Since its formation in 2001 the Tamil Literary Garden, a registered charity, has been committed to the promotion of studies and literary activities in Tamil both nationally, in Canada, and internationally.

This mandate is carried out through the promotion of creative writing, translations, book releases, awards, conferences, and workshops. The organization’s annual marquee event is the Tamil Literary Garden Awards – which celebrates preeminent contributions to Tamil literature each year from around the world.

The TLG recently announced their 2016 essay contest, inviting high school, undergraduate and graduate students to submit an essay on the topic: “Innovative Forms of Tamil Expression Today”. This is in recognition of Tamils’ engagement around the world in cultural production in the fields of literature, film, fine arts, artisanship and music, both in their ancestral and adopted languages. Contemporary technology further allows for the development of new forms of expression that push the boundaries of cultural expression and dissemination and the TLG wishes to encourage students to delve into this topic.

For the purposes of this essay, Tamil is defined as an ethnic identity and submissions may address forms of expression in languages other than Tamil as well.

Participants’ essays should not exceed 1500 words and be submitted on or before April 30th, 2016 to amuttu@gmail.com.

The contest is open to participants around the world. The winner will receive a certificate and $1000 at the Tamil Literary Garden awards ceremony in Toronto in June.

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Dear Vancouver,

You were my first. And forever I will remember you for all that you did for me. You changed me just enough for me to leave my comforts behind, just enough to step out of my boundaries and explore, just enough to know I’m not ever really alone and just enough to make me lust for more of your kind.

At 34, a mother, a Tamil woman, visually impaired and surrounded by loved ones who have always worried about me and kept me cocooned, I thought I would never do it. I thought I would never travel alone, see the world and become independent of my disability. After all, taking a trip downtown Toronto to a new location in and of itself is a big production of planning and frustration at times. It seemed it was never going to happen; it seemed Toronto was going to be my safe haven always, but this is what impulses are created for…

I woke up one day on a warm July morning, my son away with his father on a 5 day camping trip, packed up my bags and got a ticket to fly out solo the next day for a 5 day romance with you.

Anyone that knows me will attest to my resort going, can’t touch the toilet seat, can’t use anything that’s not new, must be in a 4+ star hotel and can’t travel alone, ways. Yet for the first time ever, having always loved to travel but never having the sense of being well-traveled, I booked a 4 bed dorm in a hostel and off I went to meet you.

From the get go, the beauty that is your city and ocean excited me and gave me a sense of wonder. I met people from all over the world, on adventures of their own and realized very quickly what a small fish I am in this vast space called Earth. The stories, the conversations and the ideas that were shared were simply beyond me. It’s incredible how you can meet those who are so much like you and those whose perspectives are worlds apart and both can capture your curiosity.

My most memorable moment with you was at your suspension bridge, staying long past closing time to gaze into the sky; just me and serenity for company. Solitude, as I came to know is quite far from the feeling of loneliness. More accurately it’s as Thomas Mann once said, “Solitude gives birth to the original in us.”

When I finally left the bridge, well after sunset, I felt anxious about how I was going to get back to the hostel. And then I met her standing at the bus stop, waiting on what I hoped was the route back. She was the epitome of wisdom. At 90 years old, she had traveled the world, visiting over 40 countries, starting at the age of 34, as a woman who hardly got out, as a mother, as a social worker, much like me—how ironic that our paths should cross. We made the 2 hour trip back to the downtown core, talking about life, love and travel. Her motto: fill your life with many roots (God, your children, your love, yourself, your passion) so that if one of your roots becomes weak it will not shatter or break you; all your loves will continue to sustain you just as the roots of a tree do.

My 5 day romance in your city came to an end all too soon, and though we are only 4 provinces apart, you gave me something far beyond the average traveler’s experience; you gave me hope and strength to pursue my passion. Though my love affair with you was brief, you were the “one” that kept me safe enough to take my first step solo, that spread my wings to yearn for more and that filled my heart with gratitude knowing that you will not be my only, nor will you ever be my last.

With love that brought me to LIFE (Living In Freedom Everyday),

Ruby

Related articles:

A Tamil Woman’s Guide to Solo Travel
A Tamil-Canadian Woman’s Experience in Chennai: Part 1
2 Weeks a Year: How a Trip to Sri Lanka Changed My Outlook on Life

The post To Vancouver, With Love appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

Toronto can’t seem to stay out of the spotlight these days, and the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) is making a point of celebrating this fame with a search for the city’s next anthem.

The winner of their “Song in the 6ix” contest will be walking away with $10,000 and a CBC-produced music video including a professional studio recording.

The top 6 finalists will be determined by votes from the public and a CBC panel will select another 6 finalists. The winner will be chosen by a celebrity jury.

Yanchan Rajmohan, also known as M.D.M, is a music producer from Scarborough who has thrown his production into the mix. Check out his catchy anthem with Toronto rapper Slick Domingo Mason and, if it resonates with you, vote using this link once a day, every day, until this Friday!

The post Song In The 6ix: Yanchan Rajmohan’s Toronto Anthem appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

With widespread interest and worldwide support, efforts are underway to establish the first ever Sangam Tamil Professorship at Harvard University.

Establishing a Professorship has been a goal that’s near and dear to many, and two donors and champions of this project have made significant strides in turning it into a reality. Dr. S.T. Sambandam and Dr. V. Janakiraman have obtained approval from Harvard for this fundraising effort and are also the seed donors, having each contributed $500 000.

Alongside their fellow Board Members at Tamil Chair Inc., a not-for-profit established to fund raise, they are working to raise the $6 million dollars needed to create an endowment.

An endowment is a type of fund that allows a financial resource to exist in perpetuity; this essentially means that the interest earned on the $6 million will be used to sustain the Professorship and the amount raised will never be depleted, allowing the fund to exist on an ongoing basis.

This opportunity to have a permanent fixture in Tamil Studies generating research about, and analysis of, Sangam literature, at one of the most prestigious universities in the world is incredible. And it will be no small feat to achieve, but one that Dr. Sambandam and Dr. Janakiram believe can be accomplished through the efforts of Tamils around the world.

Quite fittingly, it was at a gathering of Tamils from around the world that the idea first took hold. At FETNA 2015 in St. Louis, Dr. Janakiraman met Vaidehi Herbert, a resident of Hawaii with a passion for Sangam Literature. To her credit, Vaidehi has translated 18 Sangam texts, 7 Pathinen Keezh Kanakku books, Muthollairam and Paandikovai to English.

After attending a session of Vaidehi’s at FETNA, Dr. Janakiraman expressed his appreciation of her efforts and how accessible she had made the literature. A conversation about expanding such efforts took place over the subsequent months and ultimately Dr. Janakiraman, Mrs. Mallika Janakiraman, Dr. Sambandam and Mrs. Vijayalakshmi Sambandam decided to set up the initiative at Harvard.

If you would like to be a part of history, and make a donation to support the establishment of the first ever Sangam Tamil Professorship, please click here to learn more. You can also donate through a crowdfunding site which has been set up for the initiative.

Donations are tax deductible for residents in Canada and USA and can be made through a variety of means.

The post Establishing The First Ever Sangam Tamil Professorship appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

This past December, I was finally home for the holidays, after missing two years of the holiday season with my family and friends in Toronto. In fact, in the past two years, I have only been home for a total of three times and each of those three times, there’s been an emerging trend: “When did my parents get so cool?”

It’s a thought I seem to immediately and consistently have while I’m in town. And I don’t mean cool in the sense that they are dressing hip and starting to know urban dictionary better than me (I would actually find that more disturbing than cool) but I mean cool in the sense that, they are just super easy going and actually kind of fun to be around – not to mention, my 64-year-old dad is learning Spanish and travels to Cuba on the regular – whaaaat?!! Cool x 1000.

For me, this is a major breakthrough. With someone with severe youngest child syndrome, I wouldn’t say I had the best relationship with my parents growing up in comparison to my siblings. I was always breaching traditional code of conduct in my parents’ eyes from what a “proper Tamil girl” should be doing. I felt they didn’t get who I was and weren’t on board with my life decisions.

“A lot of parents will do anything for their children except let them be themselves.” – Banksy

But this past trip, I had what Oprah calls an “aha” moment. I was sitting in my old room, lying on my bed and staring at the wall opposite of me. The rooms in my wall are magenta. Yes, magenta. This was the decision of an 18-year-old me who had some savings from a summer job and decided to redecorate. Well, “redecorate” was the polite phrasing I had pitched to my parents who probably thought that meant buying some furniture and choosing a nice light colour paint for my walls but no – it was a magenta “how will we sell the house again?” madness sort of redecoration, carried out by the inexpensive (free) and inexperienced help of my best girlfriends. I got all white IKEA furniture to go with it and the finishing touch was the wall across my bedroom where I had the word “Dream” sprawled across it.

Now almost seven years later and still alive to tell the story, I was staring at this wall and I started thinking, “How did I manage to get away with this?” On one hand, did the charm of my cute youngest child self have anything to do with it? *Bats eyelashes* Maybe. But there was something else at play here – I did something that my parents normally wouldn’t find acceptable and they learned that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. I had taught my parents that this was okay to do.

This seems quite trivial but I think about all these little things that added up from me pushing curfew to speaking up on things that I didn’t agree with to pursuing the studies I wanted instead of what they wanted – I was doing a lot of things that my parents initially had trouble wrapping their head around to accepting it and even supporting it.

Last year I interviewed Indhu Rubasingham, artistic director of Tricycle Theatre, and she said something along the lines of this realization:

“I remember my dad saying something really interesting. He said, ‘Your generation always complains about our generation being old fashioned and not knowing things but it’s up to your generation to inform us and open our eyes.’ I think it’s very true because for them they came from Sri Lanka to Canada or England or wherever with a different set of expectations, values and culture. They came as immigrants. Why should they know what our experiences are, being born and brought up here?”

And that’s the thing – my parents have always meant well, even if I didn’t see it at the time. They wanted to give me a better life than what they had and they did it in the only way they knew how from how they were brought up. I began to see it as my job in some ways to show them that things can be different. Of course, this is easier said than done. In my case, there was sometimes tension and some arguments but this eventually led to some progress and change. My mother went from, “A girl has to be married before she moves out” to calling me in London with, “Are you eating? Make sure you lock your doors at night. Where do you buy your spices from over there?”

But of course, what I can begin to teach my parents is nothing in comparison to what they have taught me. At the end of the day, I am my parents’ daughter; I am my father’s strong-minded, determined girl and my mother’s sassy, drama queen and thanks to them, and the support of my other loved ones, the 18-year-old me was able to turn all that “dream” from within the four walls of my magenta room to a reality I’m living seven years later.

Follow The Rawring Twenties for more stories like this.

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TC on the Street’s Ari checks out the all-star game hosted by WOTSL (Women’s Ontario Tamil Sports League) and OTBL (Ontario Tamil Basketball League) in Toronto recently.

The post TC on the Street: Tamil Sports Leagues’ All-Star Game appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

This is for the ladies. In my 19 years, I have seen and learned many things – especially about our ladies. Though this may not apply to every young Tamil woman in the world, there may be a few who can relate. This is by no means a piece about why you are wrong, but an article to show you that you are special and you should embrace it.

A major topic in today’s society is women’s self-worth. We’ve grown up in a society in which women store criticism while compliments evaporate instantly. Is it any wonder why many women have such low self-esteem?

One day, my friends and I played a game of “Truth”. The premise of the game was to be totally honest about any question that is asked of you.

One of the questions I asked my friend was “Describe yourself in 3 words”. I still remember her answer to this day. Her reply was simply:

Semi-smart, Unattractive, Ordinary

I never understood why she said such hurtful things about herself. I tried to explain to her why I think she is nothing but extraordinary. Her response was simply “the bad stuff is easier to believe”.

This was the moment when I realized the inevitable. No matter what great qualities they may have, they do not want to fail at something they are supposedly good at so they spend more times figuring out negative things about themselves. Basically, thinking that they cannot achieve greatness allows them to not feel the pain that they would if they believed they could do it but failed in the end.

Self doubt arises from the fear of failing

This fear of failing is an important factor in many young women’s lives. I understand why as I have been through it during my harder times. When anything went wrong, I would think it was because I was not good enough to solve it.

Coming into university, my self-doubt was tested several times. I started to second guess my decision to go to university when I was not getting high grades. I started to believe the reason for my poor GPA was because I was not “smart” enough for university.

Even if I did well in a course, I would tell myself that it was a fluke or that there must have been a major bell curve. This downgrading of my intelligence allowed me to feel safe because it was easier to believe that I was a failure rather than believing I could be successful in case of failure and the pain that was associated with it. Many students have all been through this, which is a major reasons why self-doubt is extremely low in many individuals.

A second time I was tested was within myself. Those who know me know that I went through an eating problem. I would go shopping and try on outfits, but in my mind the words shouting at me were:

“Take it off, your legs look chubby”
“Buy a size big, this shows your fat”
“I look horrible in this”

I let my negative words win because I did not want to believe I was beautiful in case I was actually “ugly” to the outside world. In society, we have an ideal image of what beauty is. Those who do not conform to that image are usually looked as not beautiful.

Though we are coming around to change the view of what beauty is, let’s take a moment to look at certain companies. Victoria’s Secret, Calvin Kelvin, Hollister, Abercrombie and other companies have models that are “fit, sexy, handsome and beautiful” which fits the ideal image society has brought up. This pressure from society to be defined as “beautiful” causes many females like myself to think of ourselves as ugly, fat and unattractive as we are afraid that we are not considered beautiful in the eyes of society.

It is better to think negatively about our outer appearance because we won’t feel ashamed or embarrassed when someone else calls us such negative things. Fear overpowers many of our lives such that it causes us to degrade ourselves.

We are our own worst enemies

The endless amounts of negative thoughts and negative emotions are the biggest culprit for negative self-worth in many women. If every day you wake up and tell yourself you cannot do something, that just automatically makes you not want to try.

Do you feel like you are in a perpetual cycle? Don’t worry, I have been there and done that. I am here to tell you that this desire to have low self–worth can be dealt with. In my next article, I will share some tips on how I overcame my low self-esteem and self-doubt.

Related articles:
Overcoming Hardship: The Beginning of a New Life
Depression: Let’s Talk
Big Girls Have Kind Hearts

The post Why Do Many Young Women Have Low Self-Esteem? appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

Twin dancers and choreographers, Poonam and Priyanka Shah’s routine will blow you away!

The post An Incredible Bharatnatyam Fusion appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

It was a fine morning in Waterloo. It was snowing lightly and the walkway was covered with enough snow to hide the concrete pathway. I felt exhilarated when I opened the door and stepped out of my house to head to school. The streets were silent except for the steps of other students heading hurriedly to school. I headed to school delighting in the balmy breeze, walking slowly so as not to miss the pleasant outdoors. I hummed my favourite song softly without disturbing the street’s tranquility.

Noticing my slow pace, a girl who was walking behind me, walked by my side and passed me. She had a honey tan, short coal-black hair and an elegant body. “Could she be Tamil?” I asked myself. “Ouch,” I slipped without noticing the ice underneath the snow and fell down. Hearing the noise, the girl walking in front of me stopped, turned back, smiled and walked away at the same pace as before. She looked at the ground while smiling, confirming that she was Tamil.

While in the lecture hall, I had a hard time understanding the concepts the professor was explaining. My leg was hurting. But more than that, I was thinking of the beautiful Tamil girl I saw that morning.

The weekend was a welcome break for me. After a long day of lectures, I went to Toronto to visit my parents. On the next day, my family sat down for dinner. Amma carefully spread out all the spicy dishes on the table. I could see my favourite dish that she had prepared for her eldest son.

Our conversation revolved around the snowstorm in Toronto and the story that fourteen people had died shoveling snow. My younger brother complained that he had been shoveling snow in the front yard for all these days. And now that I was back home, I should do the shoveling that weekend.

Amma was quiet for a while, meticulously putting curry on the rice on our plates. I perceived that she would say something soon. She had often observed silence before saying something important. I was right.

“Your aunty called me last night,” she began in her soft voice. “There is a girl’s family interested in you. They have given a photo to your aunty and she wants you to take a look at it,” Amma continued. But I could not listen.

I thought of arranged marriages and the traditional match seeking process. Brought up in the liberal Western educational system, I failed to understand some of our traditions when I was a kid. But in recent years, I noticed that I’d been keenly studying them both out of curiosity and to understand them. What if I had agreed to see this girl?

The girl’s family would do an undercover operation to find out if I drink. Even an innocent Labatt Light at a friend’s BBQ party would disqualify me from their consideration. Once I’d passed the 100% drink-free test, they would invite our family to see the girl. Our family would visit her family’s house. All of us would sit on the ground like in Tamil movies. The older folk would be chewing betel nuts and talk endlessly about their villages in Sri Lanka. They would probably ask questions like do you know this person or that person in Sri Lanka. Things that would not interest me and probably bore me.

I would wait in anticipation to see the girl. In the middle of our conversations, the girl would come out of the room with timidity and coffee in her hands. Everyone would stop talking and there would be pin-drop silence. She would probably be wearing brightly coloured sari that would make her look sexier than she actually was. And everyone would look at my facial reaction to see if I like her.

I found the entire process hilarious. I could not resist laughing at the thought. I burst out laughing and spewed out the food that was in my mouth. My mother and brothers looked at me in bewilderment.

The next day I awoke early for a Sunday morning. I tried to go back to sleep but the thought of the Tamil girl kept me awake. I closed my eyes and thought of my life since childhood.

Women have always mystified me. I was born without a sister and schooled in an all-boys boarding school. I felt shy around girls when I was a kid. I felt discomfort sitting next to them in kindergarten; this was at a time when I started to differentiate between sexes consciously. As I reached my teenage years, I started to develop an interest in them. The biological transformation within me longed for them. I held a glorified opinion of women and felt sympathetic towards them for shouldering what I thought were more than half of human miseries. I was so sympathetic that I supported blindly ultra-feminist ideologies.

Back in Waterloo, my attempt at meeting the Tamil girl did not materialize. I did not know anything of her, her name or what program she was in. All I knew was her attractive face. That too I was beginning to forget. I thought of her repeatedly, trying to recreate her face in my memory and not letting her appearance blur away.

On a Wednesday, I finished my elective class in the arts building and was leaving the lecture. While walking out, I noticed a honey brown girl coming out of the opposite class. I slowed down and stood there for a moment studying her. It took another moment to recognize that she was the one I’d been looking for – the girl who had occupied a huge chunk of my inner thoughts.

I opened my book to study that night. I read through twenty pages only to realize that I had not understood anything. I had a hard time concentrating. I thought of her repeatedly. I thought of her graceful walk, her proportional bosom, her large luminous dark eyes and her slender fingers.

I’d never met a girl as beautiful as her. She possessed soft raven hair that settled on her head without a single strand falling on her face. Her honey brown colour bestowed on her radiance. Had she been bit darker or lighter it would have made her lose her perfection. Her nose stud and her sensual tight vest made me see the Eastern and Western culture confluence in her. I imagined how she would look in a sari that would hide some parts of her exquisite body and reveal the other parts…

To Be Continued

– R. Nada
 
Related articles:
The Most Beautiful Girl in the World
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The post Goodbye My Love: Part 1 appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

The New York Times recently featured Aziz Ansari’s trip back to South India to explore his roots, where he goes onto display his Tamil-speaking skills. Watch out Kollywood!

Read the complete article here.

The post Is Aziz Ansari’s Tamil Better Than Yours? appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

I called my high school friend Giri late that night. Giri was majoring in arts and I thought he might know her. I’d known Giri since grade 9. We studied together in high school and were roommates in first year at the university.

There was something that made me envy Giri. He had been closer to more girls than any guy I’d befriended. There was a rumour that he was living with his fourth girlfriend now. But Giri had not been much help. All he knew was that her name was Priya.

I was determined to talk to Priya, to convey my interest in her. I was not sure how I would approach and talk to her. Should I introduce myself and pick up a conversation? No, that would not work. She looked like a traditional Tamil girl and the last thing she would do was shake hands with a stranger. Should I say hi and try talking to her? Would she be interested in going out with me? Or would she prefer an arranged marriage? I went to bed that night with a thousand and one questions in my mind.

The next Wednesday, I left class a little early and waited for her in the hallway. I waited there with anxiety to see her. With each moment, my heart pounded at double the normal rate. I saw her coming and when she neared me, I said “Hi”. She smiled with her head down and continued on.

There was a little progress the next time I met her. This time she said “Hi” in her sweet melodious voice that kept ringing in my ears for the rest of the week. Later in the weeks, I ran into Priya a number of times, most of the time exchanging smiles. Once I saw her in the library waiting in the line to check out books. Seeing her, I grabbed a magazine lying near me and joined her in line.

“Hi,” I said with my heart pounding and my romantic blood simmering. “Are you Tamil?” She hesitated without knowing what to say. She had no choice. She nodded her head like a typical South Asian. “I’m Ranjith. I’m Tamil too.” I trembled, with my right hand coming out of my pocket to shake hands. I put it back knowing well she would not shake hands lest she spoil her reputation and make herself unsuitable for arranged marriage. “I’m Priya,” she said with nervousness, her voice sounding more melodious than the last time I heard it. I did not know what to say next. But I noticed our nervousness gradually disappearing.

“May I help the next person,” the librarian called. Priya left and I joined the next librarian. He was puzzled as to why I would borrow a magazine in the Russian language. I was looking around the circulation desk turning my head occasionally to see Priya. Would she say bye to me before she left the counter? I was wondering. Yes, she did and I was happy about it for the rest of the day.

For the next two months, I met Priya infrequently. Most of the time we would be involved in short conversations. I would ask her about the exams or complain about the weather. She would respond and leave. I did not notice any enthusiasm in her when we met; no emotion to convey her reciprocal interest in me. Meanwhile I was thinking of her everyday, each time building up emotions within myself. All the while I was ignoring my course work which was very heavy in my final year.

My lab partner once complained that I was slacking in my group project. Once when I was having lunch with a group of my friends, one guy whispered. “Have you noticed? Ranj is behaving strangely these days” There was a silence and everyone looked at me with pity. “Yeah, he’s gone crazy. He doesn’t talk to us anymore,” another quipped. I realized that what they said was true. I had not been talking with them lately. The only thing I was interested in was meeting Priya. I’d been thinking of her each day, cherishing our every brief encounter.

It was time that I convey my interest in her, I thought. The semester was coming to an end. And I had to catch up with the courses that I’d not been studying. I thought of next week to be the appropriate time to convey my love. I would meet her after my elective class and pour my heart out.

That Friday I decided to go to Toronto to visit my parents. I wanted to tell them all about my newly found love. I was fortunate to have parents who would accept my decisions. They would not be like my cousin’s parents who stopped all contact with him for eloping with a girl. My mother would be relieved that I was in love with a Tamil girl. She would be more relieved if I told her that the girl appreciates our culture and can understand and speak Tamil.

I packed my bag and went to the bus station with these thoughts. I bought my ticket from the counter and turned to go to the bus. That’s when I saw Priya waiting in line to board the bus. A guy was standing next to her with his hands around her waist.

I stopped. I did not feel like taking my next step. I stood there like a statue. A cold discomfort invaded my blood and I sensed the feel of icy air in every pore of my skin. I felt my heart missing beats. Priya was smiling and laughing with the guy. The same smile I’d adored each day for the past two months. I looked down in melancholy, not wanting to look at Priya.

When I looked back at her, she had boarded the bus and was sitting next to the guy. The driver closed the door and started the bus. The bus was leaving slowly. I saw my hands unconsciously coming up to my chest and waving her goodbye.

I left the bus station with my thoughts accompanying me and feeling sore about everything. It was snowing lightly and the street was quiet. The breeze was balmy like the day I first saw Priya. And the pavement was covered lightly with snow. I walked slowly. But this time I was careful with my steps. I did not want to fall down.

– R. Nada

Are you single? Are you interested in creating your own love story by meeting Tamil singles in your city and across the world? Join myTamilDate.com!

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They say “Not Interested.” You say “Awesome!”
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The post Goodbye My Love: Part 2 appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

Do you stand in front of your closet most mornings, scratching your head, thinking of what to wear?

That was me a while back, a cup of coffee in one hand, staring into the depths of my wardrobe waiting for fashion inspiration to hit. That rarely happened, so I would end up wearing the same things over and over again. Meanwhile some lovely sweater I splurged on would lie unworn and unloved at the bottom of my cupboard.

If this sounds familiar, chances are it’s also why you turn up late at work occasionally. But there’s more that suffers here.

It is your ability to make better decisions later in the day, because you have used up mental energy contemplating less important choices earlier on. There’s a name for it, decision fatigue.

After a point, I couldn’t take it anymore and came up with a quick solution. I now have pictures of all of my outfits on my phone, sorted by where I need to be that day. There are folders for work, formal events, casual days, evenings out, interviews and more. Each photo details everything it takes to pull the look together.

It is said Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg wears the same outfit every day to combat decision fatigue. Doing that would drive me batty; this tactic is my happy middle ground.

It also means I use everything in my closet and don’t come upon some lost piece thinking, “Oh, I forgot I had this.” I shop with the idea of curating together a whole look – as opposed to buying individual pieces that may gather dust in the corners of my closet.

There are apps out there to help you do the same thing with impressive features that note what you wore to certain events, calculate cost per wear and more. I did try one but find my system is all I need for now.

Last fall, I realized I was in good company. While speaking at the #whatsherstory event run by Ideal Incubator and TamilCulture, I mentioned this tactic as one of the many things I do to find more time in my day. After the panel, I received quite a few inquiries on this topic. It should come as no surprise that busy women and men are looking for ways to carve a few more minutes out of their day for what matters.

Here is that advice again: If you find yourself in front of your closet tomorrow thinking “what am I going to wear today?” and it hurts, you need this system. Start curating your closet on your phone, day by day or put aside half of a quiet Sunday to catalogue your closet.

Take it from someone who has saved time and money with this, it will be worth your while.

The post Dealing With Decision Fatigue appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

“Two weeks ago, I made a statement to the police about my experience of sexual abuse at [a photo studio]. Behind locked doors, he used his power to sexually abuse me during a photo shoot.

My loving family took me to this photographer to celebrate my becoming a woman. Samathiya veedu, a cultural celebration that rejoices every Tamil girl on her first period. What should have been an amazing festivity to commemorate my being turned out to be the most fucked up condemned experience.

My reason for sharing this is because I know that I am not alone.

To all the other survivors, police are looking for more women to come forward. This is a difficult experience that can be slightly eased with support (at least it did for me). I am open to connecting and sharing my personal experience making the statement, and walk with you in whatever capacity you need. Please feel free to contact me via facebook or email Tharshiga_e@hotmail.com

Please share!
United, we are stronger”

I could have never imagined the attention that this post received. My intention was to use social media to reach out to other survivors impacted by the same perpetrator – to tell them that they are not alone. The ensuing outpouring of support and increasing number of requests for information and resources has prompted me to speak and write more about my experience. Due to ongoing legal proceedings, specifics of my statement will not be provided.

It is important for me to raise awareness about childhood sexual abuse, to shed light on a dark matter that would have otherwise gone ignored. My post includes a visual piece: faces, which I believe resonated with people on a more relatable level. Faces are too often concealed in these scenarios for countless reasons. Somehow, unmasking the individuals made this real and perhaps on more levels than one. For me, this was an essential part of my journey.

Childhood sexual abuse halted and shattered my identity in that moment in time. My reality froze and I questioned everything and everyone. For many years, I could not understand what happened to me. Yet I knew in my soul that this was not right. How could I possibly tell anyone? Sharing this was the last thing on my mind. And yet, this was the first question everyone asked me when I eventually disclosed.

The freezing response that I experienced was temporary. It was immediately followed by high levels of pain, ambiguity, confusion, embarrassment, and anger. I did not have the language to speak about the incident. I did not tell anyone for several years. During waking hours, I tried my hardest to resume life as if nothing happened. Most nights, I cried to myself after everyone fell asleep.

Telling my parents meant breaking their hearts, leaving them to feel the impact of cultural stigma and the repercussions it brings. My tears had to be silent. This further perpetuated and ingrained my feelings of loneliness, shame, guilt, and disgust. I started to believe it was my fault. I must have somehow asked for it and because I did nothing about it then or even immediately after, I thought that it must have been my fault.

The experience of sexual abuse clouded all that I was and did. My roles as a daughter, sister, student, friend, girlfriend, and employee were skewed by this trauma. I had zero control during my experience of sexual abuse so I consciously chose to exert control wherever I could, whether it was appropriate or not. I did not care or what was more concerning is that I did not know what was and was not appropriate at that point in my life. I shielded myself from anyone and anything that had even the slightest potential to hurt me. This made creating and maintaining any sort of relationship difficult.

My obsession with power and control intertwined with my mistrustful nature induced thoughts and actions that the present version of me cannot even fathom. Yet, it was all me. I was manipulative. I lied. I was violent. I was explosive. Yet I was also caring, loving, and relatable. I was a wave of very intense emotions.

Emotionally, I was quite volatile for reasons I could not identify or understand. As with my social world, I seemed hysterical with my “unwarranted” emotional reactions. Psychologically, I did not understand my own mind or behavior so I began to believe I was “crazy”. Physically, I was confused about where to draw the line in relationships. My sense of boundaries was corrupted. Additionally, I was petrified of being left alone. Daily activities such as sleeping, walking to and from school, baby sitting my younger siblings, things that children are expected to do alone, I could not. I felt incapable of doing anything without creating havoc for my family. As a result, I had tremendous hate for myself. It goes without saying that there was no sense of any spiritual connection with the darkness of this experience hanging over me.

Sexual abuse impacts the emotional, social, psychological, physical, and spiritual self. Like all significant memories, this 14-year-old girl continues to hold this experience within me. She makes her presence known when she senses danger. Her perception of danger is skewed sometimes. She is hypersensitive, ferocious, stubborn, and fired up to all situations perceived as dangerous. She is not going to let it happen again. “Better safe than sorry,” she thinks, and sometimes surfaces during harmless social interactions with very intense emotional reactions.

For several years, I did not draw the link between my thoughts, emotions, behaviors and childhood sexual abuse. When I finally did, my mind experienced a progressive paradigm shift. With the help of therapy, deep self reflection, and unconditional love from my immediate family and closest friends, I could finally start to understand. This newfound lens allows me to be gentle and compassionate with myself. This was the beginning of my healing.

I now perceive the 14-year-old girl in me as a beautiful mirror of growth. She reflects opportunities in my external world that are no longer serving me. She gently provokes me to challenge notions I developed as a product of childhood sexual abuse that once served me but now hinder my growth.

I still bump into mental and emotional barricades. But now it’s few and far between. I am a student of life that is and will always be in an ongoing process of deconstruction and construction of norms, ideas, and mere existence.

The memory lives within my body mind and soul. The impact on my life and accompanying pain was tremendous. But it no longer holds any power over me. I define its role in my life. My choice to open myself up and assertively sit in my truth is self-revolution.  The pain and suffering of this experience was vast. But it also planted the seeds that grew my career and life aspirations.

“Suffering ceases to be suffering at the moment it finds meaning” (Viktor Frankl).

I pursued my Bachelors and Masters degrees in Psychology. I am currently a Registered Psychotherapist working with women that have extensive trauma and use substances to cope with the pain. These women are true champions. They are resilient, adaptive, caring, and beautiful beings that I have the privilege of working with. This further rooted and confirmed my present and future intentions.

My astounding spirit sister, Jenny Starke and I are launching A.N.B.U., an acronym for Abuse Never Become Us. A.N.B.U. is a non-profit organization for survivors of childhood sexual abuse within the Tamil community. Learn more at: www.anbu.ca.

I would like to express my utmost gratitude to my readers for honoring me with your invaluable time. I want to thank your open mind for sitting through this article and on some level, choosing to acknowledge the existence of the reality of abuse in our community. The decision of survivors to share our stories and your choice to read and reflect on these stories will create the wave or change that is needed in our community.

United, we are stronger.

Related articles:
Diary of a Mad Tamil Woman
Finding Hope in the Hopeless: Sexual Abuse in the Tamil Community
EAT, SLEEP, RAPE, REPEAT

The post United, We Are Stronger appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

This TC Talks episode is dedicated to International Women’s Day and all the inspiring women out there. Our guests today are:

• Sathya Gobiraj (Founder of TEN Women)
• Mathusha Senthil (CCO of South Asians Best)
• Renish Kamal (Founder of Fidget Toys Ltd.)

***Got a topic you’d like us to cover on the show? Want to be a guest on our show? Send us an email at info@tamilculture.com.***

Are you single? Are you interested in meeting Tamil singles in your city and across the world? Join myTamilDate.com!

Related articles:

TC Talks (Episode 02): Is Valentine’s Day Pointless?
TC Talks (Episode 01): Wedding, Marriage and Social Media: A Male Perspective
Is Sex Initially Awkward for People Who Have Arranged Marriages?
A Tamil-Canadian Woman’s Experience in Chennai: Part 2
Sorry Tamil Parents, Your Kids Are Not Waiting Until Marriage To Have Sex

The post TC Talks (Episode 03): Do We Need International Women’s Day? appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

As a people who stand proudly amongst the immense diversity of cultures that makes Toronto a dream destination for many, we need to look back and recognize what we had to go through to be where we are today.

Many Tamil Canadians tend to ignore the blood, sweat and tears that gave us the freedom we enjoy today. Some are misled, while others are taught not to remember due to the scars that remain infected in the darkest corners of our history. Scars that tell a story of war, massacre and genocide. Scars that inflict such pain that even many among our older generations choose not to remember.

However, like the concept of muscle, scars are what add to the strength. Every time a muscle is worked, it tears. The scars that form are what create new muscle and add definition to its characteristics. These scars we try to hide are in fact our greatest strengths, and not what we should choose to ignore, forget or feel ashamed about. Rather, as it is these characteristics that define who we are as a diaspora and where we came from, we should choose to wear these scars with pride.

As we have settled into the comforts of our new liberty, embraced our newfound freedoms and adapted to our new lives, we have all too often failed to look back at those scars that define our presence. We have failed to recognize our brethren, and the captivity in which they are being held hostage as we live so freely. Today, as we live in the free world, many of our brethren are where our fathers once were before ever setting foot on Canadian soil.

If it is the journey that makes the man, then it is the journey in itself that should be praised, and not the man. Some men will be recognized for the journeys they overcame, while some won’t and remain unnoticed. Some journeys are hidden in secret, like treasures waiting to be told, while others are celebrated as its pages unfold. Some men who find the courage to embark on these journeys filled with sacrifice, loneliness and pain know the journey is never done, as the pursuit to happiness has no end.

For the next few months, TamilCulture has exclusive access into one of these journeys as it unfolds. It is the recreation of a life whose story is destined to be told, to help us remember where we came from and how we got here.

This is the true story of a man named Alex. At birth he was given another name, Sanjeev Kuhendrarajah, but it is the persona of Alex which he took upon that carried him through his own personal journey. A journey filled with neglect, rejection, banishment, loneliness, trial and error, bad choices and unimaginable pain.

It is a journey that many people will not be able to swallow, a journey that many may not be able to handle all at once. However, it is the various segments of his journey that we all can relate to. At any given moment of his life, Alex has gone through what we are going through if not more.

Many know Alex personally, while others know him through the media, where he has reluctantly been spotlighted as a spokesman for refugees. Some measure him according to his juvenile mistakes and would rather crucify him, while others see through those mistakes to recognize a man in the making, called to a purpose which he had no escape from. A purpose that would take him on a journey through the streets of Toronto where the media labelled him as a “Notorious Gangster”, to the jungles back home where he would find purpose and meaning in helping those in need. We have the freedom today to either see the bad choices he learned from, or the good choices that paved the way to his redemption.

As Alex waits patiently in captivity as a hostage of the system that he was swallowed up by, he shares his story with impeccable depictions that separate justice and injustice with a fine line. He has developed an empathy for every struggle young Tamil Canadians are going through, and it is the foundation of his decision to share his story for that reason alone.

He shares his faith that is the pinnacle of his strength without forcing it upon anyone. He shares his emotions that led to the life changing decisions that he had to make not only for himself, but for the multitude of refugees that stand behind him. The daunting choices he is forced to make every day as he embraces the benefits and consequences of his decisions are choices that can either make a nation of people classified as illegal, or break them.

With his gentleness, love and compassion for our people and the determination to fight for his rightful place on earth, he makes his way through the jungles of politics, the oceans of suffering and pain as he witnesses from afar the making of a diaspora.

This is an in-depth look at the journey that made many of our men. This is His story.

The post About the Man Named Alex appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

Romesh Ranganathan joins the star-studded line up for this year’s Royal Variety Performance which was filmed at the Royal Albert Hall in the presence of Prince Harry. Hosted by Jack Whitehall the line-up includes Elton John, Kylie Minogue, One Direction, Jeff Lynne’s ELO, the Corrs, Ricky Martin, Brandon Flowers, Little Mix, Beverley Knight, Josh Groban, Kacey Musgraves, Cirque Du Soleil, the cast of musical Mary Poppins, Chris Ramsey and Matt Forde, and a performance by Britain’s Got Talent Winners Jules, Matisse and Friends.

The post British Tamil Comedian Romesh Ranganathan at Royal Variety Performance 2015 appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

In the spirit of International Women’s Day on March 8th, we asked our readers to tell us about the women in their lives who inspire and motivate them on a daily basis, through their positive examples. Here are a few of the submissions we received:

Sumi Shan, Startup Advisor and PR lead at Microsoft Canada

Renish Kamal, CEO/Founder at Fidget Toys Ltd. 

“I met Renish about a year ago and heard her amazing journey to building up Fidget Toys. It’s truly inspiring to see a Tamilwoman embracing entrepreneurship and in a space that is aiming to change the way children with autism are dealing with their day to day life. Her company Fidget Toys is creating compact devices to facilitate intuitive movement while stationary. They are focusing on designing tools and toys that alleviate stress, increase circulation and concentration for children with autism. I’d like to recognize story, humbleness, intelligence, and drive.”

The post Tamil Women Who Inspire appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

By this point in time, many of us have heard of Vithiya Alphons and her campaign to find a stem cell donor. For those of you who are unaware, Vithiya is a 24 year-old 4^th year optometry student from England who was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia (AML) in October 2015.

After several rounds of chemotherapy, it was clear that the AML was still present and a few weeks ago doctors advised that the only chance to beat the disease would be to have a stem cell transplant within two months. As a final year medical student, I am familiar with AML, its manifestations, and treatments. However, no textbook will ever be able to explain the physical and emotional pain and confusion it causes both the patient and their family. When I first heard of Vithiya’s story, I could not help but put myself in her shoes.

What would I be doing? What would my parents do? Would my family and friends be able to put together a media campaign to raise awareness in the hopes of finding a donor? Would people empathize or be willing to help? All I could picture is my Amma tearfully asking everyone she met to donate with the hopes of saving my life. It is possibly this image, and a good conversation with a fellow colleague, which prompted me to write this article.

The truth of the matter is any one of us could be Vithiya. Sure, exposure to certain chemicals, radiation, and having a genetic predisposition puts you at greater risk for AML; but many people diagnosed have no known risk factors. That is the very nature, the beauty and the irony of life itself — the uncertainty. However, it is from uncertainty that we can draw inspiration, hope, and become more aware.

Over the past month, I have come across many people who are amazing at spreading the word. Thanks to them, almost everyone I know has heard of her story and the time sensitive disposition it holds. However, there are some that feel that their ability to help ends there. Prior to Vithiya’s story, not many of us knew the importance of donating stem cells or the need to raise awareness in our Tamil community. I am guilty of the latter.

In order to be considered a match for stem cell donation, the HLA (Human Leukocyte Antigen) of both the donor and recipient must be a close match. HLA is a protein that is found on the cells of our body and they function to aid the immune system to keep check of cells that belong and intruders that do not.

Regardless of the blood and marrow donor registry you reference, they all have a common urgent need — the need for ethnically diverse stem cells. Since HLA protein markers are inherited, the likelihood of finding two people with closely resembling HLA types are higher if they are of the same ethnicity/race.

Due to the lack of members from the community that are registered as stem cell donors, when someone is faced with the need of stem cell transplant, it becomes a race against time to find a donor that has a similar HLA type. The waiting period can be the most daunting aspect of it all. Every day that goes by without a match leads to more unanswered questions and it takes an immeasurable amount of unwavering hope and determination to face each day as it comes.

By making the commitment to become a donor today, we can drastically reduce some of the agony patients and their families have to endure.

The first step in registering to become a donor includes swabbing the inner part of your cheek cells and having the sample analyzed for your HLA types. Once deemed a match, the collection of stem cells can occur in one of two ways, based on the need of the patient. It can be done peripherally, or through the bone marrow. Stem cells originate in the bone marrow, mature, and grow in the peripheral blood stream. Therefore, the cells in the bone marrow are younger and those found in the circulating blood are considered mature.

The procedure of collecting peripheral stem cells is somewhat similar to blood donation. It involves a needle placed in the arm of the donor and they remain conscious throughout. Collecting stem cells from the bone marrow is considered a surgical procedure and would require the donor to be anesthetized. Regardless, both procedures are minimally invasive and can include side effects such as fatigue, muscle pain, and headaches that may last one to two days.

Some common reasons that make many hesitant to become donors include a lack of awareness, fear of blood, needles, and inconvenience. Hopefully, with Vithiya’s campaign taking center stage and bringing the realities of cancer closer to home, many of us are able to look past our concerns and make the effort to become more involved.

Usually, the first person to get tested for HLA matching is the patient’s sibling, as they have a 1 in 4 chance (25%) of carrying the same or similar HLA proteins as the patient. Unfortunately Vithiya’s brother was only a 50% match and she needs a closer match from an unrelated donor to give her the best chance at survival.

I am sure many of us would attest to doing everything in our power to overcome our fears if it were our brother and sister who was in need of the transplant. Would it be impossible to consider Vithiya and the many others who need our help, as our own brothers and sisters in need?

If you are considering becoming a donor, or have any questions or concerns, you may find the following links helpful:

Canadian Blood Services

Be the Match (United States)

European Society for Blood and Marrow Transplantation

Australian Bone Marrow Donor Registry

Anthony Nolan (UK)

For all other countries:

Bone Marrow Donors Worldwide

Worldwide Network for Blood and Marrow Transplantation

The post Racing Against The Clock: Stem Cells For Vithiya appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

Is Tamil going to be extinct? From what I have seen, the younger generation in the diaspora is speaking less Tamil. Is this just my personal observation or is this actually an issue? Is the use of Tamil declining? Are there fewer people speaking Tamil? Should we be concerned? Should we be worried?

To get us started, let’s look at a few facts related to the Tamil language. A large number of the Tamil population is from India, Sri Lanka, Singapore and Malaysia. In Sri Lanka and Singapore, Tamil is an official language. Within India, Tamil is the official language of Tamil Nadu. And although the official language of Malaysia is Malay, Tamil is offered as one of the three languages taught in school.

The Tamil diaspora is spread throughout the world in every corner. Tamil is known as one of the oldest languages to exist pre-1st century BC, which is when Tolkappiyam, one of the world’s oldest works on grammar, was written. It is part of the Dravidian language family and based on physical evidence of old Tamil inscriptions.

I was born in the 90s. Most Sri Lankan Tamils started migrating from Sri Lanka in the 1980s and 1990s due to the war. This was when Tamil was heavily spoken and taught to children, though I have been observing over the years that the use of Tamil is slowly decreasing.

Let us take Tamil movies for example. The use of English is a lot higher than 10 years ago, and yes it is understandable that people are learning English through movies and that is great. Yet how many of us are really encouraging the use of Tamil and promoting it? If anything, people are becoming embarrassed of speaking Tamil. I have seen in so many movies where there are scenes which girls laugh at boys for speaking Tamil and not English. It is portrayed as if speaking Tamil is a disgusting act.

In 2008, the film ‘Vaazhthugal’ starring Madhavan was released. This movie was noted among many for the sole reason that it did not feature English words – the dialogue was purely in Tamil. As great as it is for such a film to be made, should this be something amazing or something that should be more regular?

How many of you out there think that Sanskrit is the most important language of India, and that it is older than Tamil? I used to think that until I decided to do some research and learned that Sanskrit is derived from Tamil, and that Tamil being derived from Sanskrit was a myth that was sustained over centuries.

While growing up, I was raised by my grandparents. The rule in their house was that no English was to be used. If we spoke English, we would get a little hit. While some may disagree with punishing children by hitting them, in my opinion it’s that type of strict upbringing which makes me value Tamil so much now.

My grandparents taught me about Tamil culture, Tamil history, the Sri Lankan civil war and the struggles that Tamil people faced. This teaching and upbringing did not only make me aware of Tamil, but it made me have a lot of respect for it. Nearly all of my year 11 and year 12 high school English assignments related to Tamil history, culture and the civil war.

I believe that the younger generation needs to learn about Tamil history, Tamil culture and the independence struggle in order for them to continue to keep Tamil in existence and so that one of the oldest languages do not go extinct. As much as Tamil will be around in Tamil Nadu and Sri Lanka, how many of us foreign raised children will continue to prioritize it? How many of us will try to learn it? How many of us will place value on it and teach the future generations?

I believe that parents should take it upon them to teach their kids Tamil. Sending them to Tamil school once a week alone does not help. They have to make education fun for their kids, and they have to make sure to speak Tamil at home.

Some parents may worry that if their kids speak Tamil at home, as they grow up they will not learn English and struggle in school. This is not true. I started kindergarten at age four not knowing any English. I picked up English within a year and am now fluent in both Tamil and English and have a love for the Tamil language. Rather than only letting your kids only watch Tamil movies, why not tell them stories? Why not read to them? Why not make them watch history videos about the Tamil language?

While growing up, my Appa would read me stories from “Akbar and Pirbal”. While this was something I looked forward to every night, due to the enjoyment of being around my Appa, it also taught me more Tamil and even taught me moral values which I still apply till today.

I fear that the Tamil language is going to be extinct soon. I see so many of today’s kids and youth not speaking it or learning it. I witness so many people feeling embarrassed to speak Tamil.

It’s the little things that matter and play a role in order to mould the younger generation.By being able to teach our kids about our history and culture and language we not only preserve our history and language but we also enrich our kids and teach them great values.

So I do urge us as the older generations to teach the younger generations. I urge the younger generations to actively learn Tamil, read about it, ask about it, do whatever it takes in order to make sure that our mother tongue, one of the oldest languages in the world, does not go extinct.

Related articles:
Why Don’t Tamils Speak Tamil?
Why It’s Important to Learn Tamil
How Tamil Are You?

The post Is Tamil Going Extinct? appeared first on TamilCulture.com.

We’re a big fan of this video by the Jubilee Project.

True love is more than just passion, sex and pretty words. True love is action, devotion. It’s about showing the person you’re with how much you love him/her. Anyone can say I love you, but how many people can prove it with action? How many people can truly show it?

Are you single? Are you interested in creating your own love story by meeting Tamil singles in your city and across the world? Join myTamilDate.com!

Related articles:
TC Talks (Episode 01): Wedding, Marriage and Social Media: A Male Perspective
Observations of a Happily Married Tamil Man
Love Can Be Better the Second Time Around
The Seven Year Spark

The post When His Wife Starts Going Blind, He Does The Sweetest Thing A Husband Could Do appeared first on TamilCulture.com.