My dreams lie at the end of a tunnel. In a narrow circle in the distance, I can see all the colors of the rainbow blended into a soft puddle of fabric. Oh yes, Bollywood bling meets Marc Jacobs. It will be fabulous. Twin white masks, one mirthful, the other tragic, wait for me to join them. Brown on Broadway in a titillating burst of light and theatrical fog. If Kumar could make it out of Guantanamo Bay, why can’t I? The time has come to throw off the black and white shroud of recession and inflation, with all the normal force of a passion that burns in my ventral striatum at a scorching 567K. I must now thrust aside the thrust equation and propel myself into the world for which I was destined. NYC, here I come!
My dreams lie at the end of a tunnel and I know my journey will be long and arduous. Threats of disownment will hurl themselves at me from all directions. Even as the walls of academic pressure close in on me, I must fight off the demons of maternal Indian passive aggresiva. And I know that as I make my perilous way, I may slip on a few stray coconut oiled coaxes. I may trip over strategically planted copies of Gray’s Anatomy. But parental intervention notwithstanding (“What do you mean you are dropping out of MIT to study theater at NYU? How will you feed yourself? Do you want to live on the streets?”), with stoic determination I will soldier on.
I will not be held back by the cultural and academic constraints of my heritage. I choose to cast them aside and embrace all that is good about being Indian. I will always wear my ethnicity with pride but I will also live a lifestyle of my choosing and pursue dreams that the American society affords me. I am an actor. I am a designer. I am gay. I am bisexual. I am flamboyant, intelligent, artistic, different. I am Kris Patel and I am getting the hell out of here.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Let There be Light
So....since I don't have time to write for this blog specifically, I will post articles I write for the Ashoka Wheel and other little tidbits as I write them. Enjoy :)
Once a year, all over the world, night ceases to exist. Pulses of colored light punctuated by bright flashes dispel the dark. Explosive pops disturb the silence and joy erupts in the streets. Schools and companies are given holidays, families congregate, gifts are exchanged and there is much merry making. No, this is not the fourth of July. This is a festival that originated in India and spread to all corners of the globe with the brain drain of the ‘80s and ‘90s. Think of it as Christmas, of a more brown persuasion.
In India, spending peaks during this festival of lights. There is a mad rush for clothes, sweets, jewelry and furniture. Stores are checkered with half-off and buy-one-get-one-free signs. Houses are adorned with rangoli (traditional designs drawn with colored rice powder) and diyas (traditional lamps). All of this is topped off with the latest Diwali-themed Bollywood blockbuster of the season. After all, who better than Shah Rukh Kahn to usher the Goddess of prosperity across our thresholds? As America tightens its belt and prepares for a recession, let it take comfort in the knowledge that many of its nearly 2 million Indian Americans will be loosening their purse strings this month.
The festival of lights has begun in the US as well. This October will mark the sixth year Diwali has been celebrated in the White House. And who knows, perhaps this year the White House staff are setting aside a couple of extra lamps to celebrate the US’s nuclear deal with India. The warm glow of energy-efficient Diwali lights cannot be contained in the political scene. It seems to have caught the media’s attention as well. Last year, NBC aired its now famous Office Diwali episode.
Colleges all over the country, Emory included, are gearing up for the impending festivities. A night will be dedicated to it. Guests will partake of delicious, traditional Indian food from a mid-priced desi restaurant while being entertained by Indian dance and song. For some it will mean naught but a night of wild dancing to funky bhangra beats for the price of twenty dollars. But for most, the celebration of Diwali means much more. It is a chance to share a part of their heritage with the rest of the world and with each other.
Once a year, all over the world, night ceases to exist. Pulses of colored light punctuated by bright flashes dispel the dark. Explosive pops disturb the silence and joy erupts in the streets. Schools and companies are given holidays, families congregate, gifts are exchanged and there is much merry making. No, this is not the fourth of July. This is a festival that originated in India and spread to all corners of the globe with the brain drain of the ‘80s and ‘90s. Think of it as Christmas, of a more brown persuasion.
In India, spending peaks during this festival of lights. There is a mad rush for clothes, sweets, jewelry and furniture. Stores are checkered with half-off and buy-one-get-one-free signs. Houses are adorned with rangoli (traditional designs drawn with colored rice powder) and diyas (traditional lamps). All of this is topped off with the latest Diwali-themed Bollywood blockbuster of the season. After all, who better than Shah Rukh Kahn to usher the Goddess of prosperity across our thresholds? As America tightens its belt and prepares for a recession, let it take comfort in the knowledge that many of its nearly 2 million Indian Americans will be loosening their purse strings this month.
The festival of lights has begun in the US as well. This October will mark the sixth year Diwali has been celebrated in the White House. And who knows, perhaps this year the White House staff are setting aside a couple of extra lamps to celebrate the US’s nuclear deal with India. The warm glow of energy-efficient Diwali lights cannot be contained in the political scene. It seems to have caught the media’s attention as well. Last year, NBC aired its now famous Office Diwali episode.
Colleges all over the country, Emory included, are gearing up for the impending festivities. A night will be dedicated to it. Guests will partake of delicious, traditional Indian food from a mid-priced desi restaurant while being entertained by Indian dance and song. For some it will mean naught but a night of wild dancing to funky bhangra beats for the price of twenty dollars. But for most, the celebration of Diwali means much more. It is a chance to share a part of their heritage with the rest of the world and with each other.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Monday, January 07, 2008
Beatlemania
Author's note: So many people have expressed their disappointment in my seeming neglect of this sacred fragment of cyberspace. I'd just like to say, that I am touched, TOUCHED by your incessant whining. A big gold bubble of egotism expands and fills me whenever I hear nagging pleas to put my nonsense to words.
TOUCHED!!!
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Beatlemania has taken me. It's not the music. It's not the lyrics that consume me, but the lives of the four young men who emerged from the dirt and smoke of working class Liverpool and took the world by the storm. What was it about them that was so consuming that they powered a pop revolution. EVERYONE wanted to be the beatles.
I wish I could go back in time and watch them as their story unfolded. Rags to riches. Scousers to stars. Musicians to Legends. I want to own a little piece of their history.
I am currently reading their biography by Bob Spitz.
....that is all.
TOUCHED!!!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Beatlemania has taken me. It's not the music. It's not the lyrics that consume me, but the lives of the four young men who emerged from the dirt and smoke of working class Liverpool and took the world by the storm. What was it about them that was so consuming that they powered a pop revolution. EVERYONE wanted to be the beatles.
I wish I could go back in time and watch them as their story unfolded. Rags to riches. Scousers to stars. Musicians to Legends. I want to own a little piece of their history.
I am currently reading their biography by Bob Spitz.
....that is all.
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