Celebration of Independence Day Image source: Paul Ancheta
I'M ENDING my "blog drought" with this weekend's story. It's about the best two consecutive days I've had since the Regional Bahá’í Conference in Kolkata in November 2008. It deserves to be told.
Last Thursday, with an invitation from the Philippine Embassy in New Delhi, I flew to the Indian capital to help celebrate the 111th anniversary of the Philippine declaration of independence on 12 June (yesterday). I planned to use the visit to renew my passport and register as an overseas absentee voter for the Philippine national elections being held next year.
I also wanted to meet New Delhi Consul Iric Arribas, trade officer Vyke Roaring, and Mumbai Consul General R. Swaminathan in person. We've had phone and e-mail conversations earlier, so it was the right time to finally meet up. Over lunch, we enthused over possibilities of trade links with the company I work with, and shared upbeat stories as Filipinos living in India.
Then came Friday morning. It was Independence Day. I joined over 50 other Filipinos for a flag-raising ceremony at the gardens of the Philippine Embassy. Thoughts of socio-political freedom were farthest from my mind. There was something much more thrilling than those.
I was finally meeting a bona fide Filipino group, for the first time since coming to India in December 2005.
They had remained faceless names in the "Filipinos in India" Yahoo!Group that we shared online. Not anymore. Standing on the embassy gardens, they were smartly attired in Filipino shirts and dresses, the dainty embroideries on pineapple and banana fabrics gently lit by the early midsummer morning sky. Smiles were shared, laughter echoed. And there spilled Tagalog, the beautiful language of my very many years in Manila. "So you're Dante!" "Remember Paul Ancheta, who was speaking in Ilocano? That's him!" "Yes, I remember the message you posted about remittances!"
The Philippine ambassador to India, Mr. Francisco Benedicto, and his lovely wife opened up their home to welcome the community after the flag was hoisted. Their house, elegant and inviting, was spacious enough to fit all of us, seated. It was also the perfect setting for a perfect Filipino breakfast. Sinangag. Lugaw. Maja blanca. Tapa! The last time I had Filipinized spaghetti was during my brother's birthday in Manila in 1998, so that morning's spaghetti lingered a while in my mouth before getting chewed completely.
Later that day, several more Filipinos joined the same group at The Ashok hotel for evening cocktails with members of the Delhi diplomatic corps. Instrumental versions of the Indian and Philippine national anthems opened the evening and set its tone: dignified, familiar, enveloping. I never realized how moving the Indian anthem could get.
Those I met this weekend represent the most diverse Filipino community I've seen in all the places I've lived and worked in. They come from the fields of NGO, hospitality, fashion and product design, retail, urban planning, public works, private service, and family builders (I refer to the housewives of Indians). I was introduced to Monsignor Arnaldo Catalan, the first Filipino appointed as secretary to the Papal Nuncio in India. I met a Filipina working at the Norwegian Embassy, and saw a Filipino married to the lady running Spain's cultural center in India. I also saw the best of both worlds when I met the non-Filipino spouses and their children: those kids should join beauty contests when they're old enough!
With all the familiar Filipino food, fun, and fellowship in Delhi this weekend, it was like being transported back home. It was good. Very good.
A HITHERTO unknown Hong Kong-based columnist has given himself 15 minutes of fame by enraging Filipinos this weekend with a tasteless and idiotic allegation that appeared in last Friday's HK Magazine. In what his publisher, Asia City Publishing Group, apologetically calls a "satirical" article, a certain Chip Tsao reproves the Filipinos, who are a "nation of servants", for "(flexing) muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread and butter." This is in reference to the Philippines' long-standing claim to the Spratly Islands, which China believes is theirs and theirs alone.
The Russians sank a Hong Kong freighter last month, killing the seven Chinese seamen on board. We can live with that-Lenin and Stalin were once the ideological mentors of all Chinese people. The Japanese planted a flag on Diàoyú Island. That’s no big problem-we Hong Kong Chinese love Japanese cartoons, Hello Kitty, and shopping in Shinjuku, let alone our round-the-clock obsession with karaoke.
But hold on-even the Filipinos? Manila has just claimed sovereignty over the scattered rocks in the South China Sea called the Spratly Islands, complete with a blatant threat from its congress to send gunboats to the South China Sea to defend the islands from China if necessary. This is beyond reproach. The reason: there are more than 130,000 Filipina maids working as $3,580-a-month cheap labor in Hong Kong. As a nation of servants, you don’t flex your muscles at your master, from whom you earn most of your bread and butter.
As a patriotic Chinese man, the news has made my blood boil. I summoned Louisa, my domestic assistant who holds a degree in international politics from the University of Manila, hung a map on the wall, and gave her a harsh lecture. I sternly warned her that if she wants her wages increased next year, she had better tell every one of her compatriots in Statue Square on Sunday that the entirety of the Spratly Islands belongs to China.
Grimly, I told her that if war breaks out between the Philippines and China, I would have to end her employment and send her straight home, because I would not risk the crime of treason for sponsoring an enemy of the state by paying her to wash my toilet and clean my windows 16 hours a day. With that money, she would pay taxes to her government, and they would fund a navy to invade our motherland and deeply hurt my feelings.
Oh yes. The government of the Philippines would certainly be wrong if they think we Chinese are prepared to swallow their insult and sit back and lose a Falkland Islands War in the Far East. They may have Barack Obama and the hawkish American military behind them, but we have a hostage in each of our homes in the Mid-Levels or higher. Some of my friends told me they have already declared a state of emergency at home. Their maids have been made to shout “China, Madam/Sir” loudly whenever they hear the word “Spratly.” They say the indoctrination is working as wonderfully as when we used to shout, “Long live Chairman Mao!” at the sight of a portrait of our Great Leader during the Cultural Revolution. I’m not sure if that’s going a bit too far, at least for the time being.
Me, I'm more amused than offended that this Chip Tsao has taken all these years to even mention the Spratlys controversy. It's an old, unresolved, unresolvable issue, having been there since my own grade school days way way back in the seventies. I remember how our Social Studies class debated the virtues of oil that the Philippines discovered in disputed territory off Palawan Island.
Perhaps this Chip Tsao is unconsolably livid after realizing that his better-educated Filipino domestic servant did not him teach about the Spratlys while tutoring him on Asian Contemporaneous Events.
THE INDIAN Express has written about the Bahá’ís of Delhi, in a brilliant article about Naw-Rúz that appeared on last Sunday's print edition. Read about it on "A New Light".
The writer, Shoba, approached me about the writeup--she wrote briefly about my blog earlier this month on "The Expat Blog About Town"--and I passed her onto the external affairs group of the Bahá’ís in New Delhi. It's remarkable how she went out of her way to locate and interview the Bahá’ís in the story. And I love the way that she ended the story with the following sentence:
It is this Tabernacle of Unity that is the essence of the Bahá’í faith, where the waters of disharmony are not permitted to eddy into the peace of mankind.
That, my friends, is the truth. I hope you enjoy reading the rest of Shoba's story!
SPENCER'S RETAIL has been named the "Most Admired F&G Retailer of the Year" amongst convenience and express formats in India. Given this weekend at the Food Forum India 2009 convention in Mumbai, the award is one of 12 that comprise the Coca Cola Golden Spoon Awards for excellence in food retailing. It's one of the most eagerly anticipated awards in the Indian food industry.
The winners were based on votes from consumers through a national survey and from experts in food and grocery retail. This latest recognition for Spencer's Retail is yet another reason to be proud of the company I work with. It's darn good.
To give you an idea how our larger stores look like, pictured below are displays that we created in relaunching our hypermarket in Gurgaon in northern India.
Bahá'ís of Kolkata celebrating Naw-Rúz at the Bahá'í Center, 20 March Image source: Paul Ancheta
TODAY IS the first day of a brand new year for Bahá’ís around the world. Called "Naw-Rúz", which means "New Day" in Persian, it is one of the nine holy days of the year, a joyous celebration that also welcomes the first day of spring.
Traditionally, Nowrūz is the Iránian new year, commemorated particularly by the Zoroastrians and Sufists. It is also celebrated by Muslims throughout the Middle East and Central Asia as Navroz. Abdu'l-Bahá, Son of the Founder of the Bahá'í Faith, has said of Naw-Rúz:
The rising of the sun at the equinox is the symbol of life and the human reality is revivified; our thoughts are transformed and our intelligence is quickened. The sun of truth bestows eternal life, just as the solar sun is the cause of terrestrial life.
Here's wishing all of you the joys and good health that spring brings! May they last through summer, fall, & winter . . . and may the light of His Divine mercy & protection surround you and your loved ones!
COLOR AND laughter splash all over India today, as the subcontinent celebrates Holi. It's that day of the year when you get doused in this powdery colorful concoction called abir, and you're supposed to look funny in all those shades of red, yellow, and monstrous green.P>And all for the sake of fun and fellowship. There's no direct religious meaning to Holi, although a friend mentioned yesterday that it had medical connotations in the olden days when cholera was widespread (abir is supposed cool the body). It's possibly the least expensive of all Indian festivals, which ensures its popularity in the present financial climate. All that's needed are abir, pichkari (water gun), old white clothes, and TONS OF HUMOR.
Yup, humor. Who needs to be serious about being thrown hideous green powder in a white Pierre Cardin shirt, when there's nothing much you can do about it anyway? (That, by the way, happened to me last year, despite me cautiously avoiding anyone.)
MY BROTHER Royce's beeping text message from Manila woke me up yesterday morning and told me about it. Rushing to my PC, I saw Raphael's e-mail: "Tito Paul, Lolo Vic just passed away, around 2am in the Philippines."
Mr. Vicente Samaniego, staunch servant of Bahá'u'lláh, well-loved member of the Asian Bahá'í community, gentle spiritual beacon to my family, and doting father-in-law of my brother Allan, has moved on to the next world after a swift but painful illness. He is now in the company of those he had ever loved in his shining life here on earth.
What a bounty for me to have been touched by you, Tito Vic. I will always remember you and your rich life of service!
STARTING TODAY until 20 March, Bahá'ís around the globe rise before the sun does, eat a nourishing breakfast, pray . . . and then take their next meal after the sun sets. It's the annual season of the Fast, and the time has come once again for Bahá'ís to prepare and rejuvenate their spirits for Naw-Rúz, the Bahá'í new year, on 21 March.
My first day of Fast started well, having rehearsed my cook to prepare breakfast at 5:00 AM. This is my ninth year of fasting (I missed last year since I was traveling extensively). It's the only time of the year when I consciously make the truest effort to detach from material passions and desires, as mandated by Bahá’u’lláh, the Prophet-Founder of the Bahá'í Faith. A friend told me recently that the industry I work for—retail industry—is the first to encourage such materialism. So true, and so lucky am I. There will be tests at work in the next 18 days, and I look forward to winning those challenges through the Fast!
RPG Day at Nicco Park, Kolkata Image source: Paul Ancheta
INDUSTRIALIST RAMA Prasad Goenka, founder and chairman emeritus of RPG Enterprises, celebrated his birthday today. It's been customary for the RPG Enterprises, a 30-year-old industrial conglomerate that includes Spencer's Retail (my employer), to celebrate his birthday with "RPG Day", and today's bash in Kolkata is possibly the most austere one ever. Held tonight at the suburban Nicco Water Park on the eastern fringes of the city, the celebration highlighted the group's corporate social responsibility (CSR) thrusts through a remarkable photographic exhibit. I'm actually impressed, never realizing the extent of the company's CSR endeavors. In these frugal, precarious days, it's superbly reassuring to once again see the buoyancy of RPG Enterprises.
The picture below shows the booth that the visual merchandising team created for the Spencer's private label brands, as part of the product exhibit showcasing RPG's various enterprises. Tonight's entertainment program promised to be fun, but I was so bushed from attending to the day's activities that I had to do a rain check and leave my colleagues to enjoy the promising evening.
Happy birthday, Mr. Goenka. It's an honor working with the group!
Spencer's Retail booths Image source: Paul Ancheta
AR Rahman's Oscar 2009 speech Link reference: YouTube.com
AR RAHMAN, "Slumdog Millionaire"! I've been watching the Oscars for a long time now, and tonight, while watching this year's show, it felt strange to hear that familiar Hindi accent being spoken on the Oscar stage. Tonight, we got it twice (for Best Song and Best Original Score). And that's courtesy of the talented Mr Rahman (and to a wide measure, the director Danny Boyle for bringing the British-Indian film to Western exposure).
My first full acquaintance with AR Rahman's music was through the highly enjoyable soundtrack to the movie "Rang de Basanti" back in 2006. The sound was a big diversion from the Bollywood music that I always knew: it was melodious with its rhythms, youthful in its beats, and it wasn't music to romp with around the trees or on a wide street with dozens of dancers. I thought the music had a strong chance at the Oscars that year, after reading that it was sent in for Best Song nomination. It didn't even get nominated. A big bummer, I think, considering how original the music was in the context of contemporary Indian film music. In fact, I think "Rang de Basanti" and "Delhi 6", which I'm listening to right now, are superior to "Slumdog Millionare". But I leave that to another post.
Congratulations, Mr Rahman! You have made India--and lovers of world music everywhere--so very proud!
TIM KINDSETH wrote in Time magazine this week about Manila Through the Eyes of F. Sionil José. The visual reference is the sweeping Rosales Saga, written by the most widely-read of contemporary Filipino novelists. I'm glad that Mr. Sionil José gets deserving space in Time Magazine. Unfortunately, Mr. Kindseth saw Manila most unkindly, sweeping one of Southeast Asia's most cosmopolitan cities ungraciously away, failing to realize how Western colonialism led to the decay that he avidly describes, and certainly failing to see it the way Mr. Sionil José did in his novels.
Manila's redeeming virtues were the centerpiece of Mr. Sionil José's five-volume opus. Instead, Mr. Kindseth decided to revisit the physical spaces described in the novels, and bring the modernized version into front row (on the magazine's print edition, the story was on full page). Hence, he talks excessively about sunsets rimmed in "diesel pollution", "vulgar light & sound shows", and "starched luxury malls". He fails to understand the redemption that lies beyond these modern elements, introduced into Asia by interactions with the West and so ubiquitous, if not grander in scale, in most of Asia's megacities. Had he gone beyond the façade offered by Manila's pockets of rancid smell and decadent sight, he would have celebrated a vital mass of warm humanity that is unique in Southeast Asia and increasingly difficult to experience elsewhere in this age of materialism and Web 2.0-driven fanaticism.
I'm not sure how to classify Mr. Kindseth's essay. He refers to it as "sense of space". It is neither travel writing nor architectural exposé. Either way, it is senseless and a waste of space.
THAT'S HOW I felt in a "sleeper coach" that took me overnight from Trichy in Tamil Nadu to Bangalore in Karnataka down south last week. The passenger bus contained around 20 beds, and I had the misfortune of getting an upper-deck bed.
Bed? Coffin, actually. It was six feet long, four feet high, and two feet wide. Effectively, it meant that my 5'11" frame, along with my backpack and carry-on luggage, could stretch out without being able to move any body part at all. Which is probably how it is in a coffin. On top of a bumpy bus. For eight hours. Overnight.
I survived the journey with 15 minutes of nocturnal slumber. I will never take these "sleeper coaches" in India again.
(I couldn't take photos to regale you with this story, for obvious reasons.)
CHINESE EVERYWHERE have ushered in the new Year of the Ox. The 15-day festival, which starts today, celebrates the attributes of the ox: tenacity, hard work, modesty, and a self-sacrificing nature with an active mind. Those born in the year of the ox are not extravagant, shrinking from all the "wheeling and dealing" of the competitive world.
Hmm. With all those values of fortitude and honesty, it sounds like the Chinese are indeed preparing us for the dreary prospects of the new year!
San nin faai lok (Happy new year)! Kung hei fat choy (Congratulations and be prosperous)!
INDIANS, AND lovers of India, have another great reason to be ecstatic: the international recognition made by the ten—get it, TEN!--Oscar nominations on the British-Indian film "Slumdog Millionare". This is fabulous vindication for a movie that almost went straight to DVD, has two virtual unknowns on lead roles, and apparently tackles the gritty realities of Mumbai's once-world-famous slums without the drecky, cheesy manners of Bollywood. It's been premiered here in India; I must see it AND listen to AR Rahman's soundtrack. (Mr Rahman alone accounted for three of those ten noms. Whew. 'Atta man.)
THE FORMER US president's daughters have written the new US president's daughters an open letter with advice on how to live their lives in the White House. CNN calls this unprecedented, which is pretty much like everything that's been going on lately around that house.
It's fun to read what Jenna and Barbara Bush had to tell Malia and Sasha Obama about what they call "such a magical place to live and play." Sliding down a banister? Trick-or-treating in the airplane dressed in Halloween costume? Playing hide-and-seek behind the huge curtains? And they've especially mentioned Ramsey, Buddy, and Smiley, ushers who heaped hugs, football talks, and smiles on the girls, and generally made their lives sunnier. Those three men must still be beaming.
Thankfully, the Bush twins, known for their partying ways, spared the Obama girls tips on how to get drunk. But the letter touched on a poignant truth: "Although it's an honor and full of so many extraordinary opportunities, it isn't always easy being a member of the club you are about to join. Our dad, like yours, is a man of great integrity and love; a man who always put us first. We still see him now as we did when we were 7: as our loving daddy. So here is our most important piece of advice: Remember who your dad really is."
Awww, sweet. That's one of the loveliest things I've read this week.
SPENCER'S RETAIL has been named the "Most Admired F&G Retailer of the Year" amongst convenience and express formats in India. Given this weekend at the 
