The Presidential Poet

Yale professor Elizabeth Alexander became the fourth poet ever to be commissioned to write and recite a poem for the American Presidential inauguration on January 20, 2009, when Barack Hussein Obama was sworn in. New York Times has this:

The following is a transcript of the inaugural poem recited by Elizabeth Alexander, as provided by CQ transcriptions.

"Praise song for the day"

Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each others' eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair.
Someone is trying to make music somewhere with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.
A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky; A teacher says, "Take out your pencils. Begin."
We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed; words to consider, reconsider.
We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of someone and then others who said, "I need to see what's on the other side; I know there's something better down the road."
We need to find a place where we are safe; We walk into that which we cannot yet see.
Say it plain, that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of.
Praise song for struggle; praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign; The figuring it out at kitchen tables.
Some live by "Love thy neighbor as thy self."
Others by first do no harm, or take no more than you need.
What if the mightiest word is love, love beyond marital, filial, national. Love that casts a widening pool of light. Love with no need to preempt grievance.
In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, anything can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp -- praise song for walking forward in that light.

Read her bio and a few poems at http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/245

and a Q&A with her at Inauguration Poet, Elizabeth Alexander - TIME

Proposition 8 ruins my election fun

Yes, we are all happy that Barack Hussein Obama became the 44th President of the United States of America. Such a day should come everywhere in the world, in every country where the marginalized are able to to find their rightful voice. This win is not a magic wand, but without it, America would truly be sorry.

Now I hate to be a party-pooper, but this morning I read the news item "California voters approve Proposition 8 ban on same-sex marriages - Los Angeles Times" and was sorely disappointed.

Gay-rights advocates, after this debacle (52% yay-48% nay), filed a legal challenge in California Supreme Court to Proposition 8. The supporters of gay-marriage ban call it an attempt to "subvert the will of voters".

According to LA Times, lawyers for same-sex couples said they will argue that the anti-gay-marriage measure was an illegal constitutional revision -- not a more limited amendment.

Guess, there is still a steep hill to climb then, as Obama (watch video) said in his thank you speech.

Incidentally, I noted that Proposition 8 was the "most expensive proposition on any ballot in the nation this year, with more than $74 million spent by both sides." Talk about fervor and nastiness.

VOTE baby VOTE!

Er, I stole this from the political blog Crooked Timber that I follow:


A committee setting exam papers, a long time ago.


Paper: Public Choice Theory


Draft question: “When is it rational to vote?”


Economist, with raised eyebrow, looking political scientist in the eye: “On election day?”



Hope we know what America did by midnight...

Random thoughts... with Hillary out, will Palin iron shirts now?

Random thoughts are good. They don't stay long! On a propitious day such as Columbus Day (that plunderer...) I am thinking hmm, now that Sarah Palin is the Republican mascot, will anyone stand up in her meetings and holler: "Sarah iron my shirt"? How's that going to fare? As it is, some complaining noise was made about how either her opponents are harsh with her 'because she is a woman' (or a pit bull wearing lipstick) trying to compete with men or too soft on her because 'oh poor thing's woman' and should be back to womanly things only.

Somehow, opponents of Hillary have forgotten that there had been folks holding up signs or screaming "Hillary iron my shirt" (http://elections.foxnews.com/2008/01/07/hillary-hecklers-yell-iron-my-shirt-at-new-hampshire-campaign-stop/) at her campaign meetings. Now I'm randomly forced to think, will this happen in India when Mayawati or Sonia Gandhi or Renuka Chowdhury stand up speaking at their meetings. Will a Mulayam, Advani or any other supposed supporter of "male" privilege of being in politics do or say this sort of a thing, ever? NO.

Well, I don't mean to say anti-woman stances are not there among prevailing Indians, but not blatantly at least.

What is it that in a country like India, where gender biases run deep, where patriarchy can assume ugly forms, and where women are seen as means of reproduction, no one dare stoop so low regarding a woman in politics, government and policymaking. No sir, no one will say "Sonia make my rotis", "Maya clean my dishes" or "Renuka wash my undies"...! They might say, let's see, "Mayawati is a megalomaniac", "Sonia is manipulative" or "Renuka is unrealistic" -- things that politicians are supposed to say to each other.

So why, in America the land of freedom and other sundry stuff associated with that, will men stand up saying "Hillary iron my shirt"? Now don't try saying that to Palin, or you'll be branded a misogynist, for sure... Random thoughts.

Obama Nation-India's Lesson

Now that the appointment of a Black President is becoming an imminent reality for the United States of America, I'm really excited. Initially, to be very honest, my money lay with Hillary Clinton. Not just because she was a woman, but also because she, to use her opponents' words, bore the burden of experience, experience nonetheless. But gradually, I warmed up to Barack Obama, or lovingly as I call him Yo-Mama, who swayed all the votes. I don't think Obama will cause a miracle to happen. Or that race relations in the US will straighten out overnight and henceforth black and white Americans will dance and sing hand in hand. I don't think he has a unique foreign policy to implement; he has already pledged to stand beside Israel in all of the latter's projects (some of which could be, in my opinion, pretty damaging not only to the political settings in the Middle East but also to the rest of the clueless world). But on the sunnier side, Obama can begin a chain of thinking -- that all Americans can be presidents, commanders-in-chiefs, top bosses and practically anyone and everyone that seems to generate shock and awe in their minds.

So if it's gonna be an Obama nation, so be it.

This brings me to an interesting fact that somehow, the notion of a Black President has never been alien to Hollywood, so what if the 'people' were not ready for one. CNN reports (http://www.cnn.com/2008/SHOWBIZ/TV/06/05/black.presidents/index.html) that on television and in film, black actors as acclaimed as James Earl Jones and as obscure as Tommy Lister have played commanders-in-chief. Apparently, if you fast forward a few decades, "the notion of a black man in the Oval Office provides ample joke fodder for comics such as Richard Pryor and Chris Rock." I don;t know all that. I never have been an avid cable-watcher. But I kind of like this silly joke: On one episode of "The Richard Pryor Show," the comedian's short-lived '70s variety hour, he played a president hosting a press conference. During the sketch, he tells a corps of reporters that he'd seriously consider Black Panther Huey Newton for the job of FBI director -- and nearly decks one journalist who inadvertently insults his momma. And when he's asked about his fetish for white women, he jokes, "They don't call it the White House for nothing."

Some of it continued in this way being a total caricature. I haven't watched the 2003 film "Head of State," where Chris Rock's president, Mays Gilliam, is said to blabber a populist lingo "glazed with hip-hop slang." Gilliam's running mate, played by Bernie Mac (hey, I know him although I'm cable-free), thinks NATO is a person and not an acronym.

Let me share a secret. I've watched on DVD, the hit series "24". That's where a black president is palpably respectable. Dennis Haysbert's David Palmer is as 'normal' as any white dude. No one reminds him of his race, nor does he evoke it because there are apparently greater issues like terrorism and bomb scares staring him in the face. CNN asks: "Will these depictions make any difference to Barack Obama's candidacy? Who knows? But what was once the stuff of joke and fantasy could be months away from being the real thing."

I'm sure the real thing will be a good thing.

All this musing brings me to another aspect regarding India. This is because like the US, India is a pluralistic, multicultural society. We have caste relations, maybe a more stinging problem that dogs our lives in India even in the 21st century. A journalist in India has raised the question: Who will be our Obama? He slams Dalit and non mainstream politicians for not being able to achieve much. Quite rightly.

Here's what I think: We had an Obama long back. Long long back in fact. We don't see this person anymore in that generous light any more. Perhaps we do. Some of us. This was Babasaheb Bhimrao Ambedkar, the architect of India's Constitution. To my mind, given that period of time when India was a new-born nation, Ambedkar's contribution is above par. Maybe it is even not wise to compare him to Obama.

As for Indian leaders today from SP, BSP and other political parties, no one has that stature. And it seems we are still in a caricature mode. Lalu Yadav evokes laughter far and wide with his ultra-folksy-ness while Mayawati evokes banter and 'women' jokes. The south Indian leaders are too remote for the so-called 'national' media but even they dwell in the realms of the absurd.

So what has India got? So far a lesson, at least, to learn from the US primaries.

Walk like a Mexican!

So there was I, flying to the West Coast last year, my first visit that side of this vast landmass we call America. ‘We’ meaning, Americans who travel very little, and the likes of me, not-American, living in the US for some time. A six-year long East Coaster, I was aware of the difference in the weather, culture and sundry other things made accessible knowledge by news, the Internet and the like. I was headed to San Jose to visit my sister-in-law. Mo and I were in the three-seater row with a middle-aged lady by the window side. Now middle age is a tricky word in the American context. She was easily in her fifties but she may not have liked me calling her middle aged if such issues were raised.

It was I think a five-hour long flight with a connection to catch at Minneapolis, Minnesota. I settled down in my seat, the middle seat, feeling good about my California vacation.

The lady on my left smiled. Amiable. She muttered a little when the aircraft took off. Perhaps she was nervous. Then she said to me: “Always this part is the hardest.”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“How else would I travel back home? It’s too far to drive from North Carolina.”

Yes it is a long drive. In a car-loving, long-driving country, NC to MO would be too much indeed. Although people do things like that. A friend of ours recently had driven from New Mexico to Illinois. Take that!

“I was at my daughter’s,” my co-passenger said.
“Must have been nice.” Polite conversation should never be avoided.
“Yes, so different from Minneapolis. Warm, green!”
“Is it not so in Minneapolis right now?”
“Um, it’s a bit soggy, you know,” she said uncertainly. “So where are you going?”
“San Jose,” I said brightly. “My first West Coast visit.”
“Must be tough to stay away,” she said, a little ambiguous. “From New York City?”
“No, no. We are from Ithaca, not too far from New York actually.”
She nodded although it didn’t appear that she knew about Ithaca.
“Working or studying?”
“Both. We live in the Cornell University campus.” I went on to explain about our Ivy League shelter without lacing my talk with any arrogance.
“That’s a good college, I’ve heard about it.”
Who hasn’t?
“Your English is very good.”
I knew it wasn’t bad. But to be reminded was nice. Thank you.
“Do you feel at home?” It was so kind of her to ask that.
“We try to be cheerful. You know, miss the food at times, or festivals.”
“But to go back to Mexico must be exciting! Maybe I should take a trip there.”

No, what? She said Mexico. I heard her right. She thought I was Mexican.

“Er, I’m going to San Jose. That’s California.”
She shook her head. Gave a benevolent smile. I doubt if she realized I was trying to correct her.
“You must visit Minneapolis some day.” The plane was landing and she pointed out the sprawling flat city skewing on the horizon. “It has a twin city. And there are nice spots to vacation close to these cities. Lakes, camping grounds.”
I certainly will note that down. I love lakes although I haven’t camped much.

We ran along the terminal. She said her sister would be there to pick her up. My connecting flight to San Jose was waiting to leave soon.

“Bye then, enjoy your stay in Mexico!”
“Thank you. Bye! Enjoy back in Minneapolis. By the way – ” I wanted to tell her again I was headed to California and that I was Indian. Oh well.