Sometimes, usually after watching the news broadcast about a starved family or a tornado-swept place or a government that represses civil liberties, I play the "I'm thankful I was born..." game. You've almost certainly played it. You know, "I'm glad I was born into the family I have" or "I'm glad I was born with two hands". And while I am immeasurably grateful for those things, the general premise for me, at least, is "I'm glad I was born in this country." Which is weird since I really wasn't born in this country. I was born in the Gulf to two Indian parents. Which makes me Indian, regardless of the country in which the delivery room was situated.
I still believe myself damn lucky to be an Indian. There are a lot of things I am in opposition with in this country. But it's tough to dispute with a place in which, every five years, individuals are nominated in and out of power without an ounce of bloodshed.
Happy Independence Day. I think the best part about being an Indian is that we can sit here and disagree, period.
1987 was a great year for music. Unfortunately I was too busy watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and learning Arabic taught by a tall Lebanese woman to pay too much attention. Anway, the year brought us Bon Jovi’s ‘Livin’ On A Prayer’, Rick Astley’s ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’, Guns N’ Roses ‘Welcome To The Jungle’ and U2’s ‘With or Without You’ as well as debuts from Gin Blossoms, Green Day Porcupine Tree, and Alice in Chains. The one song I remember listening to this year was Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over”.
