Never have I ever...been this delighted to watch a new, young celebrity-in-the-making

Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, not Mindy Kaling, drew me to watch the new teen Netflix series. And Maitreyi Ramakrishnan's charm, not Mindy Kaling's star, kept me glued to it. I am delighted that a seemingly down-to-earth, middle-class, Sri Lankan Tamil Canadian kid from Toronto is here to live out a Hollywood dream. It is easy to see why Maitreyi won the role over 15,000 other contenders -- she has a natural charm, is lively, spunky, and still disarmingly untouched by her own (healthy) ambition and early success. I love watching how Toronto celebrates her and am impressed by how well (how naturally) and lightly she wears her teen icon status. Her Tamil parents have raised her well, is all I can think.

I found the Devi character quite annoying -- I know, I am supposed to remember being a teen myself and also cut some slack given that Devi is experiencing a traumatic loss. Except for the loss of her father, Devi's story line is predictable: high achieving AND good looking South Asian kid with a physician parent; has an affinity for a high-achieving, well-off Jewish kid despite herself and their early rivalry, despite her attraction to a good-looking, non-stereotypically sensitive athlete. Come on! But the show, we are told, is based on Mindy Kaling's life. Kaling is lucky (alright, more than lucky, quite thorough actually) that she searched the world and found Maitreyi to play Devi for her and Poorna Jagannathan to play the mother. I certainly credit the full cast for my interest rather than the story and dialog itself.

The last episode of the first season, minus the drama, was my favorite episode of them all -- Nalini was more than a caricatured Indian American mother, an educated, liberal Indian woman. The trio of the women in the family reminded me of what I want for myself and my daughters -- relying on one another even when we each are different in our own ways.


Here are my kids' thoughts in their own words, uncensored, unedited:


I appreciate the effort that Never Have I Ever took to incorporate so much diversity; most of both the major and minor characters are minorities, especially Asian Americans. I also value the show’s decision to make Devi and her family be Tamil because I feel like the average American automatically associates an Indian person as a person who speaks Hindi. I liked that they show Devi’s family members speaking Tamil and eating Tamil food with their hands.

The show is entertaining, funny, and lively, while at the same time demonstrating the pain that people face. Although on the outside Devi often comes across as outgoing and comical, she is still going through a lot mentally and emotionally, what with the grief she faces from her father’s recent death, the shame she feels from having to be in a wheelchair even though she overcame her leg paralysis, and the struggles of trying to be popular and well-liked at school that she experiences. In a way, Ben, her academic rival, is much the same way going through internal pain though coming across as content. He always shows off to Devi and appears to be so proud of his academic success but in reality he is extremely lonely, always feels abandoned by his parents, and doesn’t have true friends to connect with (for the most part of the show). With these two dynamic characters, Never Have I Ever exposes the stigma of mental health problems that is especially common in high school.

-- Lekha Durai, May 24, 2020


I thought that Never Have I Ever was a pretty good show. It was entertaining and kept me really hooked while watching it, which is what a good show should do for viewers. It was also so cool to see Indian American representation in American media. I’m so used to watching shows like this, with a similar storyline, with a primarily white cast, so the diversity in the show was nice. It was really cool to see someone that looks like me represented on American television. Having said that, I do feel like the show had a few flaws. First of all, the dialogue was often poorly written. Some lines in the show were so cringey that they would never be spoken in real life. I think the script writers intended for these lines to be funny, but they just weren’t. 

Devi’s mom’s character confused me quite a bit throughout the show. She was supposed to come across as a typical, strict Indian mother, but she often had no reaction to things Devi and Kamala did. For example, she didn’t care when Devi stayed at Ben’s house. She didn’t know Ben or his parents very well, but she just let her daughter stay there all by herself for a week. Secondly, she had almost no reaction when she saw Kamala’s boyfriend in Kamala’s room the day they were meeting her potential husband. She even adds, nonchalantly, that she’d known about him all along. I’m excited for season two of this show to come out, but I hope that the script writers use the constructive criticism people have expressed about the show in the next season’s script.

-- Divya Durai, May 22, 2020


Never Have I Ever is a Netflix teen series created and written by Mindy Kaling. Narrated by John McEnroe, the show is from the perspective of the protagonist, Devi Vishwakumar (Maitreyi Ramakrishnan), a fifteen-year-old Indian-American girl. The plot highlights Devi’s struggles, which reflect those of many immigrant children. As a Tamil-Canadian living in America, I respect the historical significance of Kaling’s show. However, I would not recommend it; it is poorly written and unrealistic, and also has an unclear plot and mood.

Mindy Kaling is known for her writing; she has written for The Office and many books. However, Kaling did a poor job with writing Never Have I Ever— the dialogue is not authentic. If you watch the show, you’ll notice that the actors do an amazing job to make the dialogue seem authentic. But, many sentences—written by Kaling—still do not sound right. This is partly because Kaling tries too hard to put humor where it is not needed.

As an Indian-Canadian student in the U.S., I could not relate to Kaling’s depiction of high school. She centered the show’s high school on having different cliques that stereotype each other. That depiction is true to an extent, but far too many teen shows and movies have used and exaggerated it. Kaling’s depiction of high school may be true to her experiences as a teenager, but they do not hold for Gen-Z students like myself.

In Never Have I Ever, Devi struggles through the love-hate relationship she has with her immigrant mother. But she also has to figure how to handle her feelings for her crush, Paxton. She also stumbles in being there for her friends—Fabiola, who needs support as she realizes that she is gay, and Eleanor, who struggles in her relationship with her mother. But that’s not all—Devi’s cousin, Kamala, has to choose between her boyfriend and her family’s chosen groom. Also, Devi’s friend, Ben, has to find his way out of loneliness. And if that’s not enough, Devi’s mother Nalini, who misses her late husband, is reminded of memories of him. Clearly, Kaling did not create a clear plot that solves a main conflict. There is nothing wrong with a complicated plot, but it must be executed smoothly for a good story. And Kaling failed to center all of these unrelated conflicts into one central idea. And in the midst of all of these serious conflicts, Kaling tries to insert humor where it doesn’t fit. Humor is totally fine, but in Never Have I Ever, it creates an unsettled mood. Too often while watching the show, I wasn’t sure whether to feel sadness, anger, or humor. All of these unclear conflicts and moods produce an unclear purpose. After watching all of the episodes, I do not have a good answer to why Kaling created this show other than it gives cultural representation and makes money.

Never Have I Ever gives much deserved representation to minorities like myself, and it highlights many problems that many teenagers go through, from trying to fit in and be liked to trying to come out about your sexuality. But Kaling did not produce these ideas into a good show. The dialogue was written poorly; the plot, mood, and purpose was unclear; and the depiction of high school was unrealistic. The show is probably popular due to Kaling’s name and its historical significance, but it does not live up to valid expectations.

-- Rahul Durai, May 24, 2020

Madhuri Shekhar's 'A Nice Indian Boy.'

Here is the best thing I can say about how good the play 'A Nice Indian Boy' was: that I went to see it twice. 

The first time, on Valentine's Day, on my own, because it was rated PG-13 and because we have no friends or babysitters here yet that we can request taking care of our kids while we take some time on our own -- like a normal, parental couple would. So Melvin's Valentine's Day gift for me was to drop me off at Victory Gardens, take the kids for a treat in a nearby bakery and pick me up again after the show.  So pushing the guilt aside, I grabbed a 'Mumbai mule' from the lovely bar downstairs at Victory Gardens and headed up to the show -- telling myself that I love live theatre and it keeps me sane and connected in my isolated 'all work and no play' (pun intended) world.

It was quickly obvious that the play's PG-13 rating does not apply to Melvin's or my values and sensibilities and that this could have been a family outing for us. Adding to my regret was the fact that another extended family in the audience had brought along some kids -- and at least two appeared to be of my girls' ages (pre-teens). Two more appeared to be in their teens. I texted to my family during intermission that we are coming back again. Together.  Melvin's response was 'huh?' 

So we went back again yesterday-- February 15th.  I gave a crash course to my kids on DDLJ (which is referred to quite a bit in some scenes), Mumbai's cosmopolitan Marathis, Ganesha, Indian stereotypes, parental magnanimity, sibling rivalry, sibling love and support, liberal values, first generation immigrant parents' idiosyncracies, second generation's insularity, first generation's expectations of second generation's behaviors towards them. And finally, the elephant in the room and it is what you think (if you clicked on the link above) but it is also not what you think.  It is not even Ganesha who as a deity has a huge presence in the play.  It is the Indian's expectations about who is a true or a good, natural-born Indian and this little-discussed -- perhaps light-hearted but perhaps not -- reverse "discrimination". I also told them not to be shy about a very explicit kissing scene, putting it in context thus: "I allow you to watch Western movies where men kill men with one fast-drawn gun. If you are allowed to watch that, you can see this without any doubt."  I warned them that on a couple occasions they will hear some swear words -- but nothing that they haven't already heard on their school grounds or from my mouth when I am really mad about something. (Yes, so I said it out loud and publicly. Now flog me.)  Whether the crash course helped or not, I cannot be sure; whether the kids followed every dialog or understood every issue, of that too I cannot be sure (my kids' ages range from 8 to 12). But of this I am sure: that the big-picture impact of this beautiful, sensitive, witty, clever play will only make them more self-assured Indian American children and better human beings overall. That the play emphasizes the triumph of love and mutual respect for all -- whether separated by race, community or sexual orientation -- and by all -- whether by parents or progeny; brown or white -- is what they would ultimately remember. Of that I am sure. 

The California-based playwright Madhuri Shekhar (Chennai roots) appears to be talented and extremely insightful. All the actors were amazing -- but Alka Nayyar and Kamal Hans, even more so. Perhaps, they were just a tad older and much more experienced as actors, but they commanded the stage, even more so than the actors who played the younger characters (Kaiser Ahmed, Riley McIlveen, Suzan Faycurry).  

If you have a chance to see this Rasaka Theatre production, please do so.  Or better still, perform this play in your local community.  It is a lovely, lovely play.  

Director, Anna Bahow, on the play and the playwright: 'A Nice Indian Boy' is a romantic comedy with familiar tropes -- that are anything but familiar when immigrant assimilation collides with the adoption of a foreign heritage. The play challenges our traditioal concepts of ethnicity ad marriage. Shekhar has such respect for her characters and the humor is generous to all.  
          

President's award for academics

My 12-year old graduated from elementary school last week and, as her parents, my husband and I were notified a week ahead that "one" among our children was receiving an award (it wasn't hard to guess which one). "It would be a wonderful surprise for your child if you could be in school on the last day at 8:30 a.m.", we were told.  

Somewhat new to America's K-12 school system, we were unaware of the different awards and recognitions.  On the day of the awards, we sat through all the certificates of participation, intramural achievements, awards for club activities, recognitions for volunteer efforts and appreciations for positive response to behavioral expectations.  We were happy to see each of our children go up on stage at least once, but we suspected that something more was to come.

The principal, Ms. BR -- a warm, welcoming and very capable person -- began the last set of awards with a description of the President's awards.  She read out loud a form letter from President Obama and announced to the school and the visiting parents that each child who receives this award will go home with a copy of the letter, a pin and a certificate. She also described the two categories within the award -- the President's Award for Educational Achievement and the President's Award for Educational Excellence.  The former, she informed us, recognized all those students that show outstanding educational growth, improvement, commitment or intellectual development in their academic subjects and is meant to encourage and reward students who work hard and give their best effort in school, often in the face of special obstacles to their learning. 

My line of work being in Assessment currently, my first thought was about children with disabilities, including learning disabilities such as dyslexia, ADHD, affective disorders.  But the word 'obstacles' loomed large in my mind and I also imagined kids from difficult socioeconomic circumstances, family and immigration issues, custody battles. I was happy to know that the President's office was incorporating in their recognition the concern and efforts from Admissions committees in several institutions and from advocates of Diversity & Inclusion principles. I also heard Ms. BR say that she was going to call the former group of awardees first (the recipients of the Achievement award), give time for a collective applause and camera clicks, before calling out the latter group of awardees (the recipients of the Excellence award).

Then she proceeded to read out names with the loving pride reserved for principals who love their jobs -- first off, an Indian American boy looking well-adjusted and capable.  Then an Indian American girl -- my girl.  And my quiet, shy and unassuming girl walked to the stage and towards her principal only to find Ms. BR looking horrified for a split second and beginning to apologize. "I am sorry," she said, "this goes to show that even principals are capable of making mistakes.  I am truly, truly sorry and quite embarrassed."  It turns out that she had interchanged the order of the two lists and read the latter first.  She sent the two kids on the stage back to their seats, assuring them that she will call their names again -- at the right time, in the right order.  The whole incident lasted no more than a few minutes before the Achievement kids were honored and the Excellence kids were called back onto the stage.  My husband would later turn to me and whisper that seeing our kid then and there made the Principal realize she was onto the wrong order of lists. 

Later, in the unfettered privacy of the world of my thoughts, I wondered if Ms. BR would ever know or realize that she not only recognized my child for her academic excellence but also unknowingly gave testament to my child's strength and resilience and my own unsung efforts at surviving, to the best of my abilities, in the face of my own obstacles. My children, especially my first-born, have survived more than their share of school transfers; cushioned a forever-mismatched, sometimes-rocky/sometimes-rock solid marriage between their parents; watched their bread-winning mother making dents in a profession that is, perhaps, the most difficult for any foreign-trained professionals to be established in the United States and Canada; learned to help glue back the pieces of their mother every time she falls apart as the unhappy ghost of a birth family that denies her, period; rarely experienced grandparents' unconditional love; wondered if parties, vacations and wealth are only for relatives far away.   

For such a 'non-recognition' of the trials in my family, Ms. BR, I will forever be grateful to you.  I hope to live up to your non-expectations -- which, for someone who wakes up every morning wondering how much more has she possibly messed up everything under the sun, such 'obscurity' is as good as it could get.          

                               

Amy Chua: Chinese (American) Mother Superior

Perhaps out of necessity, Amy Chua, in her Wall Street Journal article, 'Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior,' argues for an extreme position when it comes to parenting. I can understand that her philosophy has a balancing role to play in the current North American environment that demands passivity from parents--take, for example, this advice column from Miss Lonelyhearts to a dad bewildered by his drunk teen son--but as a stand-alone position it leaves me sputtering. The exaggerations, bordering on lies -- since when do all Chinese kids get only 'A's? -- are unnecessary hyperboles that only served to irritate me, the reader. Her confidence that her demeaning methods work for all and that all children are inherently strong, mule-like and thick-skinned leaves me extremely troubled.

For all Chua's high credentials, she forgets, or is unaware of, the phenomenon that epidemiologists and social scientists know as ecological fallacy. What works at the population level is not guaranteed to work at the individual level. (This is the opposite of the mistake we tend to commit when we use anecdotal evidence to influence behavior at the population level. More about that later.) More precisely, Chua's children could be practicing-learning, practicing-achieving, practicing-thriving despite Chua's methods and not because of them, but Chua grabs the credit every single time it works (Other intrinsic and time/place-specific external factors may influence motivation and success). But for simplicity's sake, let us assume it is solely Chua's style of parenting that ensures her children are successful at every scheduled activity ordained by her. So, proportionately speaking, Chinese (and Indians) may be over-represented in the hallways of Yale, thanks to upper-middle class Chinese(or Chinese-American or Indian-American) style of mothering, but there is no guarantee that your Mandarin-speaking or my Tamil-speaking child will benefit from that appalling scene Chua describes with herself and her child Lulu at the piano. Woe is us if our child happens to be the one exception: the one resentful rebel in the neighbourhood who would rather self-destruct than put up with an overbearing parent. An academic and a policy analyst who advocates the finer points of democracy across the world, she never second-guesses her inability to practice democracy at home.

After committing the ecological inference fallacy (whether by intent, to drive home a point, or by blind convictions), Chua stomps on ahead and passes off anecdotal evidence as accepted methodology to sell more of her points. The anecdote: her undented self-esteem even when her father calls her 'garbage.' Yes, even garbage may sound as sweet as nectar if you are lucky enough to come from a solid, secure, loving environment. But try coming from a dysfunctional family, being insecure, and being called garbage and you will find it to be a whole new ball-game. In my opinion, dysfunctional families are the last to know about their own dysfunctionality. My point is that parents should stay away from name-calling and verbal taunting, however high an opinion they may have of themselves and their parenting skills. Words have this strange and powerful way of coming alive, in the manner of a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Between the two extremes posited in Chua's article ('Western parents' vs. 'Chinese mothers'; by the way, where are the Chinese fathers?), lie a sea of invisible European parents, specifically, Eastern European parents. Economic and academic successes achieved by Eastern Europeans and their progeny in North America is largely ignored by mainstream America. Their model of rearing the second generation is ignored. Unless, of course, we are talking of generations of Jewish families. Then we are all ears (as we should well be). But in my opinion, contemporary Russian or Ukrainian immigrants (with post-secondary education) bring with them the best of the values endorsed by the 'Western parents' and they balance those values with the respect and reverence for hard work and scholarship that the 'Chinese mothers' supposedly instill (I hate this dichotomy drummed up by Chua since every one of my professors have been Caucasian.) The Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, Hungarian children I know actually stop to smell the roses without feeling compelled to write rose-inspired poetry, bottle and patent rose perfumes, and ship long-stemmed roses to Siberia at 10 bucks a piece. And yet, I will not be surprised if, in due course, one of them genetically engineers thorn-free rose bushes. Until then, they play (and why not? even animals encourage their young ones to play just for the fun of it), and work, in seemingly right amounts.

The Chuas and the Misses Lonelyhearts can flaunt all the tales the old and young wives in their cultures, respectively, spin, but it will be prudent of us to study and listen to our own individual child's need, style and quest for achievements. A small example from my life as a mother of young children: The 1-2-3 discipline rule works without a hitch, every time, with two of my three children. And it never works with one. Never. Strangely enough, this is the one child who is most like me in temperament. I am still trying to figure out what works or doesn't work with this child, and I am still making mistakes.

Chua never mentions what makes her daughters happy. We only get an idea of what makes her, the Mother Superior, happy. Disappointed, I went to back to a favorite article of mine. To remind myself that there is no guarantee that success is entwined with happiness. Or that success is even a pre-requisite for happiness. And Chua should probably pay attention to what is being said. After all, that body of happiness research comes from Yale's rival institution, Harvard. I don't care how much we achieve but I know that we are never going to be happy if we do not know how to love and accept people in all their weaknesses, fears and imperfections.

Here is a review by Elizabeth Chang of Amy Chua's book, 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.' Any lingering doubts I had about Chua possibly being self-deprecatingly funny have been dissipated.

Here are two scenarios that I have been mulling over as potential analogies and as fodder for further thought:
1) How do we react if a poor, black mom in the United States (or poor, Aboriginal mom in Canada) puts her to child to work for endless hours doing menial labour such as doing other people's laundry, ironing, folding just to make a little extra money? (My guess is that in the States, Geraldo will be in with his TV crew, ready to mock on air, and Child and Family Services will come to hear of it in Canada.) Is it fair that upper class and a Yale professorship (and musical accomplishments) confuses our understanding of reasonable expectations from a child?
2) Why is even Hollywood not allowed to work a child until breaking point (they have to respect the right of the child to reasonable work hours), but a mother, under the guise of parenting, can?