I went. I lived. When will I become?

I watched 'Va, vis et deviens' (Go, live and become) a few weeks ago. I cannot believe I waited this long to see it. My siblings had recommended it to me a couple of years ago.

‘Va, vis et deviens’ is a French film about an Ethiopian boy who is airlifted from a Sudanese refugee camp to Israel during Operation Moses (1984). Shlomo, the boy, has two big secrets: he is neither a Jew nor an orphan. He is just a son trying to fulfill his mother's request to "go, live and become". The title refers to a common phrase of aspiration uttered by Ethiopian parents to their children.

The story is as much about the unconditional love of the women (his birth mother, his Falasha mother, his French Jew mother, and his wife) who guide him in his journey to “become” as it is about the Shlomo in all of us. I loved the young Shlomo, the multiple languages spoken (Amharic, Hebrew and French), the music, the depiction of Médecins Sans Frontières, and, most of all, the message. Apart from a couple of scenes that I would have deleted, I found the movie extremely moving. At the end, I found myself asking, “I went. I lived. When will I become?”

The Apprentice and the President

As I was begrudgingly watching the last ten minutes of ‘Celebrity Apprentice’, I was pleasantly surprised by a breaking news report “ … The President will appear briefly to make a statement …” I immediately wondered whether the President needed some air time, you know, to reassure the American people that he was not born in Kenya. After all, Trump’s recent irritating “birther” nonsense had prompted the White house to release Obama’s birth certificate. Then the newscaster continued with “… NBC has confirmed that Osama bin Laden is dead … It is the end of an era …” What! How did that happen? The timing could not have been better for the “Kenyan” President’s major announcement. For me, it was a much better ending of a ‘Celebrity Apprentice’ episode than the one I had anticipated earlier in the evening. The Donald has become the butt of even more jokes - making the whole nonsense even more entertaining.

The Handsome Stranger

This song reminds me of a very handsome stranger I met last Spring. I was at the lowest point of this pre-med journey. I was angry at myself for slacking off and for letting the journey overwhelm me. One beautiful late April afternoon, as I was pondering on what I needed to do, I noticed this incredibly handsome man on my way to a spin class. I am too shy, too traditional and too conservative to approach any guy. The most I dare to do is gaze for a second from very, very far. The stranger somehow caught my gaze. I had to hide. For some reason, those quick glances uplifted my mood... Whenever this song comes up, I imagine him... Thank you Mr. incredibly handsome stranger for looking my way...

Of Yo-Yo Ma, Oprah and Music

Oprah's Season 24 Kickoff Party show reminded me of a story Yo-Yo Ma told on Tavis Smiley a year ago. Tavis Smiley had asked him to describe one of the defining moments that put him on the path to being the international icon that he has become. Here is Yo-Yo Ma’s answer in his own words:

When I was in college, ... I took a course in anthropology where I studied and saw films of the bushmen of the Kalahari desert. And so they live now mainly in Botswana and Namibia.

And there was a blind musician, and the film that I saw was called "Bitter Melons." And a blind musician that played and sang, and played on an instrument that I'd ever seen before, but it was so magical that I was 19 and one of the things that you do when you're 19 is you think "What am I going to do with my life? What are the 10 things I want to do?"

That was one of the things I wanted to do. And for some reason -- and I feel very blessed because of that -- I had the opportunity to go there 15 years later and did a documentary on the trance dance and music practices in 12 villages in Namibia. And at the end of the trip, they did a trance dance. And I asked --where you basically go into, well, a trance, and people who go into trance after hours of singing and dancing, there's a laying on of hands.

And I saw something that was so -- it was about religion, it was about medicine, it was about society. Everybody participated, and anybody who came from neighboring villages who needed it also were helped. And the next day, I interviewed the ladies that were clapping the hands, sitting down, and chanting. I said, "Why do you do that?"

And their reply is the best answer for culture I've ever heard "Because it gives us meaning." And that is something -- and so for the bushmen, that was their most complex ritual. It was as complex, as meaningful, as transcendent as Beethoven or Bruckner or Stravinsky, because this is what -- they gave all of what they had for the meaning that they get back. And that's what motivated me ever since.

Watching thousands people on Oprah participating on the flash mob dance had the same magical effect. One of the participants described the experience as “Joy rising.” For a period of time, it seemed that music joined us together—devoted fans, performers, and spectators alike; it felt like it transported us together into another space, made us appreciate its beauty and gave us a different perspective on life, a slightly richer perspective. When the history-making dance or musical trance ended, it seemed like we were a bit fuller, better...

Micheal Jackson: Thanks for the memories

Where have the years gone? It only seemed yesterday when ...

... I was mesmerized by Thriller the first time I watched it ... like the kids in Zaire...

... My classmate Nouriligne, wearing the red jacket, impressed our gym class with the moonwalk

... Monsieur Billat had our class translate the lyrics of Beat it into french

... We spent our summer nights watching old videos of Jackson 5 at my paternal grandparents' home ... with Uncle B (now gone) and my cousins

... Our nanny H, like Billie Jean, was certain she would marry Michael Jackson one day

... My siblings and I made a pact to call Michael Jackson "Michael Jackson" unlike all the other riff-raffs who insisted on calling him "Michael"

... My Ivorian friend and I debated over the lyrics of Black or White

The years are gone leaving their memories behind. Thanks for the soundtrack of our memories!

Bride and Prejudice: "Marriage into Town"

A couple of months ago, my sister came to town to prepare for her upcoming wedding, an event that will last for three days and will include 500 guests, the norm in our tradition. Needless to say, we have been very busy planning. For the last nine months, all of our conversations revolved around the following: venue, guest list, wedding stationery, photography, videography, entertainment, reception, catering,... It has been quite an adventure.

At the end of this visit, the night before she left, I suggested we watch Bride and Prejudice, a movie I have seen many, many times. Growing up, I watched a few Bollywood films at our neighbors’. Even though our neighbors were not Indians, they loved Bollywood films; they would explain the Hindi or Punjabi dialogue to me and my sister even though they did not speak these languages, and we would listen to them even though we knew they did not know these languages. What mattered to us were the many captivating elements: music, dance, spectacle along with love, vanity and social pressures. Here is an example:



I always loved big weddings. But why didn’t someone tell me preparing for a wedding is not just fun and play? Did I mention my brother is also getting married about the same time?

Say What You Need To Say

... easier said than done...

La Vida ...

After a month of absence for the holidays, I returned to my regular workout schedule at the end of January. This time, I am starting to even motivate complete strangers. For example, a month ago, I was on a treadmill next to a red-haired guy. After a 15-min walk, I started to increase my pace and eventually sprinted. The red-haired guy next to me started running too. I increased my pace; he increased his pace. I did it again; he did it again. As I was feeling proud to have challenged my red-haired companion, I saw from the corner of my eye that he was about to collapse. He stopped; I stopped. He was breathing heavily. I panicked a little bit. Oh My God! What if he collapses? After a few minutes of huffing and puffing, the red-haired guy left with a red face. He is okay.

I am also attending a Pilates class. The instructor is a sweet Southern lady who likes to end her class with Il Divo music. I think that is her way of preventing her students from leaving the class early. Clever!

La Vida Sin Amor: lyrics

Cuando el sol cae un
dia mas
se que no quieres dormir
La pasión nos vuelve a desnudar
Porque sin ti yo no se vivir

Y en la oscuridad enloquecer
A un
hombre y una mujer

LA VIDA SIN AMOR
ES UN FUEGO SIN PASIÓN
LA
VIDA SIN AMOR
NO SIRVE YA A MI CORAZÓN
PUES OLVIDE AMAR

Lagrimas
que nunca lloré
Suplicas que no te di
un mundo .igual que solo sabe huir
dejando atrás todo mi sufrir

Y en la oscuridad piel sobre piel
El alma calma su sed

LA VIDA SIN AMOR
ES UN FUEGO SIN PASIÓN
LA VIDA SIN AMOR
NO SIRVE YA A MI CORAZÓN
PUES OLVIDE AMAR

Y
en la oscuridad piel sobre piel
El alma calma su sed

LA VIDA SIN
AMOR
ES UN FUEGO SIN PASIÓN
LA VIDA SIN AMOR
NO SIRVE YA A MI
CORAZÓN
PUES OLVIDE AMAR

Birdie Num Num

One of my father’s favorite actors was Peter Sellers. He first introduced us to Sellers by renting the movie, The Party, a 1968 comedy written and directed by Blake Edwards, also starring Claudine Longet. We thought the film was hilarious; we spent that Saturday afternoon in hysterics. We enjoyed watching Peter Sellers as he played Hrundi V. Bakshi, a well-intentioned, but hapless, Indian actor who is accidentally invited to a lavish Hollywood party, where he causes havoc. Two decades later, I still burst out in laughter when I remember some of the scenes, especially when Bakshi talks gibberish and overfeeds "Birdie Num Nums" to a macaw.

I wonder how well received the movie would be if it were released in today’s politically correct environment. Did you know that, at one time, India had banned the film? [Read this]. Furthermore, according to Wikipedia, acclaimed Bengali Indian filmmaker Satyajit Ray was at one time set to make his American feature debut with Sellers in a leading role for his science fiction film, The Alien. When Ray came to visit Sellers on the set of The Party, he was so disgusted by Sellers' performance and the film, he refused to meet Sellers again. He felt it was a coarse caricature [Read this for more]. Apparently, Ray and other critics of the film do not share the same sense of humor as the fans of Peter Sellers. Richard Combs, the Film Comment writer, put it well when he said The Party is "both classic farce and trenchant satire, a self-sufficient fantasy about the fantasy of Hollywood life."

Had I not seen this movie with my father when I was a child, would I have the same feeling toward it? I do not know. What actually surprises me is that ever since I watched that movie I have been using the line “Birdie Num Num” to say “I am hungry” or “The food tastes good”. Oftentimes, I do so without even realizing it. Recently, my sister brought her future in-laws from out of state to introduce them to the family in a traditional ceremony. When she went back, she emailed me a clip of “Birdie Num Num” scene. I had a good laugh. Next time you are in a restaurant and you overhear someone say “Birdie Num Num”, don’t fret because you might just be seating next to me.

With apologies to Satyajit Ray, enjoy: