Here And There And Everywhere.

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I  watched  Dancing With The Stars-our local NZ version of course-and I rooted for the charming, handsome Tamati Coffey. Not that Barbara Kendall was bad at all. Just that Tamati is such a gorgeous dude 🙂

Just back from Australia, Melbourne to be precise and I keep thinking about the crap media in that country. Nothing that reflects the diversity on the streets, nothing. I love Melbourne. It is a great, photogenic city, lots of buzz, many things happening, the public transport is superb and the shopping is great fun too. Then I look at the television shows and I see crap. Big haired blondes and blokes going yeay-yeah (that is my bad version of the Australian accent).  I always look forward to visiting Melbourne. This time I decided to check out places I had not been to. One day I went all the way to Heidelberg. This is a northern suburb and you have to change to the Hurstmere line at Flinders St. Station, take a train going towards Eltham and get off at Heidelberg. Then I took a bus-on a Sunday afternoon too-to the Heide Museum For Modern Art. There is an exhibition on modernism in Australia. I love travelling by trains. The stations, the graffiti on the walls, the passengers, the railway stations…these stations in Melbourne are a delightful mix of old, colonial architecture and new fangled structure. Wrought-iron railings, the odd iron filigree on columns supporting the ceiling, electronic signs, clipped announcements and the people. I also like walking the streets of the city. I hung out at St. Kilda and thought it was cool. Except that the Tasman Sea is out of bounds. Imagine living in a seaside city fringe suburb and not  being able to walk over to the beach easily. That is one of things I would miss if I ever lived Melbourne. The easy access to the ocean, the bush and the mountains. Yeah so Melbourne is one of my favourite  cities but Australia? Nah full of Australians mate! And where is black Australia? I visited the Koorie Heritage Trust Cultural Centre on King St and cried at the stories of the Stolen Generation.  Kevin Rudd apologised but what after? For every Tamati on NZ television and for every Maori word spoken colloquially, I wonder when I will see an indigenous Australian as a normal, regular person on their television? Maybe there is, I just have not seen it.

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I tried to say gl-o-b-al- wa-r-mi-ng through my numb lips but only managed to pout, sexily I hope. This was perhaps the answer to botox and lip plumpers. Mwah mwah. Cheap and easy. All it takes is to be up bright and early on a cold Saturday morning at the Tongariro National Park, to do the Tongarirro Crossing. I could not do the summit of Mt Taranaki-Egmont at the beginning of this year but I was determined to do the crossing. Seven mad hours of hiking with 300 others. It was super!. It is always good to go into the wilderness in New Zealand and get away from it all. With strangers thinking just like you are. To cross a volcano, queue for a pee, tramp across mountains and streams, into the bush. Yeah. Next on the list is Mt Ruapehu…I think.

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Another of my journeys between the long time writing this blog and the previous one was to South Auckland. I went to Manurewa (instead of Mangere where I was supposed to be). It was between two appointments, one at the Nathan Homestead in Manurewa, so I thought I would sit in the local library and blog. The library was shut, it was getting dark-not yet the end of daylight savings but getting there, so I sat in my car.  Paranoid, afraid of some South Auckland type wrenching open my door and mugging me or something. Yes I am ashamed. I sat in the car hunched over the eee PC, hungry and almost fainting. I did not want to get out and look for food but I did. Walked to the local shops at the town centre after asking two school girls for directions. It was an interesting place to be. There were buildings that must have been around for a long time, I thought. An old settlement with a colonial history now in the news only for the murders, killings and muggings. On a normal day I would not venture into Manurewa. I have been to the Otahuhu shops but why would I go to Manurewa? I am secure in my middle class, pseudo-intellectual, pseudo-liberal existence in the city fringe. One day I was at the bus stop with those tall, hulking teenagers just out of the local boys college at 3pm and felt intimidated. They spoke a language I didn’t understand. Some kind of hip-hoppy, New Zild, Bro’town accent. These guys are going to get into a fight or do something to me, I thought. Not true. When the bus came they stood aside like gentlemen and let me get in first. After you, they said very sweetly. These are fears I create myself. That evening in Manurewa was revealing. I thought I was cool and inclusive and liberal. How can I explain the cowering little woman in the car? Here is room for improvement and this is going to be one of my tasks. If there is an ‘Other’ then that has to be respected because there is nothing to fear. That is all I can say for now.

The world maybe flat but Karma is not.

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It comes back to bite you in the bum.

I have just finished reading Thomas Friedman’s ‘The World Is Flat’. It was an informative read. I now know what captains of the globalised world think. It’s all great stuff, the corporate language. I learnt a lot. The book is full of big names in business and government-all those that decide how the world works. They think the world is flat. I agree somewhat. This flattened world has been good to me. Considering I am a digital migrant. I got my first computer in 2001 now I get frustrated that I cannot update on Twitter from my mobile phone because it is not free in New Zealand. I can connect with old friends and make new friends, network and even date online because the world is flat. I can write this blog from my eee pc, sitting on my bed, because of my home hub and because the world is flat. How cool is that?

Two days ago I came across this is in the book ‘The Power Of Seduction’ ( by Jean-Claude Hagege). He talks about cosmetic surgery and advertising. ‘The insane acuumulation of images, no matter how beautiful, are lures to catch the buyer…and the sum total of these images behaves like a subculture with its own references, its winking, its provocations and even its scandals.’  The gist of Friedman’s book is akin to that. Creating a flat, capitalist world that justifies its existence on the basis of increasing consumption without a thought to side effects or after effects.  Maybe only I can see this connection? Or is it my politics? I mean I am probably not as smart as all the big names in the book who talk about globalisation, war, politics, business etc without talking about people and human behaviour. Displacement, disenfranchisement, destruction…they all lead to disruption and that, according to this book, is not the problem of the big businesses. It is the problem of the people themselves if they want to be left behind. It is the problem of Al-Qaeda and Taliban, it is the problem of despotic governments. They need to sort it. Not a word about American imperialism (yeah yeah some superficial reference to foreign policy etc) or even the hegemony of multinationals. I drink tap water and buy stuff at op-shops or on Trade Me, I guess I don’t know.

Perhaps this is beyond the scope of the book, perhaps I am seriously ignorant because I have never read any of Friedman’s work so don’t have any context. I’ve never run a business until now, I don’t belong to a business family and I am a single, brown female who thought computers were for engineers while I was growing up. Funny that the book has no reference to what my culture could possibly be as an end user in the post globalised world. Honestly I get upset when I come to know any of my relatives are working in call centres or outsourced back offices in India. Where is the personal growth there? Aren’t these kids, with their big salaries and faux American accents being turned into consumers? What is there to get so gung-ho about outsourcing? Just because lots of businesspeople are making money?

I am not against globalisation or outsourcing or insourcing or any of those other business terms used in the book. It is the condescending tone of the book that is troubling. It is problematic from page 1. So I started making notes as questions. I cannot give references about the exact page numbers or fully elaborate on the argument but my notes went something like this:

  • How does the concept of nation-states fit in the flat world?
  • What is the role of religion? (And not just fundamentalist Islam which is plentiful in the book.)
  • What is the impact on female empowerment?
  • What about those who cannot access the flat world?
  • Is outsourcing not another form of colonisation? (Please refer  to documentary John And Jane by Ashim Ahluwalia.)
  • Lateral thinking v/s herd mentality and rote learning.
  • Friedman talks about multiple identities in the end user that are now existing because of Google. *Laughs* Seriously? Did they not exist before Google? I think everyone except businesspeople know inherently that they have several identities. It is not the multiple identities per se but the negotiation of those identities that is important. Multiple identities become a problem when one is denied for the sake of the other. That is when the ‘socialist’ ideas of the need for equality in existence kick in.
  • What are the socio-cultural benefits? Where is the discourse, say, in India? How do they balance Jhumri Tilaiya with Saks Fifth Avenue or Karva Chauth with mini skirts? Again, how does all this affect attitudes towards women?
  • Is it normal for a flattened world to be fragmented?
  • What explains the caste system being carried over into this world? If everyone is happy with the money and the benefits why is there a caste system?
  • How has the flattened world helped democracy? How does one have critical discourse?
  • Parochialism v/s globalisation v/s unions v/s equality and egalitarianism. Unions can be protectionist (not good) yet helpful against exploitation (good).
  • What about protectionism in agri-industries? Did you (Friedman) take into account war and recession? Greed?
  • I don’t believe in job protection but the way society is structured needs re-shaping. Media has the power to do that but media is controlled by big businesses. How does the flat world affect messages from media? And audience reception. Not use, reception!
  • What about people skills and the safety of workers?
  • Is a stable middle class crucial to geopolitical stability or does it lead to ennui and stagnation? What is the definition of stable?
  • Why invoke God? (Friedman tells about his rabbi interpreting a story about the Tower of Babel.) Doesn’t invoking God reduce the argument about ‘flatism’ to being a divine decree? George W confabulated with God!
  • What is the proof that ‘civilisations’ to which the Muslim world once felt superior-Hindus, Jews, Christians and Chinese are doing better?
  • If oil is one of the reasons for terrorism and the backwardness of the Middle East what has stopped the U.S. government from trying to bring about democracies in that region?
  • Is China going to implode with ‘prosperity’? Will the Chinese people seek democracy openly?

I found Friedman’s view of the world blinkered and uber capitalist. Yet he goes on to quote Karl Marx in a positive way! The arguments don’t even touch on how people have changed the world. It is insidious, just like fundamentalist ideology that obfuscates references to make converts.

No one can control greed. That is why there is such economic turbulence now. After creating consumers for decades and deliberately keeping the masses stupid and dumb, there is a revolution breeding here.  Karma goes in circles, that is just the nature of this universe. The flat world will have to find a balance.

Respect.

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Fifteen days into the new year and I read about the resolutions everyone has made. I haven’t made any. One day is the same as another right? One year is the same as another except that we get older…and wiser perhaps? 2008 was an interesting year for me personally. A lot happened. I travelled quite a bit and started this blog amongst other things. My road trip over NYE 2008 was the most liberating experience of them all. It all started with my need to just be alone and reflect. Not necessarily at my Vipassana centre. So I planned the trip. Sort of.

31/12/08

I pack my car boot with my tent, sleeping bag, lots of food, walking shoes, hiking boots, my plastic Bata chappals Bata Sandak(that only ‘maids’  wear, according to my desi friends), my jandals, warm clothes, summer clothes, swimming togs, ‘brolly and a big bottle of sunscreen. Got the map, lots of cds, cassette tapes, the petrol tank is full, checked the pressure in the tyres, two cameras, mobile phone, charger, batteries, flashcards and water. It is 2.45ish. I am heading to Waharau Regional Park on the south-east of Auckland, just on the other side of the Hunua Ranges. It is a ninety minute drive and I don’t want to risk NYE traffic headed wherever on the highway. I have checked out all my routes over Google Maps and Google Earth. I know exactly where I am going. I am pleasantly surprised to find complete absence of traffic. Maybe people have left in the morning? The weather is glorious. I look forward to camping out by myself. Never heard of Waharau before I called Auckland Regional Council to book a place at Awhitu Regional Park past Manukau. It is full they say but there is space at Waharau. Yeah cool I say. Costs $10 to stay overnight. I am game to change of plan and easy with a different location. Isn’t life about things never going according to plan? So I drive along, excited. Along highway 2 , taking the Mangatangi exit towards Kaiaua,through pastoral New Zealand. Suddenly…JFC!!!!! The water shows up on the horizon Beckoning from afar. I can’t wait to get to Waharau. It is now about 5pm. The Auckland Regional Council booking office emailed me a code for the padlock on the gates to the camping grounds. I struggle to pen it until this dude comes along and rescues me. He has to go in too. (I like being rescued by handsome dudes, I tell myself. Maybe some damsel-in-distress situations might hit bullseye in 2009?) Once inside a find a place to set up the tent, put it up and go for a walk/hike-a short one. I want to get back and read. I take more photos and think. That is all I will do through my road trip. Take photos and think. Take photos and think. Or read or drive. I like it that I don’t have to work so I can think about anything else but work. Just dreamin’, that’s what I do as I walked through the bush marvelling at the ferns and the various reproductive systems of them. Spores 🙂 I get back to the tent, eat leftover fried rice I’d carried with me and lay back on the chatai to read. It is still daylight and very quiet. Other campers do fry-ups, play badminton and listen to music. Suddenly the sun goes down and it becomes cool. I get inside by sleeping bag, within the womb of the tent, and fall asleep right away.

1/01/09

The new year has begun. It is 6.30am, the sun shines, the birds tweet, the world is up and getting about. I pack up the tent, slap on the sunscreen and head out. It is a big day and I have to reach Waitomo before 11.30 to begin my Blackwater Rafting adventure at 12 noon. I have never driven so far out of Auckland on my own.  I just don’t know how long it will take me to get to the other side of the country. So back on highway1 past Ngaruawahia on to highway 29. That is a good short cut because going through Hamilton takes up more time. It is hot and I am hungry. I have not really had breakfast so I keep munching on baby carrots, plums, bird food (my healthy mixture of pumpkin and sunflower seeds roasted with red chilli powder), drink heaps of water and hope to reach Waitomo on time. New Zealand is such an interesting country. You can go from the east coast to the west coast in just a few hours. You can see hills and dales and treacherous country all at once.  It shines bright under the sun, without the ozone layer. I reach Otorohanga. No time to check out the town but I do notice the flower baskets hanging outside the shops and a big sign that says Kiwiana with a picture of the Buzzy Bee.  I keep on driving until I reach Waitomo.

I feel like Indiana Jones coming out of the caves. I have plunged into cold water, jumped off waterfalls, floated along underground streams, banged my helmeted head against stalagmites and wondered at the surreal beauty of the glow worms. Green things seeming to hang and glow from…ummm… nothing! No sfx can create this! Now it is time to go for a walk in the bush.  No rush to reach New PLymouth. It takes tow and a half hours from Waitomo with plenty of daylight. Besides, I don’t want to drive in the heat. The first day of the year and it is unbearably hot. That is the sign of a good summer? The bush is cool and soothing.

Back on highway 3 I am cruisin’. Faraway pine trees stand out in a silhouette on the horizon towards Awakino. Until I get my first, fleeting glimpse of the Tasman Sea. I gasp. OMG! The drive is curvy now. I really must pay attention to the road but I also want to see the Tasman Sea again. As if in answer to my prayer I only see water from Awakino onwards. The Tasman Sea is so different from the Pacific Ocean. One is blue and deceptively calm, the other full of waves and froth. I stop at Mokau for a stretch.  From here through Urenui onwards there is no break until New Plymouth. I have to cross the gorge and go through steep roads in the  mountains. I am tired and a big tanker tailgates me. I don’t understand drivers that tailgate. Why? Especially if the next bend says 25k and you are on my arse wanting me to go faster. I don’t want to die dude.

Kraftwerk play on the cd. AU-TO-BAH-NNNN. Electronic music on the New Zealand highway. Yeah! I also recommend Latin Jazz and of course good old Hindi films songs. Mere haathon mein nau nau chudiyan hai…reverberate through the mountains, pile on the colour. I see Sridevi do her thing 🙂 The tanker still breathes down my neck. I am mad at it but road rage is a tool for the impatient. I am going to learn to be patient this year. It is not a new year’s resolution exactly but….

2/01/09

New Plymouth. I am at my flatmate’s parents home. I was meant to go for a hike on Mt Taranaki Egmont. The weather is shite. So Jennifer, my flatmate’s mum and I go into town.  To Puke Ariki, the museum cum library (on the other side). The Maori section is well laid out. I like museums and art galleries. Something about the past, something about the future..It is windy and raining. The New Plymouth waterfront is pretty cool. Better than the Auckland waterfront-any day. So far I have seen the Wellington waterfront and the NP waterfront and both are better than Auckland. There is just no character to the Auckland waterfront. The apartment buildings are un-aesthetic monstrosities and one can’t take a walk along the ocean anyway. There is a great coastal walkway in NP.  The buildings are interesting too. That apart NP is a small town. I can’t imagine living here. Only five cinema theatres. That is a good reason for my mental death. All establishments are closed too-this second day of 2009. Everyone is on a summer holiday. We go back home and I take a siesta.

It is still early in the day to just layabout. I go back into town and to Govett-Brewster Art Gallery. The home of Len Lye. Entry is free. Unlike Auckland where we have to pay to get into the museum and the art gallery. I guess the scale and scope are different? I mean I have to pay to see some exhibits at National Gallery Of Victoria, Melbourne but I have to pay to get into Auckland Art Gallery, period.

Later that I go to Pukekura Park for the Festival Of Lights. Overflow, a rock group, plays cover versions. Not quite the head banging I expected, yet… It is an open, free event for families. Only in New Zealand can you see groups of people bringing out their mats and picnic blankets, smiling and giving space to each other.. There are babies in prams and hyperactive little girls who sing loudly to all cover versions of AC/DC. Or is it Metalhead? I have seen rock nerds in movies but for the first time ever I see them in real life. Middle-aged men, some balding,  do the air guitar and head banging oblivious to everyone else. It is sweet and funny. I go closer to the stage. They have their wives/partners and indulgent kids singing along too. Good on them!

3/01/09

The weather still Scheiße. It will be worse on the mountain. So I stay put and read my book. ‘The World Is Flat’ by Thomas Friedman. I am bored by the avo. There has got to be something to do! It is not raining any more but the sun continues to hide behind the clouds. I drive to Oakura. I want to get into the water. Surf’s up as the wind blows and the flags are close to each other. I stare at the grey water. WTF! I change into my togs, slap on sunscreen and dive into it with the boogie board. The water is surpringly warm and every time I get out of the water the cold wind bites  into my skin. Still…

4/01/09

Early morning in the ‘Naki. It is a bright, beautiful sunny day. Just as I had prayed for the previous night. You can’t come to New Plymouth and not go up the mountain ya? It is my last day this side of Aotearoa. I want to get back into my work in Auckland tomorrow. And I am going to get my wish of going hiking on Mt Taranaki Egmont. I pack my stuff into the car, bid farewell to Jennifer and Peter and drive towards the mount as it summons me. Towards Egmont village I proceed. Suddenly-the mountain looms large. OMG! How beautifully imposing is that? Not quite as majestic as the Himalayas yet regal in its own way. I can’t wait to get up and go on my hike. It is a winding road towards the Egmont Visitor Centre, through Egmont National Park.

You have to take all precautions when going on an adventure. If the weather is bad, don’t do it; if the conditions are treacherous, don’t do it. Stick to the designated path. Equip yourself with water, food, suncreen, proper shoes, protective gear…the sun drops down here and it becomes cool. Etc. I go into the visitor centre and enter my details in ‘the book’. Just in case I get lost they know where I went and what time. In case the situation is dire they know whom to contact.

A friend of my flatmate who is a regular on Mt Taranaki Egmont has suggested the Maketawa Hut Loop. First through the bush towards the hut where one can stay overnight or more, up towards the summit but not quite and then back down a gravel path made for 4-wheel drives. I love walking in the bush. This vegetation is so ancient, it whispers secrets I can’t decipher. I can peek up at the summit as I tramp on. The clouds form a curtain around it. When I was at the foot of the Kanchenjunga in Pelling, West Sikkim, the mountain was swaddled by clouds. A local told me then that she (the mountain is a deity for the locals) would reveal herself only when she wanted to.  Past Maketawa Hut, into the sparse new vegetation so different from the bush, I climb in hope the volcanic deity will reveal himself to me. (This mount is a man ya?) But nah. Not this time. I take photos, chat with other hikers (so many Germans…) and go down the gravel road. At least I had an adventure. Now to drive back to Auckland.

On my way home I stop at Otorohanga for a quick visit to the Kiwi House and for the first time ever see a live Kiwi bird. Very cute.

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I am back.  I realise that I am such an integral part of this world, this universe. I have the power and ability to make change, to sustain resources, to make sure I leave behind a beautiful, peaceful world for those after me-however transient everyone’s journey on this earth. Respect of and immersion into this universe, the laws of nature is what will make it a better place. Peace. Now to make some money.

What I learnt this year

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Today is the last day of 2008. I am going on a road trip by myself. Something I could’ve never done in India. I have travelled to Sikkim by myself in 2000 and went to Varanasi this year but the concept of driving my car through rural New Zealand can only happen in New Zealand. Speaking in relative terms, how safe is this country? Very. It is more than a month now since the terrorist attacks on my hometown Bombay. As I have mentioned many times before, the name Mumbai conjures up a singular, parochial, ultra-right-wing Hindu patriarchal identity that reduces the people of the city into disposable humans. That is what the ruling class have done to India. That is what the business class is doing to India and that is what the communists are doing to India. The Congress party, the current government of India is a namby-pamby American slave. The right wing, the Hindutva brigade pay obeisance to Hitler and think nothing of creating mayhem just to ‘cleanse’ the country. The communists have no practical socialist agenda and don’t really offer space for dialogue or solutions. (Mind you I am a lefty, if I have to be placed within a spectrum I will lean towards socialism. And no it is not dead. The marketing machine has lost its mojo.)

Anyway, after crying my heart out over what happened in Bombay on 26-27 November, I deliberately did not write a blog about it because I did not want to blubber on about what wrong the politicians are doing. They are easy fodder. I am interested in what the educated middle class Indian thinks, what the media thinks and what we are going to do about it. It is easy for me, sitting here in Auckland to comment about Bombay/India. I might not have been able to do it if I still lived in Bombay.  So I waited anbd watched. There was the typical reaction. ‘We need more security’; ‘attack Pakistan’; ‘politicians are real terrorists’ etc. The media plays an interesting role in India. Rubert Murdoch’s Star network set the ‘standard’ by having an insidious, right-wing agenda for an aspirational middle class that only blames politicians. Now the others have adapted that too. There is a lot of shouting on Indian television.  And place only for elitist analysis. The Times Of India I find particularly fascinating. When I was little my grandfather inisted on me reading TOI because I could improve my English. Now I cringe when I read it online. It is a habit I find hard to break , sadly. So I cringe and carp about the language and the agenda. TOI is so subtly right wing that if you blinked you could miss it. There is talk of Shining India and success and all the trappings a growing middle class needs to feel separate and superior to the poor. The subtext is all ‘them’ and ‘us’. There has not been an analysis of the attacks or why they happened.

Fortunately, the Indian middle class seems to be waking up. Candlelight vigils and protests are the trend for the moment. A trend, my cynical mind says. Politicians have screwed up the country, they all say. What about us, we the people? Do we abdicate after voting each year? I agree the ruling classes have deliberately made it difficult for the common man to obtain information, there is lack of transparency, lack of proper process or dialogue and I will go even so far as to state that illiteracy is a desirable condition for politicians because the illiterate and poor can be manipulated. But then so can the educated middle class. Manipulated to believe that it is always someone else’s fault. Why hasn’t anyone spoken about the Babri Masjid demolition and the riots in 1992-1993 that led to the bomb blasts on 12 March 1993? We made our country vulnerable! We continue to keep it vulnerable with the socio-economic disparity, religious differences, intolerance and patriarchy. LK Advani, at his age,  should be practicing vanaprashtashram not spreading hatred. I am sorry to say but ek pair kabar mein (one foot in the grave) and he is dying to become the Prime Minister of India.

The way we have created our society, the myth about ‘respecting our elders’ does not permit us to ask sane questions or challenge notions-which is why Indian youth rarely fall out of line. Which is why, as a middle class, it took us one horrific incident to begin to take responsibility for ourselves. The way we let the rich and elite rule us, the media mould our minds that we have not yet learnt the art and craft of serious, critical discourse. Can we talk about introspection? Can we see how we consume and maintain populist sentiment because it is ‘safe’? Can we see how repeated talk about ‘security’ has blinded us to the cracks within?

Out of all the writings that came out after 26/11/2008, this essay by Arundhati Roy encompasses all the issues and why India should not be enslaved to America and why we need to start talking about our problems, not leave them to the rich, elite or political class.

I cry for my Bombay. I see her decaying and dying. Her ‘spirit’, as the politicians so love to say, is nothing but the helplessness of a people bound to earning their living in the face of hardship and recession. There is no space or place for them to seek counselling, to express their emotions-then it all comes out in riots and mental illness. I cry for this state of paralysis.

But through it I only see hope. Maybe we Indians will learn to take charge on day, to challenge, to see tangentially, to counter politicians and the media, to be able to laugh at ourselves, to constantly introspect and not feel ashamed about it. I hope.

That is what I learnt this year. For something good to happen, we first have to experience something horrible. And of course that the world is connected no matter what. If we don’t want more attacks on Bombay we have to think about how the Israel-Palestinian issue can be sorted. Because everything has a trickle down affect.

Happy New Year (and more blogging from me, inshallah.)

The Reach Of Hindutva. I shiver in my boots.

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Let’s get straight to the point. When Barack Obama announced his transition team, to us Indians, the name Sonal Shah stood out like a beacon. We were finally getting there-or so perhaps. That is until three Indian-American groups protested the appointment. So what’s the big deal? We Indians know very well that we have a crab mentality and who goes up must be pulled down. So there were Indians in America who were probably jealous of Sonal. Oh we are like this only! Right? Wrong! The three groups, Indian Coalition Against Genocide (CAG), Indian American Coalition For Pluralism and Non Resident Indians For A Secular And Harmonious India were not pulling Sonal down. They were pointing towards Sonal’s links with the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, the right wing, Hindutva propagating, fundamentalist organisation. (Also established as The Hindu Council in various countries including New Zealand.) The CAG was instrumental in getting Narendra Modi’s visa to the U.S. revoked in 2005. Who is Narendra Modi? Just do a Google search. (Narendra Modi + Gujarat or Narendra Modi + Gujarat riots 2002).

Anyway, Vijay Prashad first wrote about Sonal’s links in an essay on 7 November and then followed it up with another on 13 November. Meanwhile the Indian media picked it up and then Indian communities and boards online went haywire. Those against Sonal’s association with VHP and those defending Sonal Shah.

I agree Vijay Prashad’s first essay was not a well-written piece. He was cautioning but not in a well thought out way. I know, I have been there. Last year when I spoke about the Hindu Council of New Zealand and the Hindu Swayamsevak Sangh (HSS, the ‘foreign’ version of the Rashtriya Swayam Sevak Sangh), there was much hissing and hate mail floating around. Everyone from ethnic poster-children of Aotearoa to hush-hush PC liberal types to religious ‘peaceniks’ thought it was improper for me to say it especially in the way I said it. All mostly with no or little knowledge of complex Indian politics and the methodology of the Hindutva brigade. Vijay Prashad was hauled over the coals. Not by the fundamentalists-no they are proud of Sonal and her association and they are not fond of him anyway. 
Vijay Prashad was criticised by, whom I have figured out as, 1.5 or second geners who are proud to be brown and Indian but who have no idea of the methodology of the right wing parties in India. Oh they abhor the killing of the Muslims and the Christians and they think the Bajrang Dal is vile but that is just one aspect of their modus operandi. What about the slow, insidious indoctrination, the casual spread of hatred?

Please let me reiterate. I grew up in the middle of it all. And it is not easy to separate the ‘wheat from the chaff’…if you know what I mean. Here and now at my workstation in Auckland I can talk openly. Back home, in Girgaum, Mumbai, I would be shouted out – or cowered into silence!

If Sonal has done all that work to serve the poor millions of India and she has all those high qualifications then it neutralises her parents’ hardcore associations with the American branches of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) and to Narendra Modi or even her own membership of VHP-A (She was the national co-ordinator and her membership has now expired apparently). How could Sonal have anything to do with the killing of ‘other’ Indians? Ridiculous! She has been hired for her work with Google, not her association with the VHP! (If I was a Nazi or associated with Al-Qaeda would I be hired for any job in spite of a grand resume?) I suppose raising funds in the US for relief work and all that in India is not yet being seen as translating into funds for Hindutva ideology. For people like me who have witnessed first-hand the insidious growth of Hindutva ideology amongst friends and neighbours it does translate into just that.

Anyway, to be fair to Sonal, she released a public statement to clarify her ties. It is classic. Put on the backfoot she says she has never been involved in Indian politics. One does not have to, living overseas. It is about influencing others to believe in the singular Hindu identity of India. It is about saying ‘Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam’ (the world is a family) but only Hindus please, thank you! She says she does not agree with divisive politics but has never come out denouncing the riots in Gujarat openly. Her do-good organisation Indicorps sends volunteers to work at Ekal Vidyalayas. Good idea to educate tribals, you know, and make sure they never leave the fold of Hinduism. (Yet still treat them like s*^t.) It fudges the issue. The classic methodology of the Hindutva people. Obfuscation. Just like Sonal’s statement. It is not hard. She may have grown up learning it – consciously or subliminally. What does the gora/pakeha know? Or the 1.5/second geners? Surely they are not aware that the stalwarts of Hindutva are avowed, unabashed devotees of Adolf Hitler? That their nationalism is not just about Hindus but about ethnic cleansing?

Now I am not a secular intellectual by any chance. I merely express worry. Maybe Sonal is not guilty by association. How can she be responsible for ‘Hindu terrorists’ (oops, I said it!) or the Malegaon bomb blasts? It is the intelligent, subtle use of the ideology and the covert enmeshing of government and related agencies that is troubling. (Just like New Zealand Police recruiting candidates from the Indian community via the Hindu Council.) For Sonal she is not doing anything wrong. Education does not necessarily change an outlook, especially if one grows up with it. However this is the time to reflect upon them as part of Obama’s transition team. It is the time to see how minute and complex the connections of the Hindu right wing parties are to various grassroots, community, corporate, service and even intelligence agencies; to see the methodology of disseminating fear, insecurity, hatred and violence. Just as bad as any other religious right-except that it comes from the platform of ‘successful, educated, rich and middle class Indians’.

PS-I wonder how much new ‘ethnic affairs minister Pansy Wong knows about these convolutions of the South Asian diaspora here? I worry that she may actually be seeking advice from them without knowing about it… She called me stroppy… ‘you are that one who talked about the Hindu Council…my you are stroppy’ 😀

Frogs In A Pond-1

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Raj Thakeray has done it again! We, the Marathi people, dither between agreeing with the ‘Mumbai-being-taken-over-by-the-North-Indians’ idea and abhorring the methodology of getting rid of them. Before I pontificate there are a few things to clear. My current city of residence is Auckland, New Zealand. I choose to live here. My hometown is Bombay/Mumbai. I am a daughter-of-the-soil. Hardcore. My grandfather was born in Bombay in 1899. He was a municipal corporator in the Bombay Municipal Corporation in the first post-independence elections. There is a street junction named after him. My father was involved with the Sanyukta Maharashtra movement. I was born in Bombay/Mumbai and have lived almost all my life in the family home at Girgaum (where my grandfather lived since 1928). I also spent some years in Dadar. Both Maharashtrian enclaves. Most of my family and friends live in Bombay/Mumbai. Serious, white collar middle-class. Yes. Mee Marathi. I belong to the state of Maharashtra; I am a Bombayite, Mumbaikar. But it is only one part of my identity; of who I am. In this post-globalised world, where mobility and migration are taken for granted, I am many things; I have multiple identities.

Unfortunately, like all fundamentalists, Raj Thakeray believes in the concept of a singular identity. He also believes in fanning the insecurity of his own people to enable his rise to power. How visionary is that? To generate fear in your own people; to take them backwards and create hatred for other people because they are ‘taking over’? Why just him, the government of Maharashtra has abdicated its responsibility towards its people in the name of populism and with an eye on the next state and Lok Sabha (general) elections. Raj wants power, the government wants to get back into power, they both want to eliminate Uddhav Thakeray from the race…so why not sacrifice Mumbai Aai, Mother Mumbai? She does not have a voice anyway. I am intimate with many of those bang in the middle of this madness. All sons and daughters of Maharashtra. The lone voice of sanity I spoke to and who can possibly take action is also relatively helpless because there are forces she cannot control. Such an emotive issue this is. If I was in Girgaum at this moment the discussion would be all about the bhaiyyas who ran away back to North India. Jai Maharashtra!

Instead I am going to try and analyse the problem. Purely from the point of view if being a migrant, from being a Bombayite and a generally opinionated person 🙂 It is very complex from my p-o-v and not just about North Indian migrants. It is about the Indian democracy, the bureaucracy, the attitude of the Indian public to democracy; it is about caste, community, culture, aspirational values, money and the Indian politicians.

In a crazy, chaotic, multilingual, multicultural democracy like India where Indians can travel to and live in any part of the country it becomes more complicated. There are bound to be tensions and problems within the diversity and between people of different states. Such is the structure of India.

Those North Indians that come to Bombay are ready to do any job and work any number of hours and anywhere in the city. They come because there is absolute poverty in their states. Maharashtrians on the other hand rarely travel outside Maharashtra. I generalise here because even within Maharashtra there are regional differences. The Kokanis, those from Vidarabha, from Pune-side etc etc.  But we Maharashtrians are relativey unambitious, unadventurous, keeping our heads down, nine-five kind of people. Many of us are lazy too. And we complain a lot. On the positive side we have great wit, humour, theatrical traditions and we are a progressive, socialist kind of people who treat women well. Of course there will be friction.

Then there is the lack of infrasctructure in Bombay. The state ignored her, the centre ignored her and the people-the locals-the sons and daughters of the soil showed no sense of ownership. That Bombay has problems of gigantic proportions is not new. How much can one milk a strip of land made from seven islands along the Arabian Sea? There is no place for expansion, there is the Land Ceiling Act (now repealed) and greedy politicians who don’t love the city. Rarely have the people of Mumbai protested against all this. Oh there have been bandhs and rail rokos and other kinds of mob protests against the ruling government (and mostly instigated by Shiv Sena) but not a civil discussion about how things can change/should be changed. Democracy in India is about ‘civil disobedience’ and this civil disobedience is about riots and vandalism; about beating up people. We lack a sense of history and heritage as well.

That money rules Mumbai is also not new. How many Maharashtrians can afford a place in their own city? How many Maharashtrian ‘developers’ exist? (That Raj Thakeray and Manohar Joshi are developing the Kohinoor Mill Compound in Dadar is interesting-wonder who many ‘marathi mansa’ will be able to afford flats there?) Besides the city has always been built ad hoc. None of the old textile mill compounds now being developed have allowed for green spaces or to accomodate redundant textile mill workers and their families-who incidentally are part of the mobs that Raj incites. They look at the highrises and resent the outsiders. It is human nature. Even I get irritated at the Marwaris that are now buying the chawls in Girgaum and converting them to ‘vegetarian only’ building societies. Only because they have the money to buy prime South Bombay land.

Also we Mumbaikars have rarely tried to own our city. It is always someone else’s fault. The bhaiyyas now sell fresh fish door to door because the native fisherfolk of Mumbai don’t do it any more. Their young ones are now at university. That is just how the social order changes with time. When the Shiv Sena was ruling the state after the 1992-93 riots, ‘the boys’ were given licences and permits to run their street food stalls. Pav Bhaji, Vada Pav, Chai…the staple diet of the man on the street and employment for ‘the boys’-the locals. All Mumbaikars know and I have it from the mouth of those-that-pay-obeisance-to-the-Thakerays ‘the boys’ rented these food stalls to others (South and North Indians) and are back to being unemployed. That is how the social order is maintained ya? Through laziness. So that ‘the boys’ can hang out at the galli nakas and be ready to beat up anyone at the drop of a hat. Now that is hard work!

Because Indian democracy is crazy the way it is and the bureaucracy and politicians deliberately maintain the divide between them and the ‘common man’, the regular citizen is unable to engage with the powers-that-be. On the other hand we common citizens merely vote and leave the rest to the government thinking it is the government’s job to make things happen. It is a bad situation. And then we have those that are the frogs in a pond. Those who never get the bigger picture because all they want is power and money. Like all Indian politicians.

(There’s more to come in another blog.)

What I learnt in Melbourne

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This blog is long overdue. I know the elections of the world are around the corner and the elections of this little country called New Zealand are on 8th November…there is much happening everywhere. The ‘ethnics’ in South Auckland are unhappy with the way their problems are being handled. Deliberate ghettoisation and fragementation of communitites, pitting one against the other…as a friend mentioned. Hmmm…now where have we heard it before? Divide and rule? Anyway, there is much to write about if I want to. Elections are always exciting times but really I leave it to the experts. I know I will vote and for whom I am going to vote. Then maybe I shall make noise another day. This blog is about my trip top Melbourne almost a month ago. What with crashing hard drives and looming deadlines it has been tough to find time to blog. I want to discpline myself and blog at least once in fifteen days…maybe after the elections?

Right now it is all about what I learnt in Melbourne. I love Melbourne. This was my fourth trip to the city. I love hanging out at Federation Square, taking the local public transport-bus/train/tram to different parts of the city and just walking in CBD. I love sitting by the Yarra on South Bank and see the world go by. Yeah I love Melbourne. This time I encountered a very interesting person with a very interesting family history that is deeply connected to the world of Indian cinema. It is not a story that I can tell-yet. All I can say is that I was privileged to see the private collection of a person that brought out fond childhood memories for me. Those days of watching ChhayaGeet/Chitrahaar on Doordarshan and Sunday evening Hindi films when that was the only entertainment in good old India. Might sound boring now but looking back I think it gave us (or at least me) a sense of history. That is why when I saw this collection of pictures, photographs and movies I knew how important this story is and why it needs to be told. A story that spans continents and is full of high drama. A story that is like a typical masala Hindi film with action, emotion, drama, comedy, tragedy, romance, colonialism…get the gist? A story that has affected the lives of the most unlikely people. I know, intriguing. But in today’s time when the meaning of ‘Bollywood’ is usurped by capitalists and those-that-want-us-to-be-exotic or those-that-want-us-to-consume only, when you don’t know where you come from this identity-defining story can give the shivers. I then looked up Youtube for old Hindi film videos and-thanks to those passionate people out there who have uploaded absolute gems. Remember this song from ACCHUT KANYA? Did we get bored of this on ChhayaGeet or what? Now I taught it to my nieces. This story also has the strangest connection to a British music composer of Indian origin. To digress a bit there is this generation of musicians in the UK who have been inspired by Indian film music. Stuff that teens today may not know that comes from way back. Just one example. This song from the film YAHUDI made by Sohrab Modi (Minerva Movietone) was remixed by Nitin Sawhney for THE NAMESAKE into a completely different context and it worked!

I also saw an amazing exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria. This place never fails to surprise me. Last time I visited Melbourne I saw the Guggenheim Collection and this trip I got a glimpse of Art Deco from all over Europe, from America and also Australia and New Zealand. I love Art Deco. There are many buildings in Bombay inspired by the concept. Heritage structures that might not survive if Raj Thakeray and other forces have their rule over the city. Anyway I did not know that Art Deco had a nationalist basis and in spite of being called only decorative, I could see the colonialism in the concept too. The Egyption inspired Cartier jewels and the Japanese inspired furniture, the African inspired clothes…then France had a major Art Deco exhibtion in Paris in 1925. This confirmed France’s place in the world as a premier ‘arts’ nation.

The streets of Melbourne are so vibrant and multicultural that it sort of belies the ‘White Australia’ that is portrayed in the Australian media. It may not be officially so now but television in Australia is all about blokes and big haired blondes that speak and behave ‘Stralian’. There is no place for other migrants that may have built the nation. Apparently Melbourne has the highest number of Greeks outside of Greece. But do we see them on the telly?  Or so many Italians that live in Melbourne? The culture on television is all ‘Anglo’ and ‘Stralian’. In Auckland, on a daily basis, I see Maori every where. I see them on television too. On the ‘white’ channels and on Maori Televivion but I saw maybe two aborigines just once on my first trip to Melbourne. Shuffling through the streets, in rags and smelling of alcohol; a defeated attitude to them. This is what Australia has done to her natives. I saw them and was struck with guilt for my middle class, post-colonial existence that allows me an education and mobility across the world. I wonder if third world migrants to Australia ever think of the aborigines or how systematic suppression, racism and colonialism has destroyed one of the oldest peoples in the world?

I try and learn something new everyday. I learnt on my various trips to Melbourne how all the people of the world are connected to each other and to the past. What happens in one part of the world affects people somewhere else maybe decades later. What the Western world does to stay in power, what parochial politics does to local people has resonance somewhere else. We may have our cultures, religions and languages; we may have our countries but we have this world, this universe and sisterhood first.

Beauty, politics and ‘our Indian culture’.

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On Sunday evening I attended the Miss Indianz beauty pageant. Of course I went for the cheap thrills and because I had a free ticket. I am totally against beauty contests. They degrade and objectify women firmly placing them within the patriarchy. Did anyone see the sketch of an Indian man going into spasms when he sees a scantily clad gori rolling out chappatis on A Thousand Apologies? That is the ultimate Indian male fantasy. That is what beauty contests do. This is not to disparage the young participants. Mostly sixteen and seventeen, the ‘follow-your-dreams’ drill indoctrinated into them, they were obedient Indian girls probably unaware of feminism or the post-feminist world or that the right to vote was hard won. I seriously doubt if they know who Arundhati Roy/Vanadana Shiva/Medha Patkar are. They were merely showcasing Indian culture!

And wherever there is showcasing ethnic culture the politicians turn up. To smugly revel in the multicultural nature of our Aotearoa New Zealand. So Phil Goff, Chris Carter and Rajen Prasad were there. I’d seen Chris Carter the previous evening at the Ethiopian New Year celebrations. Him, Ashraf Choudhary, Farida Sultan and Helen Clark, lots of grateful refugees even more beholden in the presence of the MPs  and funky young Africans who want to represent themselves. Multiple identities and all. tyipcally Chris Carter mentioned nileflow.com, the pan-African-New Zealander website as if it would not have happened if these people had not been supported. Nuredin, one of the founders and very articulate, emphatically told me they did not want government funding or bureaucrats appropriating them. They wanted to do this themselves, as they deemed fit. Imagine another showcasing of culture in the hands of government officials!

Not that Miss Indianz is there yet. But Rajen Prasad promised more ‘celebrations of Indian culture’ when he got into parliament. That is before he removed his jacket and walked the ramp.

Utterly, utterly vacuous.

Someone tell him Obama he ain’t. And, if as he says, he is a novice at politics, then he should maybe get Sarah Palin’s speechwriters or John Key’s spin doctors to do his spiel. Or it does not matter because the copy-paste ethnic Indian media is beholden to him anyway?

The phrase ‘Indian culture’ was thrown about so much at this event it was like vomitus after excess indulgence. I know, terrible analogy but the words have lost there meaning. What does Indian culture mean? Whose Indian culture? What version? Should not there be a discourse to argue about and qualify this phrase? Different meanings for different people ya? And all legitimate ya? Yet this singing-dancing exotica that ghettoises the ‘ethnics’.

At least that is what was showcased at the pageant. Out of the seven finalists in the talent round, one did her version of Stupid Cupid and another spunked out in a coconut bra. The rest all did Bollywood dances! Even the girl who came out dressed in a nine-yard saree. Ah, I told my colleague, she is going to do the lavni, Maharashtra’s folk dance. Instead she just did a Bollywood version of the lavni. As if there is a dearth of lavni songs-even from Marathi films. (Seriously I wanted to shout Jai Maharashtra!) Then an entertainment item had very young girls opening their legs wide open and shake the pelvis. Our great Indian culture! Such dance steps so normalised now that perhaps neither the parents nor teacher thinks it is sexual? Or I have a dirty mind? 😀

I guess we are floundering in the whirlpool of mediocrity letting others, especially politicians and bureaucrats, decide what our culture is. Popular culture is one thing and fine in its place. What about other aspects? How and where do we create spaces to integrate into the mainstream and develop ideas coming out of that? Or do we remain the performing monkeys that come out once a year for Diwali/Lantern Festival and go back to the ghetto after that?

The Nats have no clue about the multicultural demographics in this country and putting Asians on the list does not mean anything. On the other hand Labour is stagnating and talks only to those community leaders that are subservient (or invite them for dinner or whatever). And all men too!

So how does one assert the need for creative spaces and cultural interaction? Move out of the ghetto mentally. Take charge. Ask questions. Have a dialogue. Democracy does not mean just voting. And being a minority does not mean just feeling perpetually grateful. We are more than ‘our Indian culture’ (as defined by others). Be brave. That’s all I can say.

And to end this classic lavni from the Marathi film Amar Bhupali. 🙂

Trans-culti digital migrant ya?

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I bought my first PC, ever, in January 2001. As a medical student and a child of the eighties in India (what I call the lost generation) computers were for engineers to do all kinds of things they do. The future was a lucrative medical practice, that’s all. Audio tapes abounded and walking around campus with a walkman was ‘herogiri’.  We made trunk calls to our parents on Sundays from the hospital reception at Krishna Institute of Medical Sciences, Karad, District Satara. Maharashtra.

So I bought my first PC in January 2001 in India and my first mobile phone here in Auckland in 2002. A couple of weeks ago I bought my first laptop, the ASUS eee PC 901 and leased a Mac this week. Now I have a home hub that has enabled my flat with a wireless network, the eee PC is Bluetooth configured to my mobile phone and I can edit my film on the big Mac while browsing Safari. I can live in many worlds at the same time, take what I want, mould and fit it into my existence and learn to be comfortable with it. And now I am writing this blog on the eee PC sitting by the fireplace in the warm comfort of my living room. WOW!

I am a digital migrant! I am a transculturist!

My journey into digital realms began almost the same time as my life in Aotearoa New Zealand. I moved to NZ in December 2001. A dual migration. My mind was already in the space of things-I-knew and imagined-but-did-not-think-existed. Intangible ideas about culture and creativity; life; the world. Dreams of a GP in Girgaum, Mumbai, India. I was obviously already connected to the web and knew about the interntet and all that….duh…but the space in which you live/exist brings a different perspective to even digital spaces. Ya? At the risk of making a tenuous connection I think being a digital migrant helped me crystallise my politics and identity about culture and life. Made me a transculturist.

Digital natives are those that grew up with and were surrounded by digital devices. They think differently from digital immigrants according to Marc Prensky.  There is a cultural divide, a generation gap amongst digital natives and digital migrants. Then there are those migrants that assimilate and those that integrate. Or not. Just like those that migrate to other countries. (This is just my theory.)

In my digital world not only do I do the FB, YT, Flickr, Google Earth, i-Google thing, I have a social life, I connect with other people, read articles, blog, learn new things, do my Christmas shopping on-line…etc. I am not enslaved to everything this world offers, I am not concerned that I don’t have an i-pod and hence am naff. I take what I want and discard what does not suit me. But I am aware of the choices. This digital realm is an integral layer of my life. It makes me look at the world in a different light because I am part of it and it is part me. Just like the various cultures and peoples that I encounter in Aotearoa New Zealand and take for granted. And it is not just ‘ethnic’ cultures or the Anglo-Saxon pakeha mashed potato, chips and fish. Even various European cultures that I was only vaguely aware are around for me to absorb from. On Friday night I watched the Mark Morris Dance Group perform the Mozart Dances. My Indian senses wanted a narrative in each dance but then a conversation at the after-party (dahlings!) made me think. Not everything in life has to have a narrative does it? The dances were like a river flowing gently and gracefully to wonderfully touching Mozart compositions. My transculturism is not just hip-hop bhangra haka is it?  On Saturday, at the Taste Of Japan event, I met a Japanese guy from Blenheim who makes t-shirts inspired by Japanese designs. How cool is that? And the Hello Kitty toys. And those various anime toys…sometimes I wish I did grow up in India with a ripe, non-Bollywood, counter youth culture. Maybe there was one but I completely missed it? However I like where I am today. Absorbing, learning, growing up. Changing. All the time.

I am on the path of migration and there is no going back.

Taxiing through…responses and more

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This one I just had to write as a separate note. Not really a blog. First of all it never ceases to surprise me that someone/anyone actually reads this blog. Well, thanks. For me this blog is a self-indulgence of sorts but also an exercise in writing. A disciplined sort of writing. I force myself to write; to think; to compose sentences that convey meaning and an image; to develop a style that I can call my own. It is what writers do I believe and if anyone does read what I put out then it is sweet appreciation. Whether anyone agrees with me or not. I don’t really care to be anyone’s favourite child and it is fine to be hammered for opining too. I find it funny how one is not supposed to ask questions of those with whom you share political ideology. I fund it funny how all those-who-want-to-save-the-world actually have no sense of humour. Although the posterchild of the ethnics did say to me that I don’t have a sense of humour neither am I funny…sorry about that. I can’t be disdainfully funny about right-wing types. I’d rather be uncomfortable, awkward and introspective on my side of the political spectrum. Self improvement is what I aim for. And it is stimulus when someone harrumphs ‘Sapna is a loose cannon/big-mouth/loud-mouth.’ Honestly. 😀

Anyway. ‘Nuff ranting. This note is just an update. First a response to Balochie for his (her?) comment on Jesus being a Jew. Yeah dude. Thanks for that. I meant he was from the Middle East and ‘Arabic-looking’. Maybe I need to write better? 🙂

Another, an update on the lack of response in Aotearoa NZ about the nuclear deal that the Indian Government is pushing for. India is meant to become a power to reckon with if the world recognises the deal. I happened to run into Michael Field from Fairfax soon after I wrote my blog on the nuclear deal. He had just returned from India and told me about how Indians are divided about the nuclear deal. I ranted, as I do, about the lack of analysis and scrutiny in NZ media and the government. And hey, Michael did some digging. (Not because of me!) Here is an interesting twist in the story…to the happily-ever-after ending and world standing that India is looking for. I wonder who is lobbying for and against this? I mean it is not like the relationship NZ has with China is it? Despite cricket, despite Sir Ed (Hillary), despite being colonies and part of the Commonwealth India and New Zealand are, at best, ‘acquaintances’ not friends. NZ is too small for India and India is too complex for NZ (especially bureaucrats who prefer the simplicity of yum char and the singular nationalistic representation that Chinese Government officials give to China).

I can only wait and watch. How the nuclear deal shifts the balance of power and ‘friendship’ in the world and at what pace and cost India develops.