[un to nepal]

After UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Louise Arbour culminated a tour of Nepal by calling for war crimes trials, the New York Times reports that the UN Security Council has decided to send a political mission to Nepal to oversee the ceasefire.

This is the first time since my arrival in UNistan that the organization has begun a serious involvement with a country I actually know something about. I’m certainly not a Nepal expert, but I’ve been there twice and followed its story over the years. And I’m not at all certain that the fragile new order needs outside interference.

Like Thailand, another tourist favorite, Nepal was never colonized. Certainly it has deep-seated problems, but they are not the problems of post-colonial societies. The thought of Western good intentions going awry in Nepal fills me with dread; I imagine Nepal’s warm hospitality — which, let us not forget, is its only really viable product for foreign trade — curdling into the bitterness and resentment of the colonized.

On the other hand, my concept of Nepal’s internal sensibilities comes from visits to the Kathmandu Valley, one particularly tourist-favored stretch of the Himalayas, and one small town on the edge of a lowlands national park. The angry part of Nepal is down there, in the area known as the Terai, where the draining of malarial swamps has opened up new land for farming, but where the zamindar system of landlordism keeps most people impoverished and powerless, just as it does in some neighboring Indian states. Or so I have read. Maybe these sections of the country feel just as colonized as anyone else ruled by people who speak another language and see them as less than fully human.

In any case, it’s a test for the UN and for Ban Ki-moon, and one in which I feel a personal sense of anxiety over its outcome.

[anjalic]

Mistress of Disguise | Seven X Eight | Feline Woman by Anjali

Twelve long years have passed since Portishead first unleashed Dummy upon an unsuspecting world, tapping into a deep, hitherto unnoticed craving for ethereal female vocals over moody, noir-tinged tracks with sophisticated electronic production and hip-hop beats. Eight years after Portishead’s final album, the revelatory PNYC Live, where can one turn to satisfy this peculiar, overly specific jones?

Well, if you’re willing to forgo the extraordinary Portishead scratching in favor of some sitar and don’t mind your spy movie music taking on an Austin Powers vibe, I suggest you give Anjali a try.

Formerly the drummer in UK Riot Grrl band the Voodoo Queens, Anjali Bhatia now claims descent from the Bhatti line of maharajas of Jaisalmer. Whether that’s true or not, her music has ventured as far from Riot Grrl radicalism as her identity. One can hear traces not only of UK trip-hop, but also of Cibo Matto and other late-nineties electronic experimenters, not to mention heavy doses of Anglo-Indian fusion, tinged with old-fashioned Bollywood goodness.

Find more MP3s at Bazaar Sounds, Anjali’s Beggar’s Banquet Site, and her personal web page.

[bollywood hip-shake]

Hips Don’t Lie (Live at the VMAs) (Google Video) | Hips Don’t Lie (YouTube Video) by Shakira

According to the BBC, Shakira so enjoyed the Bollywood costumes and choreography she tried on (with moderate skill and success) at the MTV Video Music Awards that she is now hoping to do a Bollywood-style music video with that night’s choreographer, Indian director Farah Khan (no relation to Louis Farrakhan).

Considering that Shakira has long blended genres, combining Latin, Middle Eastern, hip-hop and rock music and dance, throwing in a little Bollywood flavor should be easy enough. And I am generally in favor of artists of all stripes dabbling (1, 2, 3) in what I want to call “Indiana” but can’t because a certain Midwestern state has stolen the term. I’m also generally in favor of Shakira’s hips, whose veracity is open to question but whose booty-shakin’ snap-and-shimmy skillz-with-a-Z are not in doubt.

I therefore look forward to seeing how this musical polymath incorporates Bollywood’s masala into her multi-culti stew. (And yes, it is pleasant to think of Shakira as fusion cuisine, isn’t it?)

[breaking the glass ceiling]

Indra K. NooyiPepsiCo has named a woman CEO: Indra K. Nooyi, an Indian-American who was born in Chennai (then Madras) and educated at Indian universities before graduating from the Yale School of Management.

Nooyi joins 12 other female CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. This low rate of representation for women at the highest levels of American business suggests that the glass ceiling is still a concern. Still, Nooyi’s promotion is perhaps a sign of change. Keeping in mind that people don’t typically become CEO until well into their careers, and that women only started entering the workforce in great numbers perhaps 25 years ago, we may still be in the early stages of transition in the upper echelons of the business world. After all, people of my generation, still in their thirties, are the first to have spent their entire professional lives in environments regulated by sexual harrassment laws. When people born in the 1970s are old enough to be CEOs of Fortune 500, I expect to see a higher percentage of women in top executive positions, if not total gender equality.

[the best hotel in india]

When we were in India in 2002-2003, our favorite hotel was one we didn’t even stay at: Killa Bhawan. Located in the honey-hued fort walls of the historic Thar Desert city of Jaisalmer, Rajasthan, the hotel was run by an affable Brahmin who was wise enough to see the value of inviting non-guests up to his extraordinary terrace for chai and conversation. We were given a look at the gorgeous interiors, put together in conjunction with a French designer, then ushered up to comfortable wicker chairs on the crenellated curve of the fort wall, where we drank in the views along with the sweet spiced tea.

India was an enervating and difficult place to travel, but Jenny and I could see heading back to Jaisalmer simply to while away our days at the Killa Bhawan. More even than its stunning location, what so impressed us about the Killa Bhawan was its immaculate, lush sense of style. Its color schemes — Rajasthani oranges, pinks, greens and reds against tan sandstone and dark wood — became a kind of shorthand for all that we found most compelling about Rajasthani style. Alas, the tight spaces of New York apartments are more suited to the clean lines and simple elegance of East Asia, while its more northerly light works better against the muted shades of those temperate countries than with the bright juxtapositions of the Indian desert. But one day I do hope to decorate a home, or part of a home, in the style of Killa Bhawan. And in the meantime, you’ll notice that the look of this blog owes a bit to the color and feel of that remarkable hotel.