This song is the story of a journey from India to the Bay Area. Dhan Gopal Mukerji came from Calcutta to San Francisco in 1910. He came to UC Berkeley nearly penniless and formed alliances and friendships with social revolutionaries, anarchists, activists, and members of the working class and communities of color. He became the first popular Indian writer in English. In 1928, he became the first South Asian person to be awarded Newbery Medal from the American Library Association.

In his autobiography, Mukerji says that encountering racism helped him to understand casteism back home. His alliances with radical communities in America helped him be a revolutionary and pro-Independence activist in India. He praises and criticizes both India and America, and finally says that between the two countries, "the differences are so extreme that the extremes must meet." This Carnatic song in Kuntalavarali raga and Adi tala, inhabits the voice of Dhan Gopal Mukerji.

Only when I came to this Golden State,
where the ocean shines in many
colors and tall redwoods grow,
did I realize that the most extreme differences do indeed meet.
The distinctions that make a country
mine or another’s
are dissolving.
Enmity here breeds hatred there,
and compassion here grows friendship there.

In the late 1990s, two sisters were brought as workers to Berkeley, California from a rural village in Andhra. After suffering from labor and sexual exploitation, one of the sisters, just a teenager, died. It was after this event that the Alliance of South Asians Taking Action was founded, with

the mission of resisting oppression within and against our diverse South Asian American communities. We remember our sisters who have suffered, survived, and resisted violence.

The song is preceded by a verse in English. The Buddhist monk Wŏlmyŏng (8th century) offers a song for his deceased sister in conjunction with a memorial ritual. Translated into English from the Korean by Kevin O’Rourke.

You left
On the life-death road
With no word of farewell:
We are two leaves, torn
By early autumn winds
From a single tree,
Scattered who knows where.
Let me abide in the Way, I pray,
Until we meet in Paradise.

A Telugu song for a sister who died from labor and sex trafficking in Berkeley in 2000. Composed by Vishaal Sapuram.

maravalēnu
ennaḍaina maravalēnu
ī charitamu maravalēnu
akkachelleluga kalasiyunna ā
chirunāḷḷanu
maravalēnu
ika karma shrama sādhanamulanniyu
ī iddari charitamu marendarikōsamani
telupavalenē
ī charitamu maravalēnē

We cannot ever forget this story. Remember our childhood days spent as young sisters?
We cannot forget the trials we endured, crossing the ocean in hopes of a better life. We cannot forget the night you left us.
We cannot forget the failure of those entrusted to protect us.
For the sake of future generations, we cannot ever forget this story.

“Endaro mahanubhavulu andariki vandanamulu,” said Tyagaraja famously. He offered his salutations by way of song to the great spiritual men who preceded him. This song is our salutation to the great souls of South Asian immigrant history: the unsung heroes, the women and men who guide liberatory work.

vandanam vandanam vazhi kATTiyOrkku
vandanam vandanam kaDal tANDi ingE mun vandOrkku
vandanam vandanam dhairyamE tuNaiyAgak koNDavarkku
vandanam vandanam poykaRuttai maRuttavarkku
vandanam vandanam dInan dukkattait tIrttavarkku

jAti mada nira bhEdamillAda kAlattai kanA kaNDOrkku (vandanam)

kalai kalvi kaRppittu samUham Adharittu nammai pOshitta taymArkku (vandanam)

svara rAga rasa sAgarattil amizhndu
isairattinnam pADip periyOrai varNitta shrI tyAgarajarai ninaittu nAm mahAngaL ellOraiyum vaNanguvOm (vandanam)

sharaNam sharaNam periyOr nAmamE
em sAdhanam ellAm aruLvAyE (vandanam)

smaraNam smaraNam seyvOmE
caritam nAm maravOmE - kaikkUppiyE (vandanam)

Salutations, salutations to those who showed us the way. To those who crossed the sea and came here first. To those who were brave. To those who helped citizens in need. To those who resisted wrong thinking. To those who dreamt of a time without differences of caste, religion, and color. To the mothers who educated the community, taught the arts, and supported society.

Thinking of the great Tyagaraja who, immersed in the ocean of music, who offered his praise to his predecessors, with folded hands, we offer our salutations to you wise souls who came before us. We ask you to bless our efforts. Your names are our refuge; we can never forget your stories.

Our women are expected to be-all and do-all: mother, warrior, doer, receiver, graceful, compassionate, and strong. We honor them, not for any perfection, but for the incredible and complicated realities of being a woman in a patriarchal world. We seek the blessings of the goddesses and the role models in our lives, beginning with our own mothers, “Maathe, Syame, the Dark One.”

This verse, written by prolific hymnal writer Anne Steele in 1760, honors the pain of human struggle but gives us hope for brighter days. We invoke this, to not forget the injustices that oppress our African-American peers, and with hope that we become better partners in solidarity, with them and the marginalized among our own.

So fades the lovely blooming flower
Frail smiling solace of an hour
So soon our transient comforts fly
And pleasure only blooms to die

Let gentle patience smile on pain
Til dying hope revives again
Hope wipes the tear from sorrow’s eye
And faith points upward to the sky

"O Mind, with a clear voice, sing, celebrate and praise difference; therefore, do not seek sameness and identity in this world."

This song ponders what it means to celebrate and fight for difference. This piece, traditional in form and contemporary in message, is an expression of South Asian solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement.

tEDAdE manamE uvamai orumai ulaginilE nI
pADi koNDADi vEttrumaiyai
pOttriDuvAy teL kuralAlE - enavE (tEDAdE)
inOr kaNNAl kANa vENDAmO
avar kadaiyum pADa vENDAmO
un svabhAvam aDangiya dharaNiyin
vicittiram ariya vENDAmO – nI (tEDadE)

Do not seek, O Mind, sameness in the world.

With a clear voice, sing, celebrate and praise difference; therefore, do not seek sameness and identity in this world.

Isn't it imperative that we see with others' eyes and give voice to their stories? O Lord, mustn't I comprehend the multifacetedness of this world which, after all, contains in it Your own true nature?

Therefore, do not seek, O Mind, sameness in the world.

This tillana, a rhythmic piece, is an expression of art’s commitment to values of justice and friendship in our society. We sing and dance to give voice to a better tomorrow.

tillAna pADuvomE dhimi dhimi takiTa enRADuvOme
nalla kAlam ini mEl malarumE nAm magizhvOmE
nyAyamum mittiramum azhaippOm inda sindhubhairavi rAgam pADiyE

Let’s sing this sweet tillana. Let’s dance to its rhythms. From today, may better times flourish. With joy, we sing this Sindhubhairavi ragam, and welcome justice and friendship.

“We gather today in solidarity to remember a woman who died young. She was a daughter, a sister, a friend, and now a symbol to us all who deplore the oppression of women, girls, and workers. This vigil honors her memory … We come together as a community to: express support for victims of sexual and labor exploitation, seek immunity from deportation for victims, end violence against women, and express our outrage against abusers.”

- From a candlelight vigil held in memory of a victim of labor and sex trafficking in Berkeley, 2000

Inspired by the candlelight vigil, we sing this song in memory of the women who have come before us. We grieve the violence they have endured, and we celebrate their resilience.

Chalo deep jalaao
Sab sakhiyaan chalo
Gaao gun gaao
Naari shakti ko yaad karo
Naari naam ko yaad karo

Come my friends, let’s light a lamp.
Let’s remember the strength of women; let’s remember their names.
Let’s sing their praises–come friends, let’s light a lamp.