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| Diary |
Magazine | 22 Jun 2009 |
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| Toronto Diary by Daniel Lak |
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Who says Canadian politics is boring? Watching Ruby Dhalla, an opposition MP and Punjabi-origin Canadian, fend off a ferocious series of scandals has been high drama indeed—with more than a dash of comedy. First, Dhalla was pilloried for trying to block the release of a Canadian-made faux-masala movie called Kyon? Kis Liye? This was because the publicity material featured a model with Dhalla’s admittedly fetching face sprawled suggestively on the seat of a motorcycle. A fake, the lady maintains. Photoshop. Then, last year, while on a visit to Punjab, a street urchin who’d lifted a handbag of one of her staff-members caught a thumping from a policeman’s shoe. Standard operating procedure in India, I know, but not the sort of thing that thrills softy Canadian voters. Neither incident holds a candle to Dhalla’s current travails though, dubbed by Toronto media—somewhat unimaginatively—as "Nannygate". The facts are in dispute but local reporters have unearthed three Filipina women claiming to have been ill-treated and underpaid by Dhalla’s family in their palatial home outside the city. All three tell remarkably similar stories, and the scandal emerged as the city’s gutsiest newspaper was in the middle of a hard-hitting investigative series on the plight of immigrant servants.
Dhalla denies all allegations and accuses the nannies of exploiting her fame for money. Legal writs are flying about like shoes at an Indian political campaign press conference. It’s all a bit of a shame really, for Dhalla’s life story is inspirational. At 10, she came to Indira Gandhi’s attention when she wrote an eloquent letter expressing anguish at Operation Blue Star. The late former PM read it aloud at a press conference. Dhalla earned a series of postgraduate degrees and opened a chain of chiropractic clinics. Elected to parliament in 2004, she’s one of the two Sikh women in a house full of boring men. Politics is a fickle business, and Dhalla may yet ride out this storm. But it’s hard to escape the feeling that she happens to be accident-prone, a political liability that even her undeniable telegenic glamour and lively mind cannot overcome.
Rants and Raves
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There are hundreds of thousands of Sri Lankan Tamils and their descendants here. Many are enraged at the outcome of the war in Ceylon, as they still prefer to call their island homeland. Daily rallies, letters-to-the-editor and a placard-waving mob blocking a highway all helped acquaint unaware locals with Tamil-Canadian ire. The death of Velupillai Prabhakaran probably made things worse, at least in Tamil-speaking Toronto neighbourhoods. For years the community’s support of Prabhakaran’s LTTE was hardly a secret. A fair amount of the money raised for questionable purposes by diaspora Tamils has come from this area, and it hardly abated even after the Tigers were put on a terrorist list in 2006. Not too many years ago, the then government was embarrassed when a senior cabinet minister appeared at a fundraiser for a group with links to the LTTE. These days, official policy here is both anti-Tiger and pro-peace, a tough tightrope to walk. And it could carry a political price. Canada has no Tamil Nadu for an electoral lynchpin, but Tamil Canadians are wily political activists. They can well be expected to make their feelings known when this country goes to the polls. That’s not to say the Tigers themselves will be the issue. Rather, Canada’s response, and whichever political party gets it correct will stand to gain.
Rants and Raves
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I rarely part ways with my native land, but often do so at this time of year. For several weeks now, ice-hockey fever has gripped Canada as the annual league championships take place. We call it the ‘play-offs’. Don’t get me wrong. I love the game and I even cheered a Canadian team called the Sacred Bulls in India’s version of the play-offs in Ladakh a couple of years ago. But I’m a Torontonian and my team—named after a plant—qualifies only rarely for the championships. I content myself with that most American of games, baseball. Our local baseball squad—named after a bird—is winning and I am content. As for those few Indian ice hockey fans in search of a team to support in the big leagues of North America, look to Vancouver, Montreal or even New York. My city’s hockey players will only break your heart.
Rants and Raves
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Toronto’s Little India is a gem of a place that recalls the days before Partition. The Lahore Kebab House sits near Udupi Palace; an Islamic bookstore abuts a superb grocer selling such secular commodities as spices, Bollywood DVDs and cricket bats. The streets are a-chatter with Urdu, Hindi, Tamil and English. Summer’s long-awaited overtures in this land of winter have coaxed out the al fresco kulfi cart, where a United Nations of customers drool in anticipation of an icy treat. Last time I spotted crates of ripe Alphonsos—twice the Delhi price, but worth every Canadian cent!
Rants and Raves
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