Escaping Flatland

The recent hurricane Katrina, that hit Mississippi, Louisiana and Alabama, made me wonder. This is the third water-related natural disaster this year, after the Tsunami in December and the Mumbai floods in June. Each disaster occurred in a single day, came completely without warning, and brought tremendous death and destruction in its wake. Arguably, most of the devastation in each disaster was preventable.

A quick comparison on the relative impact of these disasters.

The tsunami had a dead toll of around 200,000 people [Source], and it’s economic impact is estimated between $8 to $14.5 billion [Source], of which $5.5 to $10 billion is in Indonesia and India.

About 1,000 people [Source] died in Maharastra, with an estimated economic cost of $3.5 billion [Source].

It is too soon to arrive at a final number, but Katrina’s death toll is expected to be “in the hundreds” [Source]. The economic impact has not been quantified, though just the insurance bill is expected to be $25 billion [Source].

I’ll let the numbers speak for themselves.

Speaking of strong women, two muslim standup comediennes have been giving Mr Rushdie a run for his fatwa-inciting publicity (back in the news, BTW).

Shabana Rehman made headlines in the popular press last week by dropping her pants and baring her buttocks at a film festival in Haugesund, in southwest Norway. She also frenched the Norwegian Culture Minister onstage and gave a punjabi shaadi welcome to a fundamentalist with suspected Al Qaeda links. Is that gutsy or what?

Ah, but she can get away with all this, because this is Norway, right? Not quite.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Especially if they are in Norwegian.

Shazia Mirza, on the other hand, uses her wry, very non-desi sense of humor:
''Hello, my name is Shazia Mirza ... at least that's what it says on my pilot's license.'' Her delivery was deadpan, and for a second the audience seemed stunned. Then they burst out laughing.

On her pilgrimage to Mecca, the Islamic holy site:
''Someone pinched my bum; I thought it was the hand of God''

Then there's the one about the female militant and the bomb:
''Do you think my bomb looks big in this?"

You go, girls!

A few more drag queens later, the show came to an end.

The lounge opened to the Saturday evening crowds, and the dance floor opened to the public. Only now did I appreciate the audience itself. Besides the usual students, philanthropists, and curious non-desis, there were women with preferences that ‘swung the other way’. My Gay-dar was blinging quite strongly. Now, I’ve seen a lot of different things in my life, but a desi lesbian – that was a new one for me.

Life cannot be easy for these women in the insular, gossipy, conformist society of the desi diaspora. It would have been doubly hard for them to come out. Their concentration in the event makes sense in hindsight, though – Rakhsa is an organization for abused and neglected women, and such an organization would certainly attract feminists or female sympathizers.

The most amusing moment of the night was when one of them came up to my group of friends and hit on a woman there. This naïve girl did not even realize she was being propositioned! She claims that she has never been approached by someone of the same sex and did not have her guard up. Women, I suppose, are more subtle than men when it comes to picking up a girl. Gay men tend to be much more direct (or so I hear :).

I noticed a Few Good Men as well, but in such a large desi population, that could be a false positive. After all, engineering school - with its lopsided sex ratios - has been known to breed temporal brotherly love. Though as soon as the inmates graduate and enter real life, most of those gay tendencies subside.

The DJ did a good job of reading the crowd and balancing the music mix. He played some 80s music (awesome!), some Hindi music (even better, considering how mixed the crowd was at this point), and the usual Midtown dance music fare. We partied on until 2:30AM, and then headed home. I had to get up early for Six Flags the next day!

Helen was followed by Madhuri-ji in her prime, her existential torment bared in a folksy dance number (Choli Ke Peeche Kya Hai?) Another desi drag queen, fake breasts jiggling in a choli-for-minimalists, sashayed onto the stage. The original Madhuri video was not shown on screen this time – I suppose the attraction of the former would have superseded the shock value of the gender bender.

Two thug-like paunchy uncle-jis slithered behind her, reluctant women in a reverse gender bender. They were carrying fake dollar bills, blown to twice their size and photocopied on one side only (to avoid confusing the audience I suppose). As the song continued, the raunchy men snickered, walked drunkenly and did shady-cheapo stuff that raunchy men generally do when they ask raunchy women existential questions pertaining to articles of clothing.

They then proceeded to take the aforementioned fake dollar bills and insert them in the aforementioned fake choli. This obvious display of selfless charity unleashed a surge of compassion amongst the audience. Before you could say “Choli Mein Dil Hai Mera”, scores of people were falling over themselves trying to give the Madhuri-drag-queen their hard earned money. Dollar bills (real ones, mind you) were being inserted in every opening of the folk dancer’s costume.

One audience member even popped a quid or two into the raunchy-paunchy uncle’s fat pocket. Another decided to dance with Ms. Dixit on the floor, putting uncleji’s entire performance to shame in his 15 seconds of glory.

The organizers were quite astute, actually. One more ‘item number’, and people would have realize that they were being gypped – that they paid good money to see pretty boys in costumes, and were instead being subjected to not-so-pretty boys in er… costumes. So they brought out the Real McCoy – professional drag queens – men who did this for a living. After all, this is Midtown dear!

These gorgeous (wo)men had great legs, impeccable makeup, appropriately garish vaudeville costumes, catchy non-Bollywood music and a professional routine. Unfortunately, the crowd was still in a Madhuri-induced choli stupor. They continued their dollar handouts to the confused anglos (and philipino).

Now, Vaudeville is unaccustomed to such magnanimous audiences, so its costumes do not permit easy note access. Junta improvised anyhow – notes were flying in the air and falling onto the stage, amidst wah-wahs by the culturally awed. The unfluttered queens completed their performance, and stepped off the stage, dollar bills strewn unclaimed on the stage floor. Hassled organizers collected the bills and ran backstage after each performance.

I attended a desi fundraiser at a hip Midtown lounge [Sutra] this weekend. The do was titled "Gender Benders". The idea being - as a volunteer explained to me - to "challenge preconceived notions of gender roles". Many had brought along their American friends to check out the desi drag queens.

In my six years here, I haven't yet learnt that desi events are different than American ones, and I need to respect the time-space continuum shift within which the former thrive. I insist on showing up at the specified time, much to the embarressment of many a host. The Raksha team was no exception.

On buying my slightly dear VIP ticket (includes "free" food and drink), I walked down the stairs, straight into a group of costumed gender-benders, who took turns being nonchalant, aghast and pressured by my presence. To spare them any further discomfort, I walked out of the lounge, and came back a respectable half hour late.

The show started precisely one hour after the nothing-official-about-it (sic) time. Initial disorganization reminded me of college productions back in my DCE days. But considering that many of these well-intentioned would-be artistes might probably be in college, this was understandable.

With time (and the arrival of more daring cross-dressers), the raunchiness of the show increased. Any comparisons to college performances stopped right there. A blonde-wigged baldie with incredibly hairy legs in a fishnet trounced onto the stage with sultry Helen music playing in the background and a bootleg VCD projecting her dancing visage onto a makeshift screen. One was torn between paying homage to Helen’s dancing and being mesmerized by the horror of beholding Shivji-in-a-skimpy-skirt.

My dilemma ended as soon as Shivji - ala Saira-Banu-in-Purab-Aur-Paschim began performing callisthenic contortions on stage. Helon took a backseat to Sairabanu's sequined top and micro-mini bottom in seductive latkas and jhatkas. Suddenly, my lady companion exclaimed “Ohmigod! I wish I hadn’t have seen that!” Apparently, Saira's brief vs. boxer preference was made abundantly clear to the lady in question on one of her/his pirouettes. And what a brightly colored “brief” moment it was...

What if you had the power to influence other people’s lives? What if you could make decisions that would cause people to change their job, move their home, disrupt their family’s lives? That’s a dangerous weapon – <>

In my previous job, I was in a position where I could make recommendations on people the company should hire. From time to time, I was also asked to provide input on whom to fire. A carelessly phrased opinion could change somebody’s life. I tended to be conservative in my feedback.

Now, I’m working on projects where our team’s recommendations could cause entire companies to go bankrupt. That’s tens of thousands of people’s lives depending upon what I think and say.

Scary. And Humbling.

The World Bank has recently updated its development indicators. Among the indicators updated are the GDP figures and the per-capita figures. According to the updated numbers, India’s $691 billion economy has just overtaken South Korea to become the 10th largest economy in the world (4th largest if you consider PPP). China has moved into 7th place now with its $1.6 trillion economy. The U.S. still dominates the world economy with a 29% share.

A look at the top 10 also reveals why the G8 is an anachronism. Russia is not in there. China will probably overtake Italy in the next couple of months. Spain has a larger economy than Canada. And India ought to enter the top 8 in the next couple of years. Among developing countries, Mexico, Russia, Brazil and Turkey also feature in the top 20.

Why does India still feel like a poor country, if it is so rich? Look at the per capita income figures using U.S dollars and PPP methodologies. India does abysmally in both cases with rankings of 159 and 146 respectively, while China ranks at 132 and 119.

The Forbes Celebrity 100 list shows actors, actresses, athletes, models, media personalities, all in their 20s or early 30s. But I can understand that. And I don’t feel bad about it. After all, I never had the looks, talent or good fortune to be like them.

But perusing through the London Design Museum site today (I have a lot of free time on my hands nowadays), I came across Mr. Onkar Singh Kular, a BBCD who’s made it big enough to be on the London Design Museum site. And this dude is younger than me! The next ten minutes were spent soul-searching and introspecting. A rich oatmeal raisin cookie and ice-laden Sprite later, I feel much better. Now, onto exploring what makes OSK famous.

Onkar has designed very creative products by concentrating on usage rather than function. Three socks in case you lose one from your favourite pair (in England, they seem to have favourites for the weirdest things). Tea mugs in 128 shades to match the exact colour of your ‘favourite’ preparation in case someone else is making it. A picture frame with a spirit level. Deceptively simple concepts – and as usual, many designers tend to overlook it.

Or, rather, the critical and innovative design thinking required to revolutionize household products is beyond the blinkered vision, structured product development processes, and meager R&D budgets of most commodity firms. And given the recent efflux of worldwide manufacturing to China - whose core competence is low-cost execution, not innovation – this trend will not abate for a while. This is why I like IKEA, and Michael Graves , and (of course) Apple - they push the boundaries of the prosaic, enhancing form, function and features, fulfilling unspoken needs. On a larger scale, even governments can be innovative once in a while, creating bridges that turn into tunnels that turn into bridges [Aerial view] [Close-up view]. This is what separates a knowledge economy from an industrial one.

Or, in my case, a rich, famous Desi from a lowly salaried worker!

I'm back! After a hiatus of 17 months, I am now reclaiming this blog.

A lot has happened in this time. I changed my job, moved to a new city, bought a condo, fell into a relationship, fell out of it, made a gazillion friends, went to India and back, and traveled nearly every week.

Why did I do all this? I had a steady, sinecurist job in Pittsburgh, a nice apartment, an easygoing lifestyle (swimming, cycling, photography). But all my friends had left town a long time ago, I wasn't learning as much on the job, and I had just broken up with my girlfriend. Edward Dahlberg once said: "When one realizes that his life is worthless he either commits suicide or travels".

I traveled.