Mathangi Krishnamurthy is a socio-cultural anthropologist by training and is currently Assistant Professor at the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences at The Indian Institute of Technology Madras. Her research has focuses on the nightly lives of transnational customer service workers in Pune, India and she is currently working on a book manuscript entitled "1-800 Worlds". Her new projects follow practices of outsourcing in relation to gestational surrogacy. Her areas of interest include the anthropology of work, globalization, and affective labor. She blogs on www.mathangikrishnamurthy.com. Email: [email protected]
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy When I first moved into an apartment onto campus to take up my current job as faculty at one of the most prestigious institutes in India, I knocked at my neighbour's door to introduce myself, only to be asked, "What department is Sir in?" Highly amused, I responded, that actually only madam…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy I am currently obsessed with Jordan Peterson and his videos instructing men on ways in which to be men. He goes on to inform us that in his experience, so many are men petrified by women and specifically by the specter of being dismissed by them, and how men need to fix…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy I have come to the beach to drown out the heartbreak and listlessness and senselessness of life in the moment. I look at these waves that swallow everything. Tishani Doshi writes in "What the Sea Brought In", of a laundry list of things suddenly seen: "Brooms, brassieres, empty bottles of booze. The…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy My time-travel fantasies often include a return to my first memory of romantic embarrassment, wherein I had shied away from the unknown boy in front of me, one who I had seen lurking around five feet away the many past weeks, and who had emerged from the shadows to ask, “Will you…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Interviews and dates begin thus, “Tell me something about yourself”. In that moment, I balk. After all, what among a dozen different things might this question demand? Must I confess? Shall I tell all? Shall I say everything there is to say? Do I even know? Come to think of it, is…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy “Kar le kar le, tu ik sawaal, Kar le kar le, koi jawaab, Aisa sawaal jo zindagi badal de… [Ask a question, Try and answer, The kind of question that will change your life] It's just a question of a question.” —Title track, Kaun Banega Crorepati Light bursts forth like rays from…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy They say that this year the monsoon will hit the Indian subcontinent hard and strong. They say that we who have been parched by the sun six months and some long, will now cower from the rains, for the next few, and then some. They say that climate change is real. And…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Alienation has an aesthetic. While it reeks of coldness, sharp edges, and an inch-thick coating preventing any form of attachment, it nevertheless also produces the joy of detachment, and irresponsible freedom. While we all know the dangers of too much alienation, a dose every now and then is a welcome elixir to…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy I think I want a Raspberry Pi. Computers are getting smaller and smaller, as is everything else in my life. Tenure, income, hope, knowledge, and certainty. Perhaps a computer the size of a credit card will remedy this bleak picture. Perhaps the ability to wield confidently this sign of the new age…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Welcome to April. It is already the fourth month of the year, and I meditate as I write, on the simultaneous passage and non-passage of time. Everyday the newspaper tells me of a number of unbidden catastrophes, accidents of fate, so many lives snuffed out as if life were not, as I…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Sweet lanky Ethan, have I told you that I love your surfer boy hair? But then there is also that serious academic slouch, and your easy, dimpled smile. I know this might seem a little sudden. I know you are wondering what this is about. But, listen. I thought about this for…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Many months ago, I wandered along with a bunch of enthusiastic companions, into a museum for sepulchral culture. Nestled in the charming, modernist city of Kassel, Germany, we were part of a conference group discussing reproductive loss, and I suppose our hosts considered it fitting that we make communion with death culture…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy The rains visited on the 1st of December, 2015. This monsoon in Chennai, we had already experienced deluge and mayhem, mid-November. The city's low-lying areas had flooded, and thousands of people had to be evacuated. When the rains made a dramatic appearance again on the 1st of December, I wasn't prepared for…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Somewhere in Japan, on offer for the throwaway price of a thousand yen, is a good night's cuddle. Somewhere in Seattle and elsewhere in Oregon, the price of an expensive meal will offer you the benefits of touch; hugging, cuddling, and spooning. Somewhere on a street corner, someone is standing around with…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy On a plane ride to Mumbai last week, I bought oatmeal cookies. For a fleeting second, I thought about sharing them with my surly co-passenger, who had been looking straight ahead ever since occupying the middle seat right next to my windowed one. If I had a middle seat, I might be…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy The bell clangs loudly and I shuffle back into class trying to avoid the boys running in at dangerous speeds. I find my desk and sidle into place. I almost bump into Solomon. Solomon never studies, so the teachers always ask him to sit by me. All he does, though, is copy…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy In the middle of a semester of endless world travel, and a series of screechy deadlines, I gifted myself a three-day weekend to go meander at the Kochi Muziris Biennale of 2014/15. Our survival as, dare I say, members of a sensate world, depends on the idea of a full life, and…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Anthropologists are supposed to be masters of the art of the rooting and uprooting. I learned very early on in my graduate school career the art of attaching, but never too much. Never owning a place, always on the move, and becoming excellent at thrift store shopping for furniture were some of…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy Ryoanji Yudofu garden, Ryoanji Temple premises; Kyoto. February 2015 I tremble in anticipation of beginning to write this piece. I want to write about Japan, you see? And I want to write about having traveled to Japan. This, as you may have surmised, is a hopeless task. For Japan is overlain with…
by Mathangi Krishnamurthy It's 2015. The year has begun clandestinely, as have I. The days suddenly feel lighter, and full of possibility. Even as I say this, I feel performative. After all, how can the beginning of a year be anything but full of possibility? Beginnings are where we take a measure of ourselves, and…