Monday, June 22, 2009

#+1: Getting Uneven Steven on your Wedding Gift

It's wedding season, 'caque Knoblauchs. brotate around that fire five times, hide your brother in law's shoes and watch sweaty dudes storm the DJ decks requesting soca hits of the '80s, '90s and today.

Cut Indians loose in the wedding hall and it's like unhooking the baby bjorn and letting your diabetic beta run wild in the jalebe shop.

Because Indians (okay, Gujus, can we stop pretending?) are infamous for their one up-manship, a so so necessary aspect of the indian wedding richa-ual is the round up on the financial gift. Normally Indians round down on EVERYTHING including their age, the mortgage on their condo, their penis size and the previously agreed upon terms for the hotel caterer.

But oh yo not so when it comes to the CHEQUE, cause, uc, if there's one thing Indians prefer to being miserly, it's doing plus one better than Nandini in the gift department. So what if her daughter went to Stanford undergrad, Northwestern medical school and is engaged to a white podiatrist in Winnetka? She only gave one hundred and fifty dollars. You're gonna give one hundred and fifty plus ONE.

Sure, some might say it's auspicious to leave off the extra zero but can we finally, for once, please, pretty please get picked to live in a house, stop being polite and start getting real? The only thing auspicious about getting Uneven Steven on your wedding gift is watching Ritu uncle's face turn red when he finds out you One-Upped him and then wondering if he's actually angry or just drunk...again.

So here's to you Indians. You won't turn the AC on in the summer; you sneak outside snacks into the theater (yeah, i heard you open that can of Diet Slice during Taare Zameen Par, AUNTIE) and you bought little Deepaum VOITS instead of Reeboks, but all that's cumin on a cutlet when you make it drizzle on the lucky couple with your $101 dollar check. Eat it up, Nandini. You just got 1-upped.

Friday, May 8, 2009

#H1N1: Bird Flu, Swine Flu, ToFLU?



Another SILDC original production. Check it out and rate it if you can. Some dick bag gave it like one star and totally dragged our average down. Jai ho, bitches.

Friday, April 10, 2009

#110 BPM: Dancing to Britney's Indian Remix

Sunday, April 5, 2009

#17.5: Shooters (the Remix)


Last year Subhash and I were in the throes of SILDC and g-chatting about what else we could do to impress Indian girls online. Indian girls like Li'l Wayne, we surmised. Indian girls like Robin Thicke, too. Oh shit, we said to ourselves, you know what Indian girls rrrreally like? Shooters.

Since we're Indian, our originality stopped there and we fell back on the crutch all "creative" Indians use to support their wilting sense of humor - the song parody. We g-mailed the lyrics back and forth and even storyboarded a video we were going to shoot in Subhash's Chi-town condo (with a lakeview for about 3 more months until Bill Rancic builds another behemoth monstrosity further/farther East on Ohio street).

Unfortunately, we never got our hands on either an instrumental track or an Indian souljer that can sound like Robin Thicke. I let the lyrics lie under my bed for 10 months until I stumbled across them yesterday while looking for the last four years of my life. We decided to just post'em up so that the world can have but a vague sense of the magic and wonder it was denied when SILDC FLIMS PRESENTS "Shooters" ft. Smeezy and Bhupen Thicke folded in pre-production. Without further aloo.

"Shooters" ft. Smeezy and Bhupen Thicke (a.k.a. Thicky Rice)

[Smeezy]
Yea, yea, yea
Smeezy baby y'all, Get that Evite, should i say Pre-vite?
Lemon Drops, what you know about it
I brought my macaca along for the ride
He parched, he came here to talk to gujubabes and get wasted

[Bhupen Thicke]
I heard some shouts out down by the door
Then even louder, " We got shooters!" (shooters, shooters)

[For video: shot through door peep hole with fish eye of group of indian dudes holding up shot glasses and handles screaming]

It's Friday night and we're about to go out
But first we pre-party to liquor up good
Jumped right over counter / Pointed glass at Pinky, tell her
Here's your shooter (shooter, shooter)

Our hands are up, Our hands are up
We're dancing with our hands way up
We've got shooters

[Smeezy]
I think they want me to remember
But no, I can't do it [2x]

So many doubt 'cause I'm short and stout /
But when I open up my fridge only mixers come out
Pop! Ima pour it straight / make you drink a liquor lake
Ima play Top Chef and whip you up a rum souffle
I'm just trying to be the great / Tryna get a gujubabe
Take your girl out for a date / Though she Hindu feed her steak
She got a whole lot to say but I don't listen
Call me gastronomic Smeezy, bitch, get in the kitchen

[Bhupen Thicke + Smeezy]
With all these Richas and, all these Nishas
There ain't no loners around
They thinkin about shooters that-taste like that
Soco-Lime & lemons that - that Gujus get
Shoot shoot shoot shoot shooters

My hands are up
We're dancing with our hands way up
We're dancing with our hands way up
Oh, shooters

[Smeezy + Bhupen Thicke]
But I'm not
I just cry mama, I think they, hey
Me think they want me to remember (Shooter)

[Smeezy]
And to the Blogosphere, I'm tired o' being patient
Stop bein' self-loathing racists, region haters
Spectators, dictators, behind door dick takers
It's outrageous, you don't know how pointless your hate is
I want to give you a mirror to embrace it
But this is Indian face this
If we too complicated then y'all can't route your basic linksys

[Bhupen Thicke]
Lardhki asks for a Michelob Light
Look her up and down with my nearsighted eyes
I said, "If you gon get a beer, then you gon have to get outta here"
'Cause here's your shooterrrrrrrr!

Our hands are up, our hands are up
We dancing with our hands way up
Oh, Shooter [2x]

[Smeezy]
Me won't remember, me so pretender

Striped Shirt soakin' wet
I been bhangring y'all
I reload, every couple songs, need a shooter, I'm comin' for it
Better know me, Smeezy Baby just call me lord
Hard, take pain like Lassi Bombs, raw
Way past Agra, for, I'm some shit you never saw
I take you to the bar baby take shooters it's the law
And they say, you're Jain, and holy, you don't even eat cow
And, my reply was simply Amaretto Sour!

Mama, I think they, hey, me think they want me to remember
(Shooter, my hands up, my hands up, they want me to remember) [2x]

No, me won't remember, no, no
I promise no remember
I got my Priya
And I need some shooters

Monday, March 30, 2009

#12:15 PM: Taking Lunch

People around the world make lunch; they take lunch breaks and they have lunch together. Only Indians, however, find the in-between gray area of "taking" lunch with friends and family.

Go to an Indian relative's house in India and they'll ask you, "Have you taken lunch?" Tell your parents you can only meet them for twenty minutes, and they'll suggest, "Okay, we'll take lunch together."

Of what, you ask? The frozen parathas, biryani rice, lamb curry and vindaloo they stacked into a cardboard box with seven rolls of packing tape and checked into baggage on AirTran flight 770 to LaGuardia, of course.

Yes, Indians take lunch together but they also physically take their lunch across the country and to wherever they may go, toting tiffins to work, tupperware on trains and, on planes, beat-up cardboard boxes (recycled from the previous journey) scrawled with magic marker, "FOOD," so that the TSA and Dept. of Homeland security understand that the foul-smelling, viscous liquid they come across during a random baggage check isn't explosive in itself, but may, if ingested, cause explosive diarrhea.

The Number 2 you take in the bathroom (or a little in your pants) after a healthy round of aloo ghobi is par for the course when you get brown and dirty with Indian food, the ceremonial 5th course to cap a meal of tandoori chicken, naan and roti. It's a natural, and unfortunately inevitable, prologue to a lunch taken with Indians: Take lunch; take dump; take nap and repeat. Bon appetite.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

#600 Calories: THIS



Least Hindu thing since the Legend of Bagger Vance.

Monday, March 16, 2009

#88 Keys: Quitting Piano Lessons














For Indians there are many traditional rites of passage such as the annaprasan, the thread ceremony for those fortunate enough to be Brahmin, and the big, fat, monsoon wedding. There are also, however, several informal milestones of youth and adolescence that Indians share. There's karate class on Saturday mornings, swimming lessons to get into Flying Fish at the YMCA, the dreaded Friday night Bharatnatyam class that prevented attendance at any fourth grade sleep over and, of course, that universal tribulation of every Indian growing up, taking and subsequently quitting piano lessons.

While growing up, Indians have two options for learning a musical instrument. Either violin, or piano. These can be supplemented with an additional instrument, of course, as long as that instrument is either a flute, clarinet or cello. As a matter of course, most Indians will pretend to take interest in the tabla at the age of 14, around the same time they start seriously considering Hinduism as a lifestyle, dabbling in vegetarianism and listening to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan records at Borders coffee shops.

As sure as every Indian must at some point take piano lessons, he or she must also go through the uncomfortable process of quitting. Usually, parents are the last one to know their child has quit piano lessons. Even the teacher will know, watching the kid sit through rehearsal awkwardly trying to play through a song, pretending like he'd practiced. He didn't. Check his theory book. It's empty, and if it's not, he hastily filled in the triads with a pencil in the waiting room while going through the Hidden Picture Puzzle in Highlights Magazine.

Though many parents are strict and often impose their will on their children to do what they themselves could never do, there is a chink in the Indian parents' armor that, when exploited, forces them to choose between the lesser of two evils when it comes to the upbringing of their kids. That is, the fundamental trade-off between heavily regimented free-time for college applications, and good enough grades and PSAT scores for college applications. To successfully quit piano lessons, all an Indian kid has to do is cry a little and say, "But quitting piano lessons will give me more time to shtuuuudy." Done.

Parents will immediately cancel the payments to the teacher and remove the kid from piano lessons. Over the years they will realize their mistake as they watch their child try to teach themselves the guitar, dabble in marijuana, underachieve through school, go to a public university, drop pre-med sophomore year and major in Youtube.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

#23 Followers: Tweetin'

Yeah, we know the word "Tweet" makes you think of that song from '02 that made you want to get randy warhol with Phi Delts at the 1800 Club, but we're not trying to dwele on the past herre. We're forward thinking like TiVo. That's why you should follow Stuff Indians Like on Twitter. It's mostly just me and Subhash talking long distance about various Indian girls we stalk on Facebook and how we can trademark a Mumbaitini (Vermouth, Gin and Chai) and popularize our SILDC signature cocktail the Slumdog Chamillionaire (Kingfisher and Sewage). Join the party, yar!

Monday, March 9, 2009

#PG-13: Benign Naughty Snaps























Someone's got family in Medford, MA.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

#112 The Remix 2 the Remix: Singing R&B, Seriously



A-N-Double-O-P D-O-Double-G. Looking good in the freshman homecoming blazer.

Indians growing up in the United States are of two varieties. Either they love the Dave Matthews Band, and by extension any guitar-sax-viola corollary, or they love R&B, singing Mariah Carey songs at desi birthday parties and mixing Usher's "You Make Me Wanna" into Dil Lagi in their South Asian college a cappella group performances.

Singing English R&B is very different than Indian popular and classical music, and those Indians with a talent for the soulful often develop a deep appreciation for artists such as Brian McKnight, Monica and Wanye from Boyz II Men, less because of his voice and more because Indians as a people identify with those of larger lip.

Though the Indian R&B crooner has found an audience in the UK, his or her American analogy has yet to break through: Sandeep is at Harvard Business School, Himal is applying to Harvard Business School and Nora Jones is half white. The responsibility then falls to the next generation of Indian-Americans to pick up the slack of their predecessors and saaaang like Udit Narayan on a compilation disc of Eros Music's greatest hits. Gods speed, young whodis, make us proud like Dave Cook did for beer jowls and goatees.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

#1166 and Rising: Reddit.com



Easy, desis, it's Reddit, not Rediff. That's a different post. Reddit's like Digg except, I don't know, less popular. At least we got our boy Prameya Bhandari representing drunk Redditors 7 beers deep at JFK en route to DC. You do you, Prameya, and we love the #2 on the sides you got going. We should swap facial hair stories some time.

Update: Prameya removed his video, presumably after he sobered up. We mourn ya till we join ya, brohmin.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

#12:30 AM: Getting on TV at Late Night w/ Jimmy Fallon

Monday, March 2, 2009

#300 lbs: Putting Their Elbows Up to Show Someone's Portly

There are few universal symbols among Indians. There's the head waddle to indicate "Haji;" the cupping of the hand downward and the flick of the wrist to indicate "Come;" and then there is the sign for "motu" or fat.

To accomplish this simply puff your cheeks out, straighten your back and hold your arms at your chest, elbows out, like a chicken about to flap its wings, or an Atlanta A&T drumline captain kicking off the halftime show vs. Georgia Tech.

This is often done to describe those of the portly set behind their back. If in an elevator with an overweight white person, however, Indians will most likely just discuss how overweight that person is in Hindi or in whatever Indian language they speak.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

#Channel 14: Chris Matthews' Macaca Moment



Macacas back! With a vengeance. In describing the Republican leadership's selection of a governor instead of a member of Congress to rebut President Obama's economic address on Tuesday, MSNBC's Chris Matthews used the term "outsourcing." It would've just been more empty, cable news ranting if the person Matthews was referring to wasn't Republican Governor of Louisiana, Bobby Jindal, the first Indian-American Governor in American history.

Really, Matthews? We're winning Oscars here and you're making outsourcing comments about a dude that's an American citizen? Oscars, dog. Now we got hardware to go with our software. Jai ho.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

#35 Days: Aerogrammes

Monday, February 9, 2009

#19th Amendment: Curbing Women's Lib

In India, equality is a privilege, not a right. Brahmins govern wisely by the grace of Gods; Kshatriyas peddle wares, and Untouchables beg for change at traffic signals and get nominated for Academy Awards.


There is caste, there is class, and there is whup dat ass for anyone who steps out of line. Whether he be a tribal minority, a muslim immigrant from Bangladesh, or whether she simply be a she.

Though Indians honor Gandhi as a hero who stood up against the imperial power of Britain and delivered to India a long-deserved independence, some find the opportunity to subjugate and oppress too tantalizing to ignore. Though a majority of Indians prefer freedom and democracy, a few bad mangoes can't resist denying others their rights. Most Indians like freedom, but some Indians like oppression even more.

This oppression takes many forms: killing those of a different faith, exploiting those of lower status, and beating those of the fairer, though ultimately inferior, sex.

While India enjoys a progressive reputation in comparison to its neighbors Pakistan, Myanmar and China, some Indians still harbor a peculiar penchant for putting women in their place. Though "pub culture" abides throughout India's more cosmopolitan cities, some conservative Indians believe the opportunity to imbibe is a privilege held exclusively by the male. Though the result of this mind set is an awkward amalgamation of men dancing together with their arms up and interlocking pinkies after 3 too many Kingfishers, it's far more desirable than Mindy, Summana, Kabita and Karbi knocking back Mumbaitinis in public while waiting for their Maharaja Big.

Just ask 21 year-old Sanah Galgotia, who was quoted in the New York Times. "In India, no matter how modern you are, you're still in this schizophrenic nonmodern thing," she said, straining to be heard as the D.J. blasted Pearl Jam.

Some Indians also take a more proactive approach to their harassment of women. Instead of responding to women who drink, dance and fraternize in public, they go out of their way to bother women on the street. For example, if a group of Indian men in a Tata Sumo pass an Indian woman walking down a street, they do not see anything wrong with aggressively cat-calling toward her. If this woman has the gall to confront her tormentors, however, the jeep full of Indian men will feel affronted, make horn, and attempt to run her over. Hitting Shrutis with Marutis is an acceptable practice for the unenlightened Indian male, some may even call it a time pass, like carrom or maths.

If you are ever in India or within the company of Indians, closely monitor the interaction between the sexes. If the tone appears to be civil, proceed with common social decorum such as saying please, saying thank you and refraining from beating women if they choose to express an opinion.

If the tone is noticeably hostile, however, and an Indian woman makes the mistake of speaking out of line, quickly hold hands with another man since the normalcy of this homosocial behavior may diffuse the tension of a woman asserting her independence. To some Indians, equality is a privilege, women socializing in pubs is wrong, and the opportunity for men to hold hands with other men is the only right that's right.

Monday, February 2, 2009

# 1's and 2's: DJ'ing


A non-scientific study conducted by the SILDC interns (all of whom are majoring in some facet of engineering and applied mathematics) revealed that 11 out of 10 Indians in the United States are DJ's. 200% of them are from New Jersey while 300% of them spin exclusively in Chicago and at the occasional Ohio State Desi Party. In fact, 4 of you just became DJ's as you read this paragraph.

Indian DJ's separate themselves from their black, white, Asian and Persian counterparts by adopting Indian DJ names such as: DJ Aladdin, DJ Dosa, DJ Vikas, and DJ Vijay.

The music spun by Desi DJ's, however, is not so homogeneous. Styles range from hip-hop to rap to urban to R&B to "Latika's Theme." All tunes, however, will be introduced and categorized within the only musical genre Indian DJ's choose to recognize, "remix."

Occasionally a Desi DJ will play house music or trance. Though he may be brown, he is not considered an Indian DJ but rather a Canadian DJ since he's most likely from Toronto. Desi DJ's in India are also considered a different breed since they mostly play bizarrely dated Western pop songs by artists such as ABBA and Michael Learns to Rock.

The prevalence of Desi DJ's also has its down sides. At popular Indian punctions (sic) such as Desi Parties, Weddings and punctions (sic), the count of DJ's per head often swings drastically out of balance. At this point, several Indians will attempt to usurp the decks from the appointed DJ through a host of strategies. For example:

Krishna: Yo, man. You have that new Ne-Yo remix with the Timbaland tablas? I was thinking about droppin' them over "Latika's Theme."
DJ Caucasian: What? Um, no, I don't.
Krishna: No worries, I got it on my iPod right here. Yo, lemme hook it up.
DJ Caucasian: I don't think that'd be a good idea.
Krishna: No, it's cool. I got that line-in.

Several of Krishna's "boys" from their UPenn "dance troupe" will then surround DJ Caucasian and breathe heavily from their mouths until he excuses himself to the bar to get a Coors Light. Bass thumping Indian remixes accompanied by unequalized treble will play for the rest of the night as sport coats are removed, collared shirts are pitted, and feet are interlocked.

The Desi DJ should not be confused with the Desi Party Promoter, though they are often one and the same person. Desi DJ's focus on the music, setting the playlist and leaving the turntables unattended to dance aggressively to their own beats. Desi Party Promoters, on the other hand, over-charge patrons, pay-off bouncers and fight with their girlfriends, usually named Leena, who have just thrown up in the pool table.

If you ever run into an Indian there's a 500% chance that he or she is a DJ. Be cautious to invite them to your wedding or bat mitzvah since they will usurp the decks. Also, invite them into your home warily since 12 times out 10 they will press you on the tech specs of your "system," secretly download audio mixing shareware programs on to your computer when you're out of the room and try to talk you into buying their old "mixer."

Monday, January 26, 2009

#10 Oscar Nominations: The Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack



Indians enjoy Flim Soundtracks. From Dil Se to Dil Chahta Hai, DDLJ to anything by Kishore Kumar, Indian fathers buy Hindi soundtracks in bulk from Indian Grocery stores, and play them repeatedly during long family car trips, bizarrely soothed by the sound of ear piercing flute solos.

Though many Indians qualify their feelings about Hindi movie soundtracks by saying things like, "My family only listens to Hindi soundtracks from the '60s because that's when Hindi music was unadulterated and, well, better," the popularity of more recent releases proves the Indian love for Flim soundtracks endures.

This winter, a new soundtrack replaced former favorites such as Lagaan and Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam. It's composer was familiar to all, but it's sound was brand new. It was called Slumdog Millionaire.

As the Oscars near, for which Slumdog Millionaire is nominated in ten categories, and Holi after that, the Slumdog soundtrack will be a familiar sound emanating from desi disc changers, DJs and iPod docks. Come Spring, next fall, and eventually next summer, college students will choreograph bhangra dances to Slumdog Medlies and younger cousins will bore guests at weddings by performing to the accompaniment of Slumdog's slower ballads.



A particular track from the Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack that Indians will enjoy is "Latika's Theme." Indians will use the quiet build of the song as the introductory piece to their co-ed Freshman Dance at schools such as DePaul, UPenn and Boston University. Girls will wear saris draped over their heads on stage as they perform an inspired routine involving dramatically lit diyas. Soon after, the beat of Jai Ho will "drop" and a "crew" of male, desi undergrads will storm the stage before mounting shoulders, performing variations of the three standard bhangra moves, and shouting "Whut, whut!"

"Latika's Theme" will also come in handy for those Indians who are tired of using Penn Masala's version of U2's "With or Without You" as the music behind their Powerpoint and iPhoto slideshows

Perhaps the most popular use of "Latika's Theme" that Indians will enjoy, however, is as mood music during romantic rendezvouses. Other good Hindi recommendations for that Gettin' Play Playlist include:

Tadap Tadap Dat Ayass:



Gettin' Some Taal:



Ballin' Sagoo:



If you plan on spending time with Indians any time soon, familiarize yourself with the Slumdog Millionaire Soundtrack. Also, it wouldn't be a bad idea to get the above songs on your iTunes. You never know when a Latika of your own might be swinging by. Just push play and as those salubrious A.R. Rahman riffs blend with the curry in your crock pot, "Yes" will most definitely be your Latika's final answer.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

#208: Metaphysical Tattoos

There are many things Indians like. Indians like cumin; Indians like saag; Indians like rolling pins; and Indians like expressing disappointment in their children. Another common, yet little known thing Indians like is quiet acts of rebellion - like minoring in Gender Studies, dating an Asian American or getting a tattoo.

Not just any tattoo will do for the defiant Indian. Indians like their tattoos to mean something, and nothing identifies an Indian as an individual like tattoos in an ancient language they don't speak conveying Hindu philosophies they don't understand.

Popular metaphysical tattoos among Indians include the Om symbol, Sanskrit characters for concepts like "strength," and the occasional English transcription of sanctimonious Indo-Arabic terms such as Kismet, Ahimsa, Atman and Calculus.

Occasionally the most brazen of Indian girls will choose to ornament themselves with the Om lower back tattoo. Unfortunately, we can't extrapolate on this since these girls tend to spend their time with men far more attractive, athletic, and whiter than us.

If you see an Indian with a metaphysical tattoo in a publicly visible place, be sure to ask them what it means. If Indians like anything more than their metaphysical tattoo, it's talking about it. On the other hand, if you see an Indian with a metaphysical tattoo in a not so publicly visible place, well then, you can keep quiet since it seems you've already said all the right things.

Yeah, go'head now, player. You do you. Brahman is Atman, and thou art that.