Being desi in Australia in the 80s and 90s was a lonely experience compared with the rise of other cultures. The Italians introduced lattes, the greeks new restaurants serving delicious food and then the chinese were making their mark with their academic abilities. In this period of time, we started to get comedians from these backgrounds emerge and work against the 'usually WASP' Australian television images. Shows like Acropolis Now started to make its mark, giving the Greek Community a great opportunity for their culture, language and humour a place to shine.
The Desi Community was still growing and encouraging people to move away from the arts and move into more traditional careers. They still do it today. When a person is a writer, they usually work as a lawyer during the day or a person with a medical background afraid to pursue what they love, like a fashion career, is encourage to dismiss the ideas and go for something more 'respectable'. What happens is that we get these talented people who later on in life, want to make the switch.
Most do. And it gives us the chance to have an opportunity to share their stories and talents.
It's inspiring but also sad that these creative souls did not have the courage to do what they believed in and loved instead, the pressure of family, friends and the community as a whole contributed to choosing a 'suitable' career.
It's a similar case for the duo from 'Fear of a brown Planet' in Melbourne. Amir Rahman and Nazeem Hussain were studying law when they fell in love with comedy. They dabbled in gigs relating to desi and australian muslim life whilst studying and at the end of their courses with with some heart break for their parents, decided to pursue this 'alternative' career full time.
Congratulations to them for working against any hardships and pursuing what they love.
What they are doing is important because they are reprsenting the alternatives to the desi communities and also, bringing their stories and humour to the mainstream Australian Community.
They are funny and for desi's it's great to have them as role models.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
why bollywood means so much
There she stood, at the cliff top, dancing around her lover, girating her hips and claiming her never-ending love for her beloved.
This is the image of the bollywood heroine in 1983.
The bollywood heroine I grew up with looked Indian and in most cases wore a sari.
She played an important part in our lives. We did not want to be her, but in most cases liked what she represented. For the children of non-white migrants growing up in a western society it was sometimes a difficult task looking for role models. The image of beauty we were bombared with in advertising was of women who were tall, blonde and had blue eyes. We used to wonder how the rest of the community, especially the brown people could be 'beautiful'.
Bollywood films gave us this. Desi beauty, fashion and love were presented to us. It was a place where brown women were beautiful. Where the men would fight and die for the desi woman. Looking back, those vhs tapes gave us so much more than dancing and singing, it was a place desi beauty was celebrated.
Sridevi- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XplYZEUqfiU
Shabana Azmi: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=243wjJ_Z8yI
Parveen Babi interview- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znDwCIKYjcU
Tribute : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k21iGFay5OA&feature=related
This is the image of the bollywood heroine in 1983.
The bollywood heroine I grew up with looked Indian and in most cases wore a sari.
She played an important part in our lives. We did not want to be her, but in most cases liked what she represented. For the children of non-white migrants growing up in a western society it was sometimes a difficult task looking for role models. The image of beauty we were bombared with in advertising was of women who were tall, blonde and had blue eyes. We used to wonder how the rest of the community, especially the brown people could be 'beautiful'.
Bollywood films gave us this. Desi beauty, fashion and love were presented to us. It was a place where brown women were beautiful. Where the men would fight and die for the desi woman. Looking back, those vhs tapes gave us so much more than dancing and singing, it was a place desi beauty was celebrated.
Sridevi- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XplYZEUqfiU
Shabana Azmi: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=243wjJ_Z8yI
Parveen Babi interview- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=znDwCIKYjcU
Tribute : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k21iGFay5OA&feature=related
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Students
I remember the 90s as a time of change, when most of us were moving into adulthood and into new life experiences. It was an exciting time, when techo music was beginning to make it mark on the world and Seinfled was the greatest show on earth!
There was a new wave of Pakistani's popping up on the streets of Melbourne. They were young men, dressed in daggy clothes with the classic 'papadum' accent. These guys also presented the 'new' and modern outlook of the 'motherland'. Most migrants in the community had migranted in the late 70s and as they became parents maintained the same values from that time. So the first generation grew up with old values like their parents being strict and maintaining 'old fashion' views, values or traditions from the sub continent.
These 'students' did two things a) became potential husbands b) started a culture clash.
While most of the parenst regarded these guys as 'poor', some considered them 'low' class and 'bad' people because they were away from home and free to enjoy the benefits of Australia. The parents refused to acknowledge these guys even though they themselves migrated here. There was a disconnect between the community and students. The experienced migrants, behaved in the classic 'sub-continent' way and developed a class system. The lower class, where given little support. The community felt that it was only fitting that the students fend for them selves and consistently referred to them in a degrogity way.
I was reminded of this point of view, when a woman from our community was husband hunting, she's Australian born but the type that loves the desi clothes, language and culture. She'll accept most things but not a husband from there. We were at a party and the husband topic arose. She said, 'that she would never marry anyone from there and that they were a bunch of losers'. She was adamant that if she did marry someone from there she would spent her life married to a taxi driver. While, the world had moved forward(post 90s) in the last twenty years, the men who came through as the first wave of 'students' were now working professionals, I found myself somewhat surprised the the old 90s mentality lived on.
There was a new wave of Pakistani's popping up on the streets of Melbourne. They were young men, dressed in daggy clothes with the classic 'papadum' accent. These guys also presented the 'new' and modern outlook of the 'motherland'. Most migrants in the community had migranted in the late 70s and as they became parents maintained the same values from that time. So the first generation grew up with old values like their parents being strict and maintaining 'old fashion' views, values or traditions from the sub continent.
These 'students' did two things a) became potential husbands b) started a culture clash.
While most of the parenst regarded these guys as 'poor', some considered them 'low' class and 'bad' people because they were away from home and free to enjoy the benefits of Australia. The parents refused to acknowledge these guys even though they themselves migrated here. There was a disconnect between the community and students. The experienced migrants, behaved in the classic 'sub-continent' way and developed a class system. The lower class, where given little support. The community felt that it was only fitting that the students fend for them selves and consistently referred to them in a degrogity way.
I was reminded of this point of view, when a woman from our community was husband hunting, she's Australian born but the type that loves the desi clothes, language and culture. She'll accept most things but not a husband from there. We were at a party and the husband topic arose. She said, 'that she would never marry anyone from there and that they were a bunch of losers'. She was adamant that if she did marry someone from there she would spent her life married to a taxi driver. While, the world had moved forward(post 90s) in the last twenty years, the men who came through as the first wave of 'students' were now working professionals, I found myself somewhat surprised the the old 90s mentality lived on.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Sara's Tune
Growing up, Suicide was always an off-limits topic. It was regarded as the thing 'other' people did. That implied anyone non-desi. We were taught this from an early age, that being 'desi' meant we were different because of our religion, culture and value system.
Some of us believed this, others not so. The idea that anyone would take this action was so beyond anything imaginable.
This path was taken by people we least expected. Gregarious, beautiful and talented people with what seemed like the world at their feet.
Sara was a childhood friend, with personality, brains and beauty. Perhaps I am biased but I felt she had everything and yet, I knew there was little else I envied. She was bulimic and would spend time self hating. Her parents would beat her. All kinds of physical and emotional abuse. She would race home from school to avoid another beating, if she was late even 5 mins her father would accuse her of 'having a boyfriend' then start at her. Sara tried and really tried to be the good daughter.
At the first chance to escape, she accepted a marriage proposal at 17. She landed in similar place to where she started with another monster.Devastated she overdosed on pills. She woke up in hospital disappointed that they had pumped her stomach. Sara escaped from her husband and parents. Sara tried to rebuild her life with a new place to live, career and wardrobe. But the cycle would repeat- boyfriend, marriage or relationship, trouble, escape, an attempt. Sara moved to the country then overseas and built a successful career but she was not complete.
One evening, Sara's aunt came to my house. She stood outside with a young man that I did not recoginise. He looked as though he had been crying, his eyes were red. Her aunt told me what had happened. One of the hardest things was knowing that she died in her car alone. The second, that I could never speak to her again. At that time, I realised that there were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn't speak. The only sound I could hear was a deafening silence.
Sara had left.
Her parents wanted to know why.
?
Some of us believed this, others not so. The idea that anyone would take this action was so beyond anything imaginable.
This path was taken by people we least expected. Gregarious, beautiful and talented people with what seemed like the world at their feet.
Sara was a childhood friend, with personality, brains and beauty. Perhaps I am biased but I felt she had everything and yet, I knew there was little else I envied. She was bulimic and would spend time self hating. Her parents would beat her. All kinds of physical and emotional abuse. She would race home from school to avoid another beating, if she was late even 5 mins her father would accuse her of 'having a boyfriend' then start at her. Sara tried and really tried to be the good daughter.
At the first chance to escape, she accepted a marriage proposal at 17. She landed in similar place to where she started with another monster.Devastated she overdosed on pills. She woke up in hospital disappointed that they had pumped her stomach. Sara escaped from her husband and parents. Sara tried to rebuild her life with a new place to live, career and wardrobe. But the cycle would repeat- boyfriend, marriage or relationship, trouble, escape, an attempt. Sara moved to the country then overseas and built a successful career but she was not complete.
One evening, Sara's aunt came to my house. She stood outside with a young man that I did not recoginise. He looked as though he had been crying, his eyes were red. Her aunt told me what had happened. One of the hardest things was knowing that she died in her car alone. The second, that I could never speak to her again. At that time, I realised that there were so many things I wanted to say, but I couldn't speak. The only sound I could hear was a deafening silence.
Sara had left.
Her parents wanted to know why.
?
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