Today is the birthday of our driver, Swami. Swami has been with my parents for many years now. He used to drive the official vehicles for ISRO (Indian Space Research Organization) and before that drove the vehicles for English-India Clays. Then when he retired in 1997 he became our driver.  Today is his 70th birthday. The kids–Daya, Shambhu and Ketaki–call him Swami appuppan–grandpa Swami–just like they call my father appuppan. Swami is a wonderful human being. He is here e very morning promptly at 9 am and then he stays all day and takes us around wherever we want to go. He goes back home around 8 or 9 in the evening.  Swami’s kids are all grown up now–both daughters and the son married. Swami’s wife used to suffer greatly from diabetes but she is doing better now.  My parents are terrified of us driving in Trivandrum, primarily because no one obeys any traffic rules here and those who obey traffic rules will end up in accidents. Anything will go anywhere as long as there is an inch of space.  I used to be fine with it when I lived in India but now since I have lived so long in the US where by and large everyone obeys traffic rules I feel absolutely perplexed when I see that bus coming for my forehead. Funny story–1988–I was studying in Delhi at JNU then and one day I was in an autorickshaw going towards my aunt’s house in Alaknanda from New Mehrauli. The rickshaw driver drove like a maniac. Everybody drives like a maniac in Delhi. I was trying to decide which of the DTC buses I will end up under. So finally I had enough–every organ inside my stomach had been torn from where God put it from the incredible autobahn speed and driving techniques this guy was doing. So I leaned forward and told him in Hindi — “bhai saab, ahista chaliye” — “Brother, please drive slowly.” He didn’t pause for a second and replied promptly, “Nahin, madam, aaj mera mood kharab hai” — “No, madam, today I am in a bad mood.”  And he swerved dangerously against a loaded, jam-packed, unbalanced DTC bus. I shut my eyes and prayed. Goodbye, world. It was nice living here. So, it is great to have Swami drive us around.  Our birthday present for Swami appuppan — Asha and I went to Krishnan Nair and Sons and got him a beautiful Citizen watch. Conversationally we had learned that his watch was broken. And my parents presented him with a nice kasavu mundu and neryathu. He was so happy. So today he comes over and he had made this delicious paal payasam–a wonderful dish with lots of milk, rice, sugar, butter, cashew nuts and raisins–for the kids. Not only does he drive a car well, but he makes great paal payasam as well! Happy birthday, Swami appuppan!

Dayani is excited–on monday we are going to Aluva to spend a week with my uncle and aunt and we are going by the train. D has never traveled in an Indian train before. Lots of fun, kiddo!

The new epidemic sweeping the Indian subcontinent is not swine flu, but reality TV. I never watched American Idol in the good old USA but I cannot run away from zillions of copies of American Idol desi style that the hundred million television channels have spawned overnight in India. Some of these people can sing, it is true, but my god, the whole country is in a stupor. And every song is a “classic” and “unforgettable.”  Unforgivable that is what you are unforgivable like toast with tar. Stop it people. You wanna know the first prize? Multi-million dollar apartments in India or the Middle East. We got to move these refrigerators. We got to move these color tvs. oy!

Today we went to visit your mother and father, Sajitha. We left around ten in the morning after the kids woke up and Swami, our driver, sort of remembered your house from years ago but we overshot it by half a kilometer or so. Your father had given us good directions though so we stopped to enquire at this little Adharam store where they thought we had come to do some paperwork and we had to disappoint them by merely asking them for directions. It was lovely as usual to see your amma and achan and Ganesh. We took our time walking around your mother’s garden–it is heavenly now. Three little tanks with fish and water lilies. Dayani and Shambhu had to put their hands into it and scare all those fishies.  Your father showed us the bio-gas tank and we could not believe how big the curry leaf tree (yes tree, not a shrub anymore!) had grown. Many many flowers–kolambi, shankhu pushpam, pavizha malli, nalu mani ppooovu, fox tails, and two beautiful orchids, and many many ferns, crotons and other vines and creepers. Even a banyan tree bonsai-ed! Beautiful. Your mother apologized for not making a real lunch for us but you know this is the ploy of every mother, right? So anyway, we ate poori, vegetable stew, idiappam, toasted bread, jackfruit preserve, mysore pak, payasam, bread bajji, ela ada, cookies, pinepple jam, fresh pineapple juice, banana chips, home made cakes — yes it was a lean lunch! Mothers! Then since we were so close to the beach we decided to take the kids to Kovalam and show them a real beach and a real ocean. Your amma and achan and Ganesh also came. They drove in their car and we followed them. The sea was very very rough because of the heavy monsoons. We went to Hawwah beach.  But it was beautiful and Dayani, Ketaki and Shambhu did not want to turn back. Asha and I held their hands tightly and took them down to the waterline and waited for the breakers to come roaring. Then  when the white surf hit and swirled around our legs we would run back hooting and hollering. My sari got drenched. And the kids got drenched as well. And we were all covered with the black mineral rich beach sand.  Shambhu wanted to know if there were anacondas in the ocean. I told him there were anacondas, sea snakes, sharks, whales, crocodiles, the loch ness monster — everything. Shambhu is bringing a cricket bat the next time to hit the crocodile on the head. So there.  We left after half an hour or so and your folks went back and we came home as well.  Now we have to take them back there again — we said, okay, but after the rains.

In my dream Dayani, Krish and I are in a forested area–must be Pennsylvania–in a house when a dinosaur–yes the kind that you see in natural history museums–starts walking towards the house. It is very big and it has those spiny things that you associate with dinosaurs. We are all very frightened. And Krish takes Dayani and runs through the forest away from the dinosaur. I cannot run because suddenly there is a small child, a girl there–about two years old–and in my dreams I am responsible for her safety. So I tell this child here let me carry you; I can run fast. But the child is very willful as children can be and she refuses to be carried by me. She wants to walk at her own pace. Meanwhile the dinosaur is chasing us though it never quite catches up with us even with the child walking so slowly. Anyway finally this child and I reach the part where the forest ends and town begins and suddenly it is a street in Trivandrum. There is a group of women standing in front of a house and I ask them which way should I turn to run away from the dinosaur. They are not concerned at all and they vaguely gesture towards a direction and tells me “that way.” In my dream I know that Dayani and Krish are safe and I feel strangely unafraid for them but afraid for this child.  Very interesting dream.

Here is my analysis: The most interesting part of this dream is obviously the identity of this child for whom I feel a great sense of responsibility. Otherwise I would have run away with Krish and Dayani as well. In my dream the identity of this child is very interesting: I see three different children in this child–I mean the identity of this child in my dream is split across three children. What is peculiar is that they are all my nieces–sometimes I see that the child is Noni, sometimes it is Anju, sometimes it is Nandu. What does this class have in common? They are all my nieces–they are all children in my family, not Krish’s. And the other glaring thing is that my brother’s children are not among this class of children. They should be because I am very close to them, but they are not in my dream. This is significant. Whenever the identity of an entity is split across several composite identities, then it is not any of these, but semantically linked to yet another repressed identity. I think this dream is about my repressed fear about something not happening well for some child in my family. Also the fact that there is a dinosaur. What is a dinosaur? A dinosaur is an extinct animal. I think I am afraid for some child in my family not making it. And it is not my own–because Dayani has been carried away by Krish.

A productive day. As soon as I cashed the traveler’s cheques I went to Current Books. Next to Darsan Books, Current was my favorite bookstore. Darsan has since gone out of business, I just found out. What a shame. Dominic, I think that was the name of the man who ran Darsan Books. It was a great bookstore. It is not easy to run a good bookstore. People won’t always buy the books at a good bookstore. And it is still a business, isn’t it? Darsan had a beautiful collection of translation, poetry, critical theory, philosophy and history. And he didn’t mind at all if we just stood in front of the stacks and read for hours at a time. It is embarrassing when I think about it now.   Some days I used to stand in front of a stack and a 100 page book could be read in a couple of hours. No wonder I am nearly blind now! Isn’t it amazing how history repeats itself? Now I harp at Dayani for reading in dim and dark corners. I did the same thing. Take advantage of your mother’s wisdom my dear. Anyway, I went to Current this morning and took Daya with me. I sent her to check out the children’s section — she got a lot of good books — Folk tales from India, Tales of magic and myth, stories of Akbar and Birbal, Stories of Hatimtai, Stories of Mullah Nasruddin,  Archie, Betty and Veronica comics, Puranic stories. I bought some great Malayalam books –Zachariah’s latest collection of essays, collected short stories of Lalithambika Anterjanam (I want to translate this –Jane and I are planning to do this], Shashi Tharoor’s collection of essays interestingly entitled Bookless in Baghdad, a collection about Kerala’s cultural history for Krish and his genome research. I asked the owner if they had this wonderful sweet book by Nandanar called Unnikuttante Lokam — I used to love it as a kid — and they didn’t. It is almost out of print and hard to come by. But he was so nice. He called the main office of DC Books — DC is a huge publishing house in Kerala — and located the one DC Branch bookstore that had the book. He is going to get it down to Trivandrum for me. Wasn’t that sweet? Small favors, important favors. A beautiful day. I am so angry at the way this city has dug up all the streets ostensibly in the guise of widening roads. I am sure the money went into some politician’s pocket–the roads are as narrow as before on top of being dug up. Honestly people!  Then we visited my aunt — lovely time. I am going to read Smaraka Shilakal tonight. I can hardly wait!

Kanmani–light of the eye in Malayalam–for that is what she has been named by the three musketeers–Ketaki, Dayani and Shambhu– is a stray cat that foraged for food in my parents’ backyard. But in the last couple of days, Kanmani, or Mani for short, has become as priceless as a a pedigreed Persian cat. Ever since mother told them that Kanmani is pregnant, they have been trying to make life very comfortable for the cat. The first thing they do when they wake up in the morning is to go out past the kitchen and to the woodshed to make sure that Kanmani is there, safe and sound. Maybe it is the lethargy of her pregnancy, but Kanmani has been enjoying all this newfound attention. She lies there on her side thick as a fish fillet all stretched out and her neck raised and positioned exactly for the kids to stroke it past the buttery stage. All three of them crouch beside her discussing her many beauties and virtues. Every sentence begins with a newly discovered awesome truth about Kanmani. Kanmani trusts us now! Kanmani is so fat she can’t get up by herself we have to lift her up! Kanmani let me touch her tummy! Kanmani is going to have four babies! Can we keep the babies please please please? Why does Kanmani love me so much? Kanmani is so beautiful! Kanmani’s babies need vaccination! They put a rope around her neck — she is on a leash now. The cat looks vaguely puzzled at all of this attention but is enjoying it nevertheless. Shambhu rubbed her belly and said “I can see her eggs. She has eight eggs.” “Those are not her eggs, Shambhu” my daughter offered, “those are her milk duds.” “Why are you calling them milk duds?” the oldest one challenged. “Don’t you know what they are called?” D. mumbled unspecifically “I know what they are called. But I don’t want to say it. Nipples.” she mumbled. “The correct word is teats,” I said. “Teats–that is what we call them in animals.” Shambhu kept pulling at her teats insisting that they are her “eggs.” He is very hard to convince otherwise once he has made up his mind. They would like me to get a nice box for Kanmani, some clothes for her to lie in, some cat toys, a collar, a five star hotel mat, some sushi, some dead mice for the cat to play with–did I leave anything out?  It is good that Krish went back to Lock Haven and is not here to witness the endless touching and playing with a stray cat.

Kanmani update.

Because of the acute attention lavished on her, Kanmani absconded a few hours ago. She has run for her life, I think. She probably needs a place to quietly give birth. Anyway, it is a minor calamity in our house. The mood is very sombre right now. And they have written a *Missing* notice. Maybe a policeman will find her and bring her back, Shambhu said. That is right, the police really have no work to do in Trivandrum.

MISSING

Name :Kanmani/cat

Reward: 500 rps.

Description: White, and brownish black with a white patch on the back. Has a rope collar with red tape. Has a big tummy.( pregnant)  Green eyes, has a very hoarse meow.  Please find her.

If you do, please return to the address:

 Number:

Sometimes seen with a peach colored cat with a very big stomach. Note: If you see any kittens with the missing cat, or that look like it , please return it to us.

-dayani,ketaki,shambhu

 PLEASE FIND HER!

Thank you

Society for Cinema and Media Studies (SCMS)

March 17-21, 2010

The Westin Bonaventure Hotel & Suites, Los Angeles, CA

http://www.cmstudies.org 

The SCMS Middle East Caucus is sponsoring the following call for papers. Please send 150-200-word proposal and brief vita by August 5^th, 2009.

 Proposals are sought for a panel on contemporary issues in Middle East film and media with particular emphasis on Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, Jordanian, Israeli, Palestinian, North African, Turkish, Iranian, Kurdish, and Central Asian cinemas.  This is an open call inviting proposals on critical readings and responses to Middle Eastern films and directors.  In keeping with this year’s conference theme, “Archiving the Future/Mobilizing the Past,” possible topics might include analysis and critiques of film archives, but are not limited to the following:

• Archives, Past, Present and Future (conference emphasis)
• Films, Record keeping, locations
• The archivist in Middle Eastern cinema
• War, resistance, exilic, diasporic and migrant films
• Postcolonial Images
• Documentaries
• Queer Cinema
• Nationalism, Fundamentalism, Globalization
• Censorship, governmental and non-governmental archives
• Realism, avant-garde
• Women film makers and access to film history and records
• Women film makers and desired histories
• Digital, television and celluloid archives
• Historical critique and films
• Digital media, video technology, locating and localizing history
• Digital preservation
• Film Festivals, film conferences, historical records, historical preservation
• Analyzing, interpreting and using media and film archives

 Send proposals to:

Gayatri Devi

gdevi@lhup.edu

Co-chair, SCMS Middle East Caucus

Hossein Khosrowjah

kwja@mail.rochester.edu

Co-chair, SCMS Middle East Caucus

I am trying to imagine what D must feel being in India, in Trivandrum. The last time we visited she was just four.  And she has vague memories of the people and the place. But children must adjust so quickly to all this life and squalor naturally. And it rained just as soon as we left the airport. All through the flight from the UK through Bahrain and to Trivandrum, she was so excited–mostly because my niece who is already there had told her about the whole menagerie of animals that she has acquired as “pets” — apparently a puppy, three cats, four birds. Will they come to the airport with the animals, mama, D asked. I told her that it was highly unlikely–these are probably just animals that kind of just hang around the yard most probably. But I was wrong–these are real dogs and cats and birds that the family has bought for these kids while they are here on vacation. Poor grandparents and uncles will have to take care of them when we leave. Anyway we have been here a day and D is just off with her cousins–I hear loud screams and thumps from the upstairs bedroom all the time. I hope no bones are broken. I feel fine. It is good to be home with my parents and my sister-in-law and niece and nephew.  Mother and father must miss all of us so much — this house is like a shrine or a museum with our photographs everywhere –appu and I as kids, then our kids.  As we grow older we surround ourselves with youth.   And the family politics from the brief headlines I have heard so far — everyone loves everyone else. Yes as you grow older you grow wiser. Well done folks! I have no plans, except to visit family and friends, the bookstores and the library and do some research while I am here.  There is a wonderful conference on translation at NDSU next spring and I want to write about some early colonial translations of Sanskrit texts. I was talking to my mother about the Malayalam translations of the Bible — some very interesting emendations. Translator Traitor is right! I do feel bad though at seeing all these houses and buildings that have come up all around our house and on this street. Used to be that you could see forever up the hill — there was a lot of space — and now there are high rises everywhere.  And cars and trucks and lorries–wouldn’t surprise me if a train rumbled past.  Or an airplane took off. Terrible.  The most peaceful time of the day–watering plants in the evening. It is all gone. Oy!

One of the truly bizarre things that I have said happened many years ago when I was in grad school. I was not a school kid then–I was getting my PhD at the time, so this is all the more embarrassing. Anyway one day I was talking many sundry things with my advisor Michael Beard and then I asked him, “Dr. Beard, is the equator a real line?” Michael Beard quickly said, “No. It is an imaginary line.” Then he added, “But only a literature student would ask that question.” It was true; I could never understand the existence of the equator really; I see that line on the map, the globe and read the latitudes and I have come to believe with a great amount of skepticism, the existence of the equator. So anyway, yesterday we went to the Greenwich Observatory–the home of Greenwich Mean Time which is what we all grew up with long before CDT and UTC– and to the Royal Observatory to see the zero degree Prime Meridian, which is again a “real” line, the zero degree longitude. It is a beautiful, beautiful place. Greenwich is quite a ways away from Gidea Park–you take the train to Stratford then take Dockland Light Rail to Greenwich. Greenwich is a cute little town, lots of young people there probably because of the universities, and the Observatory is high up on a hill. The Observatory itself sits in the grounds of Greenwich Park, a vast beautiful park with all kinds of trees and plants and birds (I saw my very first magpie!) and it houses a portion of Herschel’s telescope, and Airy’s Transit circle which fixed the Prime Meridian for the entire world at Greenwich. Incredible eh, every country in the world kept its own time and then one day all the nations of the world agree on a standard time based on the latitude and longitude at Greenwich. Amazing really, when you think about what international navigation must have been like before GMT came into effect.  We also visited the planetarium and listened to a very interesting talk on the celestial objects that we can see this week in London.  D enjoyed the “camera obscura” particularly–it was really cool–you could clearly see the docklands through the pinhole camera.  Today we are going for my niece’s sports day at school–the UK schools close only this week–but the cousins have been playing every available minute they can find.

Sports Day at M’s school. A unexpected flashback into my own school-days in India. US schools are so different; Dayani’s school is so different. M’s school in Gidea Park looked like my old elementary school–a low slate-roofed building with low-slung buildings inside a courtyard with a low compound wall. Lots of trees everywhere. Ivy everywhere.  The sports day was held in the playground, a very low-key affair. At Dayani’s school everything is so competitive. The races consisted of kids standing on one side of the playground and running to the other side–maybe a distance of 15-20 yards. There were many events–races, a triathelon, sack race, lemon/spoon race, a strange race where you jump over buckets, yes, buckets, then throw a hoola-hoop around you, then pick something up from the ground and run with it on your head. Everything was so non-competitive and relaxed. I don’t like competitions at all in elementary school levels. It is not a zero sum world, is it?  Anyway a very nice afternoon here; we might go visit the Kew gardens tomorrow. The kids just want to play today.

Quick updates.

The new friendly homeland security look: Homeland security and TSA are not these impersonal offices anymore. At Washington DC Dulles airport from where we left for the UK, now you can read  mini biographies of several employees of the TSA — it is posted all around the security gates. They are just like you and me–they are from all over the world, except Afghanistan.  Now you also have a choice: “Want to be screened in private? Just Ask.” Reading these biographies and the ability to request a private screening and the overall wonderful feeling at the long queues made me wonder: is the next step where we can pick our own security screener? I want to be screened by you just you nobody else but you I want to be frisked by you alone shoop dooby doo I want to be quizzed by you poked, prodded and catalogued by you I want to be searched by you alone.

A fine day in London; we are staying  in the leafy suburbs of Gidea Park; beautiful place and there are many trees and plants here that just pleases me to no small extent.  Hundred year old chestnut trees! Gorgeous. D who has not slept in two days played so much with her cousins that she has finally crashed into a deep slumber. She made friends on the plane with this little girl on her way from San Diego to Paris via London– a lovely French family–and the kids played games and colored on the plane — she never once complained of being bored. Good. I hope the same windfall happens on our way to India on that much longer flight later.  We are eating and catching up with family news; it is nice.