Five years ago, I attended my first and last HOKANA FOKANA, the conference which is held every other year for Mallus who really want to marinate in Malayaleeosity. At the time, I was working for a non-profit and one of the organizers was interested in some of the post 9/11 stuff I was doing, so I was invited to speak at three of the week’s “Youth” panels.

Since they offered, and the woman who had contacted me was just wonderful to work with, I accepted. Thanks to her, I was treated to one of the strangest experiences I’ve ever had, once I arrived at the hotel in downtown Chicago, only to find myself among the most Malayalees I’ve ever seen in one place. It was a little bit bewildering, but it was edifying and fascinating, too.

There was so much to absorb: the regional cliques, the cousins from different coasts squealing as they spotted each other among the crowds, the Uncles strutting about, moustaches in full effect, declaring random things in voices so loud, the three or four white people who dared venture in to this quagmire jumped each time another Malayalee shout rang out. The energy (and scent of Drakkar mixed with Chivas) was potent. I’m glad I went. Everyone should, at some point.

I’ve often referenced my relatively “isolated” childhood— which so many of you share, according to what you confide via meetup and Gmail— and how unlike the other Malayalee Christian kids who grew up here, I never attended the Jacobite or MarThomite religious conferences which seemed to happen every few months, in different regions of the United States. Twenty years after my parents consciously blew off all of my Uncles’ recommendations that we attend that year’s FOKANA, my mother had a Eureka! moment in our kitchen, when during the one and only fight she and I ever had about my “settling down”, I shouted at her that if it were THAT important to her that I marry someone who was Malayalee and Orthodox, then perhaps they should have exposed me to actual Malayalee people while I was growing up.

“You never took me to FOKANA!”, I snapped and there it was, the look of recognition and acceptance. “How was I supposed to find this elusive dream son-in-law of yours, Ma?” I had a solid point. Every wedding we had attended in the two years preceding that argument had one thing in common besides parents who were attempting to one-up the last event by inviting an additional 100 guests; the bride and groom had met at church, at one of the regional denomination-specific conferences or yes, FOKANA. My mother never broke it down like that again. Yindeed, instead of the now familiar barrage of “Is he Jacobite? Marthoma? CATHOLIC?? Ehm…Malayalee at least???”, I was greeted with, “Found a nice boy yet?”

So these strange mega conferences, they have their place in our imperfect, carefully negotiated lives lived in on the hyphen. Sometimes, they can be an opportunity for pure good, like when one of you coordinated a massive effort to “Get Out The Marrow” at the TANA convention which was held in DC this year. What better place to rep Sameer and Vinay’s cause, than at an event which had several thousand potential matches?

From the news tab, a TOI story (“The dharma of diversity”), which I’ve included the majority of, here, so you don’t have to go there (thanks for the tip, Nanopolitan):

The United States and India both brag about their diversity — their respective diverse, multi-ethnic, multi-lingual societies. But what happens when you put 2.6 million Indians in the US? They bring their full range of plurality with them to a country that, much like India, allows full expression.
No Indian state or group or caste is too small or too big to form a representative association in America. So, we have everything here from NAMA (North American Manipuri Association) to BANA (Bhojpuri Association of North America), from the Bruhan Maharashtra Mandali to the Bangla Samaj.
Oh, how they multiply and divide. When one Andhra caste began to dominate TANA (Telugu Association of North America), the other went on to form ATA (Association of Telugus of America). GANA could not contain the forming of the Gujarati Leuva Patel Samaj and nor could KANA hold back the birth of the North America Nair Society. When Bihar split to make place for Jharkhand, folks here made sure everyone heard it by forming BAJANA (Bihar and Jharkhand Association of North America).
Sometimes, there are so many associations for a given state or community that they form an omnibus association of associations. Thus, we have JAINA (Federation of Jain Associations of North America) and FOKANA (Federation of Kerala Associations of North America). Conversely, a mere Tamil Sangam was not large enough to accommodate the voice of Chettiars (to which belongs our finance minister P Chidambaram) who formed the Nagarthar Chettiar Sangam of North America.

What would Aishwarya Join?

A majority of people from Karnataka express themselves linguistically through 33 Kannada Kootas across North America under the umbrella of AKKA, which stands for Association of Kannada Kootas of America. But that does not account for Karnataka’s Bunts, who speak Tulu (think Aishwarya Rai), or Kodavas speaking Coorgi (think Robin Uthappa).
So, we have a Bunt Association of North America (another BANA) and a Kodava Samaja of America (KoSA). Can Konkanasthas, who come from up and down the west coast of India, have their nose cut? They have their NAKA (North American Konkani Association).

I wouldn’t ever recommend cutting a Konk. They’ll mess you up. Confront one of them and the only person who will get cut is you. ;) I have no idea what the next two groups mean:

Linguistic identity doesn’t fulfill caste affiliation. So, there is also a Vokkaliga Parishat of North America and a Veerashaiva Samaja of North America. And try this for size — a Bangalore geek in Boston is a member of both NEKK (New England Kannada Koota) and TIE (The Indus Entrepreneurs).
There are also professional bodies such as AAPI (Association of American Physicians of Indian-origin) and AAHOA, which is the Asian-American Hotel Owners Association, but might well be called PAHOA to account for the dominance of Patels. More recently, journalists and lawyers have opted for the larger South Asian identity with groups such as SAJA and SABA.

You know I love coffee, right? Well the best association ever is coming up, below:

Nothing holds a mirror better to our diversity and our penchant for forming groups than AIENA (Association of Indian Entomologists in North America). Think you’ve heard it all? Beat this. There’s even a Volleyball Association of Jats in America, called JAVA (because they meet over coffee), which is an offshoot of AJA (Association of Jats in America). Talk about boosting diversity in America.

Talk about boosting, indeed. If it weren’t for these groups, how would our Dads have an opportunity to puff out their chest and feel veddy important? When else would they get to wear the sort of “prize” ribbon I am more accustomed to seeing on elementary school Science projects or award-winning livestock, at the California State Fair?

I wonder if we’ll be like this in a few decades—lobbying for another office to be created within one of these orgs (“How about Vice-President of Online Outreach and Promotional Strategies?” ) or splintering off to create a competing faction of Nairs of Northern California, so that we can be President of something too, since that bastard Sreedharan stole the election and shouldn’t be running things anyway. Goodness gracious me – no disrespect to all my Uncles—but…I sincerely hope not.