Posts Categorized: Arts & Culture

‘Vidai Kodu Naade’ by Jessica on the Super Singer Junior TV program in Chennai from the film 2002 “Kannathil Muthamittal” with music written by A.R. Rahman This is a song sung by an Eelam Tamil teenager Jessica living with her parents in Tamil Nadu for her grandmother, who is currently living in Canada. Jessica’s song… Read more »

PRESS RELEASEFOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE “Legend of Ponnivala” airing in India on Thanthi TV – Animated epic series premiered February 15 – GORE’S LANDING, ON (February, 2014) – India’s Thanthi TV has released the launch dates for the long-awaited animated series “The Legend of Ponnivala.” The original 26-episode series premiered in Tamil on Thanthi at 5:30 p.m…. Read more »

Some interesting food & cooking blogs.  Please suggest your favorites to be added to the list. Sri Lankan Cusine at http://srilankancuisine.wordpress.com/…includes such essentials as Jaffna curry powder. My Tamil Kitchen at http://mytamilkitchen.com/ Sri Lanka Recipes at http://www.srilankanrecipes.info/recipes/index.aspx Rice and Curry at http://riceandcurry.wordpress.com/ The Feast for All at http://thefeastforall.com/ Malini’s Kitchen at http://www.infolanka.com/recipes/index.html Tamil Festivals is no longer active, but has many… Read more »

Let me introduce the Common Indian Male, a category that deserves taxonomic recognition: committed, concerned, cautious; intellectually curious, linguistically witty; socially gregarious, endearingly awkward; quick to laugh, slow to anger. Frequently spotted in domestic circles, traveling in a family herd.

Passionate, committed, and deeply humane, these poems bear witness with unflinching honesty to the horrific violence of the Sri Lankan civil war. “Indran Amirthanayagam is above all the poet of the bloody Sri Lankan conflict and division. His work honours the sufferings of the living and the injustices dealt the dead, and for any reader,… Read more »

If those murders are less well known than others (like the Khmer Rouge slaughter in Cambodia a decade later), it is partly because Indonesia has not undergone the kind of public reckoning that often follows such catastrophes. “History is written by the winners,” muses one of Mr. Oppenheimer’s subjects, who led a right-wing death squad in North Sumatra. “And we are the winners.”

He and his former colleagues, who still keep in touch and occasionally socialize with one another, lead comfortable, even privileged lives. Some serve in provincial or national governments. They speak at rallies of Pancasila Youth, a nationalist paramilitary group still apparently popular — and also still feared — for its role in wiping out suspected Communists almost 50 years ago.

Perhaps the most startling thing about the killers in “The Act of Killing” is that they seem to have no interest in denying, excusing or minimizing their crimes. On the contrary, they are candid, even boastful about what they have done, and eager to share their recollections of torture and murder. “Never forget” is traditionally the slogan of victims fending off revisionism, indifference and the passage of time, but in this case the killers themselves seem most interested in keeping the memory alive.

A series of animated Tamil nursery rhymes

Presenter Lakshmi Holmström MBE is a widely acclaimed translator of Tamil fiction and poetry. A collection of her translations of Cheran’s poetry is to be published this summer, titled ‘In a Time of Burning.’

Sambol in Jaffna is very important. There are a variety of sambols and I get to indulge in four types at Aliyaa — katta, seeni, pol and karupillay. Katta is similar to our sambal belacan but is prepared using spicy Maldavian fish while seeni is made of sweetened onions. My favourite is pol. Made with coconut, it has the right amount of spiciness and sourness. Karupillay, which is made with curry leaves, is moderately nice albeit a bit bitter.

As I sat in the small, sparsely furnished, concrete room, in a slum area of Chennai, with my old and dear friend, profusely apologising to me about the stench coming from the stagnant pond outside, and the now five-year-old girl sitting on my lap calling me Maama (uncle), still with her fat cheeks, I realised that this was the story I wanted to tell.

This family had survived eight months of vicious bombardment on a small stretch of beach, had seriously contemplated suicide together in the final weeks when they could not take the onslaught anymore, had lived through seven months of internment hell in the UN-built, government-run camps and then fled to India.