Letters from Readers
Desis in Distress
As I read the cover story in the July issue (“Desis in Distress”), I came across this statement, “Our entire existence in the U.S. is largely thanks to the work of Black Americans during the Civil Rights Movement.” I find this totally unacceptable. The Indian community has been a shining example in its own right. It brings thousands of years of cultural values with it. From the very beginning, it has relied on high education as its pillar of success. Later came its business acumen. It has always been—and continues to be—respected and valued for its cultural values and professional skills. Witness even the spread of Yoga and meditation.
Kamala Harris is highly educated and inspired by a highly educated and inspiring mother and advocates education as the way to succeed. Zahid Quraishi is also a highly educated lawyer. So were the former President Barrack Obama and the first lady. I have been here since 1958 and been more privileged than even the most privileged community.
It is indeed the place of the Civil Rights Movement, but it has nothing to do with our existence.
A.N. Sengupta
Smyrna, GA
Melodious Memories
The Editorial in the July issue (“In Music Heaven”) took me down the memory lane back to the days of my adolescence.
I too often think about the songs I heard on Vividh Bharti. Being raised in a moderately conservative Bengali family in the 1970s, I was not allowed to watch Hindi or even some Bengali movies. So, listening to their songs on the radio would create a fantasy land in my mind. I still remember how a half-hour segment starting from 10 pm on Vividh Bharti would clash with the 10’o clock Bengali news being broadcast from Akashbani Kolkata. While my dad listened to the news, my ears begged my neighbor’s radio to be a little bit louder so that I would not miss any of my favorite songs.
Undoubtedly the magic of technology has brought those songs at our fingertips now. But I used to enjoy the surprise when I suddenly heard my favorite song after several days (used to feel longer, honestly) of waiting. I would be totally engrossed with that song and time would stand still.
Maybe it is my age—after all, more than fifty years have passed—and the ambience plays a role as well, but it is hard for me to describe the satisfaction I had when I sneaked in to listen to the hit songs of those days (which are immortal to me) on a transistor radio at low volume while I did my homework.
I was able to share my love for them and the nostalgia with my American-born son. It brings me immense joy when I see him enjoying those songs that my childhood memories are attached with. Generation gap has no place here.
Anuradha Chakraborti
Via email
In Music Heaven
I very much enjoyed reading the brilliant editorial in the July issue (“In Music Heaven”). I cannot claim to have listened to as far-ranging noted singers and music as the author. When in my preteens in Nairobi, Kenya, in 1940s, I used to go to my friend’s house to listen to Hindi songs. The radio was an old German model which annoyingly made crackling sounds, suddenly changed stations, and needed waking up with a few choice words and gentle slaps. Taped music, which I played on the tape recorder sometimes, caused frustration too as tapes got entangled and needed delicate surgery before they could continue entertaining me. Later on, I listened to songs on my car radio, aired by Kenya Broadcasting service.
My real enjoyment of Hindi songs began during my stay at Sydenham College hostel in Mumbai when I joined my college mates to listen to top Hindi songs broadcast by Vividh Bharati as well as on Binaca Geetmala Hit Parade hosted by Ameen Sayani on Radio Ceylon.
The right music can help you feel deep emotions and transport your consciousness to higher dimensions.
Mahadev Desai
Atlanta, GA
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