Lost Tribe of Israel: Still Lost (at least for me)

Ok fine, I'll tell you one story. Just one.

I went to Manipur and Mizoram in search of the B'nei Menashe Jews. They belong to the Kuki, Chin, and Mizo tribes straddling the India-Burma border (but most of the Jews are on the Indian side) and they believe they are a Lost Tribe of Israel.

Well, they're still lost. At least for me. Because I couldn't find them.

In Manipur, I discovered that most of them live not in Imphal, the capital and where I was staying due to safety reasons (to travel beyond the Greater Imphal area requires armed police escorts to protect you from insurgents and dacoits) (what?! dacoit gets a red squiggly? is that not an English word?) (just checked, apparently that word is Anglo-Indian, derived from Hindi, and only used in India. I mean bandits), but in a rural area far away. So I never met them.

In Mizoram, I found one of their synagogues and the Israeli missionary center* (which also houses a synagogue), but both were closed. And it was Shavuot! The synagogues were closed on a holiday! I don't understand. Maybe they've all already migrated to Israel.

I might not have met any Jews, but I did meet Christians who believe they descend from Israelites. I walked into the headquarters of an organization called the Chhinlung Israel People Convention (CIPC) supported by something called Beth Israel International. I walked into their office because I incorrectly assumed from the org's name that they were Jewish.

The CIPC is trying to convince the UN to recognize them as a Lost Tribe of Israel, although I'm not sure what that accomplishes exactly. These Christians claim they have no interest in living anywhere but Mizoram (unlike the Jewish members of their tribe, who explicitly say they want to move to Zion). When I asked why they're lobbying the UN for this recognition, they said it was because they wanted to feel secure in their identity, to know where they're really from, and for that it was necessary for the world to recognize their identity and origins.

They showed two different sketches of their migration from Israel. The first was a map of the world, with a straight line from Israel to Northeast India that crossed the Himalayas twice (first onto the Tibetan Plateau, then back into the foothills). Um, unlikely. I don't think groups of people migrate in straight lines over millennia, and crossing the Himalayas once would be incredibly difficult, let alone twice. Isn't that why in Himachal Pradesh the Indo-Aryans are in the wetter, greener side of the peaks and the Tibeto-Burmans are in the other drier side in Spiti? Because it's rull hard to cross the mountains? Ok I have to admit I know zilch about human migration, and I'm sure humans have migrated across many mountain ranges, but it does seem unlikely to me that the Kuki-Chin-Mizo would have crossed the highest mountain range on Earth twice.

The second was a flowchart diagram that listed the locations along their route. This made more sense. From Israel they went to Assyria and northeastward into Mongolia, then southeastward through China to the coast, then southwest to Vietnam, then northwest through Burma and into Northeast India. More of a zigzag-y loop than a straight line and this makes sense with their genetic makeup (similar to Burmese).

However, to me Israel seems like an arbitrary starting point. Technically all people originated in Africa. To get from Africa to Asia on land, one would have to cross through Israel. Israel is at the Africa-Asia junction; by foot, there's just no way around it.

Speaking of genetics, the CIPC people gave me a scientific paper, apparently published in a reputable journal, about a study exploring any possible DNA connections between Kuki-Chin-Mizos and Jews. The result? There is no connection. The Kuki-Chin-Mizo have no Jewish genetic markers. Clearly CIPC never actually read the article, or else they wouldn't have given it to me as evidence that they descend from Israelites.

Other questionable evidence they gave me, entitled "Historical Evidence," was a long list of quotes by 19th and 20th century Christian missionaries. Well, for one, telling people they are a Lost Tribe of Israel is a key tactic of missionaries (though I don't really get how that works). Secondly, these quotes say that the cultures of Tibet, Burma, Siam, India, and China all resemble the ancient traditions of the Israelites, which is a bit hard to believe. These missionaries don't explain how or why the traditions are similar, they simply state "the cultures are similar" without evidence. They would have failed the persuasive writing unit of my 10th grade English class. ...although apparently quality argumentative writing is not necessary to convert millions of people. I guess telling people Jesus will save them is enough.

I no longer know where I was going with this. Just that I never met the Jews but that the Christians who share their Lost Tribe belief were interesting to meet, despite the fact that their beliefs are based on tenuous evidence (at least according to my Western way of thinking). But you know what? Maybe the evidence doesn't matter. If these people want to be Christian or Jewish and truly believe that they are, then indeed they are. If they don't care that much of their traditional culture has been lost in the process, then I shouldn't care either. It's not my culture to care about, and I always hate when Westerners lament the loss of certain elements of life in developing countries to which they don't belong. Cultures have always been and always will be dynamic, and honestly Judeo-Christianity has brought a lot of good to the region (like literacy and the end of headhunting and inter- and intratribal warfare), no matter how much missionary activities bother me.

By the way, you can expect my blog absence to continue for a while. I don't think it would be fair to Ben to make him wait long hours in an Internet cafe while I write blog posts.

*Yes, Israeli missionaries. I know, Jews aren't supposed to proselytize. But I don't know what else to call people who enter a community with the intentions of replacing the local culture with their own set of customs--and actually carry out Ashkenazi Orthodox conversions, mikvah and all. The missionary center had photos of Mizos dressed in traditional Orthodox clothing, even with tzitzit.

Good Morning, Vietnam

It's been ridiculously long since I updated this blog. Here's what's been going on:

- Late April I finished up my Hindi classes.
- I went to Nepal for three weeks to trek to Everest Base Camp (no, I did not climb the mountain, despite what some of you keep saying cough Jhanvi cough) in the Khumbu and hang out with Molly.
- I traveled around Ladakh for a week.
- I traveled around the tribal states of Nagaland, Manipur, and Mizoram in Northeast India for two weeks.
- I spent this past weekend in Delhi and got to hang out with Harsh, Alice, and Maria, who I hadn't seen in a whole year!
- This morning I landed in Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon), Vietnam, and tonight my brother Ben is arriving and we'll be traveling around Vietnam and the Philippines. And I'm super excited!

I have lots of stories from the last 6 weeks of traveling, and I really regret not posting them before, because now of course there's too much to post and I forget what I wanted to say. Sooo yeah, sorry.

I should probably post pictures, but alas I unloaded my memory cards on my laptop and don't have them with me in Vietnam. However, I did send a few photos to my parents and I still have them in gmail, so here they are:

view of the Everest Range, with Ama Dablam in the middle, and the Khumbu Glacier from near the summit of Kala Patthar (18,500 feet)

Mt. Everest is the dark peak in the middle. The pretty peak on the right and closer is Nuptse.

So I guess the entire point of this blog post is to tell you that I am not dead (yet).

PS: FYI, Facebook is apparently blocked in Vietnam. So if you want to get in touch with me, Facebook is really not the way right now.

Diarrhea Diwali

Recently I have, unfortunately, been a victim of explosive diarrhea. Whatever, it's India, that happens. I had the following Hindlish conversation with my Hindi teacher:

Teacher: आपकी तबीयत कैसी है? / How is your health?

Me: आज... बहुत अच्छी नहीं | / Today... not so good.

Teacher: क्यों? क्या हुआ? / Why? What happened?

Me: हिन्दी में "explosive diarrhea" का मतलब क्या हैं? / What is the meaning of "explosive diarrhea" in Hindi?

Teacher: हम "explosive diarrhea" नहीं कहते हैं | Diarrhea का मतलब "दस्त" है | / We don't say "explosive diarrhea." The meaning of diarrhea is "dast."

Me: लेकिन मैं "explosive" कहना चाहती हूँ | यह साधारण दस्त नहीं था | / But I want to say explosive. This was no ordinary diarrhea.*

Teacher: ठीक है | आप "ब्लास्ट" कह सकती हैं | / Ok, you can say "blast."

Me: दस्त का ब्लास्ट? / Diarrhea blast?

Teacher, laughing: हाँ जी | तो क्या आपने दवा ली? / Yes ji. So did you take medicine? ("take medicine" = "davaa li")

Me: Diwali? DIARRHEA DIWALI?! BAHAHAHAHAHA

Teacher, laughing: I was asking if you took medicine.

Me: OOOHH, DAVAA LI!! BAHAHAHAHA

Teacher: आपको कभी कभी ज़्यादा ध्यान देनी की ज़रूरत है | / You need to pay more attention sometimes.

Me, still doubled over in laughter: माफ़ कीजिये | दस्त के ब्लास्ट मेरे मन में थे | ब्लास्ट | दिवाली | समझ गए? समझ गए?! / I'm sorry. Diarrhea blasts were on my mind. Blasts. Diwali. Get it? Get it?!

Teacher: समझ गया | It was Diwali in your toilet. / I get it. It was Diwali in your toilet.

Me: YES. YES IT WAS.

Further research has revealed to me that "explosive" in Hindi is विस्फोटक, "visphotak." So explosive diarrhea would be "visphotak dast." But I kinda prefer the ring of "dast ka blaast." Either way, these are not not the most useful phrases I've ever learned in Hindi.

*Explosive diarrhea is, arguably, ordinary diarrhea in India.

Moti Me vs. Waif Kaif

My friend Molly recently wrote a great blog post about body image in Nepal. Check it out here. I had been thinking about writing about this for a while too, so now that she's started the conversation, I'll chime in.

The other day the gym-wala complimented me on losing weight. The gym-wala said to me, in Hindi, "aapko weight loss hua!" I find this linguistically interesting because it literally translates to "weight loss happened to you!" whereas I would have translated from English "aapne weight loss kiya!" ("you did weight loss"--in English weight loss is something that we do, not something that just "happens" to us. Well ok maybe it does just happen but that's not how we would phrase it.)

What I find even more interesting is that he said "weight loss" in English--and this is a person who could not hold a conversation in English. There actually is a way to say this in Hindi ("vajan kam ho jana" = "to reduce weight"), but he chose the English. Often (but definitely not always), phrases borrowed from English are for concepts that are new to India and thus not expressible in the local language. Computer, mobile phone, TV, etc. The fact that this man decided to use the English phrase "weight loss" to me means that weight loss, as a goal that people work towards, is a concept imported to India from the West.

How was this concept imported? My guess is through the usual vehicle: Bollywood. While Bollywood is certainly unique from Hollywood, I do think Bollywood producers look to the West, especially to the US, to see what's "cool." Bollywood then projects these Western ideals and trends not only to the 1.2 billion people of India (according to the new census) but to all of South Asia, from Pakistan to Bhutan to Sri Lanka, and arguably to audiences all over Asia Pacific.

I'm not going to go into an extended discussion about body image in India, because I think one look at Bollywood's sex symbol Katrina Kaif, often voted the "sexiest woman in Asia" (who is actually not Indian, but British and raised in the US, with one Indian parent), says it all. Or maybe you need to see her most recent song, "Sheila Ki Jawani" ("Sheila's Youth"):

You should really click on that video. Not only because of its implications about how Bollywood projects women, but because it is a fun, catchy song with a good beat (you will understand my love-hate relationship with this song--I love the music but hate the lyrics).

This song easily shows up on the filmi songs channels at least twice an hour. Autowallahs, dukans, and dhabas blare the song. You can't escape it; it's ubiquitous, and has been for months (despite the fact that its movie Tees Maar Khan was a box office bust). And the message being conveyed to Indian women on a constant basis isn't even subtle: Katrina Kaif's body is the definition of sexy, the ideal woman's body. Men are supposed to want her, and women are supposed to want to look like her.

Interesting, related fact about Kaif: she didn't speak a word of Hindi when she entered Bollywood. All of her lines were dubbed up until last year (when her Hindi finally became passable). How can an actress act without speaking? Isn't that half the job? Her entire film career is based on her looks, her fair skin and skinny body, not on any acting talent.

By the way, I don't think it's fair for Katrina to represent the Indian vision of beauty; she's half Caucasian (and her Indian half is from the fairest of Indians: Kashmiri), and without those white genes, it's really not possible for an Indian woman to ever be that light-skinned. She is, quite literally, the unattainable ideal. As the lyrics of the above song say, "I know you want it but you're never gonna get it, you're never gonna get my body." True words, right there.

Switching topics slightly: a day before I got the compliment from the gym-wala, some Indian guy commented on a picture of me and my friend Neha in her Facebook photo album, saying "u looking gud but who is this aunty wid u??" Apparently, these days not only is being overweight not sexy, but is also associated with being an "aunty," which is a whole other stereotype in itself.

Although the stereotype annoys me, I actually think being overweight has been very useful in India. I get significantly less attention from men than my thin expat friends. Men don't stare at me (as much), men don't catcall or wolf-whistle at me (as much), and I don't get any stalkers or gropers (most of the time). My belly has probably kept me safer. So being a Firangi Round-Round isn't all bad! :) But of course I don't have a wildly successful Bollywood career.

How I became a cricket fan

Two nights ago India won the Cricket World Cup Finals!!!!!!1!

...and I actually cared.

Yes, I have become (probably temporarily) a cricket fan. A fan of a sport with which I used to confuse croquet (the names are similar and both games are British, ok?).

Despite popular belief in the US, cricket is not the British Commonwealth's version of baseball (though it does appear to be played only in Commonwealth countries). It's pretty different, and perhaps smarter. Just because both sports use a bat doesn't mean they're the same. Would you say that lacrosse is the Native American version of field hockey just because both involve sticks and netted goals? Probably not.

Anyway, my first-ever cricket experience was in fall 2007, when I watched a match with Madhavan and other Pondy Uni boys. It was the T-20 World Championship, India vs. Pakistan, and India won. This was the first T-20 championship ever, I believe (T-20 means 20 overs, so the match is shorter; it's a relatively new form of the game that is much faster and more exciting to people like me who (a) don't fully understand what's going on and (b) cannot sit through an all-day sporting event). Madhavan taught me the rules of cricket, and I became acquainted with Sachin Tendulkar, MS Dhoni, and Yuvraj Singh, who was a particular beast in that tournament, and other major players. I had a blast watching the game with my friends in Kalapet's closest thing to a sports bar, and then the whole country literally had a blast--or rather, thousands of blasts--when they celebrated with fireworks (their usual M.O.). I even bought a commemorative poster of the winning team.

Admittedly, I never watched a cricket match since then. I securely stored that game and my newly-acquired cricket knowledge in my Pondy Uni memory bank and hung the poster on my dorm wall, and went back to enjoying the American sports I grew up playing and watching. I did try to go to an Indian Premier League (IPL) game in Delhi with Alice, but, uh, that didn't end so well and we missed the game.

I neglected the sport for another eleven months, until this year's World Cup tournament, when the excitement was impossible to ignore.

I have become a fan of cricket because of the way the sport brings people together, at least in India. I can't think of any sport that could bring Americans together the way cricket has brought Indians together. Every single Indian, at home and abroad, was cheering for the cricket team in this World Cup. Do Americans, as an entire nation, ever rally around one team? Half the country doesn't pay attention to the Olympics, and those who do are all watching different sports. When Americans watch the soccer/football World Cup, they are cheering for a variety of teams, including European and Latin American teams. Few people seem to seriously care about the US soccer team. (This is actually one of my pet peeves: Americans who never care about soccer until all of a sudden "omg Portugal!!" and it's like um 1. you never watch soccer in the four-year span of time between World Cups and 2. you're not even cheering for your own country, or maybe you are but really you act like you care more about other teams.*) I guess the closest example of when Americans banded together around a sport was the 1980 Olympic hockey final against Russia, but honestly I suspect that the movie "Miracle" dramatized the reality (hockey is one of the less popular sports in the US, and as my mom says, she and her friends didn't even bother to watch the game). Basically, I can't think of any single global sports tournament in which the entire American population feels heavily invested.

Walking down the street during the India-Pakistan semifinal match was like walking through a real-life movie. (I didn't watch the entire match because I just can't watch cricket for 8 hours. I'm not quite there yet.) Half the businesses were closed because the owners were at home watching the game, and the other half that were open had brought a TV into their shops, and small crowds had gathered to watch. The subzi- and phal-wale (vegetable and fruit salesmen) at a street corner near my favorite cafe were all huddled around a small black-and-white TV that had somehow been connected outdoors. Rickshaw-wale (rickshaw drivers) were also huddled around their own tiny outdoor TV. Every pair of eyes and/or ears (some people only have radios) in India was glued to the match. Whenever there was a big play, a collective "wooo!" of excitement or "aaah" of disappointment, an aggregated sound coming from all voices in the country simultaneously, could be heard, sometimes along with dholak (drum) beats.

The millisecond the Ind-Pak game ended with an Indian victory, the entire country erupted in celebration. Immediately, people flooded the streets to light firecrackers, like Diwali to the extreme. An entire nation was partying together.

This was all repeated during the India-Sri Lanka final two days ago. After Dhoni hit the final 6, I partook in the festivities, racing out to the streets of Varanasi with my host family to ignite firecrackers. That these matches took place on Indian soil (semifinals in Mohali near Chandigarh, finals in Mumbai) makes the wins even more special.

I find something simply magical about all this. It's more than about cricket. It's about spirit, about pride in one's country. Say what you will about Indians, they are a proud bunch of people. (It's also about politics, especially against Pakistan. In general, Indians have a love-hate relationship with their politics, but no matter if they're loving or hating, they're addicted.)

Something else I have found very interesting is the reaction on Facebook. Foreign-born South Asians are exclaiming excitement via their statuses just as much as South Asian-born South Asians (at least among my group of Facebook friends). I find this interesting because I didn't expect Indian-Americans to be following the Cricket World Cup. After all, does cricket even air on TV in the US? Is there even a cricket Little League? When and how would these Americans have become familiar with the sport? I would have assumed that because they grew up in the US they would be more interested in American sports (and maybe many of them are more interested in basketball or football than they are in cricket), but I'm pleasantly surprised to find that many of them are just as interested in a decidedly non-American sport.

The fact that they are following cricket means that they must have grown up watching cricket with their fathers, who probably watch cricket as one of several means to stay connected to the motherland. I'm sure that Indian parents struggle to raise their children in America according to Indian values and culture, but one thing many of them have been successful at is instilling a love of cricket, in a culture where cricket doesn't even exist. This cricket victory was important to more than Indian-born Indians. It was important to the Indian diaspora as well, to the entire Indian people. (What, exactly, is this importance? I'll leave that analysis to the NYTimes. See here.)

Now for a nice little story to end this ridiculously long post (sorry for the length!):

Yesterday morning, as I was taking a rickshaw to my Hindi class, I passed a parade of green, white, and orange face-painted people carrying a homemade styrofoam-and-glitter replica of the World Cup trophy, waving Indian flags of all sizes, dancing to the song "Chak De India" accompanied by dholak players, and lighting firecrackers. As this parade winded through the galiyaan (alleys) of Varanasi, the crowd would grow ever larger, with more and more people from all castes and classes dancing together around the poorly-but-very-lovingly-constructed trophy.

When I saw this parade, I did the most unexpected thing: I started crying. Not just crying. SOBBING. The rickshaw-wallah stopped and looked at me to check if everything was ok. I was fine, I insisted. But I wasn't. I was crying because it suddenly hit me that I'm actually leaving India in a few months. I don't know why seeing this parade triggered that realization, but as a result I was a mess all day yesterday. I just can't handle leaving this country. Another reason for my tears was that this makeshift trophy brought back memories of home. This was something I could see my brother Ben doing when he was young. Seven-year-old Ben absolutely would have made some little Stanley Cup trophy and trotted around the house with it in a Capitals jersey (he didn't actually do this, but he did several similar things, such as making himself a Chicago Bulls NBA championship ring. Kids can be adorable). So while the parade made me sad that I was leaving India, it also made me realize how homesick I am. Opposite and confusing emotions, I know.

Unfortunately I don't have any pictures because, well, I suck. I don't take my camera with me when I walk around Varanasi. Fail. However, you can enjoy this picture I stole from AP:

Indians celebrate with fireworks in the streets.

*You could say this applies to me re: cricket and India. However, the US does not have a cricket team that plays at World Cup level (Molly informs me the US has a cricket team, mostly comprised of South Asian immigrants, but they can't compete at a high level). If it did, obviously I would cheer for the US. Also, I have been living in India for two years and I believe that gives me sufficient ties to be an India fan. If you're an American who cheers for another country in the soccer/football World Cup because you spent some time there or have other connections, then you do not fall into the category of people who bother me and I apologize if I have offended you.

Go away, geckos!

There are 8 geckos in my bathroom. One is on the light switch so that I am forced to pee in the dark. And I have a squat toilet, so light is particularly important.

Also, another gecko just fell from the ceiling and landed on my bed. Not on me this time, but clearly this was an intended attack. If not an attack on my person, then an attack on my sense of safety and as a result, my sanity.

Furthermore, that other gecko still hasn't left my mirror. I know he's not dead because (1) he'd probably fall to the ground and (2) I've seen him move around. But only on the mirror.

And did you ever notice that geckos have CLAWS?! I noticed yesterday that they have sharp cat-like nail-claws extending from their toes. I didn't know lizards had friggin' claws. Think of the damage these creatures could do to me in my sleep!!

These geckos are evil incarnate.

Unrelated miscellany

Today I started taking tabla lessons from a guy who makes tablas for Zakir Hussein! Being a good tabla maker doesn't necessarily translate into being a good tabla player/teacher, but I think the photos of him jamming with Zakir on his wall are pretty friggin' sweet.

How did this happen? I had free time yesterday and was aimlessly wandering through some galiyaan (tiny alleyways). (Varanasi has a whole web of these galiyaan and it's fun to get lost in the maze.) As I was walking back toward the main road, I randomly stumbled upon a tabla-making workshop.

Unexpectedly, I ended up spending two hours in the tiny shop. We sat on the floor among half-made tablas and assorted tabla parts as the owner explained, in a mix of Hindi and English, the process of making a tabla. His two apprentices showed me how it's done, and then we all chatted some more about the shopowner's tabla-playing and -making history over chai. The owner's family has been in the tabla-making business for generations, since his father's father's father's father's father's father's to-the-infinitieth-power father's father. After chai, they let me hit the drums a bit!

applying ground iron ore to the center of the tabla

I really enjoyed the atmosphere of the workshop and have always secretly wanted to learn to play some percussion instrument. So, despite my utter lack of musical talent, I signed up for tabla lessons! And here we are.

*******

Today I was supposed to go to Ramnagar Fort, across the Ganges from Varanasi, with Surabhi, one of my new Benaras Hindu University (BHU) friends. However, she had to cancel because all the students are protesting the mess (cafeteria) food and obviously she had to be there.

Aaahh, deja vu. When I spent a semester at Pondicherry University, the students there protested the mess food as well. Guess that's pretty common here in India! But I'm fairly certain the administration ignored them and nothing came of the protests. Fun times. Hopefully the BHU students will have better luck.

*******

A few more reasons to love Pyaar Kii Ye Ek Kahaani, or PKYEK, as it is affectionally called:

11. The sound effects that accompany facial expressions. For example, when someone has an epiphany, the "ah-ha!" face is supplemented with a spring-like "boing!" sound. And crushing disappointment, such as when the boy you like asks out your worst enemy to prom, comes with a car crash noise. Each face has its own distinct sound, of course.

12. The echoing voiceover when characters are thinking. When the characters are thinking, not only do their faces contort in all sorts of strange ways I didn't previously know were humanly possible, the thought voiceover echoes. "Mujhe-jhe-jhe asha-sha-sha hai-hai-hai ki-ki-ki voh-voh-voh mujhe-jhe-jhe prom-prom-prom le-le-le jaaega-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-ga." ("I hope that he will take me to prom.")

13. The occurrence of prom during college. That's just... incorrect. I would say it's an Indian thing to have prom in college instead of high school, but I've actually never heard of a prom happening at all in India. And I would find it surprising if a college administration allowed such an event. The show is trying to adopt a classic element of American teenage dramas, but it's all wrong! But it almost doesn't matter, because they do it so much better than those American shows and movies.

14. The 70's theme of prom night. It is unfortunate that the PKYEK website doesn't have any good pictures of this episode, because I want to show you the boys' bitchin' costumes. Only three words can describe their attire: stereotypical flaming homosexual. One character actually is gay, and he was the one who chose the 70's costumes for the others (who do not know that he's समलैंगिक ("samalaingik"/gay); I think they must be blind and deaf). And he did excellent work, because my god do these people come off as overly-flamboyant caricatures of gay disco men (and their little dance number at prom only reinforces this image). Also, one was dressed up as Elvis.

PKYEK is the best thing to happen to television. Ever. In the entire history of television.

*******

Geckos are my newest enemy. Not only did one of them face-plant me (in that he planted himself on my face, not that he fell onto his own face), they are all over my room and bathroom and always in the way. One hasn't removed himself from my mirror for the past two days so I can't examine the post-Holi damage (my pores are so clogged with Holi colors that I now have purple- and greenheads).

Sushma and I clog each other's pores during Holi.

I think the entire animal kingdom is conspiring against me. Except the elephants. They still love me.

Look at this elephant's happy face! If this isn't unadulterated love, then I don't know what is. But I'll tell you which creatures don't know how to love: monkeys and geckos. Heartless bastards.

*******

It is possible for women to pee standing up. I know because my thighs were sore from going to the gym for the first time in.... uh, I'm too embarrassed to say.... and I really didn't want to squat (the family with whom I'm staying doesn't have a Western toilet). The trick is to spread your legs far apart (warning: remove your pants). TMI? Too bad. You should expect this kind of talk on my blog by now.

*******

Speaking of women, here are two interesting articles about women in India:

Minding Their Gaps, about Western women on their gap year in India being exploited for the sexual and status-raising appeal of their white skin. Courtesy of Alice.

Rapes of Women Show Clash of Old and New India, about, well, the headline is pretty much self-explanatory. Courtesy of Sam (you need a blog or website so I can link your name!).

*******

This song has been stuck in my head for the past week, and I love it:

"Darling" is a Hindi take on a Russian folk song. WIN. Also, you should see 7 Khoon Maaf (7 Murders Forgiven). It's based on a book by Ruskin Bond and is a very unusual movie for Bollywood, in a good way.

*******

This song has been playing repeatedly on the filmi songs channel, and I swear it's copying an (or multiple) English song(s):

Does anyone know what song(s) it's copying? I've Googled it and people seem to disagree about whether it's copying Flo Rida's "Low," Black Eyed Peas' "My Humps," and/or Lady Gaga's "Pokerface." When I first heard it I thought elements were from "Low," and I suppose I can hear remnants of Black Eyed Peas, but I don't know see "Pokerface." But I'm not so sure. Thoughts?

*******

ZOMG A MONKEY JUST INFILTRATED THIS CAFE. ZOMG ZOMG ZOMG! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED IN HERE, MONKEY DEVIL!!! THIS IS MY HAPPY PLACE AND I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME!!!!

Er, or maybe I will, for now. I'm outta here before the monkey ends me and all I love.