Regrowth - 2021

MONSOON

06 08

Editor’s Letter Lasya Kambhampati & Shruthi Subramanian

New Beginnings: Indo-American Fusion Music Srinithi Srinivas

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Silhouette of Shades

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The Evolving Perceptions of Hijras

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The Bunny in my Back Garden

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Home was Always...

19 20 Mira Kasari

CONTENTS

Tanvi Pulipaka

Sonali Senapati Arul Gundam

Aatush Kumar

Heal Your Cuts Sonali Senapati

Mother.

Tanvi Pulipaka

Kayal Udaiyar

Letter From the Editors This past year has left its mark on us all whether tangible or not.

The world was brought to a standstill in a matter of weeks as a deadly virus ripped through our population. People were forced to deal with loss and grief in isolation. Loss of loved ones; loss of experiences; loss of families; loss of health. There was no solace to be found in the arms of others as we reached for each other while remaining six feet apart. Mental and physical health were brought to alarming lows.

Yet, we persevered and are now finally getting a glimpse at what a post-pandemic world might look like. We are slowly rebuilding and returning to a sense of normalcy. But, we can not go back to the world as it was. All of us have been undeniably changed by these collective global experiences. Not only can we not return to the past, we shouldn’t. As seen by the worldwide protests against injustice and corruption, the past was not perfect and the only way to move forward is to start with a mindset of regrowth.

Monsoon’s goal is to help aid in this mission to rebuild and regrow.

Our mission to create a space for people to explore their identities in the South Asian diaspora has never wavered. The following articles are our members’ way of expressing their perspective on regrowth after this tumultuous period in our lives.

We hope that our stories of regrowth will help inspire you to write your own.

Lasya Kambhampati & Shruthi Subramanian

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NEW BEGINNINGS:

INdo-AmeRiCaN FUSION MUSIC

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rowing up, most South Asian kids attended parties and social events where they danced their feet off to hits like “Chammak Challo” and “Gallan Goodiyaan.”

Even if just for a night, Indian kids were able to connect with their heritage and feel like a part of a community bigger than themselves, dancing alongside distant relatives and friends that they had just met. However, this experience created a major cultural disconnect for many South Asian youth. People went from being adorned in lehengas and five pound earrings to attending school the next day dressed in Western clothing, forced to leave their glamour and culture to holidays or weekends.

Many felt like they could not share these experiences with their non-Indian peers, and instead simply discussed their Western pop culture interests, such as popular rappers and Netflix shows.

However, the past five years have seen a huge growth in In-

By Srinithi Srinivas do-American fusion music. Indian-American artists have begun to incorporate elements and themes of Western music into their songs, and fusing the 2 styles together to create a regrown end product that perfectly merges South Asian youth’s identities in a metaphorical way. Many of these artists have risen to prominence in recent years due to their unique musical concepts, relatable to both people within the Indian diaspora and beyond.

forced to leave their glamour A prime example of success in this field is D.C. based singer and songwriter Vidya Iyer, also known as Vidya Vox. Vidya has a popular YouTube channel boasting over seven million subscribers where she posts covers, mashups, and original fusion music. She features both American and Indian artists in her performances, combining

songs with similar beats and lyrics to create intricate mashups which she then creates music videos for. One of her most popular performances is a mashup of the Justin Bieber hit “Sorry” and A.R.Rahman’s “Kandukondain Kandukondain.” (YouTube: Vidya Vox) Recent college grads and twins Kiran and Nivi Saishankar have found their way into the spotlight through a different platform– TikTok. In each of their short videos, they combine Western pop songs with swarams, or tones from Carnatic music. While one of them sings the main melody and lyrics, the other joins in with harmonization using swarams.

Kiran and Nivi’s major success has introduced Carnatic music to a massive group of people who may never have been exposed to it otherwise. The twins have even demanded the attention of several celebrities, including Jason Derulo, Demi Lovato, Shawn Mendes, James Arthur, and Meghan Trainor. The most exciting ex-

though, was the chance to record in Jason Derulo’s music studio! (TikTok: @kiranandnivi) Svetha Rao, also known as Raja Kumari, is an artist who grew up in America but wanted to maintain a connection to her Indian roots. When launching her career, she decided to focus predominantly on Indo-American fusion music. She is best known for her collaborations with world-famous artists like Gwen Stefani, Fifth Harmony, Fall Out Boy, and Iggy Azalea. She was even nominated for a Grammy Award in 2015 and later received the BMI Pop Award for songwriting. Her collaborations across the industry allow for a broad group of people to gain exposure to her unique style of music. In many of her photoshoots and album covers, she is styled in South Asian accessories and elaborate costumes. (Instagram: @therajakumari Raveena Aurora, known pro-

fessionally as Raveena, has enamored millennial audiences worldwide with her music, a comforting mix of R&B and traditional South Asian music. Raveena has appealed to fellow Indian-Americans who constantly find themselves trapped at the intersection of their multiple identities. In her music video for her 2018 single “Temptation”, Raveena utilizes a vibrant and romantic theme reminiscent of something from a Bollywood movie. She is decked out in traditional Indian jewelry and elaborate costumes, but the song isn’t your usual boymeets-girl. Raveena uses “Temptation” as a vehicle to express her bisexuality, providing a safe space for youth to explore the queerness that is frowned upon in many South Asian communities.

Through her music, Raveena aims to reclaim the music of her childhood and transform it into something that mainstream audiences can enjoy and heal with. She, alongside

the aforementioned artists, has provided a safe space for Asian-Americans to embrace both parts of their cultures.

(Instagram: @raveena_aurora)

RAVEENA AURORA

RAJA KUMARI

KIRAN AND NIVI SAISHANKAR

VIDYA VOX 9

Silhouette of Shades Tanvi Pulipaka

there is a shadow. she has no color, no skin but her legs are silk ribbon an elongated figure with her petite rib cage and a gap between thighs she walks until she skips gallops, runs, sprints, and suddenly she’s dancing her story, oh her words. she danced rivers. she danced the moon. she danced the sunset. she danced orange. and blue. and most eccentric yellow. she danced colors that never defined her. her silence was grace and beauty there is a girl. she has words and words under her skin but only fragments in her mouth. she is not embarrassed of her world just simply cannot sing her mother’s song she could dance. in her blood. past her heart in her bones she was dancing. spin after spin after spin. but her brain did not spin. the girl has always wanted to be a shadow but she is a rigid box. with her story sealed in her own pandora. her silence is tragic.

Maya Gopal

“Silhouette of shades” is about a young woman who struggles to voice her thoughts in a world that she feels is overwhelmingly vibrant. Her mind is colored with lively dances and rhythms that she craves to share with everyone. However, she is immobilized by a mental blockade that invalidates her speech.

She is unable to communicate her words as beautifully as she thinks. She becomes a victim of societal expectations that arise due to the color of her skin and her overall appearance. The idea of color is used in the context of skin as well as to describe any form of self-expression.

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The Evolving Perception of Hijras

By Sonali Senapati In the ancient Hindu text the “Ramayana”, after he was exiled, Lord Rama told the men and women to return when they followed him into the forest. However, one group stayed behind on the edge of the forest and waited 14 years for him to come back- the hijras. Hijras, or third gender people, are born male but look and dress in traditionally feminine ways. Their devotion to Lord Rama earned them a unique respect in Hindu culture.

Hijras were appointed by kings as bodyguards in harems of queens.

However, the British occupation of India for 200 years reversed some of the respect hijras had earned. British authorities arrested and created a stigma around them. The stereotype earned during the era of British rule reduced the role of hijras only to performers- hijras today wear heavy makeup and sparkling saris. They sing and dance at special occasions for Hindu families.

Hijras have ended up with a conflicting place in society, because while they are believed to have spiritual powers, they are often condemned and humiliated.

Hindu families believe hijras have a special power in their blessings and curses, so they are often invited to celebrations and auspicious occasions,

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like weddings and baby showers.

Their religious power is believed to come from their third gender identification and sacrifice of their reproductive abilities to the goddess Bahuchara Mata. Aside from their religious and cultural value however, hijras are looked down upon. Many turn to prostitution to support themselves and report to a guru who functions in the interdisciplinary role of godfather, den mother, and pimp. The younger chelas, or disciples, report to the guru, who finds them sex work and guide them spiritually. There’s a pyramid scheme type hierarchy in the guru-chela dynamic- younger chelas report to midranking hijras who then report to the gurus.

Another issue many hijras face are careless and unsanitary castrations. Self-inflicted castrations and castrations that aren’t professionally performed have caused many deaths. India now has hospitals performing sex changes and has recognized the third gender which has made the process slightly easier. Hijras still face feelings of alienation, so many of them live together in houses. Many of them aren’t able to find jobs outside of their stereotypical roles, which forces them to resort to begging. Police harass them and hospitals refuse

them treatment. However, some activists, some of which are hijras themselves, are attempting to turn the tide against the ageold discrimination against hijras.

Laxmi Narayan Tripathi Laxmi Narayan Tripathi is one of the most prominent hijras in India. She is an activist for the hijra community, Acharya Mahamandaleshwar (highest monk), and founder of Kinnar Akhara, a religious order of the hijra community. Tripathi has considered herself transgender since she was born. She faced mental and sexual abuse growing up when she came out as transgender.

Speaking for the hijras, she said their greatest challenge was “the feeling of not being loved” and being “ostracized in the same society that seeks blessings from them”. In 2007, she started an organization called ‘Astitiva’ to help the transgender community. She has appeared in many interviews advocating for the LGBTQ+ community and has been featured in many TV reality shows. Many hijras revere her as an icon of their community.

Mazhar Anjum Mazhar Anjum is an HIV-positive hijra sex worker and part of a team dealing with HIV-positive people in Karachi, Pakistan. Pakistani hijras

face a similar fate to those in India, and have been harassed, intimidated, and abused. Anjum says his earliest memories are when he dressed up as a woman and helped his mother with chores around the house. He left home and went to Lahore where he worked as a dancer then moved to Dubai. After getting sick in Dubai, he got tested for HIV- and found out he was positive. He became so ill he could not eat or dress himself. A testing clinic helped him get medicine, because he would have been refused entrance in many hospitals because of his HIV status. Many of his chelas and fellow hijras shunned him after they found out his HIV positive status.

He is now encouraging other hijra sex workers to use protection, but many of them don’t listen. Today, he assists HIV-positive men, women, and transgenders by providing them with his story and supporting them.

Manabi Bandopadhyay Dr. Manabi Bandopadhyay is India’s first transgender college principal. She was born as Somnath Banerjee in West Bengal, and grew up being taunted by her father and those around her.

She focused on her education because she believed that was the only way she could earn any respect. In 2003, she had her sex change operation and changed her name to Manabi- a word which means “beautiful woman” in Bengali. She was the first transgender woman from West Bengal to complete a PhD and became their first transgendered professor, inspite of receiving threats from student union leaders who refused to accept her as a woman.

She has also published the firsttransgender magazine titled ‘Ob-

Manab’, or sub-human, writing on the experiences of members in the transgender community.

These are just three among many hijra activists who are fighting for their basic rights and respectand we still have a long way to go. It is a downward spiral- society expects a certain behavior and profession from hijras and they are unable to rise from this. Oftentimes, this discrimination begins from their families and friends, which results in them not getting proper guidance and accessibility to joining hijra society where they are welcomed and can build a sisterhood with each other. Widespread acceptance of the third gender is vital and long overdue. Hijras occupy a distinctive and contrasting space in South Asian society and are a unique facet of our culture and religion.

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The Bunny in my Back Garden

By Arul Gundam

All a man needs in this life is a garden.

A garden isn’t just for bringing life to a 25-yearlong arranged marriage that seems destined to end in divorce once the kids go to college.

A garden is rebellion. It means that you can survive on your own. You don’t have to be dependent on anyone else. Growing tomatoes, spinach or that one vegetable you only know the Telugu word for can all be done on your own accord. You don’t have to drive to the nearest grocery store and feel bad about giving your money to an evil corporation. You’re just growing some squash. You’re a good person. You’re not harming anyone. Shit, if you feel selfish, just give your squash to the uncle next door. Don’t stay too long- neither you nor your uncle want that.

You want to return to your garden. After all, your plants need you. And you need them.

Maybe I’m getting too specific, but that’s definitely what I felt. I felt insignificant and incapable of making change amidst everything that was going on in my life and the lives of others. I felt more and more like we’re all just pawns in the lives of those who control us, and we are incapable of trying to gain back any of that control.

It may seem stupid to you, but it felt like the garden was all my family and I had when it came to exerting some sense of control over our lives. No one was going to get mad at us for growing that one vegetable I only know the Telugu word for.

The garden was our safe space. No one was going to ruin it for us.

We didn’t see it at first, but we later noticed that the leaves of our plants had been nibbled on.

Whatever it was, we figured it probably needed those leaves more than we did. We’d moved onto its own land with our gaudy McMansion and taken away so much of the grass it grazed on. It was only fair that it got our leaves.

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Then it took our tomatoes. This was no longer just a series of fun and games. We had an enemy, and we had to find out who it was.

We couldn’t just camp out next to the garden to find out what it was, though. We had obligations.

My parents had jobs, and my brother and I had childhood to waste. We needed luck, and thankfully, we got it.

As I went to water the plants, at the base of the tomato plant, I spotted a brown bunny. It was chewing on the leaves of the plant, and I knew it was going to work its way up to the tomato.

“HEY!,” I yelled, running full speed at the bunny.

The bunny saw me, and I could see an expression of genuine shock on its little bunny face. It scurried away, much faster than I thought a little bunny ever could.

My father reacted quickly. We put poles up in the garden, and then wrapped a fence around them so that nothing could get in.

We watched, astonished. We froze. We couldn’t stop the bunny. It ate an entire tomato, and then proceeded to hop back through another one of the holes, and scurried away. The bunny had won this battle.

Of course, it would not win the war. We wrapped a thin black mesh sheet around the fence so that nothing could hop through the openings in the fence. We saw the bunny visit again, and this time, it didn’t try to jump through. It just walked away.

We haven’t seen it since.

We’d taken back control. We’d won. And yet, it felt like we’d lost. It felt like we’d become the people we were rebelling against. Our garden was supposed to be about ourselves, yes, but not at the expense of others. We went out of our way to make sure the bunny wouldn’t take any of our things. I mean, even with all that talk about self-sufficiency and control, it’s not like we stopped buying tomatoes from the grocery store. Our own tomatoes just took too long to grow. We didn’t need the garden. The bunny did.

I’m sorry, Bunny. If you were a real person, I might’ve treated you better. But alas, you are just a bunny.

The bunny didn’t know of the new fencing, so it returned to our garden. It slowed down as it got closer. It appeared to have resigned, knowing that it had lost. If it had continued eating just the leaves, the fencing would never have been placed.

The bunny got greedy, and it was now paying the price.

The bunny began to walk away.

And then it stopped. The bunny turned around and stared at the fence. It took a few steps backwards and then began running towards the fence.

It was going as fast as it possibly could. It leapt, seemingly tucking in every part of its body to make itself smaller as it soared through the air.

It jumped through one of the holes in the fence.

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Home was always...

By Aayush Kumar Home was always constant.

It was a cozy night in a serene bedroom. It was a cacophony of laughter that echoed around the house. It was sharing unforgettable moments with friends and family. It was the home football games, the high school dances, the day trips to Center City, the crazy parties, the spontaneous road trips, the constant laughter that ceded to no one, and every joyous moment in between.

Our homes hadn’t changed for nearly two decades. It was there when we needed comfort, when we needed love, when we simply needed anything. Life was perfect in our homes, and we never feared for worse days because we knew we had a home to go to. A family that loves us. A group of friends that’ll always be by our side.

Home would always be there for us.

But then, in just four months, we were struck off course and faced with the impossible decision of where to call our new home.

With only limited information on each new potential suitor, it became unimaginable to envision the implicit happiness our previous homes gave us. Which new home would provide us comfort?

Which new home would accept us for who we are? Which new home will let us succeed? Which new home will give us the most laughs? The unswerving love? The lifelong friendships? Which new home was even close to what our original homes were like?

As impossible as it was, we all made our decisions, planned our departure, and arrived fresh on campus, ready for whatever our new home had to offer.

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What we didn’t realize was how our definition of home could be completely altered.

Our new homes were nothing like our old homes.

Our new homes had events on every turn of your life. Our new homes had every group of people imaginable, all ready to welcome you with open arms. Our new homes gave us the freedom to find happiness however we wanted. Our new homes had unforgettable nights, tear-jerking laughter, lifelong friendships formed in the blink of an eye, happiness at every corner of the way.

Our old homes provided everything for us without question. Our new homes, however, are the amalgamation of our choices. It is up to the people who are a part of this new home to make it as amazing as we know it can be. It starts with treating everyone like family. It starts with eliminating the neglect of our needs. It starts with providing the same unswerving loyalty as our old homes did.

We had found a new home, one that’ll take care of us for the next four years, and seemingly for the rest of our lives.

Although our new homes are vastly different from the ones we left, we are still a part of both of them.

Although we may spend much of our time here at our new homes, we know without question that we have our old homes to give us a refresher on the calmness of life.

Our new home, unfortunately, was also filled with negativity.

Home used to be a single constant. Now, for many of us, it is dynamically changing, accustoming to our decisions and choices that we make. At the end of the day, we now have two significant homes that will be there for us for the rest of time. Through thick and thin, ups and downs, highlights and lowlights, and everything in between, we know now that our new homes are now constant.

We were overburdened by our expectations. We drowned in work that seemingly never ended.

My peers were neglected when they spoke out about their troubles. Our community was forced to move on even in the face of hardships, without anyone to help us. Many of us simply accepted the hard-comings of this new home. It’s just how things were here.

Home is no longer just one place for us.

Complacency made us lose four great souls. Four souls who had their own beautiful lives that were filled with their own special moments, loving friends and family, and their own unique impact on everyone around them. They had chosen a new home, and it had turned into unspeakable places of darkness as a consequence of blatant negligence. Our home can do better than that.

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When someone has a cut on their arm, you clean the cut and you put a bandaid on it. There should be the same automatic reaction to depression, or anxiety, or any other mental illness.

I’m guilty of the same mistakes- I tell myself I’m making it up, I’m being dramatic, or that some other pre-medical prodigy child with an amazing LinkedIn doesn’t need it so why should I? No one realizes it’s not a sign of weakness to ask for help. And it turns out a lot of the time the LinkedIn prodigy children need help themselves.

There’s a crippling feeling that we aren’t good enough, and a lot of the time that’s been drilled

into our heads by generations of families embracing the need for academic excellence but not a healthy mind.

As the next generation of South Asian children grow up and make their own families, I have faith that we won’t overlook mental health anymore.

You can’t perform well in molecular biology, organic chemistry, and computer science while balancing a CNA job and a lab position if you aren’t mentally well. Academic excellence goes hand in hand with mental health, so heal your cuts before they get infected. You’ll still get into a great med school.

Academic excellence goes hand in hand with mental health, so

Heal your cuts before they get infected.

Kayal Udaiyar

Sonali Senapati

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mother.

Kayal Udaiyar

Tanvi Pulipaka

a dedication written on the very first page inscribed is “mother” one word, no space concise and brief, two syllables, six letters a compacted version of infinity, explanation impossible to define this term is a most strenuous endeavor but i will try to explain the complexity of “mother” a full time job every day and night even in sickness, you work overtime hunger evaporates whenever you are around as the spiciest of spices burning with love dance in my mouth two am, a cracked bedroom door opens i was awake that night, whether you knew was unspoken when you kissed my head and held me near to ensure my breathing was fine but yours was irregular over the years, it was difficult to recreate the happiness and joy each other’s presence would generate my anger, your sorrow into one boiling pot i hope to someday empty that pot of rot the moments you have suffered constantly echo in my memory my admiration and respect you have for your hope in this chaotic family the things you did for ignorant children i cannot help but appreciate your resilience and your unconquerable patience i know that when i scream you scream and shout because your insistent instinct told you i was wrong you lit a path so i could live the most vibrant life so i realize, mother, i must do the same in exchange for your trife the first page with your name is the least i could do for being the only one in the universe to say “my world revolves around you”

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Summary/Description “mother.” describes the complex, multi-layered relationship between an immigrant mother and her daughter. The differences in their culture and strong beliefs become the seed of constant disputes.

However, beneath any animosity or anger lies the pure love that they share for one another. The language of this love is one that only they can understand and is the thread that intertwines their minds. The similarities in the way they think often escalates situations, but it is also the platform for a vital connection. The motives behind a mother’s demand for tradition is her effort to hold her daughter close when time threatens to rip them apart. Yet, their bond runs deeper than any clock.

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Sponsored by Student Congress of UNC Chapel Hill

Anshu Shah

Monsoon is a magazine and advocacy platform that seeks to hold a space for the UNC South Asian diaspora to explore and express our identities.

We aim to do so while reckoning with the history of racism and other forms of hate within our community through education, artistic expression, and mobilization.

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