Every year, I feel as though my attachment to India becomes increasingly stronger. Spending five months studying abroad in Ghana (hence my absence from BG) has forced me to think about my identity in ways that I never had previously.

At orientation, the students in my program and I asked about how Ghanaians see foreigners and if past students had ever talked about experiencing racism in Ghana. While I appreciate our program coordinators, they definitely took the easy way out of that question and simply answered that most Ghanaians “don’t really see race.” That was a meaningless answer.

A recurring topic of conversation between my friends and I was the word’ Obruni’ which literally means white person. Over time, however, it has come to be used to describe all foreigners. Ghanaians do not see the word as offensive. From their perspective, it is simply a means of distinguishing foreigners. They used that term on a regular basis in the markets, in the streets, on campus, and anywhere else I went. Some days it was humorous, and I took it lightly. When the woman who I purchased fruit from in the market everyday introduced me to someone as her ‘obruni friend’, I simply smiled and laughed. In my opinion, she used it endearingly. On other occasions, it really disturbed me. In America, an individual wouldn’t usually be called out for being a foreigner. If they were, it would be seen as highly offensive.

I believe that there is no particular aesthetic that defines Americans. By that, I mean there is not one skin color, eye color, hair texture, or physical trait that characterizes an American. Some people may counteract that white is still the majority, but the term white can encompass individuals with ancestry from anywhere in Europe. Therefore, even among white Americans, there isn’t necessarily one particular aesthetic.

 In Ghana, that is not the case. While there is diversity in Ghana, foreigners still stick out. Some days the attention really bothered me, and I was offended, hurt, or angered by always being called Obruni. Sometimes, the sheer existence of the word disturbed me. It is essentially saying that even if I learned native languages like Twi or Ewe, dressed like a Ghanaian, married a Ghanaian, lived in Ghana for ten years, cooked Ghanaian food, and did everything I possibly could to blend in, I would never be able to fully assimilate because of my appearance. I would still be called Obruni in the markets upon first glance, and I would still be charged “Obruni prices.”

Although it is used to describe all foreigners, I had some experiences where I was engaged in a conversation, and a Ghanaian would use the term Obruni interchangeably with white. I am not white, and while I am not offended by being called white, I have never identified as white. Based on my experiences and conversations, I felt like many Ghanaians that I interacted with had a tendency to dichotomize people. They used the umbrella terms black and white pretty liberally which I felt simplified and diminished the significance of the complex identities that I value very much. One day in a history lecture, our TA asked the class to define what a perfect woman should be. After gathering opinions from Ghanaian students, she came over to where a friend of mine from the study abroad program and I were sitting and asked to get a Caucasian perspective. She quickly corrected herself by asking about the American perspective after she realized that I am not white. However, most Ghanaians that I came in contact with seemed to classify me as white without realizing that I am not. 

I also had experiences where people asked me where I was from. After telling them I was American, they stared at me blankly, and I had to explain to them that my parents are from India. One time I proceeded to ask the group of Ghanaian students why they were so confused about me being American. They responded by stating that it was because I wasn’t white. Their response certainly initiated some chaos in my brain. Does that mean America = white, or is that just how people who haven’t really experienced diversity or been exposed to the States perceive the country? Does it mean that I can’t be American because I’m not white? I mean technically even if I lived in India, I wouldn’t quite fit in because I didn’t grow up there. Where exactly do I fit in then?

Race definitely played a larger role than I anticipated in my experiences in Ghana. When I shared my frustrations with my friends, they presented me with a new perspective. Although sometimes it could be irritating to be the first Indian person that a Ghanaian encountered, it could also be seen as an opportunity. In a sense, I was a cultural ambassador. I had the opportunity to correct any stereotypes or images that they had gotten from a Bollywood movie (which happened many a time) and present them with other ideas and information.

After receiving so many questions about India and Indian culture, my upbringing, and Hinduism, I have become much more curious about my background. Ever since I returned to the States a couple weeks ago, I have been reading as much as I can about India and Hinduism to answer the questions I may not have been able to answer in Ghana. Constantly being questioned about myself forced me to think about my beliefs and values and certainly helped me strengthen them. For that, I have to say Medaase Ghana. (Thank you in Twi).

Show of hands of who has had their mendhi done before? Mendhi or Henna Parties are a part of the many festivities for South Asian weddings. Typically for the ladies side of the family (however that has since changed and the woman on the men’s side are now getting their ‘henna on’) it’s a great Indian tradition of painting your hands and having everyone and their dog asking if you have gotten married.

Don’t get me wrong, I love getting my mendhi done – for the first 2 days. But then it starts to where off and your hands look as if they have some sort of disease to them. Sadly if you are one of those brown girls that has a wedding every weekend, you will be attending weddings with faded henna – quite the ‘no-no’ for many in the community.

As fun as these events are, there are some common practices that I have found have become not so common. Here is a list of your top 5 things you should and shouldn’t do at a mendhi Party:

1.) THE BRIDE COMES FIRST! I started off simple. This is quite standard I would think all across the board. While everyone understands that the bride comes first, I can’t tell you how many times I have seen family members of the bride interject to ask questions about their mendhi. Sorry folks but let the mendhi artist and bride have their 2.5 hours in peace!

2.) YOU DON’T GET THE SAME TREATMENT AS THE BRIDE! Along the same lines as number 1 – just because you are out of commission for a little while doesn’t mean you get everything spoon fed to you as well. It’s the brides day – let her have her day – you however don’t have this day as well. That means a couple of things a.) Eat before you get your mendhi done. b.) don’t get both hands done at the same time. c.) grab your own lemon cotton swab and dab yourself princess!

3.) LET OTHERS HAVE A TURN BEFORE GETTING BOTH HANDS DONE! Let’s face it, every mendhi lady runs out sooner or later. Instead of being greedy, get your one hand done and if she has time afterwards, get the other done!

4.) LESS IS MORE! I am sure all you ladies are like me in the sense that when one of your friends gets married, they all want to get married. So in a wedding season you have numerous brides and I can’t count how many times upcoming brides will ask for trial runs at someone else’ wedding. WRONG – JUST WRONG!

5.) CLOSE FAMILY AFTER THE BRIDE! Let’s define close family for a minute here because I know that is a very blurred line within our community. Close family includes in order – mother and sisters (and direct sister – in-laws). Then you get into your aunts and their daughters – but first aunts – i.e. the brides mom’s sister and children. Also, on the list would be the out of towners. Then it’s a free for all. Know your place.

6.) BRING MONEY! This is definitely new to me, and I am guilty of not coming prepared. However our world is more and more budget conscience then it once was, and in an attempt to save money at these big weddings – sometimes the mendhi comes at a price. Typically $5 per hand or per side, so $10 should have you covered. If the event is paid for, please keep in mind that the bride does have to pay the same rate. So don’t go crazy and get both hands / both sides done.

7.) YOUR TIME WILL COME! Relax. I was at a wedding not too long ago, and sadly I was late to the mendhi party. I got off work late and communicated in advance my tardiness. I walked into the tent and said hello to the bride who was finished and sitting off to the side. I then went to say hello to my cousins and aunts who were getting their mendhi done as well. If looks could kill I would be 6 feet under the ground right now – for the looks that the ladies in the lineup for the mendhi were giving me were lethal. It’s a party – relax, have fun – it’s not ALL about the mendhi.

8.) Lastly – but not least – DON’T JUST GO TO THE MENDHI PARTY AND THE RECEPTION. I know those are considered the “fun parties” but if you were invited to the Menhdi party consider it an honor and attend the other events too. The Mayian the night before, the actual wedding, and then followed by the reception. Don’t pick and chose the events. Be there for the bride and attend all events even if you don’t want to. After all, it’s not about you.

This all may seem harsh, but I am sure I am not the only one that has experienced the above mentioned and many of you probably have much to add! If your one of the many that is guilty of the above – no problem. Just remember this list the next time you attend a party – and you will go far! Happy Henna Parties Ladies!

Let me be clear, I love my religion. I adore the cultural diversity and brightly colored scarves, and the fact that the Quran has been unchanged since originally revealed over 1300 years ago. I respect the harmonious expression of self-devotion to God complete with natural yoga-like movements and praises. I believe in donating time and funds to those less fortunate, and contributing to the greater good of the community. I was born and raised a Muslim, but internally I find myself facing a struggle of conscience that leaves me feeling sometimes as though I’m living on an island, afraid of the criticism I might face if my opinions become known to my family and community.

I became a Muslim because my parents raised me as one. I recall Islam being more procedural and rule-based as it was taught to me growing up. I recited the Quran in its original Arabic (beginning around age 7 or 8 ) without knowing or caring what it meant. My prayers were offered in the ritualistic way – facing east with the appropriate number and style of movements. I was careful not to make any mistakes, as I was taught my prayers wouldn’t count if there were errors.

I’m now grateful that I can recite the Arabic text (albeit slowly), but while studying its English translation I’m torn on how to formulate my life around it without being considered an ‘infidel’ (ha!). My life is significantly westernized as it involves my career, circle of friends, and personal ideology, and I wonder if my prayers are more personally gratifying if I offer them in more of a conversational way rather than a ritualistic way. They certainly feel that way!

While scholars insist upon the infallibility of the book and practice, I’ve never fully practiced as it’s been prescribed and I don’t see myself ever practicing that way. If my elders found out, they would think they didn’t teach me appropriately and *gasp* she’s succumbed to the ideas of a western lifestyle! We’ve failed in teaching her proper Islam! She’s gone astray! Oh my goodness, can’t there be more than one way to do things?!

I think religion and faith are practiced along a hugely broad spectrum, and there is definitely a gray area between the two. Religion as an organized institution with historical teachings should certainly be respected and understood, but I don’t think it should be the ultimate approach to practice. Faith comes from the heart, with a deeply personal relationship with a higher power and a practice that is unique to the individual. The level of intersection between religion and faith varies significantly between people, which results in a great diversity in religious practices and beliefs. That diversity should be respected and celebrated, and broadly discussed amongst friends! Unfortunately, I don’t think it gets discussed as openly as it should.

I think personal tug-of-war is a common underlying current in our Brown Girl culture, but it’s time to talk. Understanding that religion is a deeply personal journey, I’m curious to know how other women feel about balancing their own religious practices and faith.

This year’s Ramadan showed up on my doorstep unannounced. How could I not have noticed that a whole year had passed by? I didn’t know if I should be excited or overwhelmed. Regardless of my sentiments, however, the Month of Fasting was upon me.

All the news mediums did their best to educate the masses about the intricacies of Ramadan; no food or water from sunrise to sunset, abstinence from sex and foul language during this time. A month of worship and family, gatherings and congregations. But what did that mean for me? I’ve been fasting every year since I was in the 5^th grade. Yet, like snowflakes, no two Ramadans were ever alike. This year’s turn of events brought me somewhere in the suburbs of Chicago living with my newly married brother and sister in law. None of us know too many people out here. We aren’t even that familiar with the city. And with my latest string of ill fortune, it just seemed too much like a twisted prank to expect me to have a successful Ramadan.

It took about 3 days for my body to adjust to the sixteen-hour long fasts and that was the easy part. The nights comprised of standing in two-and-a-half-hour long prayers. The Imam’s well-trained voice resonated in my ears as he recited the powerful verses of the Quran from memory. It’s during these prayers, that it first dawned on me, the sniffles and silent tears of those around me were undeniable proof that I may not be the only one experiencing rough times. As the Imam’s voice cracked under the pressure of his own emotions, guilt washed over me.

I had a place to live and food to eat. I had family and friends who loved me, no matter how far away they lived. Despite all my foolish mistakes, I had those who would stand by me in unwavering confidence. Much more than that, I had a variety of clothes to clothe myself in, jewelry to beautify myself and a means to attain all the things I wished and hoped for. More than three billion people in the world live on only $2.50 a day (source). As we speak, there is a continuing famine in Eastern Africa. A merciless drought that doesn’t discriminate between child and adult or male and female. Yet, at the end of my fast, I always have a meal waiting for me.  A ready cure to my short-lived hunger.

It took this twisted trick played by fate to wrench me out of my self-pity. A lesson that won’t be easily forgotten, I hope. It’s easy to kick yourself when you’re down, but it’s definitely worth it to be grateful and appreciate yourself. This Ramadan reminded me that optimism is a human necessity. Despair comes to everyone but the faster you let it go, the simpler it makes life.

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An arengetram or Indian classical dance debut is an occasion to lay one’s talent and skills out for all to view.  Usually when the dancer expels a certain amount of dedication and effortlessly performs the dances in an aesthetically pleasing manner and obtains the approval of a guru, she is ready to debut.

It is commonly understood that the process of having an arengetrams is very physically and mentally taxing as well as requires a lot of patience and monetary support but what effect does an arengetram have on one’s future? What is the impact of dedicating oneself to the Indian classical art forms for so many years and ending it all with an extravagant show for all to see?

Although an arengetram is viewed as the end of a long journey of training in dance, many individuals fail to see it as what it truly is, a beginning.  The arengetram is a dance debut and really is a set of double doors that lead to a road of possibilities that are endless.  What can one do after one’s arengetram?  Other than train, practice, and polish to get even better, a graduate is now able to teach and choreograph on her own.  The graduates dancing talents are now elevated to a professional level and she is encouraged and should take full advantage of this.

After completing my arengetram in 2003, I began teaching immediately at my old dance academy itself.  I had the pleasure of working with my fellow dance mates as well as commence with new students.  Upon completion of an arengetram or rangapravesham, what is more important than the professionalism of an individual’s quality of dance is the dedication and devotion she promises to put into the future of Indian Classical Dance.  As a graduate, an individual takes it upon herself to delve into the Indian classical art forms and carry it with her wherever she goes.

After one begins teaching, through her reputation and teaching style which is based on previous experience and training, a graduate will be able to get new students for herself.  Having an arengetram opens up opportunities to help spread the art by being able to pass on one’s knowledge to one’s own students.  And trust me when I say watching your students perform might be the single most satisfying feeling in the whole world.

No matter where academic and other plans take an individual who has completed her arengetram, the dance knowledge acquired and passion will always follow her.  Although practicing everyday is not practical upon entering college, after completing an arengetram, dance becomes more than simply a practicing and performing activity. She is able to feel the dance and will realize that even if she does not get to practice for a while, the dedication, devotion, and passion possessed help the individual to remember and more importantly feel the dance.  Before one’s arengetram, it was integral to know all of the technicalities of dance; after, it is just as important but more stress falls on performing with the soul.  The artist at hand has already gotten the approval of the audience, her guru, and the public, there is no longer a need to try and impress anyone else when dancing.  One begins to dance for herself because she is the one who has taken an oath to join her dance with her life.

The experience and mental peace that one attains from all the years of dancing will help the individual throughout her life.  It is something that never leaves someone.  If an individual ever decides to pursue another type of classical dance, the experiences previously will give her the upper hand in learning any other form.  A graduate has been officially trained and wears the stamp of professionalism on her heart.

Contrary to many misconceptions, an arengetram is most definitely not the end.  It only gets better from this point on.  So to all aspiring dance graduates and recently graduated artists, more than simply a “congratulation,” a “good luck for your future of dancing” is more appropriate.  It is not going to be easy, in fact its going to be long and difficult, but it will be worth it in the end, then again, with dance, if one loves it and cherishes it enough, there is no real end.

Photos of author courtesy of author

‘Suitable Boy’ Checklist: Educated? Check. Good family? Check. Wealthy? Tall?  Fair?  Hot AKA Jay Sean? (Ahh, wishful thinking). Appropriate caste? Che…wait..WHAT?

I’m at a loss for words 99.9 % of the time when I sit down and think of exactly what is important to parents when it comes time to send their bonny lasses out to get wedded. I’m reminded of the absurd demands of Jane and Michael Banks from ‘Mary Poppins’ when they were asking their father for a new nanny:

“You must be kind, you must be witty

Very Sweet and fairly pretty.

Take us on outings, give us treats

Sing songs, bring sweets.”

I understand the importance of wanting the best for your child, but I truly cannot comprehend or even begin to WANT to comprehend some of the items on their checklists. A good education is something both parents and girls look for in prospective partners. That is nothing new, nor is it something wholly rare as most people strive for a good education and pride themselves on having a solid background. Although, I have met people that have an advanced formal education, but are lazy and unmotivated. I have also met people without an advanced formal education that are incredibly successful and content.  In both scenarios, the wrong thing is being scrutinized. An education, or the lack of, isn’t the answer; ambition, motivation and determination is.  Just because one has the tools necessary does not mean they know how to wield those tools and build a future out of them.

A good family is also important, but it is not necessarily the only thing that creates a good person; many people have overcome familial hardships and have conquered their lives and the world. Just look at Oprah! She came from ‘the hood’ and now she is arguably one of the most influential and powerful women in the entire world.  There are also many people that have had the world given to them on a golden platter (because silver is for sissies) and choose to indulge in sloth, greed, and lust rather than take on any responsibilities. We are not by-products of our surroundings; we have choices, and it’s those choices that make us who we are.

Wealth. Ah, booty…how seductive thee are. I think sometimes parents forget that their daughters have to live FOREVER with someone. Just because the suitable boy in question may have wealth at that moment in time, does not under any circumstances, mean it will be there forever. Money comes and goes, and basing a life decision of that magnitude on something so transient is silly, naive, and wholly unoriginal. “I ain’t sayin’ she a golddigger, but ain’t messin’ with no broke [people]…” Who wants to be THAT girl? I recognize everyone wants to live comfortably and indulge in luxuries, but is it so important that it becomes a deciding factor in someone’s worth?

Physical attributes are also subjective, unless we’re going to discuss Jay Sean… in which case it is a rule of life that he was, is, and always will be supercalifragilisitcacebealidocious hot. Physical beauty is fleeting and it is one’s personality that is forever. A person is not good or bad because they’re tall, fair, or hot (Jay Sean is the exception to every rule ever). People are good or bad based on their actions. It breaks my heart when I see wonderful people putting up with things they would normally abhor simply because their partner is good looking. Being attractive does not give someone a free pass to treat people badly. Looking past one’s physical appearances and truly seeing someone for who they are is a beautiful quality to have and one that should be cherished.  I identify with wanting a partner that is easy on the eyes, but let me reiterate something: is it so important that it becomes a deciding factor in someone’s worth?

I am truly befuddled every time I hear parents casually conversing about castes and ‘appropriate’ places and families their daughters can get married into.  My biggest gripe with this is the fact that the ideology is dated. Albeit, I realize the importance of making sure your darling child is married into a family that will love and treat her the way you have for  ‘X’ amount of years, but what does caste have to do with that?  If we were living in India and were subject to the societal rules and regulations of the castes in question, I would not be voicing my concerns here. HOW is it possible to deem someone acceptable or not based on the geographical location of their gaam or where they stand on the caste system? We live in a time where people are judged based on their actions rather than their family ancestory; our society thrives on the respect gained from actions. How can we then go backwards and cling to dated forms of worth when it comes to finding a suitable boy?

The conflict here lies in the generation gap; a lot of our parents are the first generation out of South Asia and have had struggled most of their adult lives to blend into American culture, while defiantly keeping their South Asian identity alive. We, on the other hand, have assimilated beautifully into American culture and have struggled to find our South Asian balance. The result? A shift in important values in a life partner; most of our parents were arranged by their parents whom they assumed knew best. This meant that the above items were not only acceptable, they were necessary because they fit in with the time period and societal ways. On the other hand, most of us now have grown up more independent and feel WE know best when it comes to choosing a life partner; this includes finding someone that is ambitious, motivated, determined, confident, funny, loving, trusting, and honest. The difference? The ‘suitable boy’ checklist went from tangible items to characteristics. We see worth in people for their potential and their actions, our parents deem worthiness by verifiable evidence.

If our parents stepped away from the black and white world of their checklists for just one moment, they would notice that there is a whole spectrum of colors waiting across the threshold . If they did, maybe then daughters wouldn’t be terrified of letting their parents down if they dared to fall in love with an ‘unsuitable boy’. We girls could also cut our parents some slack, if we just appreciated the reason for their ideology more, we could see that in between the black and white of the ‘suitable boy’ checklist, there are glimmers of vibrant colors; we just need to hold out our hand and learn to walk beside our parents instead of ahead or behind them.

Photo credit: www.manicksorcar.com/spices.php

The Sindhi Voices Project (SVP) is a community initiative at the intersections of digital media and oral history. SVP engages people in the production of their histories and hopes to spark inter-community and inter-generational dialogue along the way. At present, they are listening closely to memories of a pre-Partition past and aim to understand how “our collective and individual pasts shape who we are today.”

We interviewed the creator of the Sindhi Voices Project, Natasha Raheja.

What is your background, and what do you expect to learn from this project?
In my undergraduate career at UT Austin, I started off pre-med with a BS in Biology and even took the monster MCAT! Taking electives in South Asian Studies was not enough for me and I soon declared a dual degree including a BA in Asian Cultures and Languages. Wanting to delve deeper, I continued in this field with my MA at UT Austin. In between this time, I spent a year in Lucknow, India as an American Institute of Indian Studies Urdu Language Fellow. During this program I laid the foundations for what is now the Sindhi Voices Project. This September, I’ll be starting my PhD in Media Anthropology at New York University.

I am hoping that this project will be an exploration of how individuals and communities experience forces of history and configure their identities accordingly. Questions that intrigue me and my co-director, Neena Makhija, include: How do we inherit memories? What kinds of things shape the way in which we remember the past? How do or do not physical borders translate into community divides?

How did you personally become involved in this project?
I use a variety of markers I use to identify myself and one of the colors is Sindhi. Interestingly, growing up neither me nor my family strongly identified with being Sindhi. Perhaps it is the ambiguity of what this label entails that has in part provoked my curiosity and this adventure.

Growing up, I was alerted to certain conceptions that I feel may be linked to the community’s fraught contemporary history centered on the 1947 Partition of British India. Given that I myself was born in the United States, twice removed both in time and place from this experience, I was never able to empathize immediately with the nostalgia or bitterness that characterizes much of the collective sentiment amongst some of the elders in Sindhi communities.

Narrator Sharing a Family Photo; Mumbai, Maharashtra

What has been the most memorable story you heard yet?
Ahh! Tough question. There are two anecdotes that immediately come to mind. In Ahmedabad, Gujarat, I met a Sindhi woman who, engaged before Partition, who was separated from her fiancée and his family during their chaotic migration to India from Sindh. Both families found each other through ads they had put in the papers stating their new locations.
In Khairpur, Sindh, I recently met a Punjabi woman whose family migrated to Lahore three months after the creation of Pakistan because of some border line re-drawing that unexpectedly moved her village from being in Pakistani to Indian territory.

How do you relate or don’t to those you speak to?
I really like chatting with elderly people. Many of the narrators I have interviewed have are refreshingly blunt and indifferent to what others think of them. Though when I started doing interviews I struggled a bit, because I’m an opinionated person and had to stop myself from stating my thoughts on controversial issues and just listen!

Are most people willing to share with you?
You know, it depends. Only in Ahmadabad, Gujarat and interior Sindh have I experienced some hesitation from people wanting to make public any comments that are related to Hindu-Muslim relations or are critical of their governments past and present.

Do their lives and stories have much in common or are they all unique?
Yes and no. Factors like socioeconomic class, religion, gender, education, and so on significantly shape the life narratives that emerge.

Oral History Workshop; Jamshoro, Sindh

How long will this project take before you feel it’s completed?
Well we have planned for about one and half years of fieldwork but we hope that people continue to submit stories after this as well. And really, the first several months that I was in India I faced a high learning curve so we’re only now getting closer to figuring out best practices.   A unique feature of the Sindhi Voices Project is its participatory component – we have developed a field kit for people to record and submit interviews with elders on their own and have been conducting oral history how to workshops wherever we can.

Will you want to start a new project, which will focus on a new language?
The Sindhi Voices Project itself has several potential avenues of relevance we hope to further explore. Personally though, I am always provoked by the people and places around me, so, yes, I have some other projects in mind related to participatory media and community building.

How is your team being funded?
So far, we are relying on our savings and the warm hearts of the people that have opened their doors for us along our travels.

And how did you come to read Brown Girl Magazine?
Aditi and I graduated the same year from UT Austin and had mutual friends.

To learn more, visit Sindhi Voices

Photos and captions courtesy of Natasha Raheja. (Photo on right is of an Oral History Workshop in Ajmer, Rajasthan)

“You’re only American if you’re born on American soil.”  My head swerved around so quickly it almost snapped.  Befuddled, I answered with “I was not born in America, but I am American.” To which I received a smirk, a shake of the head, and a back facing me.  I was livid.  Since when has there been a criteria for who can be American and who cannot? Clearly I missed the day when Uncle Sam was being branded on to the ‘real Americans’.  The comment had been passed and the conversation had ended, yet the implications have stayed with me to this day.

I was born in East London, raised in Texas, and am of South Asian descent.  According to the statement above I am allowed to be English, but not only am I NOT American, I am also NOT Indian. I truly cannot comprehend why people believe that being ‘American’ is based solely on location. There are many things besides location that contribute to who we are: upbringing, culture, religion, family and friends.  These things are like the genetic makeup that are at the very core of who we are; injecting location to the mix allows us to express these attributes.  A good friend once said to me, “Being American is about the love you have for your country, it doesn’t matter where you came from.”  Americans are unique because of the ideals, way of life, and freedoms they express and expect.  This country was created by immigrants for immigrants, and people are still drawn here from all over the world because of the ‘American dream’.  Why then do some of us forget our roots and try to discourage others from wanting the same things we ourselves pined for not too long ago?  Part of being an American is accepting everyone, not judging, not discouraging, and not alienating others because they’re not the same.  That’s the beauty of this country; that people from all walks of all life can come together in one place and live in harmony.  I was not born in America, but pride swells in my heart when I hear the National Anthem, an almost disturbing level of competitiveness takes over me whenever the USA is participating in a sporting event, and every day I thank God profusely for allowing me to live in a country overflowing with opportunity.

This same concept puzzles me about South Asians as well. Once whilst visiting Gujarat, amidst the bustling of the marketplace, the haggling of goods in doorways, and the sun baked children chasing after a stray dog, three letters smacked me in the ear like a monkey whose banana had been stolen. “N.R.I.,” said the police officer who made Salman Khan’s character from Dabaang look like a sweetheart. My mum cleverly ignored the statement and continued on her quest to find the best mango in the bunch, but I just could not shake the disdain and disgust clearly evident in his voice.  How could I not be Indian? Everything from my features to my mannerisms screams that I am of South Asian descent; the distinct shape of the eyes reserved solely for South Asian women, the noncommittal bob of the head, and even the half shrug of indifference.  All of these crucial facts were overlooked and I was instantly an outsider due to my Levi Jeans and graphic tee. I may not have lived in India, but I am Indian.  The culture of thousands of years gallops through my veins like Arjun’s chariot in Kurukshetra, my devotion to Krishna is in every breath I take, and my love for Bollywood and Gujarati thali satiates my soul in every way imaginable.

Being an American, like being Indian, is not about where we are from, it is about where we make our home and where our hearts lie.  It is about being a part of something bigger than ourselves.  I for one, am proud to have English, American, and Indian ties because it’s that intertwining of cultures that form a rope that is strong, sturdy, and unbreakable.

by Komal Thakkar

I believe that when dancers are young, their movement is pretty. As a dancer ages, their movement and their stage presence become beautiful. Madhavi Mudgal and Alarmel Valli, who took to the Kennedy Center’s Eisenhower stage as part of the Maximum India series on Wednesday March 2^nd are two of the most beautiful dancers I have ever had the pleasure of watching. Maximum India is a celebration of Indian arts and culture through a series of events performances in all disciplines taking place between March 1^st and March 20^th at Washington DC’s Kennedy Center.

Sixty year old Odissi dancer Madhavi Mudgal and fifty four year old Bharatanatyam dancer Alarmel Valli collaborated to create a breathtakingly beautiful fusion performance titled Samanvaya. Literally meaning harmony, Samanvaya was an evening length presentation consisting of six sections where music and two classical Indian dance styles blended together seamlessly. Inspired by Hindu Vedas and Sanskrit poetry, each section conveyed a unique narrative through ornate costume, lighting, live musical accompaniment, and incredibly detailed facial expression. Particularly inspiring was the first section titled Hymn to the Earth. As explained in the program, Hymn to the Earth was inspired by verses from the Vedas where “the Hindu goddess Prithvi is invoked as the bountiful sustainer of life and nature.”

The piece began by highlighting the accompanists as a soft light illuminated two rows of eleven classical Indian musicians sitting cross legged on the floor on stage right. They created a classical Indian score with a harmonium, flute, sitar, violin, and traditional instruments including the tanpura, pakhwaj, mridangam, and nattuvangam. The audience could make out the silhouettes of two dancers both with their hands cupped. Slowly, warm amber light filled the stage and the dancers began moving with classical isolations of the head. As they moved their heads from side to side, their eyes sparkled with expression and lit up the stage as they acknowledged one another and the audience. Valli’s jumps coupled with her light and energetic movement style conveyed a character of youthful vitality. Mudgal’s softer and more fluid style conveyed a beautiful maturity that complemented Valli’s energy.

They weaved in and out of poses and created incredible pictures with their bodies, eyes, hands, and feet. The detail in the footwork, the intricate positioning of the fingers and hands, the head and neck isolations, the facial expressions, and the narrative mesmerized me. Towards the end of the piece, an intensely frenetic section in the musical section inspired quick waving hand movements that symbolized a flowing river as well as fluttering hands resembling butterflies. As the tempo of the music accelerated, they began moving quickly together to conclude the piece.

Perhaps one of the most magnificent elements of the entire evening was their choice of costume. They adorned themselves in classical Bharatanatyam attire. Valli wore a turquoise outfit with a purple blouse and a long braid down to her lower back. Madhavi, the Odissi dancer, wore a purple outfit with a turquoise blouse. Her hair was neatly kept in a bun with beautiful white flowers all around it creating a sort of crown. A golden necklace hung from their necks as well as large gold earrings and nose rings. Both had created a red shade on their fingertips and toes using traditional henna to accentuate their hand gestures and footwork which was especially beneficial since they were at a great distance from the audience.

As one of the quotations in the program said, “May the earth which holds on her ample lap the life-giving waters, oceans, rivers, and lakes, which bears the fruitful soil and is home to all that breathes, stirs, and lives – may she accept the fruits of our efforts.” Their performance certainly succeeded in paying homage to Prithvi, the sustainer of life and nature. The cyclical quality of both life and nature were successfully symbolized through circular pathways they created with their bodies and arms. Their earth tone inspired costumes as well as the blue, green, and brown lighting supplemented this theme. The age of the dancers infused a sense of mature beauty and sophistication in all of their movements. Samanvaya was truly a celebration of classical Indian music, dance, ancient scriptures, and the deeply venerated goddess Prithvi. It is performances like these that inspire me to continue dancing until the last possible moment. Movement and stage presence can only become more mature and more beautiful as one ages.

Doctor, lawyer, engineer, businesswoman; take your pick.  These are some of the occupations that are commonly brought up in the typical South Asian household.  We have the freedom to choose one or the other, but if we decide to pursue anything that strays from these options too drastically, we may find ourselves caught in the middle of what seems like a losing battle.

I have experienced this firsthand while attending Stony Brook University, a school that is known for both its overwhelming South Asian population as well as the number of people who initially declare themselves to be pre-med.  Every semester I see individuals who rip their hair out trying to figure out a way to break the news to their parents that they cannot be pre-med anymore and every year there are some who accept they have no other choice but to fight through it because their parents will accept nothing less.

When I was younger, I decided I wanted to be a doctor.  Throughout my education, I pursued this desire and was fine until I reached college and had to battle through the deadly mechanisms and syntheses of organic chemistry.  This was the only time where I doubted my initial desire to become a doctor and tried to come up with other possible career options.

I am very open with my parents so I assumed they would understand my concerns; however when I approached them and suggested I try nursing or physical therapy instead, their reaction threw me off.  They would not hear me out and consistently reiterated the fact that becoming a doctor was MY choice and it was what I wanted to do and should do.  Nothing else would suffice because I had already declared that I wanted to do medicine and there was no turning back.  My father even threw out the good old “your family in India will be very disappointed if you don’t become a doctor” and my mother the “we will give you everything you want as long as you give us this one thing.”  After this conversation, sound sleep was something that I rarely got.

Since the talk about a possible career change with my parents, I reevaluated what I was really interested in.  I want to be able to interact with children ideally in the medical field, whether that be as a doctor, a healthcare professional, or even as a dance or music therapist.  I tried to tackle my parents one at a time since handling them both at the same time seemed to be a failure before.

I had a heartfelt talk with my mother about how strongly I feel about wanting to help children in whatever way I can.  I broke down the situation realistically and made it clear that becoming a doctor will not be easy and it may not even happen but that my education and major thus far will not let me down.  I explained to her that even if I do not become a doctor in life, I will not be a failure and most importantly I will not disappoint her because at the end of the day, my own happiness is important and it would be unfair for my mom to be dissatisfied with that.  It’s a small step but I have successfully been able to convince my mother. I have left my father for another day.