constellation of Scars, not Stars!

Back To India

2007-08-15T16:35:00.000+05:30

Fitting that today I knew for sure: I'm moving back to India for some time, on or by October 1st.

A Poetry Note

2007-08-13T19:12:00.001+05:30

I looked for the poetry section in Borders, Orchard Road, over the weekend. I couldn't find it. I asked one of their staff. He said to look under "Shakespeare". I did. There was no poetry. But sitting pretty on the shelf were Marian Keyes and Jill Mansell.

*rolls eyes*

Sad state of things for poetry -- considering how cheered I was minutes before that, during my meeting with WordForward's Chris Mooney-Singh and Savinder. Chris passed me a small booklet he recently published, in conjunction with their work in schools, entitled "Voices From The Bamboo River: Sungei Buloh Wetland Poems". A concise 39 pages, this little book is geared at a school-going crowd, and I was surprised and happy at how much I enjoyed both the poems and the use of poetry as an educational tool, something which it does successfully on several levels: in terms of language and writing (cinquains, haiku, free verse, rhyme), nature, biology and environmental and species conservation.

Readings This Weekend

2007-08-02T18:06:00.000+05:30

Errm... Apparently I'm reading at this tomorrow. Didn't know till I got the flyer. Oh well. How can one turn down an opp to perform at a place called "Bau Bau Cafe"? I'm free. Are you?

Will also be reading on the 5th at No Black Tie, along with Nicholas Wong, Ann Lee, Jit Murad and Jordan McVay. (Yes, yes, all two of you who've been following my career since I was 17, I heard the coughing. This should be interesting. ;) )

In TELL Magazine, August 2007

2007-07-30T13:15:00.001+05:30

Click to enlarge.

Random Updates

2007-07-27T16:23:00.000+05:30

Witchcraft needs to be tweaked and sequenced, but is otherwise finished -- with perhaps a few more surprises in store. A second Karna poem has finally emerged. Strangely, I found it in notes I had been keeping for the novel. Before I knew it, a third also showed up.

I wrote "Karna Considers Yuanfen" in November or December last year, and although I knew right away that she would be a recurring character in my work, I couldn't write as her again since then. I know, not just because I am repeatedly told, but also because of the multiple consciousness-raising experiences I had and have through that poem, that it is among my more powerful pieces. And to do that again was difficult. Every time I sat down to see if I could invoke Karna again, I reread that poem and thought "This is her story. This is everything."

But one of the primary reasons why the Karna archetype strikes such a primal chord with me is because of the blood-betrayal motif. Out of this emerged, much more in tandem with the Mahabharata character than mine, "Karna and Kunti" and "Karna Considers Light". The former is what I think of as a straightforward reimagining of that part of the epic, and I even included an ambiguous epithet, "warrior sun" which when spoken aloud can be interpreted otherwise; the latter deals with the archetypal father quest -- as the offspring of the sun god, she seeks a father who is at once omnipresent yet altogether distant. I've been talking to Project For A New Mythology for awhile now about simultaneously doing web, blog and print publishings of this triptych, so I can't post either of them up for now.

Since I wrapped up the solo show nearly two months ago, I've written about 20 new poems. A startling, yet certain, call -- compare for instance how I wrote all of 2 poems in 2005. Many of these are actually going to survive the Manuscript Diet, which is what I call the pruning process. From the hundreds, maybe thousand(s?) of poems I have written in the last 15 years, five dozen or so good ones survive. And out of these, perhaps 40 or so very good ones, in my approximation -- ones that aren't good only because of their relevance to the point of their writing (those I may publish as juvenilia, at some point), for instance.

Also, I've been invited to two festivals happening in India soon: Poetry With Prakriti (Chennai, 15-30 December -- yay, I can be there for my mummy's b'day!) and Kitab (Mumbai, 22-24 February). More details soon. More I cannot tell you!

I discovered a great poem by a Malaysian poet, Bee Bee Tan, in an American anthology of women's poetry from 1987 a few days ago. Check it out here. Where is Tan now? I would love to read more, speak to her even.

And -- Junot Diaz finally publishes his novel!

The truth is that many of my friends don't really follow this blog, except for when I start MSN or Gtalk convos with a link to a new post. The reasons being that I don't blog about my life outside of work very often, I didn't used to blog poems, and so on. And it's always been a tricky thing, deciding whether to blog about something or not. My work is deeply personal, but my blog cannot be. How many of you read my blog but have never read my creative work, or have never met me? You have no idea who I am...

So what happens when I want to tell you something that is really none of your business? Stuff that does deal with work, but is related only in a personal way? For instance, about how a few days ago a friend of a friend, someone whom I don't think even knew my name at the time, let alone my profession, told me my past, present and future -- something they usually charge people for -- because they felt they had something to tell me. The accuracy with which this reading was done -- the things I was told about the direction of my writing, even details about why I am stuck where I am on my novel. And the surprises, most of which I can take or leave -- from being told that my novel will have at least two sequels, to being told that I will have to cut my hair within six months, because it is burdened with the sorrows of my childhood and adolescence. Or about how, today, I was just given an old laptop (sure, everything's in French and it's got Microsoft Word 98, but it's a machine!). Or about the incredibly obnoxious foreign war journalist and publisher who insisted he wanted to publish my book even though it's outside of his press's agenda, clearly needed the favour much more than I needed his, and then abruptly cast me out because of some unreceived email. Or even about what actually happened with regards to the harassment and attempted sabotage of my solo show. And I definitely haven't blogged about almost all the travelling I have done this year.

There, I've said too much already.

How can I say these things without trivializing them, and without saying too much? It's just that it's none of your business but it is so important I don't know how else/how not to talk about it.

New Poem: Duende (The Gypsy Prayer)

2007-07-18T16:32:00.000+05:30

Twice before, I have written passages for my blog and found that they were actually prose poems. But I have never actually posted a poem here until now. I won't mention the copyright stuff that go without saying.

DUENDE (THE GYPSY PRAYER)

Bless me
Bless me

bless these wrists
that carry orbits of silver
and break not even
when twisted,
these hands that
collect together
hold alive our songs

bless these soles
that carry me through
soil and shore and sulphur
that dance and dance
and dervish swirl,
their etchings
a map of dust
grey red brown
black and coral
rock and grain

bless this tongue
that is a torch
that is a tide
and carries me
to shore when I forget
that I myself am the sea

and always
let it rain upon me
so my skin is stripped
of pomp and circumstance
border crossings
births and bodies
deaths and cruelties
let it rain upon me,
I who knows so
many types and shades of ochre,
because I intend to
live no matter what
no matter where
and I will never ask
why if I am
always reminded how

i am as holy as the earth

Sharanya Manivannan

My Other Name

2007-07-18T14:08:00.001+05:30

I don't often share that I have a different legal first name. It's one that meant very little to me for a long time. It's one that even meant very little to my parents at the time of my naming: my mother had started calling me Sharanya while I was still in the womb, and the different legal name was only a religious/superstitious formality.

It wasn't till the year I turned 19 that it began to hold any real significance to me at all: something happened at a crucial spiritual turning point that was anchored by my name.

Because I've been travelling a great deal since the early part of this year, my other name has started to mean different things. Application forms. Red tape. Stress and travel sickness.

I Googled it, because I was thinking about it. How in its own way, it is my real name as much as this one is. I thought I knew what it meant, and I was right. But I also didn't know and found out:

It also means "daughter of the earth".

Apanikka Sings The Blues

2007-07-18T10:44:00.000+05:30

Incredible, huh? An old Malayalam song, "Paambukalkku Maalamundu", gone blues.

Congratulations, See Ming and Sim!

2007-07-18T09:05:00.000+05:30

Baby Max, born yesterday, has his own blog. :)

Hedwig and a Frida Nudge

2007-07-11T12:05:00.000+05:30

Baffled by an unusually low number of people heading to my Frida tribute blog via the post below, I finally came to the conclusion that, um, most of you didn't realise the greeting at the end is a link. *ahem* http://invokingfrida.blogspot.com/

~~~

Hedwig and the Angry Inch

I LOVE this movie. Saw it earlier this week. Gender, love, longing, identity, divisions of all kinds, rock and roll. What a script, what music, what performances! Go find a DVD now.

I also saw a new movie which is probably the most realistic and powerful portrayal of Malaysian Indian life ever made yet. Except for one aspect of it. I couldn't figure out at all whether the filmmaker had intended irony -- which would have made perfect sense -- or if he didn't see the irony therein himself. Am still mulling it over. I loved everything about it, but that. And it ruins it. It's like eating the most incredible cake and then finding out it contains a Nestle product (poor analogy, imagine we are circa 1977).

Invoking Frida: Redux

2007-07-06T22:41:00.000+05:30

Left: The Vogue cover, by Nickolas Muray, taken in New York, 1939.

Right: In New York, 1946, also shot by Nickolas Muray. Friends brought me back a notepad with this as the cover from a holiday in London, purchased at the Tate.

Last year, on July 6, I posted up my collection of photos of Frida Kahlo, in celebration of what would have been her 99th birthday. You can check out that post here. I wrote, a year ago: Frida Kahlo speaks to my soul in ways I cannot begin to describe, except perhaps to say that from her I have drawn immense comfort. I have understood my passions better, and understood defending them. I can think of no better tribute on her birthday than to invoke her, by way of the one thing she most invoked herself as a gift and a legacy: her image. But it didn't end there; I never stopped finding photos, sometimes by accident. What had to follow was obvious.

Here, then, is my virtual tribute to one of the guiding lights of my life. Step across, compañeros:

¡Feliz Cumpleaños, Friducha!

The Earth Turned To Bring Us Closer: The Poetry of Venezuela

2007-07-04T22:45:00.000+05:30

When I overhead some Spanish being spoken in the audience just before Ochre As The Earth started, it made me nervous, since I was performing cante jondo that night. As it turned out, however, I was lucky: in the audience was Natahalie Núñez, whose husband is Venezuela's ambassador to Malaysia, who liked the show enough to invite me to read at an evening of Venezuelan poetry at No Black Tie, held last night in conjunction with KL's 2nd Annual Venezuela Week. Venezuela Week is ongoing until the 8th of July, and culminates in a salsa concert at Taman Tasik Titiwangsa, from 5pm onwards this Sunday.

I'm deeply grateful for the opportunity, not only because it allowed me to share my work with the Latin American community of Kuala Lumpur, but also because it introduced me to the poetry of Venezuela.

This was the first poem Natahalie asked me to read. I have read it over and over again since the first time I saw it (I later found out it had been in 21 Grams, how could I not have remembered?).

Isn't it beautiful? The original is here. I have been reading everything I can find of Montejo's since.

   The Earth Turned to Bring Us Closer

 by Eugenio Montejo
 translated by Peter Boyle



 The earth turned to bring us closer,
 it spun on itself and within us,
 and finally joined us together in this dream
 as written in the Symposium.
 Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
 time passed in minutes and millennia.
 An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
 arrived in Nebraska.
 A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
 in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
 The earth was spinning with its music
 carrying us on board;
 it didn't stop turning a single moment
 as if so much love, so much that's miraculous
 was only an adagio written long ago
 in the Symposium's score.

Bookglee Moment of the Year

2007-06-30T22:43:00.000+05:30

I got it, I got it, I got it!!!

I got paid for a recent reading in MPH book vouchers -- and used the entire sum (with change of 10sen, that is) to get it yesterday!!!

I dare you to find another person in this country who paid for it before me (reviewers therefore ineligible). :D

Howtotellagreatstory.com Review

2007-06-25T12:07:00.000+05:30

Ochre As The Earth reviewed at howtotellagreatstory.com.

NST Review

2007-06-24T11:55:00.000+05:30

There's a write-up on Ochre As The Earth in today's New Straits Times (Sunday Times), although the name of the show isn't even mentioned once in it. Can't find the online link (can you?). It's not a bad review at all, but I find it quite odd that the reviewer told me personally that the poem she quotes the first line from was her own favourite from my work, but in the article writes about it in a rather unkind manner. I can't illustrate without example. See if I can find the article online later.

In Zero Degrees Magazine, this June

2007-06-23T12:32:00.000+05:30

(click to enlarge, of course)

Publishing A First Book of Poetry

2007-06-21T19:57:00.000+05:30

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to the publishing of my first full-length collection of late. Not in that fantasy scenario way, but in the serious, nuts and bolts way. And it’s putting a bit of a deterrent on the completion of the book itself, which is pretty much finished. For real. Give or take a few loose knots, a handful of pages to fill or poems to tweak. I know, I know; as Jerome paraphrases Valéry, “Poems are never finished. You just stop writing them”. I’ve never been that big a believer in that idea, anyway. And a book is not a blog template.

But I have this fear of finishing Witchcraft, of reaching the point when I know it’s completely done, not ‘a movement of wind’ from being done. Because after that comes, if you’ll let me speculate, a year of submissions and rejections, astronomical postage costs that could add up to enough to self-publish, and an eventual, possibly mediocre-level, acceptance by which time my standards and my nerves would have frayed so much that I never want to look at the poems again. Followed by up to two years of waiting to see it in print.

But if you know me, you know I’m very proactive when I set my mind to it. I am determined to have this book in print before I turn 23, which is 13 months away. And I’ll confess, even that is my pessimistic deadline. Six months is what I’m really giving the project. Okay, eight.

So I’ve been researching my options. What I learnt from Iyari is that while people will fawn over and pay extra for that “made with love” stamp, handmade books are a bitch. I don’t intend to do another run of handmade books, even chapbooks. It takes too long, and it feels rewarding for only about the first dozen or so. It’s downhill from there. I still owe people copies. And I actually showed up to my own launch with the materials for five copies, utterly shocked both by the fact that fifty people were already there before I even arrived and that I had to let someone else make those five copies for me.

Control freak. Not obvious yet?

But another lesson I learnt from self-publishing that chapbook is that the legwork for that kind of thing is considerable. Going the self-publishing route again will mean heading to a printer after having completed and typeset the manuscript, found cover art (and gotten through copyright issues, if necessary) and designed the cover, armed with a complete idea of what the book in its finality ought to look like. Which all suits me just fine. What doesn’t – and this is where the Iyari lesson kicks in – is what comes after. My work as a writer ends and my work as the businesswoman/publicity hound kicks in, and that’s where things stop suiting me at all. I am dedicated to doing the things I do, and I have found myself solo too many times. But the tasks at hand are not ones I want to devote all my time to.

Based on the experiences of friends who are writers, I understand that self-publishing a full-length book, whatever the genre, is a double-pronged sword. On the one hand, the complete sovereignty that I relish is a guarantee. On the other, it is when it comes to distribution that the troubles kick in. I can put together something that looks wonderful, is perfectly bound, I know I can find sponsors for the printing costs, and I can even have the whole thing ready in a matter of weeks but at the end of the day, it’s getting the book out there that is the problem.

These are some of what I’m mulling over at the moment:

· Is it worth it to go with a print-on-demand publisher like Lulu? Or is it better to just go to a printer and get what I need done, in bulk? One advantage of the former is that no trees die for the sake of me having enough stacks of books to make makeshift furniture from. One advantage of the latter is impulse, courtesy and curiosity buys: i.e. people I meet at readings or in my personal time may buy copies just because I have them on me.

· Just how much trust can I invest in the power of the Internet when I simply do not have a budget for publicity? And even if I did, a website and even an e-tour can only go so far, right?

· The majority of my sales, if I go the self-publishing route, will be off my website. But there is physical labour involved, namely posting. Running a one-woman office and coordinating an e-tour, managing my own publicity, sending out books, trying to secure sponsorships and invitations for actual (as opposed to virtual) touring, while simultaneously living, working and pursuing my other projects will require some serious steroids.

· If I decide to self-publish, what sort of infrastructure am I going to need to ensure that my work won’t languish in the great dark pit of self-published failures? Failures not necessarily because of poor quality of work, but because of the inability to successfully promote and sell the books. It’s important to bear in mind that when working with a press, the book’s needs are taken care of by people whose job it is to ensure x and y and z get done on behalf of its writer. When self-publishing, all of those jobs come to roost atop the head of an individual who already has to deal with day-to-day life as an artist and a person.

· What I really want is to work with a small press. I would much rather sacrifice prestige for the satisfaction of seeing Witchcraft in print sooner, and hopefully greater involvement in the publishing process.

· The problem with most publishers, whatever their size, is that they require hard copy manuscripts. Let’s establish right here that if I am to publish to my own satisfaction, looking outside Malaysia is a given. (Singapore has a good poetry-centric publisher, but no point putting all my eggs in one basket). Let’s say we’re looking at a 70-page manuscript. Sent out to fifteen publishers. Plus, say, five publishing contests. Please do the math on the postage yourself. I started this blog because I was too broke to set up a website. I would hate to accept sponsorship to submit to publishers, let alone the reading fee on top of the postage for publishing contests. That kind of money (think US dollars) could be used to self-publish, thereby rendering null several months or even a year or more of the process.

· On that very important note, do you know of presses willing to see pdfs or Word attachments of the completed manuscript?

· Based on the experience of a friend who locally self-published a bestselling novel, I know that getting my book on Amazon.com will not be possible (except via their secondhand sellers). Some rules about publishing in the US first, etc. Relatedly, and this is a long shot anyway, the published book will be ineligible for many prizes.

My options, in short are: self-publish, then put all other aspects of my life on hold while publicizing and getting my book to buyers, or, spend up to a year or more of time finding a publisher, in the process running myself into debt, but considerably less worry about distribution and publicity once the book is out.

Anyone with advice or suggestions?

Lastly, a word on why publishing this collection is so important to me. As nice as the idea of not being materialistic is, writing is my main career. I depend on it, on purely practical terms, much more than I do on my other loves (I have never tried to sell a painting, for example). The last thing I think of myself as is a starving artist – a girl needs to eat! Do I expect to make truck-loads of cash from this book? No. But if greeted with a fairly decent reception, there will be a ripple effect in other aspects of my career (keeping things materialistically-speaking) – more name-recognition will result both in the chance to write more of, and get paid more for, the things I’m really interested in as a journalist; more credibility as a writer in general will result in more writing-related opportunities, and so on. Do I expect massive success? No. But in the democracy of the Internet’s new world order, anything is feasible. And a decent reception alone could radically change my life.

Utan Kayu

2007-06-20T12:09:00.000+05:30

I'm happy to share some good news. I have been invited to the 2007 Utan Kayu International Literary Biennale in Indonesia in August. The Festival will be held at various locations in Jakarta, Yogjakarta and (most fantastically, for me!) in Candi Borobudur!

Invited participants
Indonesia:
1. Indonesia – Abdul Hadi W.M.
2. Indonesia – Agus Noor
3. Indonesia – Amarzan Ismail Hamid
4. Indonesia – Dewi Lestari
5. Indonesia – F. Rahardi
6. Indonesia – Gus TF Sakai
7. Indonesia – Intan Paramaditha
8. Indonesia – Joni Ariadinata
9. Indonesia – Laksmi Pamuntjak
10. Indonesia – Oka Rusmini
11. Indonesia – Remy Sylado *
12. Indonesia – Triyanto Triwikromo
13. Indonesia – Ugoran Prasad
14. Indonesia – Violetta Simatupang
15. Indonesia – Abidah El Khalieqy
16. Indonesia – Acep Zamzam Noor
17. Indonesia – Avi Basuki
18. Indonesia – Ayu Utami
19. Indonesia – Beni Setia
20. Indonesia – Darmanto Jatman
21. Indonesia – Dorothea Rosa Herliany
22. Indonesia – ES Wibowo
23. Indonesia – Hamsad Rangkuti
24. Indonesia – Iman Budhi Santosa
25. Indonesia – Joko Pinurbo

* yet to be confirmed

International:
1. Australia – Sam Wagan Watson
2. Australia – Sean M Whelan
3. Bolivia/USA – Edmundo Paz Soldán
4. Curaçao – Izaline Calister
5. Holland – Chris Keulemans
6. India – Mamang Dai
7. India / Sri Lanka – Sharanya Manivannan
8. Italy – Idanna Pucci
9. Lebanon – Hassan Daoud
10. Malaysia – Jerome Kugan
11. Pakistan – Feryal Ali-Gauhar
12. Palestine – Ghassan Zaqtan
13. Singapore – Cyril Wong
14. South Africa – Rustum Kozain
15. St. Martin (Netherland Antilles) – Drisana Deborah Jack
16. Suriname – Karin Amatmoekrim
17. Taiwan – Lan Po-chou
18. Taiwan – Yu-hsiang Hao
19. Turkey – Ozen Yula
20. USA – Kimberley Blaeser
21. USA – Terence Ward
22. Vietnam / USA – Mong-Lan

I will continue to update you on this as I find out more. Very excited -- the company of friends (Jerome, Laksmi, Cyril) and the chance to get to know the many amazing writers listed above. Am particularly looking forward to meeting Mamang Dai, fellow Indian and marvellous poet, and to meeting Mong-Lan again. OhmyGod I hope this post doesn't jinx things!

Harassment at Payless Books, Amcorp Mall

2007-06-20T09:39:00.000+05:30

This letter has been sent to Payless Books.

--

To whom it may concern,

Re: Harassment at Payless Books, Amcorp Mall

With regards to the above, I regret to inform you that I am extremely unsettled by an unpleasant experience I had yesterday afternoon (June 19th 2007) at your branch in Amcorp Mall. The treatment that I, a loyal customer of a number of years now, received at the hands of your staff has left me with no choice but to lodge this formal complaint.

At around 4pm, I entered the shop. A few days prior to this visit, I had left some books at the counter, along with my name and number, which I collected prior to beginning to browse.

Your employee – whose name I later found out was Shawn – proceeded to make unsolicited conversation with me for several minutes, asking personal questions as well as discussing what he said was unfair actions by other Payless branches. When I was able to politely get away, I did so, and began to browse. After looking through the books I had set aside I chose not to purchase them and left them back on the shelf where I found them.

I returned the plastic bag when I neared the counter, which I had been holding with me while I continued to peruse the rest of the store. I had not finished browsing at this point. Immediately, your employee demanded that he search through my bag. I calmly set down my bag for his inspection. He checked another book I had in the bag to confirm that it was not the property of Payless. Needless to say, he found no evidence of shoplifting. As soon as he had finished, I questioned his behaviour.

These are some of the statements that your employee made to me when I questioned his behaviour: “I have the right to check your bags”, “You are supposed to return the books to me”, and, “It is a bit weird. You always come here, but you don’t always buy anything.” I should note that your employee raised his voice to me several times. Although he claimed that he was “just doing [his] job”, the entire incident was conducted very unprofessionally.

Shoplifters do not leave their details with the cashier. They do not wander around the store after committing the crime. They do not return as regular customers for almost five years running. Similarly, readers do far more browsing than buying. They do not buy every book they take out of the shelf. There is no implicit guarantee that books set aside will be bought. When browsing in a bookstore, most customers will put back on the shelves books they have looked at but which they are not purchasing. Your employees do not have the right to search customers’ private belongings. Furthermore, as someone who has bought perhaps 200-300 books from your branches over the years, there was even a possibility that a book I carried with me might have had your sticker. While this was not the case this time, it would not have been evidence of theft. Only seeing a customer try to smuggle unpaid items is evidence of theft. Payless Books, Amcorp Mall, is a very small space, with mirrors at the back. A conscientious employee would be able to watch customers easily, and intervene once (and only if) a crime is witnessed.

That you have in your employment a person who is supposed to represent you yet does not know these basic facts is a huge insult to your company.

Given the circumstances, it is clear to me that what occurred was a deliberate act of personal harassment. There are no excuses for Shawn’s behaviour. While I understand that shoplifting is a concern for any retail establishment, there are standard measures to prevent it, which do not inconvenience customers or disrespect them. By no standards whatsoever was your employee’s harassment acceptable.

Shortly after leaving the store, I received an SMS from your employee, which I quote verbatim here: “Hai, Sharanya i am really sorry about the incident … Shawn”, from this number, 016-xxxxxxx. This was yet another completely inappropriate gesture. I had never given your employee my phone number for personal use. He had taken it from the details I had left on my prior visit. Once again, he overstepped the bounds and invaded my privacy. I did not reply to his SMS.

I have always regarded Payless Books as a respectable and customer-friendly chain of bookstores, but this experience has tainted my perspective. I am disgusted by your employee’s behaviour, as a result of which neither I nor many of the friends I have alerted about this harassment will visit your Amcorp Mall branch again.

I hope you shall see fit to take appropriate action to resolve this matter and restore your good reputation.

Yours sincerely,
Sharanya Manivannan

Kumpi (The Work of the Oracle)

2007-06-18T17:07:00.000+05:30

Last night someone told me that in the Balinese culture, the forms of address between great-grandparent and great-grandchild are the same word. Kumpi. Because every four generations, we become equal.

The work of the oracle is through body and voice. The work of the oracle is to give voice to the bodies upon which are inscribed our fates. The work of the oracle is to go beyond body-memory, to transcend into ancestral memory. To excavate. To restore. The work of the oracle is as much past as it is future.

I believe now why the Tamils call it thalaiezhithu. That which is written on the forehead. Imprinted on the skull. Life is language, script, alphabet. The body receives.

In Sanskrit my name means sanctuary.

2007-06-18T17:01:00.000+05:30

Witchcraft is a single movement of wind from being ready.

And I say ready, not completed. And you know why.

It's My Trumpet And I'll Blow It If I Want To

2007-06-08T19:59:00.000+05:30

Deflation of the head comes in the form of my day to day reality.

Inflation?

* Getting this phone call: "Hey, I just heard your name on the radio!" "Huh?" "Jason Lo mangled your name over Hitz.FM five minutes ago." "Jason Lo?" (I didn't realise he's a DJ now). "Yes, he also said you're passionate, etc." "Haha.. Reading from a blurb someone else wrote, I expect". Cost: Minor name-mangling.
* Getting this comment from filmmaking superstar Amir Muhammad: "Sharanya, you are my hero!". Cost: Fiasco with a certain magazine.
* Being called "an internationally acclaimed writer" (say what?) in this month's Zero Degrees magazine. Cost: Irritation at not being able to scan up the article for you yet.
* Being in no less than three magazines this month, and doing interview+photoshoot for two more yesterday and today. Cost: One of the most unflattering photos of me I have ever seen in print, and we'll see what's coming for the forthcoming articles.

Being able to talk rooster like this on my blog? Priceless. :)

P.S. Amir, were you joking? :)

Tomorrow: Klue's Words & Tunes

2007-06-08T18:21:00.001+05:30

Hiatus

2007-06-04T12:29:00.000+05:30

And now, it is ochre.

I am exhausted!!! I. Never. Want. To. Be. My. Own. Publicist. Again. But all's well that ends well, and despite a massive downpour, a tree falling down and obstructing one of the highways, traffic and the deranged harrassment of someone who seemed suspiciously like a saboteur, there was a decent crowd. I enjoyed myself, did you?

I opened an email from a friend that ended with this quote: ""It ain't no sin to take off your skin and dance around in your bones" (Tom Waits). Which is what I do, in a way. What I feel like I do, although maybe you disagree.

Thank you to everyone who came. Thank you to everyone who wanted to come, but couldn't. Thank you to everyone who publicized. Thank you to everyone who helped.

Last night, I heard two things that I will not forget. The first: a person who is close to me but has always been unsupportive, if not downright critical, of my work told me they had tears in their eyes. Twice during the evening. The second: No Black Tie's Evelyn came over and hugged me after the show. She tapped her heart, shook her head, and walked away. "You are brutal," she said later. Brutal. I turned the word over in my mind later, and realised that that is the perfect word. That is exactly it. That is want I want my work to be: to break the spine of things, because everything broken that is coming back to life must hurt in order to heal.

... And In New Man Magazine (Malaysia), June

2007-05-31T19:07:00.000+05:30

Klue Magazine this June

2007-05-31T19:02:00.000+05:30

The lovely people of Klue magazine have given me an entire page in June's issue, which is out now. But I am a vain woman, and I don't mean to be ungrateful but I really really really don't like the picture, so rather than put up a scan of the page, I've gone to the trouble of typing up the whole thing. Here it is, unedited.

INTRODUCING: SHARANYA MANIVANNAN

Klue Magazine, June 2007

There's a bit of a disconnect when reconciling the image of Sharanya the person and Sharanya the poet. Onstage, she exacts a commanding presence, her reading voice and image sensual, lyrical, literate and emotionally charged. But the first thing that strikes you when you meet her in person is how diminutively statured she is. She's small!

But such impressions say nothing of her body of work, already substantial for a 21-year-old. Or of her experience as a spoken word performer, already a veteran of the local poetry scene, regularly reading alongside other acclaimed poets such as Bernice Chauly and Rahmat Haron at poetry events such as Wayang Kata, Readings@Tempinis and Doppelganger. It didn't happen overnight, of course.

No wallflower, the India-born Sharanya has been cultivating her love of poetry for the past 16 years, growing up in Sri Lanka and Malaysia. "I loved books before I could read. I even remember the first poem I ever wrote sitting with my mum on a veranda. It was two stanzas about a cat," says Sharanya, reminiscing about the first awkward steps it took to be a writer. These days, however, the writing has moved on to more adult themes: love, loss, longing, plus the occasional swipe at the male ego. Some of these works can be found in her self-published chapbook of poems, entitled Iyari (a Huichol Indian concept of "heart-memory").

Asked to describe her work, Sharanya puts it simply. "My work is very simple. I don't try to be abstract. I try to write about what I feel. And I feel very intensely. Every poem I write is about distilling an experience or emotion I've had." It's hard to argue with that summation but anyone who have seen Sharanya on stage can easily attest to the fact that what she does is not easy at all. There's a winning combination of rawness and finesse in her work that's quite astounding for such a young pup.

Currently editing an anthology of women's writing for a publisher in India, working on a novel, producing a series of large-scale paintings and expanding Iyari. Sharanya is getting ready to stage her first solo spoken word show entitled Ochre As The Earth at No Black Tie (on 3 June, 9pm, RM15 admission). She'll also be appearing in this month's Words & Tunes at MPH Bangsar Village (on 9 June, 3pm, free admission). Those who haven't met Sharanya before, this is a plum opportunity to witness a great poet in the making.

Ochre As The Earth

2007-05-30T10:29:00.001+05:30

Please distribute this flyer far and wide.

There was a write-up in yesterday's edition of R.AGE on the show, and the Q+A on which it was based, as well as a jpeg of the actual article, are up on the event blog. In the next few days I'll be posting up more thoughts and interviews on that blog. If you'd like to do a Q+A with me, drop me an email very soon, with your questions. Stay tuned.

Step Across This Link...

2007-05-25T10:36:00.000+05:30

Sharanya Manivannan

Ochre As The Earth

A solo spoken word show
Date: Sunday June 3 2007

Time: 9pm

Venue: No Black Tie, 17 Jalan Mesui, Kuala Lumpur

Entry: RM15

http://ochreastheearth.blogspot.com

Random Updates

2007-05-24T16:22:00.000+05:30

I know that the important announcement is overdue, folks! I've just been having some trouble uploading something on the blog for the event (like you didn't know what it was going to be anyway!). Hang on, hang on...! :)

In other news, my work is to be translated and published in Russian. And two poems are forthcoming in the anthology Yellow As Turmeric, Fragrant As Cloves (Deep Bowl Press). The editor, Anne Marie Fowler, explains that the title is not, as might be construed, a Mistress of Spices type exotica stereotype, but was chosen because, in her words: "I decided on this because of the symbolic meaning of turmeric (fertility and prosperity) and because of the physical aspects of the clove -- it comes from a symmetrical tree (balance) that produces beautiful red flowers (beauty, red = passion,) and from all this beauty, it further produces a fragrant spice. In considering these connections, the title fits beautifully because the work included exhibits beauty and passion, is fertile with knowledge about women, and is something I hope will become a prosperous precursor to other books like this". A poem is also to be featured in the International Museum of Women's Imagining Ourselves exhibit.

I have been very amused the last few days by the sheer surge in traffic that a rant posted on my blog seems to have generated. A shockingly unprofessional response from someone who maintains they are a professional was quite interesting, because they could just as well have ignored it altogether. What's even more interesting, though, is that my little rant seems to have garnered about as much traffic as the times this blog was linked to by Sepia Mutiny and Salon. *Sigh* If only temple demolitions incited such passion... Check out the comments two posts below. I was certainly entertained!

Things To Come

2007-05-22T10:02:00.000+05:30

Sneak preview:

Come back tomorrow. :)

Photo: Karna

Photo Credit: Nic Wong Yoke Hin

New Man Magazine Singapore SUCKS

2007-05-18T17:57:00.000+05:30

I am furious.

Furious. Furious. Furious.

As you may know, I make my living as a freelance journalist, and one of the magazines I write for fairly often is New Man, the Malaysian edition. I was always aware that New Man Singapore, of which the Malaysian edition is a subsidiary, was allowed to reprint any articles in the Malaysian edition, without further payment -- or even notice -- to the contributor. Which was fine. I've worked with publishing companies before with similar, sometimes even less pleasant policies, and as much as it would be nice to be paid twice, I accept that it's just not a reality in this industry. For the record, I don't have any major problems with New Man Malaysia and I do applaud their effort to provide serious features alongside the typical men's magazine fare.

What I did not know is that New Man Singapore is allowed to mangle, rubbish and thoroughly misrepresent a writer's point when reprinting an article.

Moments ago, I picked up the June edition of New Man Singapore, and flipped through it. I was surprised to see that "The Life Aquatic", a long feature on ecological damage and conservationism that I wrote for New Man Malaysia, had been reprinted. The first thing I checked was that they had spelt my name correctly. They had. Then, I scrolled down to the first paragraph...

I did not write the first paragraph.

I would never write such an obnoxious piece of shit.

This is what it says: "Admit it: When you're at a party and some kaftan-wearing cuckoo starts taking the fun out of the evening with alarmist talk of greenhouse gases, melting ice-caps, and ozone depletion, you'd probably be inclined to kick his tree-hugging ass and smash the Styrofoam beer crate just out of spite."

!!! I was so sickened by this that I did not dare turn the page, but not without scrolling through, with rising horror, the rest of the first page. What I read was not editing. It was libel, under my own name!

Looming fear: the Malaysian New Man folks tell me that my feature, "The Body As Battleground", on the commoditization (among other things) of women's bodies by the fashion and advertising industries, which I wrote for their January issue (an excerpt is here), is to be reprinted in Singapore. Can you imagine the butchery that is probably going to happen? I pissed off at least one feminist with my original article. I'm going to have the whole sisterhood turn nasty on me when the Singapore misprint comes out.

Dear Mr Ronald Rajan, Editor: New Man Singapore,

If my article was "poetic rubbish", as you so uncouthly put it under my own byline (I quote, following some words I actually did write, on the first page: "as much as this may sound like poetic rubbish.."), then why reprint it at all? I am disgusted by your lack of ethics -- especially when dealing with an article that is all about ethics -- and disgusted by your gross misrepresentation of me and my points with regards to conservation and the environment.

I have a much better suggestion to you with regards to what you ought to do with that Styrofoam crate if you ever encounter me or anyone like me. However, unlike you, I am just not uncouth enough to spell it out. Use your imagination. You certainly seem to have one.

Yours sincerely,
The kaftan-clad cuckoo

Snapped in Secret

2007-05-10T10:44:00.000+05:30

Never have my ugly feet looked this good. Pic by Sufian Abas, at the most recent reading at 67 Tempinis Satu.

Save Subash

2007-05-02T13:50:00.000+05:30

(via Uma) 5-year old B. Subash is suffering from Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, currently under remission following his first relapse. As the necessary treatment is not available in India, his parents are seeking treatment at Mount Elizabeth Hospital in Singapore, under Dr. Patrick Tan. Subash needs a bone marrow transplant. The entire cost of the procedure and post-transplant treatment is Rupees One Crore and Fifty Lakhs. More details on his condition, how to contribute, what the necessary procedures and specific costs are can be found here.

I know I have many Singaporean readers, and I encourage you to contribute especially because you can do so in the required currency. I intend to do the same, although with my limited resources there is not much I can do. I have emailed Dr. Tan about how much more money needs to be raised in addition to what has already been collected, so that we can have a clearer picture of the situation, and will update this post if he replies. I am particularly saddened by Subash's plight, for some reason, so this will stay a sticky post for a few days.

Happy B'day, Rauf and Nick!

2007-05-02T13:49:00.000+05:30

(Backdated to allow sticky post on top. Will amend in a couple of days)

May 3

Could it really be a coincidence that the two most promising and talented young (as in, under 25) Malaysian writers -- in my opinion, anyway -- share the same birthday?

Rauf Fadzilla and I go way back: we were in high school together, him a year above me, and I don't think we ever had the opportunity to speak to one another back then. Fast forward just a couple of months after I graduated, we happened to meet at a bookshop I was working at -- I remembered him as someone whom I wouldn't have thought of as a reader, and he remembered me as a cheerleader ("who looked like Sade," he said later. "The singer not the pervert."... how far we leave school behind!). Six years down the road, Rauf remains a steadfast friend. Both our careers have grown in similar directions -- we are both reasonably recognizable (locally, at any rate) writers, and dabble in theatre (in fact, I auditioned to join The Oral Stage because I happened to have lunch with Rauf a couple of hours before the try-outs). Rauf, however, is also a musician and screenwriter of much promise. But out of all his work, it is his prose I love most. He's gotten busy with loads of corporate, or shall we say "income-providing but still creative", work, but when I think of Rauf the creator I still think of the guy who wrote stories about a car named Pegasus and a woman named Lakshmi who moved like a dancer.

I met Nicholas Wong only at the end of last year. He had just returned to KL after graduating from junior college in Singapore, and had got in touch with the venerable Sharon Bakar (a very good idea -- all you young aspiring writers out there, go to her blog today, understand?). Sharon sent him my way, and I invited him to read at the launch of my chapbook Iyari. I was blown away by his sizable record of achievements (he's shy, sort of -- you'll have to click the "for stalkers only" link on his blog to see what I mean), but far far more impressed by his humble and unassuming nature. So much so that, almost without realizing it at first, I took on the role of being his ~~pimp~~, err, grand vizier. As anyone who knows me knows, I'm the sort of person who has an opinion on everything, and anything I believe in, I pimp. And one thing's for sure -- I believe in Nicholas. I believe he will do his country proud, over the course of his career. I believe he fully deserves the opportunity he has received to study Comparative Literature at Columbia University this September. And I definitely believe he deserves that award he's been nominated for but I'm not sure if I can announce that yet!

Happy 23rd Rauf, and happy 18th, Nick! :) The rest of you, go drop by their blogs now.

Thinking Blogger Award

2007-05-02T13:48:00.000+05:30

Kenny Mah gave me a Thinking Blogger award recently, presumably thanks to my powers of emasculation (and, maybe, because I'm supposedly his "Literary Idol"... *blush*). :)

I'm sharing the love by bestowing the following folks with this most contagious award:

1. Sowmya Rajendran/ Gounder Brownie -- The funniest woman to come out of Chennai! But why stop at funny? Try irreverent, intelligent and incisive on for size -- Gounder Brownie's edgy, politically and socially conscious style of satire is unlike any other. I am continually amused and amazed by her ability to juggle comedy and serious stuff and create such an addictive cocktail. But she needs to blog alot more!
2. Meena Kandasamy -- Although still a baby blogger, Meena's already made a name for herself as a poet (scoring the only foreword that Kamala Das ever wrote for anyone's book) and activist. I didn't manage to meet up with her during my last trip to Chennai, but it's great to be in contact with someone who is very much my peer in many ways -- she is only a year older than me, is from Chennai, and writes with sensibilities very attuned to gender, politics and culture.
3. Maceo Marti/ Amor Cubano -- I have a weakness for Latin America, for many reasons, not least of all because I find its women's narratives to be similar to my own culture. I found Maceo on Myspace, and loved her writing. She blogs snippets of autobiography in what appear to be the foundation stones of a novel, one which I look forward to greatly.
4. Uma Mahadevan-Dasgupta/ Indian Writing -- One of the blogs that made me decide to start blogging. Uma's blog manages to be both objective yet personal. Even when she shares things about her life, both joys and tribulations, she ties it in with something more general and/or or use to others. For example, posts about her mother's illness or her own miscarriage didn't end there -- she also shared links and news about bigger issues like cancer treatment and reproductive rights. Her blog is thoughtful and brave, and although I haven't met her, I imagine her to be much the same.
5. Manjula Padmanabhan -- Simply because for such a famous author, she is so funny and silly and casual on her blog that I imagine her to be this sparkly, wonderful person. Someone who (unlike myself, for example!) doesn't pimp herself or give too much notice to the career-enhancing functions of the internet. In her creative writing she has explored issues like organ-trading and communalism -- and she blogs jokes, email forwards and casual outtakes from her own life. Kudos to Ms. P. for being so accessible and defying categorization!

To the five I've tagged, if you choose to pass it on, these are the Thinking Blogger Award rules:

This award was started here. You have to award five others whose blog you think deserve this award. Should you choose to participate, please make sure you pass this list of rules to the blogs you are tagging.

The participation rules are simple:

If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.

Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.

Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.

Please, remember to tag blogs with real merits, i.e. relative content, and above all — blogs that really get you thinking!

Article in The Star

2007-04-25T10:49:00.000+05:30

I'm in today's The Star newspaper, talking about the burgeoning (slam/performance) poetry scene in KL. Also interviewed are Nicholas Wong, Priya Kulasegaran and Pat Low. The article, by Syarifah S. Alia, is here.

And Kenny Mah gave me a Thinking Blogger Award, which I'll respond to later!

Happy Blogiversary To Me!

2007-04-17T15:22:00.000+05:30

Yay! :)

Starting this blog was life-changing.

Over the last year, I have had hits: playing a role in increasing awareness about a pressing issue which I've become afraid to continue talking about, being asked to edit an anthology and being invited to literary events and festivals as a result of this blog, more fan mail than I used to get, a much bigger presence as a writer, hits every day from all over the world from people Googling my full name. Spelt correctly. :)

And misses: Internet fights, weird emails that I never quite know how to respond to, stalking, insane accusations made by people who by default had to admit they stalked me by making them, hits everday from Googling perverts and other nuisances.

And mixed blessings: Having my family find this blog (hello there!) resulted not in disaster but in them actually becoming more supportive and accepting of my career. Somewhat, anyway.

All in a year's work! :)

On Unintentionally Channeling Farah Fawcett

2007-04-16T21:21:00.000+05:30

Because of my photo in I-S Magazine, which is basically a black and white version of this kindergarten-coloured specimen you see to your left here (or somewhere at the top of the browser, if --shame on you! -- you use Internet Explorer), I finally have a good excuse to explain my Farah Fawcett hairstyle.

As anyone who has met me during the last 8 years or so will know (okay, unless I happened to be wearing it up that day/night), I most certainly do have ridiculous hair. But it's not Farah Fawcett-style. It's small-of-back to ass-length good Indian girl hair, i.e. typical oppressed woman ishstyle! It's so long that I can cut it myself... and no one notices that I've taken five inches off unless I say so. I used to be able to sit on it, until I realised what a distraction all that length was. People claim to be able to recognize me from the hair alone. People have asked for spools of it to keep (creepy, yes). I have friends who hate it. I have friends who love it. My mother pesters me with suggestions of how to best trim and modernize it, ahem. My father, each time he sees me rolling off a plane with it all knotted up, asks with an expression of dismay if I finally did cut it off. For such a tiny person, I have stupidly long hair. I am the quintessential little girl with big hair.

Now, if you'll excuse the very shallow turn of things, here's the story of how that self-portrait came about. One night I was having an incredibly boring conversation with someone. So incredibly boring that I didn't even care how rude it was to pull out my camera and say to her, "Go on, I'm listening. Just multitasking!" and proceeded to cam-whore, snapping without aim or ambition. I happened to take a shot with my arm resting behind my head. And I happened to break the convo by exclaiming, "Ohmigod! I love this one!". In the image, however, especially once edited, it appeared as though my hair jutted upward like the curl of a wave. The little yellow bit is my elbow. The self-portrait itself was purely accidental, and I do kind of like the way my hair looks in it, although not really for keeps.

Here's a good example of what my hair actually looks like: that's me in last Sunday's edition of The Star newspaper talking to Brian Castro at the KL Lit Fest. And another: with the awesome poet and dear friend Nicholas Wong in Telok Ayer Street, Singapore. (Okay, I confess, I really like this pic so please have a looksie. Teeheehee!)

I-S Magazine and How To Cook A Wolf

2007-04-14T08:09:00.000+05:30

I-S Magazine, the Singaporean lifestyle/entertainment weekly, chose to feature "How To Cook A Wolf", the two-day women's poetry session held on April 13 and 14, in an interesting way: by featuring a poem I wrote inspired by the event's theme ("How To Eat A Wolf", mine's called, since I got it confused!) and a pic of me (but why's my hair been cropped in such a funny way? :P ). The article is in their arts section, under "Scene Stealer", the issue for the week starting April 13.

I'm still green enough to have gotten excited to see that The Substation had clipped it and posted it on their bulletin board, but what really rocked my boat was to go to Possibly Evil Coffee Franchise after last night's event and see people reading I-S. Those surreal moments have been more frequent lately. That thrilling, stolen anonymity: the knowing that if s/he just looked up, they might recognize me, but oh so wonderfully, don't!

Thanks, I-S!

Will update with pics, etc! Off for day two's event, after which I'll write about the whole thing.

(Updated)

Firstly, a big thank you to Kenny and Karen of Books Actually -- from a business sense, what I probably love most about their enterprise is how young they are. How open to ideas, voices, different ways of doing things. They decided to take a chance on me not once but twice (by stocking the old chappy and by inviting me to read at HTCAW), and hopefully it pays off for us both.

I feel honoured to have read at How To Cook A Wolf, mainly because of the amount of amazing writing to be heard! It made me wish that one could have a KL audience for a Singapore reading and vice versa. In KL, you get onstage and get treated like a rockstar; in Singapore, the audience is so terribly polite, a challenge of a different sort, a different sort of dynamic. It's so easy, now, to get heard and be applauded in KL, which leads not only to the plus point that is the number of opportunities available to anyone, but also to a pretty indiscriminating set of standards. I know some will disagree, but as a reader, viewer and organizer, I know I speak not only for myself when I say that it's highly unlikely that anyone who wants to read will be unable to find a venue or event to take them on, simply because it isn't in the best interests of a budding scene to stultify its options so early on. That's a good thing, of course. But once in awhile it's nice to see a sense of discernment, something which KL may not be ready for yet, and I say that with no intention of snideness.

And I have to put in a nice word for the nice treatment -- a rose for each poet at The Substation! As someone who, sadly, has never received flowers except at performances, I'm just a sucker for them. Sigh...

Blasts From The Past

2007-04-14T07:29:00.000+05:30

*Puthandu valthukkal!* (That would be Happy Tamil New Year)

In the last few weeks, old poems have emerged anew in places I had forgotten they had headed to.

Poetry Chain, the Indian journal, featured five old ones in a special issue on Chennai poets. This was such a long-ago submission that I had to email back and ask what the poems actually were.

From The Web, a women's political poetry anthology that was years in the works, is also finally out, and features one poem from me. I wrote "Tigerlily" when I was 16, and remember almost nothing about it except the last two lines on which it ended:

You can crush all my bones

but you can't break my heart.

How To Cook A Wolf: A Two-Step Women's Poetry Session

2007-04-10T08:21:00.000+05:30

Please click to enlarge.

HOW TO COOK A WOLF: a two-step women's poetry session

"But even the wolf, temporarily appeased, cannot live on bread alone." - MFK Fisher

How To Cook A Wolf is a two-part collective poetry session celebrating the women poets of our time. The technique of fashioning mere words into the linguistic art known as poetry is very similar to the culinary craft of food preparation – a skill commonly associated with the female – requiring both creative and stark virtuosity. (Its namesake is a book of the same title written by the respected female author, MFK Fisher, published in 1942, How To Cook A Wolf – about the clever art of milking scarce supplies in producing palatable [even delectable!] meals during the World War II food shortage.)

Co-organized by BooksActually and The Substation,this is the first time a literary assembly honouring women poets has been organized in Singapore.

Part I
Venue: The Substation.
Date: 13th April 2007, Friday
Time: 7.30pm
Admission: Donations are welcome.
Wine will be served.

Line-up:
Sharanya Manivannan
Angeline Yap
Kristina Tom
Koh Tsin Yen
Rachel Au-Yong
Teng Qian Xi

& Heng Siok Tian (as read by Jasmine Seah)

Part II
Venue: BooksActually. 125A Telok Ayer Street.
Date: 14th April 2007, Saturday
Time: 2.30pm
Admission: Free
Tea will be served.

Line-up:
Laksmi Pamutjak
Lee Tzu Pheng
Leong Liew Geok
Madeleine Lee
Ho Poh Fun
Hazel Lim
Heather Chi
Jasmine Seah

This Is Not A Classifieds Ad

2007-04-09T07:45:00.000+05:30

Seeking:
* Female
* Indian or South Asian/descent (Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Bhutan, Maldives, Nepal and British Indian Ocean Territory -- according to Wiki!)
* age between 18 and 24

Email me - sharanya(dot)manivannan(at)gmail(dot)com

I have a goooooooood reason. I really, really do.

Learning To Say No

2007-04-08T18:48:00.000+05:30

Can be harder than the process of getting to that place where one actually has the choice, the power, to.

I want to tell you I'm full of regret, but to stay closer to the truth would be to tell you instead that I'm full of curiosity as to what's around the next corner.

I will not be going to the festival in Chicago this month. I am so grateful to the folks who are organizing it for giving me the chance to, particularly Ramona Gupta, who sourced me out from the wilderness of Myspace and seemed to go out of her way to try and get me there. I am enormously grateful to those who responded to my call for sponsorship -- particularly Enfiniti Productions and Antares -- with a generousity that I didn't know a plea as selfish as mine could elicit. I'm sure that the festival will be a blast, and I know that among the people I would have met there, there would certainly have been a few who could have set my career on a different trajectory. Logistics and instinct -- if I wasn't the sort of person who followed my heart, it would be a bloody kamikaze, this no.

But I am. And so it isn't.

Literati 4Wah! in Singapore this Saturday

2007-04-05T13:26:00.000+05:30

The first of two events I'm doing in Singapore this month. Click to enlarge.

Recap: KL International Litfest, 1st Cross-Causeway Slam, Poetry at NBT

2007-04-02T10:55:00.000+05:30

The Kuala Lumpur International Literary Festival 2007 - March 28th, 29th, 30th

I don't feel like bitching, so I'll just tell you what the highlights were for me.

Sumithra Rahubadde: I thought this Sri Lankan writer was such an unpretentious person, someone who seems incredibly strong and uncompromising despite her soft-spoken and almost simple manner (working as a civil servant while writing subversive prose, dealing with office sexual harassment when she was widowed -- what guts!). I was enormously touched when I spoke to her after her lecture and she said, gasping and grasping me with both hands, "You are _____'s granddaughter? He was one of the people who really fought for the country, to not separate our country." The burning question: why is her writing not available in English?

Brian Castro: I cannot wait to get my hands on his novel Shanghai Dancing (they had no copies - shame!)! What a wonderful, wonderful writer... I am so glad I went to his session, during which he read from the novel and had a discussion with Eddin Khoo. The discussion was as interesting as the excerpt, and I was really inspired, because there are some similarities between the novel I am writing and the autobiographical fiction that is Shanghai Dancing.

[Update, sourced from my notebook and forgotten earlier] Choice cuts: "Everybody's writing about their families these days, prostituting their grandmothers." - Khoo. "William Faulkner said you should sell your grandmother for a story" - Castro. I agree with both!

Benjamin Zephaniah: Mad props, full stop! I thought his performance at Marmalade on Thursday was better than his Friday night show at The Annexe. He seemed much more in his element during the former.

The 1st Cross-Causeway Poetry Slam - March 31st

I came in second place, losing to Singaporean Marc Nair by just 0.04 points! :) It was a really fun event, although I expected to hate it, because I'm not a very competitive person (kinda signed up without fully realising what it was!). Eleven contestants in all battled it out at Seksan's -- it was the first time I've been to a proper slam, the kind with (yes, Lara) finger-snapping and foot-stomping! I like Pooja Nansi's work, and thought she was the best among the Singaporean contestants. And Fynn Jamal has the most beautiful pet python!

Poetry at No Black Tie - April 1st

Was very very nice, I think. Cyril Wong and his partner Sheo were absolute gems to come up from Singapore for less than 24 hours just for this reading, and for treating Nick and I to dinner. I was reminded yet again how much I admire Cyril's poems to Araya Rasdjarmrearnsook, a Thai performance artist who sings to corpses, and reminded yet again how I wish I had heard of her before reading his poems, because then I would, unquestionably, have written to/for/about her too. Bernice Chauly's new poems, written just prior to her mother's death only days ago, were particularly strong and beautiful. I owe alot to Jerome Kugan -- not just professionally but also as a friend -- and I am glad he has rekindled the urge to create and share poetry. His chapbook Imaginary Poems is great, and he tells me he's thinking of putting out a new one every month (that would be his managing editor persona kicking in!). Last night's reading, featuring these three fine poets and yours truly, was the inaugural event in a monthly poetry series -- the first Sunday of every month is officially now Poetry Night at No Black Tie.

Cyril Wong, Bernice Chauly, Jerome Kugan and some girl at No Black Tie

2007-03-29T19:17:00.000+05:30

Thank you, Kenny, for the poster! :)

More about the performers:

Bernice Chauly is a writer, photographer, filmmaker, actor and teacher. She is also former co-publisher of Rhino Press and has published a collection of poems, "going there and coming back" and is the author of 'into the ice', Malaysia's first woman's journey into Antarctica. Her work as a poet explores subjects including love, history and identity.

Jerome Kugan is a writer and musician. He started writing poetry since the age of 14 in 1989. He currently works as an editor for a local magazine. He is currently compiling a collection of poems to be called Imaginary Poems. Visit www.myspace.com/jkugan

Sharanya Manivannan is a writer, painter, dancer, photographer and actress, among other things. She is working on her novel Constellation of Scars and completing a book of poems. Her full-length solo spoken word show will be at No Black Tie on June 3rd. She can be found at http://sharanyamanivannan.blogspot.com and www.myspace.com/sharanyamanivannan.

Cyril Wong is the author of four collections of poetry. A winner of the Singapore Literature Prize and the National Arts Council's Young Artist Award in his country, his poetry has been featured in international journals such as Atlanta Review, Poetry International, Fulcrum and Asia Literary Review. He has been a featured poet at the Edinburgh International Book Festival, among others. He is also a renegade countertenor who has given solo-performances at the Seoul Fringe Festival, the Hong Kong Fringe Club and The Substation in Singapore.

Venue: No Black Tie, Jalan Mesui, off Jalan Nagasari (behind Hotel Istana)
Date: Sunday April 1st
Time: 9pm
Entry: RM15

Set Menu (RM108, includes show)
Crab Salad with Mango
Gindara Kimchee Soup
Nigiri Moriawase (assorted Nigiri Sushi) or Tuna Yaki Roll (seared tuna roll)
Green Tea Ice-Cream with Crunchy Hazelnut & Dark Chocolate

For reservations please call 21423737 or email noblacktie@gmail.com

The First Cross-Causeway Poetry Slam

2007-03-29T06:46:00.000+05:30

"Readings" and Word Forward (Singapore)

proudly present

The First Cross-Causeway Poetry Slam™

featuring:

K. L. Poets:

Tshiung Han See
Jasmine Low
Fynn Jamal
Sheena Baharudin
Dato Shanmugalingam
Peter Brown
Sharanya Manivannan

Singapore Poets:

Chris Mooney-Singh
Marc Nair
Pooja Nansi
Bani Haykkal

Poetry Slam™ is the competitive art of writing and performing poetry.

Rules: contestants should bring 3 original poems written by the presenter. Each up to 3 minutes in length. No props, costumes or musical instruments are used during the slam.

“The Points are not the point, the point is Poetry” – Alan Wolf

For more information go to http://www.wordforward.org

Date and Time: 3.30 p.m. Saturday 31st march 2007
Place: Seksan's, 67, Jalan Tempinis 1, Lucky Garden Bangsar.

Map: see www.seksan.com/map.html

"Readings" is the love-child of Bernice Chauly, fostered at present by Sharon Bakar and made possible with the generous sponsorship of Seksan and La Bodega.

Sole Searching

2007-03-25T06:31:00.000+05:30

I am addicted to shoes. It started when I was thirteen and found the perfect pair for my needs at the time -- black, open-toed, four and a half inch heels -- in Komtar, Penang, for RM10. For years after, I returned every six months to get another pair, until they finally stopped stocking this particular model. I wore them everywhere; they were, after all, the only pair I owned.

But something happened when I could no longer get my footsies on those heels. A lust that would repeat itself in other moments of footwear-loss anchored itself in me. Even before I gained the power to buy, I understood the power and powerlessness of craving.

Now, I probably have two and a half dozen pairs. Maybe three dozen. Maybe... four. I will delight in counting them at the next opportunity, and delight in not telling you. Bags I have enough of to render even the most multi-armed deity insufficiently-endowed to carry them all. Jewelry I have enough of to put to shame anyone I have ever met (believe me, some have dared to contest). Clothes... let's not even go there. But these, with phases of exception, don't reduce me to a ~~walking~~ strutting, swaggering fetishist. I have never in recent memory been able to contend against the allure of a shoe shop, whether it's to enter it or swivel just to stare.

I have the flat feet of a dancer, broader at the toes, which the wrong pair of shoes can make scream murder (I've never been able to shake off the notion that my grandmother's chastising might have held true: my feet did grow funny because I sat with one leg crossed on the floor and one knee raised. She warned me the pretty shoes were going to be painful). The most expensive pair I have are black suede ankle boots from Nine West, a present. The least expensive, pointy-toed brown suede pumps, which I found in a bargain bin for RM5. The most unreasonable things I have done for shoes? Bought seven pairs in seven days to "overcome" the loss of a few thanks to a reckless/jealous ex-housemate. Convinced a friend to drive me to three different branches of a certain brand just so as to find that pair in that colour, my size. And I will not even mention the calluses that keep my toes constant company. I can't always have the world at my feet, and like anyone, I very rarely do -- but I sure can have some otherworldly beauties on them.

I'm the Imelda Marcos of spoken word, I told a friend recently. I've had audience members tell me they like my shoes while I'm onstage. I know exactly what Tori Amos meant when she said, "They're architecture, you know?": while I can't resist a pretty slipper, it's skyscrapers that are really my thing -- how else would I convince you I'm really five feet tall? Go on, tell me I'm perpetuating a throwback to foot-binding practices. I'll show you what my boots are made for.

This post was inspired by a few things. One, this guilt-lifting article by Lesley White (how could one not feel secure in their sanity in comparison to that "one smitten customer, a size 41, [who] buys her favourites in a neat 37 to display on a shelf, art works with potential investment value"?). Two, the fact that I found a tee-shirt the other day, hot pink with a sassy stilleto heel on it and the words Sole Searching emblazoned across it.

And three:

My solo show has been confirmed.

It was originally supposed to be called sizefoursandal, a sort of step-into-my-shoes invite. But I've decided that it's too cutesy. I'll be channeling Kali/Karna (as in Karna Considers Yuanfen) in the publicity material. And the contradiction doesn't work for me anyway, barefoot or not. I've got too many fangs to fool anyone. Weakness for shoes or not. So I did what I knew would make things fall into place. I went to my secret beach, and I found out. It will not be called sizefoursandal, although I may yet use that title elsewhere. It will be called something else, something I'm not going to reveal just yet. Everything comes together at my secret beach. It always does. And when that beach is gone, lost as it probably will be to the devastating expansion of the resorts, it will live on in my novel. My bolt-rope beach, sliver of paradise.

I must tell you about Karna.

The Ringing of the Bards Poetry Carnival, March 24 2007 Edition

2007-03-24T21:25:00.000+05:30

Bad prose from great poetry (hover your cursor over the passage to see the links): Her lover said, with a certain reverence, “It’s true. I never meant to hurt you.” Lucifer's whisper. An immortal garland of words, a language that admits no lies. The colour of a body turned inside out. Dancing, flaunting, ravaging: red as the dragonfly, red as rose petals burned by summer's heat to brown.

[Thank you bards! -- River, Patricia Low, Mad Kane, Neha Vishwanathan, Miss Fynn, Nicholas Wong, kG, Tiel Aisha Ansari, Cyril Wong, Faridah Manaf, Aravindh Natarajan, Maryam Ansari, Tiel again]

Updates Galore

2007-03-20T19:32:00.000+05:30

So many, so many, so many updates.

I. Chennai
1. Photos will be up when I'm back in KL. Hopefully sometime next week.
2. Kitschy Kitten is not defunct! I couldn't afford to replenish my stock on this trip. But trust me, we'll be back on our paws this year! The original stock moved fairly quickly, leaving behind too few items to sustain a kiosk. I didn't return to India for a year after, and when I did, was there on serious personal reasons, not work of any sort. But worry not -- I won't let a cool name like Kitschy Kitten and a cool mascot like Neferkitty go to waste! I won't!

II. Singapore
1. Have been here the last few days. Met with bunch of litty folks including Zafar Anjum, Cyril Wong, Kenny of Books Actually, Eric Low, Terence of Literati. Convinced Cyril to come read in KL on April 1st. Lots in the works... including:
2. Two performances here in April. More details soon.

III. KL
1. Solo show confirmed for June.
2. A favour for a friend: do check this out.
3. Slew of readings coming up, possibly over three days in a row. More, soon.

IV. Beyond Borders
1. I can't wait to tell you who the publisher is (seriously, I can't wait!), but I'm editing an anthology of young South Asian women's writing. Have had to keep my lips zipped on this for months, and will have to do so for a little while yet.
2. Have been invited to be a columnist for United Press International (UPI), the international news agency, so you'll be seeing some of my articles on their website, and possibly licensed to various different publications too.
2. Posted of woman torn by Suheir Hammad on Puisi-Poesy for International Women's Day.

More, more, more soon, soon, soon.

Calling All Scribbling Scribes!

2007-03-20T17:57:00.000+05:30

Just a reminder for those of you who thought it might be cool but then forgot to submit: I'll be hosting the Ringing of the Bards Poetry Carnival here on March 24th, and I'll post it up late Saturday night (that would be my time, GMT+8!).

So if you have an original poem which you recently posted on your blog or will be posting in the next few days, and would like to get it linked up in the carnival, do drop me an email at sharanya(dot)manivannan(at)gmail(dot)com. Please send it in by Friday, my time (US folks - Thursday yours, to keep it simple!) :)

"Water"

2007-03-17T12:28:00.000+05:30

I loved it, and saw it on Thursday, the same day it opened in KL. Jayani Sarala Kariyawasam (above) carries so much of the film: it's impossible to take your eyes off her. I believe that things happen for a reason, and maybe the reason why Water was years in the making was for her; it's difficult to imagine another actor bringing as much to the role. In fact, the cast seems so consummate as a whole that one could almost believe that they were all Deepa Mehta's original choices (they weren't). Seema Biswas shines with a quiet energy, John Abraham convinces us that he's actor material after all, and Lisa Ray in her unthreatening run-of-the-millness nuances a role that someone like Nandita Das, with her personal charm and persona, may have been too overwhelming for.

I'm a big crier when it comes to films, pretty indiscriminately too (I've cried at ones I hated, and not out of passionate boredom or irritation). But I know I've found a film that I will see again, likely many times, when I don't cry at the first viewing. When I want to cry, maybe do a little, but don't indulge myself the blinking. Needless to say, Water falls into this category.

It's an elegant and understated film and by itself, as a story, it is endlessly evocative. But it is as a polemic that I take issue with it.

Until the very last thing on screen before the credits appear, Water simply, well, flows. And then it jars. The film ends with text titles referencing the 2001 census figure of there being 34 million widows in India at present. It goes on on to say that many of these widows live under conditions sanctioned 2000 years ago.

How many is many?

I know that women in India's political ranks are no prototypes of the status of the common women of India, but Sonia Gandhi is a widow. As was Indira Gandhi at the height of her career, most of which developed after Feroze Gandhi's death in 1960. Both these women are exceptions in more ways than one: but in a society where the situations portrayed in Water are the norm, their status/success would have been totally impossible.

The statement with which the film ends suggests that millions of Indian women suffer today in the cloister of widow ashrams, cannot remarry, were child brides, are forced into prostitution, live lives of privation and must choose only between sati, self-denial or marrying one's brother-in-law -- all by virtue of the deaths of their spouses. For a period piece, a contemporary statistic like that is meaningless, unless it serves to illustrate contrast, likeness or continuity, the last of which is what seems to be the intention in Water's case. Sure enough, many widows do suffer in India, but chances are they suffer because of general poverty and the human condition, not the very outdated laws of Manu, which in the first place weren't rigorously followed, or even widely-known, until British colonialists decided it would benefit them to reinstate them. Widows in general suffer today just as widowers, the married, and the single do -- not necessarily more and not necessarily less.

What I find most ludicrous on the whole, just as I was appalled to discover about two minutes ago that there is an International Widows Day for the "husbandless" is this: defining a woman by whether or not her husband is alive is terribly reductionist, and assuming that her suffering is because of this fact is even more so. I know and fully agree that women in India are immensely oppressed. But as women. Not as their titles as per patriarchal categorization.

As a period piece, the film works beautifully. As a polemic, it not just falls flat with inaccuracy but comes across as extremely manipulative. All well-told stories and all meaningful art are imbued with the power of suggestion: they are potent enough in themselves to inspire the very questions they don't have to pose and the answers they don't have to provide. To have ended the film with Biswas watching that train chug down the tracks of destiny would have been enough: within that denouement is contained past, present and the future that is our present. Not everything needs to be a goddamn manifesto.

When will we, artists and ambassadors of all kinds, learn that our stories do not always need to be justified?

Send me to Chicago!

2007-03-06T08:45:00.000+05:30

[Sticky-posted until I get some funds!!! The letter below was mass-emailed out, and I've decided to screw being discreet -- maybe you can help me? Get in touch with me via email, please!]

Dear friends,

I'm writing not to boast and not yet to share good news, but to sincerely ask if any of you have any ideas that could help me out with regards to a great opportunity which is just a little out of my reach.

I've been invited by Desilit, a US-based organisation for South Asian and diasporic literature, to participate in their 2007 Kriti Literary Festival in Chicago at the end of April. More about the festival is here http://www.desilit.org/kriti.html, and some of the panellists include Anita Desai and Shyam Selvadurai (I hyperventilated when I read this, as he's one of my fave authors).

Desilit will sponsor USD300 toward my travel expenses, and provide accomodation as well. However, USD300 is in no way going to be enough to cover my airfare (either KL-Chicago-KL but more likely Singapore-Chicago-KL, not including transit stops), and I simply cannot afford to shell out for the remainder myself. I don't actually know what the full cost is (I can find out in the next couple of days), but it will definitely be more than the RM1200 or so that USD300 works out to -- which would barely get me to Chennai and back! :)

Hence, I need to find an organisation (or individual, even) that is willing to sponsor the remaining amount for me. This needs to be done as soon as possible, because I'll need to apply (and get!) a US visa as well.

If you have any ideas as to who to approach, that would be fantastic. It's okay if I have more than one sponsor, too. The only thing is, it would truly have to be sponsorship and not a loan -- the only way I can pay them back is through acknowledging their assistance in my book when it is published, mentioning it in press releases for my future events, and a permanent shoutout on my blog sidebar. :) Oh -- if a publication wants to sponsor me so I can also get some journo work done, that would also be great.

As you can probably tell, I'm not familiar with how to go about this at all, and this dropped into my lap quite suddenly. I'm excited and grateful that Desilit has offered what they have already offered -- the icing on the cake of course would be to be able to attend!

Thank you!
Sharanya

Updates: 1. I've now been confirmed as a panel speaker.
2. Have received sponsorship amounting to RM2500, courtesy of Enfiniti Productions, Desilit's original contribution and private donors. Need to raise a remaining RM1500-RM2000.

Chennai, My Heart

2007-02-25T09:23:00.000+05:30

(at Valluvarkottam. Pic by my mother)

This time of year, the city is flooded with watermelons. There are clouds; the occasional drizzle. I have seen this city of my birth, a fact I lay claim to by sheer vagaries of circumstance -- riots in Colombo three days before, my mother nine-months pregnant and getting helicoptered out, going into labour at Madras New Woodlands Hotel, where everything interesting in India seems to happen to the Sri Lankan side of my family -- through vehement monsoons, decalescent summers and once, a fateful tsunami, but never this: February. I hold on to each day of thirteen like a book relished in pages, a song savoured in verses. The ritornelle of memory and the revelation of sequences unknown but deemed precious, sacred even, at the moment of discovery. The most amazing coffee for ten rupees. How my accent changes, seemingly, from just breathing the air. Blush-inducing billboards for Aahaa! FM and what I call Chennai Blue, that copper sulphate colour that seems to be everywhere. Always, nothing as ubiquitious as an autorickshaw, which enter frame after frame of my pictures like seashells caught in a net for fish. This city that should have been my childhood. This city that is my photo negative heart.

Madras to me is the house my father grew up in. Visits from Colombo, and later, Kuala Lumpur. Never knowing what my answer was when asked which country I liked better. Never thinking of not being Indian, wherever my life lay, so much so that I would move back as a teenager, alone, and be ripped to shreds by reality. All that was lost between then and before: a childhood that could have been held on to in holiday snatches, playing on the flat, bordered roof called the terrace, that most wonderful thing about Indian houses. The house my grandmother lived in for fifty years only to have to look at it each day from the one across the road when it was sold, no longer the holder of the keys to its locks. But Chennai is mine. The heartbreak that was India -- because therein lies my heart.

City of my heart with its streets like arteries, its pulse a poem in my veins. Bounded by blood and sentiment, the visceral and the empirical.

My soul belongs to Sri Lanka, but my heart -- my heart throbs India.

On Marina Beach, my last day there on this trip, I pick up a fistful of sand to keep. Mannvasanai -- my favourite word in Tamil. The scent of the soil from which one comes. The earth from which one's body is shaped, one's temperament fluted. The fortune-teller with the Amman picture upside down beside her shouts to me as I take her photograph. "You have foreign luck -- it's written all over your face. Foreign luck! Come, let me show you."

And I'm laughing inside, thinking But I'm coming back, I'm coming back.

Yang-May Ooi

2007-02-25T08:31:00.000+05:30

With Yang-May Ooi, author of the novels The Flame Tree, Mindgame (both first published by Houghton Mifflin UK) and the forthcoming Tianming Traviata, at yesterday's Brekkie for Litbloggers at MPH.

Yang-May's talk on her experiences in publishing was easy to get into, and I thought she was very composed and prepared, without losing an air of friendliness and casualness. Also greatly enjoyed her reading at Seksan's later in the afternoon, where she read from two versions of the same passage from her novel-in-progress, one in standard and one in Malaysian English (I preferred the latter).

I was shocked and amused that Eric Forbes, an editor with MPH's publishing division, liked my "controversial" Hips Don't Lie article enough to include it in the list of places where my literary writing has appeared in his introduction to my own reading (sad to say, I am a much more prolific journalist than lit writer -- having written articles for perhaps a dozen different publications in the last five years)!

Yang-May, very impressively, phone-blogs(!) about the event here (episode 6). I am just thrilled to hear what she has about my work! :)

Xeus writes about the event here, Kenny Mah of wonderful prose (download his e-book Broken Mornings, I highly recommend it!) and great posters here, Dina Zaman here, Sharon Bakar's much-anticipated one (How To Tell If You're A Successful Blogger Tip #1: People call and sms you if you don't post for a day, asking if you're alive) here and Seafolding here.

Reading with Roger Robinson

2007-02-22T13:48:00.000+05:30

On February 5th, I was invited to read at a private dinner organised by the British Council Malaysia to welcome delegates to a regional conference, "Reading Across Cultures" on education and English.

I had the opportunity to perform alongside Trinidadian-British spoken word artist Roger Robinson, author of Suitcase (poetry) and Adventures in 3D (short fiction). He previously managed top UK poetry agency Apples & Snakes, was chosen by Decibel as one of the fifty most influential writers in the Black British canon in the last fifty years, and is also a lyricist.

But more than that, he's just the nicest, most friendly guy -- and easily one of the most fun writers I've met. More on Roger can be found: here, here, here.

Fear of Flying

2007-02-22T13:00:00.001+05:30

Ten minutes from landing at KLIA, I picked up the copy of New Straits Times that, distracted and nervous from the turbulence, I had set aside earlier. Just to flip through. My eyes settled on an article about the MPH Breakfast Club for Litbloggers series: and there was my name and the name of my novel-in-progress. It startled me, in a way that seeing my name in print never has before: that on that same plane with me were people who had possibly also read the same, and had no idea, no idea, that I was there with them.

I hope the photos I took were burned into that CD properly. If they are, I'll blog them soon.

Brekky for Litbloggers

2007-02-20T08:05:00.000+05:30

Eat me!

Love the posters by Kenny Mah. Feel free to put these on your own blog. :)

The Ringing of the Bards Poetry Carnival

2007-02-18T22:10:00.000+05:30

I'll be hosting it here on March 24th.

More about the carnival: here.

Looking forward to your submissions! Email me -- don't leave your link in a comment as that kinda defeats the purpose of having a carnival! :)

Nominated for a Koufax Award

2007-02-15T08:40:00.000+05:30

I was surprised and happy to learn, via Technorati, that my Open Letter to Indian PM Manmohan Singh has been nominated for a Koufax Award in the Best Post category. The Koufax Awards recognise the best progressive/left-of-centre writing in the blogosphere each year. I'm not entirely sure what this nomination means (if this is a rough list or the final list for the first round, etc) or how people can vote, but I'll keep you posted as I find out.

The Forest For The Trees: Manglik Dosham and Same-Sex Marriage

2007-02-14T11:00:00.000+05:30

I don’t care much for Valentine’s Day, much preferring to observe V-Day. But to those who do, this year, spare a minute to think about the gross inequality of the fact that in India, a person can choose or be made to marry a tree, urn or idol as a means of remedying an astrological defect but a pair of consenting adults of the same gender can not only not celebrate and consolidate their love in a legal or socially-sanctioned manner, but technically qualify as criminals just by virtue of that love.

A frequent argument used against proponents of same-sex marriages is that the legalization of gay marriage promotes a so-called “downward spiral” – that the acceptance of unions between people of the same gender will pave the way for the acceptance of unions between people and non-human species, people and inanimate objects, polygamous unions and other non-conventional deviations from the one-man-one-woman formula (which is neither necessarily natural nor the norm: even today, polygyny is a reality in the Islamic world, polyamory is increasingly acceptable in some communities, many biologists say that monogamy is a social construct not a biological imprint and last year, a woman married a dolphin in Israel). It is thus an ironic victory for the gay rights movement that here in India, that argument is void, thanks to the existence and cultural canonization of some of these “lower moral rung” marriages.

Personally, I don’t think that performing a symbolic ceremony with a tree or some other object so as to cure manglik or sevai dosham is something to polish the ammo about. Firstly, societies everywhere have their own unique rituals, and these are the essence of culture – weddings, in particular, have some of the strangest idiosyncrasies. Contextually, is marrying trees really more silly than the American tradition of the catching of the bridal bouquet being a predictor of who will marry next, or more humiliating than the tradition in Burkina Faso in which locals welcome a bride from a different village by spitting milk on her? Secondly, in terms of what some believe is the fundamental sexism of this particular ritual, there are far more severe struggles that women face everyday (such as, just to draw a related example, forced marriage). I don’t quite see the comparative urgency of ending a ritual that some people choose to undergo, not to mention the fact that if choice is truly a feminist ideal, the reality of that is that some people will most certainly choose the very things which one may personally abhor, and that is their right. Thirdly, the ritual in itself is harmless, to both woman and tree, as long as the former is not forced into or somehow hurt by it, and the latter doesn’t suffer any uprooting or chopping down (which as far as I’m aware, and I may be mistaken, doesn’t usually occur).

So the civil lawsuit filed against Aishwarya Rai by lawyer Shruti Singh, as well as the overall feminist outcry against her for following these rituals prior to her engagement seem a tad dramatic and unnecessary to me. As a public figure, Rai has never been much of a good role model for Indian women and girls for various reasons anyway, so this bullying her instead of leaving her to her happily-ever-after doesn’t quite strike me as worth the effort for the protestors, or the aggravation for her. Ms. Plastic becoming Ms Bachchan after a couple of cursory flings with a banana tree, a peepal tree and a god's idol is interesting to me for simple tabloid-voyeur surfing purposes, not feminist ones.

All in all, I anticipate that the lawsuit and fiasco in its entirety will be of little legal consequences to the Bachchans, though they’ve pretty much guaranteed a built-in punchline at their expense in any future dealings with the foreign media. Singh has based her protest on the argument that Rai’s marriages effectively violate Article 17 of the Indian Constitution, which concerns the Abolition of Untouchability. It reads as follows: ‘Untouchability’ is abolished and its practice in any form is forbidden. The enforcement of any disability arising out of ‘Untouchability’ shall be an offence punishable in accordance with law. Perhaps I just don’t have a decent enough grasp of legalese to understand how untouchability comes into the picture here, but I don’t see the relevance. Untouchability, in what may be my limited understanding, is a caste issue – serious for different reasons. Once again, if you’ll excuse the obvious pun, the outcry has missed the forest for, well, the trees.

What does rile up my critical juices, however, is the fact that the tree-bride practice has come under fire without, so far anyway, a broader outlook on the entire situation with regards to conjugal rights in India.

An aspect of Hindu myth and culture which is especially intriguing -- and I bring this up because the tree-bride practice is a Hindu tradition -- is the religion's openness to alternative sexualities and sexual lifestyles. From the hermaphrodite Ardhanareshwara. to the gender-bending Vishnu as Mohini to Draupadi with five husbands and (but of course) the countless male characters with haremfuls of wives, deviations from the one-man-one-woman formula run the gamut. India is a secular nation, but its everyday realities remain rooted in tradition and superstition, whatever the faith, for better or worse. And tradition, in this regard, offers some amount of consolation. Speaking secularly however, the right to have one's partner be one's benefactor upon death, to receive compensation or shelter for domestic violence, to jointly make purchases or take loans, and to simply not have to worry about criminal persecution, among other things, is a necessity -- otherwise, the same-sex partnerships are left in a legal limbo.

You may accuse me of jumping the gun: when Section 377 of the Penal Code, a nearly 150-year old colonial throwback, explicitly criminalizes those who engage in “unnatural” sexual acts (oral and anal sex), which while practised by people of all sexualities particularly denies the right of sexual expression between gay men, is still very much in place, why even think about gay marriage? Primarily, because the public is moving much faster than lawmakers, and even those seeking to repeal the law. In recent years, a number of gay marriages, usually officiated by sympathetic priests, have taken place in India, including those of Jaya Verma and Tanuja Chauhan, Pooja Singh and Sarita, and Wetka Polang and Melka Nilsa (take a moment to notice that all three examples I’ve used are lesbian marriages. I know I must either be missing something in my research, or there’s just a much higher rate of reportage on lesbian marriage, if not a much higher rate of lesbian marriages per se in India). These marriages have no legal standing, and in some cases have even resulted in jail terms. But always, they are bold gestures – love standing up to law, even the most uninteresting of them sending ripples of more consequence than any heterosexual union. Regardless of opposition, hatred or abuse, open homosexuality and bisexuality are a part of the reality of India. From support – organizations including The Naz Foundation, GayBombay and the Sangini Trust have mushroomed – to celebration – actor Rafiquel Haque organizes a Mardi Gras parade in Kolkata annually, Indians of “alternative sexualities” have come out in full force in defence of their sexualities in a manner which, one notes wryly, heterosexual Indians simply haven’t yet been able to. Why then is not just ditching the rickety old Penal Code Section 377, amending the law so as to make room for the parts of it that have been used in assault and abuse cases, and in one fell swoop recognizing same-sex marriage legally not possible? All three seem, at least at first glance, to be a single process, given the speed at which India is changing.

In the sum of things, what, really, is worse: a pretend-marriage to a tree or inanimate object as insurance against tragedy or, to quote from the Vikram Seth-spearheaded campaign to overturn Section 377, leaving in place a law that “has on several recent occasions been used by homophobic officials to suppress the work of legitimate HIV-prevention groups, leaving gay and bisexual men in India even more defenseless against HIV infection”, among other atrocities? Is taking up arms against a harmless old tradition more important than taking up arms against a contemporary tool of persecution? I know this much: traditions, we need to keep some of, whether for posterity, for nostalgia, for belief, or for identity. Violent, life-threatening or rights-denying discrimination? That, we need no more of.

~~~

On a less serious note…

Anyway, it being Valentine’s and all, so as not to be too much of a cynic, I suppose it’s appropriate to share my own story of love and heartbreak. Especially because the heartbreak in question came courtesy of, well, not quite a tree but a rather tall, interestingly-endowed plant of some kind (I never found out which kind). Friends will surely remember my own star-crossed affair with Amarasinghe, the plant outside the neighbouring apartment whom I watered diligently because those neighbours, inexplicably, were never around. I showered Amarasinghe with affection, talking to him (getting caught once or twice by other neighbours) and taking care of him until the day he vanished. Suddenly. Brown stains on the floor. Wetness. But not a leaf left of him, or the other potted plants that used to crowd the front of that apartment. That terrible day, I saw him and blew him a kiss as usual on my way down to get something to eat, and when I came back, he was gone. I was frantic: I rang the neighbours’ bell, went back down to search through the garbage dump, even went to the security office to enquire if any large plants had been moved out. But I never saw him again… Amarasinghe, wherever you are in plant paradise (because I just know they would have let you rot), this one’s for you. (picflicked from here)

Happy V-Day!

2007-02-14T09:20:00.000+05:30

Woman Flower, Pablo Picasso, 1946