Hello my Tamil friend

Gray Man 

⭐

⭐

⭐/5

In the world of Hollywood movies, nationalities and identities are filtered through the American Empire's lens: American sniper, war veterans, Africa (yes, the continent with 54 countries), evil Russians and so on. Refreshingly, in The Gray Man, Lone Wolf played by Dhanush is referred to as "my Tamil friend." It's totally unexpected and, bends the dismissive reference to places and peoples to something a little more specific and outside of Nationality. 

I didn't care that much for the movie and had extremely low expectations. For example, I don't care much for Ryan Gosling and, his status as romantic hero. The Notebook wasn't all that. I refused to see La La Land and , will often go off into a rant about this movie. But, it was rather interesting to see him. Ripped. I guess acting prowess these days really boils down to your physique. So, in terms of that, he's definitely a great actor. 

Because I had such low expectations I enjoyed the spy film, the soundtrack and the action. Ryan Gosling offered a quiet non aggressive type of spy, a deeply wronged but good man who was put behind bars for nothing. 

If you want to read a great column about how movies should stop romanticising spies, read:  James Bond is dead. He should stay dead by Andrew Mitrovica. 

My Octopus Teacher 

⭐⭐/5

The documentary has an emotional appeal and, relies on a confessional style story telling by the narrator who documents an almost-year-long relationship with an octopus. He keeps referring to it as a 'she' and as rightly pointed out by Kavita, we don't know why he thinks it's a she. He doesn't bother giving her a name either though I'm glad the octopus didn't have to suffer an annoying white female name. 

The documentary aims to be a personal account of how much the narrator has learned from the incredible octopus, from its anatomy, its intelligence, and, to appreciate wildlife. But it seems the narrator has taken more from the octopus than actually given back in a ridiculously shown romantic obsession with the sea creature. The narrator goes back every day to film the octopus, get its trust and form a 'relationship.' The nameless octopus in return gets its one arm chomped off by a pyjama shark because its too distracted by the human. The narrator doesn't interfere in the cycle of life because he doesn't want to 'interfere' but that he goes and films the octopus, encourages touch between himself and the creature, and endangers its very life. 

There is such a male white privilege here at work that one notices right away in the beginning. I haven't seen an trailers or know much about this Oscar-winning documentary but it's only when I started watching it, did I realise this is not a science documentary but a projection of a white South Africa male and his dominion and lordship over South Africa and its wildlife. This chap isn't a scientist but an ordinary fellow who thinks he has befriended an octopus and therefore finally started appreciating wildlife where he didn't before. 

The documentary starts off with his rambling on about the land of South Africa and the incredible Indigenous peoples who live there and their relationship with the land. It's overbearing and patronising. I mean, don't show peoples and talk on their behalf. Give them a chance to speak for themselves in your movie. 

I appreciate and respect his methodological record, his attempt to understand the octopus and rest of the creatures. However, there is a constant nagging feeling that this comes with a kind of privilege, of entitlement, that despite that he is not a scientist and starts with almost no knowledge of ocean life, he has the right to extract all this at such a great cost to the creature he is studying but claims he is not studying but learning from. It's almost like white anthropology but aimed at ocean creatures. You are awed and fascinated with them, their bodies, will befriend them, but will not step in if you have endangered them and even watch them die and record it. 

The octopus' death is recorded on camera and, the narrator muses about cradling the dying octopus mother in his hands but doesn't actually do it. Instead he just weeps and, romanticises its death. 

See this article by a dive master and a science teacher: My Octopus Teacher' Was Mesmerizing But There's 1 Thing That Deeply Troubled Me. The author has serious concerns about touching wildlife and crossing those barriers and, worries this documentary will encourage people to have inappropriate and even dangerous contact, both for humans and wildlife. 

I went looking for commentary and found this: Why Critics Are Outraged Over 'My Octopus Teacher's Oscar Win by Kayleigh Donaldson in Pajiba.  It's a blistering column that says this documentary is a lightweight and is awarded instead of other better contenders. My favourite lines from this column: 

Foster’s mid-life crisis and his near abandonment of his family is something worth interrogating. There’s a great documentary in here that’s willing to examine the emotional complexity of a man forcing a human-esque identity onto an utterly alien sea creature in order to process his own issues. There’s something to be said about this man’s occasionally unnerving molding of an identity for an animal that has no interest in him. They are his manic pixie dream girl, and that’s a common identity that humanity shoves onto nature.

Kavita had a few lines to say about the documentary Review of My Octopus Teacher  and also wrote a song  A song: my octopus friend. 

Finally, read this well known 2017 essay by  Amia Srinivasan "The Sucker, the Sucker!" for these lines: ‘the closest we can come, on earth, to knowing what it might be like to encounter intelligent aliens.’  I encourage you to read more about octopus and watch what you can on YouTube to see how fascinating these creatures are and what we can learn about our idea of sentience and intelligence. 

Laal Singh Chadda 

WHY??????/5

If you think about it, politics of representation are not measures of progress

India elects first president from tribal community is the headline. Moreover, the new President is a female. 

As I continue to think about the politics of representation in capitalist liberal democracies, the same disingenuous machinations are at play in India. Here we have the mighty ultra right wing BJP propping up a tribal woman as President. Through this, they are able to show case a so-called nod to diversity all the while indirectly and indirectly promoting erosion of Muslim rights, both in the present and the past by demonising Muslim citizens, demonising Mughal history and civilisation as colonial invaders, all the while promoting cow vigilantism, denigrating women, jailing activists, demolishing their homes, imprisoning Kashmiris, you name it. 

But this gesture , creates a diversion. BJP state and supporters have this to use if anyone accuses them of anything. 

Similarly,  right wing regimes in capitalist democracies in the West recruit black and brown woman and men to their structures. They claim they are inherently plural because they have representations in their parties, in their state and society. They can create confusion and doubt: "Of course, they are not racist." Even if policies are inherently racist, rooted in the system, the public is misled to believe right wing groups are not racist. Further, the recruited black and brown woman and and man has internalised enough racism and capitalist ideology and, continues to perform the work of an inherently violent system. 

The so-called left parties in the United States , New Zealand , Canada, what have you, play representational politics - not to rock the bottom but to the game of tokenism, to appear diverse. They will never call for reparations, real historical justice. They will merely celebrate "first Indigenous member of Cabinet", "first black President, " etc. Moreover, those who are recruited to their structures, to the state are also fully internalised, obedient men and women who will perform in inherently white systems. 

Have you noticed they never say 43'rd White Man elected as President of the United States? Kamala was somehow the first black female VP but the headline that Mike Pence was 44th white VP was never made. 

I remember being utterly non plussed when some headlines were made with Jacina Arden's rule as New Zealand's Prime Minister: that she had the most diverse cabinet ever and had the first Indigenous Foreign Minister. Headlines never say "first Indigenous minister after 40 white ones." 

Absorbing indigenous and non-white representers at this glacial speed into inherently racist, colonial, violent and white systems is unimpressive to say the least. At this rate, it will take another 1000 years to see more diversity but how long will it take to get justice, reparations? It will take never. 

Is the objective to just get a colourful display? This is not the way to measure progress. 

Just look at how -  as I literally type this - Shireen Abu Akleh's family is pleading with the United States state and society to get some justice. They are holding a press conference in full view of the mighty apparatus of American democracy , demanding justice as American citizens, demanding an investigation. It's painful to see them, respectfully demanding justice, careful not to unleash what must only be rage and pain, careful to remind everyone they love the United States, lecturing about the value of journalism to a democracy. It's painful to see the motions they have to go through. It's painful to see them begging for justice from a state which calls itself as the greatest beacon of freedom and democracy. 

It's a tragic example of how little value and worth Palestinians are to the American Democracy Machine. Shireen was not recruited for representational politics and has no value either to Democrats or Republicans: she didn't perform any useful role for the system. Justice for her death is not a priority or even a concern! 

What is a concern? Nancy Pelosi 's ass wants to go to Taiwan to uphold democracy and stick it to the Chinese. 

Good evening, grey rainy Monrovia

See the stunning view of the grey ocean and the grey skies. 

Kavita has come up with a signature pose for photos: she stretches her leg behind her back and then balances on one foot. She's obsessed with stretching her limbs these days. 

Bijli joined us today although she was a begrudging walking companion. She wanted to go back! 

We met the fitness club again today. Doing floor exercises on the pavement isn't easy but the views and feeling of being outdoors is great. 

Sisterhood

I deeply value conversations with my girlfriends. It's an act of subversion to spend time with other women, sharing experiences and ideas, in a society that mocks women, that considers female friendships a waste of time, time away from their real duties. I try to nurture spaces where my friends and I exchange ideas, views and educate each other on the realities of this world. By educating ourselves we strengthen ourselves. Being forging and nurturing bonds with each other, we strengthen ourselves.

The comforting daal chawal

 

Bootcamp on the Hill

As you know, there's always people working out on the hill , many of them are in fitness clubs. We joined Six-Pack Fitness Club for their session today and, its as amazing and tough! Kavita really enjoyed it. 

See a couple of videos we made on the Hill: Bootcamp on the hill , Cross legged sit ups, and Serious bootcamp. 

The Coach , Abdullah, was fantastic albeit very tough! I couldn't follow everything and despite trying improve my fitness the past couple of years by following YouTube HIIT workouts, I still need to get more flexible. 

As Abdullah said, this beats a gym anytime! 

One of my favourite CDs of all time

This is one of my favourite CDs of all time. It invokes so many memories of my teenage years when this CD was always playing in our house. It's been played so many times that I know the sequence of the songs by heart. I guess this my first introduction of ghazals and as such, is a perfect compilation, not too long, not too short. You have so many gems here that take you to subliminal heights. 

My mother explained that being an Ahmadi, "Ae Mere Humanasheen" by Munni Begum, resonated with the community, the sense of betrayal, for all that they suffered as Pakistanis, stripped of their rights as practicing Muslims. I can never listen to this without thinking of what this ghazal means to my mother. 

Nayyara Noor's "Khabhi Hum Bhi Khoosurat The" is easiest to fall in love for a teenager and, I still remember the view of Athens from our balcony in Politia when I listen to this. I probably never understood what the ghazal meant but loved pronouncing the difficult Urdu words. I can still see those hills in my mind, feel that teen longing invoked by this music. 

Farida Khanum's "Maine Pairon Mein" is also easy to love and sing along to. 

For our times now, Mehdi Hassan's "Mohabbat Karne Wale" has been revoked at least twice : by Ali Sethi and Arooj Aftab. I didn't really like Arooj Aftab's rendition and maybe I have to listen to it a few times. 

I have been fascinated by Ali Sethi's conversations around ghazals, his classical training and how to think about ghazals, about Hindustani classical music for this generation. I loved this conversation between Ali Sethi and Anupama Chopra. If you need a guide to find a love for ghazals again, please listen to this piece. I also loved The New Yorker piece The Pop Song That’s Uniting India and Pakistan but not for its naive and ignorant point of view but for what I learned about Ali's ustaad: 

He is the last living vocal practitioner of the ancient forty-nine-note microtonal Surti scale and a descendant of Mian Samad bin Ibrahim, a student of the thirteenth-century musician credited with inventing Qawwali in South Asia. “He’s a man of the medieval moment,” Sethi said, and he found in Saami a kindred spirit. “He makes his own medicines. He goes to the mountains every year in search of roots and elements. He’s a linguist who speaks Arabic, Farsi, Sanskrit, Braj Bhasha, but no English.” Saami taught Sethi the melody patterns of raga, and how Vedic chants and Turkic and Persian melodies were fused by guilds in medieval India. “And he showed me that, before the encounter with the West, South Asia had its own microtones and its own notations and its own multicultural sense of what a musical scale is. 

For the backlash on the New Yorker piece see: New Yorker Piece On ‘Pasoori’ Gets Mixed Reactions On Social Media. 

Good evening

 What a nice sunny evening.