And Now For Something Completely Different

I’ve always thought about doing this – compiling a massive version of what amounts to a pop culture reclist – and never followed through. The task is too daunting, to compile everything and every piece of media I’ve ever had a torrid love affair with and bare it all for the world to see. But I figured I’d finally start, bit by bit. Piecemeal, a few things at a time. Partially because there’s no better time (I mostly have 4-day weekends here), and partially because I’ve finally found so many things that are so fantastic I just have to share them. I’d feel guilty keeping them to myself. So firstly, television.

I have just started watching “Burn Notice“, a show for which I’ve seen ads on the New York subways for the last three years, but never asked questions about or encountered in any other sphere. One quiet Indian night after I’d already downloaded and rewatched both Mean Girls and Pirates 3, and was without my personal DVD library collection, and jonesing for some new material, I decided to download the Pilot episode off of iTunes.

At first I was titillated, but not impressed. By halfway through I thought I might or might not download the second episode, depending on if I managed to get out and do other things that day. By the very end I was a convert. The show is sexy, sassy spy drama, but smarter and faster than James Bond ever was and more grounded than Alias. Jeffrey Donovan as the main Michael Westen is killer, as is Gabrielle Anwar as his trigger-happy ex-girlfriend who robs banks for the IRA for a living. Bruce Campbell is in it, Sharon Gless is in it, and the chemistry between the characters – as well as the rockin’ hand-to-hand combat scenes for those of us who like our daily doses of violence – are both superb. I am three episodes from the end of Season One on iTunes and still going strong.

For music, the following:

1) “Syvlia” by The Muckrakers.

I have been listening to this on repeat for many weeks now, and I mostly can’t pry myself away from it to listen to any other song. I first heard it on Pandora, and promptly downloaded the entire Muckrakers CD – while it’s fantastic and I highly reccomend it, little else (by them or anyone) can hold a candle to this song. It’s fast, it’s brilliantly articulated, and the White Boy Rap toward the ends absolutely lends itself to being belted out at the top of one’s lungs while dancing around your bedroom in your underwear. The only downside is that the band’s not well-known enough so that one can Google their lyrics online… so I e-mailed them and their vocalist sent me a message back with the verse in particular that I’d requested! Seriously, how much cooler can a band get?

2) “Lately” by Lijie.

I don’t understand why this woman is not coast-to-coast, household-name famous. She is stunningly beautiful, has a voice that could bring angels to tears, and a way with words that is nothing short of masterful poetry. I had a hard time picking one song by her to reccomend – Make Believe, Bar Song, and Roam are all also well worth the download – but this song has something to it that I just can’t resist. It’s just quick enough for a rhythmic, energetic singalong, but slow and haunting enough like all her things to make you feel moved. Not dramatically moved like a boulder rolling down a hill, but slowly, deliberately moved like a glacier coasting through the water. She’s an absolute must.

3) “Runaway” by 3 Doors Down.

They tend to be very hit or miss with me, but I can always find a fistful of songs on their albums that hold up to relistening again and again. This one off their latest CD does just that. It’s upbeat, it’s irreverent, and I can’t speak for everybody but I sure know I feel the way this song describes often. Perhaps more often than is normal.

4) “Bachna Ae Haseeno” from the new movie of the same name.

It’s fun, it’s catchy, they play it in all the clubs here and I have impressed several local adults here who’ve caught me running around singing along to the words. It’s funny, the things that get you respect here. A white boy singing Bollywood? Is like, India’s version of the Platonic ideal.

5) “I Should Go” by Levi Kreis.

This song was the primary soundtrack for a solid year span of my life for reasons that are almost impossible to explain. Suffice it to say I know the words forwards and back, inside and out, have felt them all with every fiber of my being, and as heartbreaking as they are to hear? They’re even more heartbreaking to understand. Truly understand.

All of these are available for download on iTunes, and as a gesture of support for the artists involved – most of whom are still independent – I’d ask a personal favor that you download them there or buy their CDs, rather than using filesharing or other sources. I don’t care where you get Burn Notice from; it’s rockin’ good fun and in no danger of being cancelled. Just watch it.

August Kranti Marg (The Long Road Home)

I am walking down the streets of Nizamuddin, a neighborhood in Southern Delhi, in a navy blue rain jacket. I am praising myself for having had the foresight to buy said rain jacket. I am slopping along through the puddles of filthy rainwater, and piles of mud and shit – some of it animal, some not – to find a ride home in shorts and thong sandals. The sensation is an unpleasant one.

There is a brief pause between the monsoon storms as I hail autorickshaws from the side of the rode. They pull over cheerfully enough, all bright yellows and earthy greens. With their small size and arched roofs, I think of them as Volkswagons without doors. I have less favorable thoughts about their drivers.

One of them pokes his head out at me inquiringly. “Neeti Bagh,” I say. “Challengue?” Will you go?

Many have refused me outright already. It is too far, or too far from good business, or they don’t feel like heading in that direction this morning. Their reasons are endless, each of them mystifying to me. A New York cab has never turned me down.

Some try to cheat me by fifteen or twenty rupees. Some days I wouldn’t care, but today, with hours to spare and feeling defiant of the rain, rather than browbeaten by it, I am determined.

Many try to charge me horribly overinflated prices, three times what a local would pay, and what I have paid in the past. I wait to see which fate awaits me now.

“Neeti Bagh,” the driver repeats, stroking his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “One hundred thirty rupees.”

A hundred and thirty rupees. Fucking autowallahs, I think. What I say is a measuredly more polite take on, I’m not a tourist, stop fucking with me. The Hindi sounds awkward in my mouth, softer on my tongue than I mean it to be, not yet familiar, I am not yet intuitive with my conjugations and intonations and a dozen other things. He gets the message anyway, and drives off with an angry shout.

I have been doing this for twenty minutes.

It will take another ten before a man I had haggled with and refused previously catches me walking by again, nodding finally and holding up four fingers. Forty rupees – the meter price.

I breathe a sigh, air mixed with frustration and relief. “Hanji,” I say, and hop into the back.

It is five kilometers to August Kranti Marg, the highway off of which I live. But on these days after classes when I am on my own, and tired, and wet, and determined – on these days, the road home always seems longer.

from the internet cafe files

Pretty close to the top of the list of “Things You Don’t Want To Hear From The Doctor” when you’re in the middle of Kashmir with no phone service (cell or landline) and have a gazillion medicinal allergies:

“Yes, sure, you have altitude sickness. You also have a stomach infection.”

Fever is broken. Feel much more like a human being than I did yesterday, fatigued, aching, fevered, and with horrible stomach pains. Still haven’t had an appetite in three days, and am on an antiobiotic I have never taken before and don’t know if I’ll have a reaction to.

But you gotta do what you gotta do.