sick long-billed vulture in India
Some good news arrived from the EPA yesterday, when they announced a ban on carbofuran residues on food in the US, including imports. The highly toxic insecticide does such a great job at killing little critters that eat plants that some herdsmen in east Africa have been baiting carcasses with it to eliminate larger competitors as well, such as the leopards and lions that predate domesticated livestock. Whether a carcass has been deliberately baited or an animal is weakened or killed by consuming treated crops, the result is the same. Lions and other large predators are dying along with scavenging vultures. See a BBC video of a staggering lion and vulture here. It has long been known to kill seed-eating birds as well.
Sold under the trade name Furadan by US-based FMC Corporation, carbofuran in food can, of course, have the same detrimental effects on humans as well, especially children who are more susceptible to low dosages. It acts systemically, absorbed by the plant so that aphids, for example, munching on the leaves of a soybean plant die. Those residues don’t magically disappear when those same soybeans reach a human market. One of the most toxic insecticides on the market, it acts as a neurotoxin.
Kudos to the EPA for recognizing that there are certain things we can and should live without. Continued pressure on FMC Corp. will help eliminate its sale globally, so that African and other babies and living creatures–human, avian or leonine–can also be spared the lethal effects of growing up in an increasingly toxic world.
My uncle Anna has lived through a thousand moons! To celebrate, Anna—literally big brother in Tamil—and his wife Manni will reenact their marriage from 1951. But today is not about him. Today is about the women. It is mangili pondu, the Brahmin ceremony to remember, honor and seek the blessings of the women who have come before, in anticipation of my aunt and uncle’s remarriage. Three of my father’s four sisters have gathered at their house, and all of his three brother’s wives. A couple cousins. A close friend. The few men in attendance sit outside, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee, ignored.
Upcoming showdown in the Thar Desert shows India staying true to its (momentarily) nonviolent roots. Not. Read more at 
Ok, it’s been a couple weeks now, but the Jaipur Literature Festival was an excellent way to begin my travels in India. I was expecting something smaller, not the several thousand in attendance, moving between the three simultaneous events taking place at Diggi Palace. Some highlights included Pico Iyer in conversation with Patrick French about the V.S. Naipaul biography, The World Is What It Is; a screening of documentary, The Strange Luck of V.S. Naipaul; a discussion about Defining Diaspora; and Basharat Peer in multiple presentations, including interviewing Mohammed Hanif, discussing the Fundamentals of Fundamentalism and a talk about Kashmir, past, present and future.
Anyone pulled from a source longs to go back.
Days before the wedding, my female relatives dress me up as a little bride, the weight of the braid extension and gold jewelry heavy on my tiny head. My aunt gathers fresh leaves to grind into henna paste and makes designs on my hands. I don’t remember whether I realized that I was nearly the same age then that my grandmother was when she married. I return to America with the fading red marking of mehindi on my hands, lice in my hair and a hunger to experience other worlds.
“This then is life.