Indian Vogue

The first time I saw a copy of Indian Vogue, I almsot burst into tears.

Indian Vogue celebrates Desi beauty. The bollywood actresses, models and socialites are in every shade of brown and importantly, celebrated as being beautiful.
http://www.vogue.in/Fashion

Growing up as a 'non-white' in Australia we are bombared with images and the belief that 'blondes are beautiful' leading to many of us to develop complexes. Because our images were never celebrated we felt different and non-mainstream-forver referred to as the 'ethnic' beauties.

With India's boom in wealth and success, luxury labels and adopting westerness in many levels is a unique situation. It's a unique time that's caught and reflected in the magazine.

It's refreshing to see beautiful images of Indian beauty, the modern day life of Indians and they way the embrace luxury-brands-westerness-success and enjoy their wealth.



The Desi Party Gal

When I was younger, many moons ago, the Desi Party Gal was a woman who lived in a secret world. A world that came to life when she could sneek out of the house when her parents were out, or the one who told many white lies to escape the ever predicatable suburban lifestyle.

This woman, who in my eyes was a personal favourite was worldly, knowing and seemed to be able to read the minds of people. In hindsight, it was probably her life experience that gave her a more solid start compared with the rest fo us who didn't have her courage. Her social skills and diplomacy were second to none. There was always a smile on her face for the aunties at parties, I wondered  did she have the same one on her nights out? Or was she a tourtured soul?

She was the party animal, always with a large cirlce of friends who would cover for her when she could escaped to the nightclubs in her 'every colour available' haulter tops to dance away the night with a glass of red in her hands. With many admirers, but none that she could commit to in any way, she seemed to be a lonely figure. Did she look at other people her age who were in relationships and think 'why not me?'. The romances were always brief and simple as she couldn't go all the way forever weary of saving her virginity or devote her heart because of her family's wishes.

She led adouble life fo the sake of her family. In front of family and the community she would play the part of the innocent young girl, but behind the scenes with her friends she'd be in raging party mode free of the cultural and religious constraints that she rarely followed or believed in. A sacrafice? Most people who face this in non-desi cultures can usually decide on the type of life they want to lead and eleminate anything that doesn't suit.

But why can't the desi gals? Why continue the charade?

Islamabad Dreaming

Islamabad. The capital. The city reeks of power. This is the place where million dollar mansions are built in beautiful tree lined streets near endless acres of surrounding parkland.

Pakistan has created the ideal city where east meets west. There are museums, parklands and beautiful architecture. Wealth and power seem to flow together.

From an Australian perspective, it's like our capital, Canberra. A purpose built capital designed to house politicians and all other workers of parliment. Similar to Washington DC, there's a sense that the city has a job to do and you can feel it happening around you.

Mountains surround the city. The margualla hills overlook the city providing breathtaking views.

The trendy and hip, meet at the Randevenous cafe for strong cafe lattes.

Families shopping at Jinnah Supermarket for the latest designer wear.

The traffic is like that of any international city across the world with order, laws and sometimes, disorder.

The difference is that this city is at the center of the world's troubles and you can feel that too.

Everyone wants a piece of it, the east and the west. It's unlike any other.

Guards, soldiers and guns are part of the architecture. It's guarded. From the mountains tops, to the constant check points, everyone is on edge.

Mountains and hills surround the city, with Monal Restaurant sitting above. Have lunch at the cafe and look down at the working city.

Monkeys inhabit the hills and surrounding parkland. Always looking for food.

It's the home away home for children of migrants on holidays in Pakistan.

The Januaury air is cold like in Melbourne. Everywhere I looked, Islamabad reminded me of home.

Now that I am back home, the icy winter weather reminds me of this city. Guess I'm Islamabad dreaming...

Pakistan

Pakistan. A name. A country. A far away land of my parents, community and people that surround me in married life.

Growing up in Australia, I was always in conflict with this place. Because of the differences in values, culture and not understanding what it represented.

A few days ago, I met someone who shed light on his love for Pakistan. In 2011, he is an elderly man but in 1947, he was a young inexperienced 14 year old youth. He was the head of his family. Bombay had been his home and now he had to leave. 

At 14, he was solely responsible for moving his family through the troubles and violence of partition into Pakistan. Imagine, 14 years old, in Bombay a place where muslims were being murdered hourily as they tried to escape.

He managed to get help and get his family onto a horse driven carriage. They somehow made it through the streets without being attacked. Once he arrived at the hostel near the loading dock for the ship he ventured out alone. There on the streets he saw murder, innocent women and children being attacked by rampaging mobs. Attacks that were senseless and a waste.

He and his family spent one night in the hostel that was unprotected and in the morning were able to get on the ship to Karachi.

His love of Pakistan is loyal and true. When his family arrived they were welcomed by the government and given tents and provisions to survive.

He managed to provide for his family and give them a good life. But, it was hard.

My 14th year, was nothing compared to that. The only reall drama I faced was having to deal with zits thanks to puberty. But this is different. Life can take a person anyware. 50 years later who knew then, that he would be telling me the story. Now it's for you.

Shalimar Gardens Lahore Pakistan

Forget Paris

Winter Collection from Bareeze 2011

One of the most exciting elements about being a product of two cultures, is the clothes!

Eastern clothings, in this case, hailing from Pakistan or India, consists of colourful exciting evening wear saris, party wear salwaar kameez and beautiful bridal wear.

When traveling abroad, thanks to the bOOming Australian dollar we are in a position to purchase, purchase and return with a large collection.

While the western world describes women who enjoy fashion , as 'fashionistas', the desi woman in this case can be from any background(socio and economic) and be a lover, fan and follower.

When I was travelling abroad, it felt like everyone had an opinion on fashion, they seemed to know what was in and who was wearing it on TV. Fashion did transend to the common person, unlike in the west where you have to be 'in it, to get it'.

If you can't get the designer label, just go and get a similar fabric. Have it made for your body at the local tailors( $5). This seemed to be the mantra. It's one that people embrace.

http://www.needlzbyshalimar.com/

From the bazaars of Islamabad, Murree, Lahore and the busy streets of Karachi, I learnt that understanding colour, fabrics and a keen eye are a must!The western shopper mentality flys out the window when in the East. Anything is possible, designs and colours with the magical customised fit that's elusive in Australia(unless you wanna spend $500 bucks).

Women bond over clothing. Your worst enemy will stop to check out your outfit and throw in a compliment before resuming acts of war. It works!

In the desi wives world Eastern clothes, styles and beauty are embraced. Why visit Paris for couture, when the local tailor in Gulshan of Karachi or in Jinnah Supermarket in Islamabad can make a three piece outfit for you.

what if...................

A long time ago, the 'aunties' in the community used to warn us of becoming too 'Australian' and potentially losing our 'way'. I think what they meant, was that if we engaged in too many Australian activities, like sports, going to the movies or have too many non-pakistani friends, we'd become loose women of questional morals and dissassociated with a) culture b) traditions c) would come home with a typical Australian bloke! Heaven forbid! A Gora!- work with me, this was 1985.

As I've become older and wiser, culture and tradition are defined in people's lives in different ways. Some people like to make a point that their children speak their mother language or that their children will carry on with the traditions that they've maintained here. I now wonder why they fear so much and what exactly these 'cultural' values are. Yes, it's good to know a second language because you can communicate with people when you travel but I've seen little else beside music, food and clothing playing a 'cultural' part in Australian life.

When Australia has so much to offer compared with the problems of their homelands, I wonder why there's so much fear. If they can take a giant leap and leave their families abroad, start from scratch and create a new life with opportunities - why the fear? Why have fear when they've overcome so much personally, emotionally and physically. They should have faith in their efforts, the example they set for their children and acknowledge how much this country has to offer and will continue to do so.

There once was a teenager, who had very strict parents. She would walk to school in her uniform plus wearing a pair of jeans underneath. Her parents were so worried about losing control, that they took her out of school at the age of 16, sent her to the motherland and married her off to her cousin.

A few years later she divorced the man.

She remarried.

Then eventually returned to Australia with her husband and kids.

As the rest of her peers moved into the natural events of life like going to uni, work or even marraige, I wonder if the parents had any regrets. Had they had done the right thing? Having watched her peers no one lost control, they led normal lives. I wonder of this woman has the same thoughts and will this effect her parenting skills with her daughters..........

The non-conformist

The non-conformist is the desi gal I love the most! She's confident, determined and decisive.

I've only come across a view in my lifetime but I feel things are going to change. Most of these gals are generation Y-ers and have been watching the fate of women in their communities for many years. They usually come to a quick and easy conclusions(unlike the generation X-ers who 'ummed' and 'arrghed' over everything), that they will not be bullied or manipulated by anyone for the sake of tradition, culture and most importantly, their families. Happiness in life and being able to make choices in how they want to live, seem to be their 'thing'.

A few weeks ago, I heard about a women in her early twenties, who decided that she would not a)marry a desi b) never wear desi clothing on her wedding day and c) took decisive action!Her family is religious and conservative. She herself is the same. But when it came to choosing her partner, she chose or more like fell in love the halal way with an Australian. For the wedding, she designed a western backless wedding dress and refused to wear anything 'eastern'. The cuisine, the music and future were all things, non-desi.

I really do admire people like this. Unlike the rest of us, who were 'scared' to lose ties with tradition and culture, young women like this, decided what they wanted and stuck with it. I remember a casual aquaintance from university who was the same, she said, 'she was at a Indian function and noticed that when it finished, the men sat and talked in the hall, while she and other women cleaned up'. Vadisha looked around and thought, she didn't want her life to be like this-one big davaat clean up! She said, 'at that moment, I knew desi life was not for me'. She ended up marrying an Australian Army officer. At the time, I thought she was so bold and strong, but I know now, she had courage and knew herself well. Her parents initially resisted her decision but over time accepted her non-desi husband.

There are so many desi Australian born women who early on are 'turned off my desi culture and men'. It's foreign, the expectations are different and beliefs. And yet, we seem to fall back into an 'arranged' scenario because we are scared of either a)future b) perhaps the expectations that we as women have to carry additional burdens. Why make life more complicated? Or is it better to give everyone the finger and follow your heart?

The elder brother

Recently, I spent time in the motherland, Pakistan. The birth place of my parents and husband. The country is rich and cultures are diverse. Landscapes change as do the skin colours of it's people.


It's a land of contradiction, mansions line the same streets as the poor beg for money and food at traffic lights. Where pizza hut restaurants operate next door to a tiny makeshift food seller.


My life felt like a contradiction. I was an independent woman in Australia, but in Pakistan became a 'woman', a 'mother', a 'wife' and 'sister in-law'. Each of these labels different to the expectations and definitions in Australia.


It was normal for the men of the family to be incharge of decision making. All outings were carefully orchestrated with extended families. Family politics would play a part in everyday interations resulting in who I met and where I went.


This unnatural experience was a case of being seen and not heard. I have always controlled my own actions and interactions. In Australia, I can drive or catch public transport to meet my friends or family.To have this power taken away took alot of self-control and discipline. To hand this power over to a man that I had only met twice in my life, one who did not actually know me, was a step in 'behaving' like a typical Pakistani wife. Being this type of person was something that I had seen as a form of imprisonment. To have power and your voice taken away, is like being a member of the living dead. For a time, I felt like all the women in Pakistan who have to endure for the sake of their husbands. The ones who have a simialr structure to my inlaws, that the eldest brother who knows best. That he is given the title of having 'wisdom, experience and power'.

What about the women? The women who maintain households and raise the future generation. Are they given the same treatment? From what I saw, women were not taken seriously. Their views and opinions were 'aired' in private with little impact on the family 'master' plan.

Just another normal family in Pakistan? Or was it just my in-laws? Or was it just not being able to adjust to a structure that's different?