As a writer and filmmaker, I’ve learned that having thick skin isn’t about brushing off criticism — it’s about staying rooted enough to let it wash over you without losing your voice. Every story worth telling will challenge someone; every risk you take on the page or screen opens you up to misunderstanding as much as connection.
Why One Review Doesn’t Define a Story
My third short film – another step towards making my first feature length film – is a retelling of A Christmas Carol as a Diwali story. But this time, instead of Scrooge getting all the attention, it is his overworked employee, Bob Cratchit. Only in this version, he is an Indian American woman named Mala who is going to shake her toxic boss forever. Or will she?
The three ghosts are 3 female spirits, mentors from her past and future, come to help get her act together.
Overlooked and overworked, Mala has one last night to get things right. Hilarity ensues when 3 female spirits visit during the tokenist Diwali office party she is forced to throw. But do their warnings come too late? This is a twist on a Christmas classic for a new generation and culture. Charles Dicken’s timeless tale is retold and expanded with a female heroine for our times.
Turning Criticism Into Conversation
When a reviewer called my upcoming web mini series, A Diwali Dilemma “insufferably farcical,” it took me several beats to process. He held back no punches:
“The film is too schmaltzy and tacky to register an emotional punch or drive sobering depth. The writing is too lazy to pad up the emotional truths. The profundity of realisation the protagonist gradually veers to is trapped within a clutch of banal scenes littered by painfully glib dialogues.”
Lazy… well the 9 sets of revisions and year spent on the script would suggest otherwise. But this my backstory – one that viewers won’t see but I know because writing this mini series has been my life for quite some time.
“Diwali Dilemma is waylaid by its insipid dimensions to strike anywhere, affecting. It feels like a bog of cringe-inducing stabs at earning pathos and sobering growth.”
The words might sting for a moment, but they also reminds me why I made this film. The absurdity they reviewer describes seeing in the workplaces scenes were deliberate choices on my part — a reflection of what it feels like to navigate the surreal contradictions of immigrant life, where casual racism and well-meaning ignorance can become their own kind of theater. Humor, satire, and exaggeration aren’t escapes from pain; they’re ways to survive it, and sometimes, to laugh back.
Join the Movement Behind the Film, Diwali Dilemma
The film was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to be familiar — for anyone who’s ever been visible yet unseen, exhausted yet expected to shine.
So yes, maybe it’s farce. Or maybe it’s truth with a twist. Either way, Diwali Dilemma is honest and the result of years of hard work. And if storytelling teaches us anything, it’s that discomfort often signals you’re hitting something real.
✨ A Diwali Dilemma is streaming online from October 20th. Watch it — and decide for yourself.
The group stages of the 2022 World Cup in Qatar are now over. (If, like me, you had only the vaguest notion of what that means, 32 teams from around the world played each other in randomly assigned groups). Of all the parts of the World Cup, this might be the most manic, most crowded, and most global part of the entire process of declaring a world champion in football.
Fans from all over the world converge to support their teams. The best from 3 matches moves onto the ‘sweet sixteen’ part of the tournament.
We’ll leave the discussions about what it’s called (and why American football isn’t actually called hand/egg…) for another time. Since it’s the world’s game, football will do for now.
The Great Fan Debate
Beyond sports, there’s been much debate around human rights, alcohol sales, and now we’ll look at fans. Because, as with everything else related to life in the cosmopolitan capital of Doha, it’s layered. First of all, we must grapple with the fact that of the nearly 3 million people who live in the country, around 250,00 – 350,000 are Qatari citizens.
You can only be a Qatari citizen if your father is one (most countries in the Middle East and Asia are patrilineal). The rest are ‘guest workers’ or citizens of the world, some on short-term assignments – oil industry engineers, lawyers, execs – and others make their home here – professors, teachers, small business owners. Everyone contributes to fueling the economy.
Since the ’60s, and the discovery of oil in Saudi Arabia, the Indian subcontinent has been a major sending country for labor in the development of the infrastructure in the Gulf. From building malls to homes, to setting up the banking system and beyond, Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Nepalis, and others have been setting up shop in Saudi Arabia, Dubai, Bahrain, and, Qatar.
As part of the legacy of the British Empire, when Qatar was a protectorate, the Indian rupee was the official currency for the Arabian Peninsula.
What I’m trying to say, is that the socio-cultural-economic links between South Asia and the Gulf – particularly Qatar and Dubai – are strong. And demographically, South Asians as a block, plus males specifically, make up a big portion of Qatar’s population.
So, in the lead-up to the 2022 World Cup, with tests of Fan Zones, and public gatherings of fans, guess who showed in the majority? You said brown men because you read down this far, and you’re right.
The reaction to brown men in the yellow and green jerseys of Brazil or the blue and white of Argentina was one of disbelief. Was Qatar trying to get the world to believe the World Cup would be fun with these paid fans? Clearly, these men had been paid to celebrate the coming games because, well, everything with these games was slated to be a disaster.
Accusations of Qatar paying international fans to promote positive takes on the World Cup swirled before the start of the games, but, again, was it semantics? Because aren’t top influencers paid by brands to do their thing? (Just in case you’re wondering, full disclosure, I get nothing from anyone to write about these topics; all views are my own as someone who lives here on the ground).
(Post from my Instagram in response to accusations of the brown fans being paid)
Right away, Indians and Pakistanis, within and outside the Middle East, came right back at the racist undertones in this rhetoric.
Are brown England fans not as authentic as English (aka white) ones?
Because, while the fans of global football mega brands like Brazil, didn’t understand how brown fans 14,000 km away could connect with them, Pakistani passion for Pelé is crystal clear. For example, the Lyrai in Pakistan actually see themselves, their hair, skin, and facial features, in Brazilians — but not in their own nation.
South America, like much of the formerly colonized world, suffers from colorism. Lighter, is always better, because to be dark, is to have connections to African, indigenous, or native roots – not the Caucasian overlord ancestry.
I personally experience the mix that is Latin American society, any time I’m walking around in the Spanish-speaking world, from Barcelona to San Jose. As a person of Indian origin, people come up to me and speak in Spanish. When I respond with my strong non-native accent, they are surprised (but happy I’m making the effort).
In South Africa, doing some touristy things, my Uruguayan friend and I posted photos and tagged each other. Immediately, the comments from her family came in – “Who is this woman, and how is she related to us?”
Until that moment, neither of us had seen the similarities in our features.
“I thought Uruguayans were white,” I said. (We are ever learning).
“Most of them are,” her Swedish husband explained to me. (I told you it’s a global place!) “And twenty percent of them look like you and Silvia.”
(Me and my Uruguayan sister at one of my book releases)
This funny anecdote echoed back the last two weeks. “I heard them saying it, look at these paid brown men, at the game,” she said to me at a barbecue. “The guys are having the best time, and this is their Cup.”
For this is one of the unexpected bonuses from this tournament being held in the Middle East. South Asian fans can hop on a 4-hour flight to come see in person what they had only experienced on their TVs.
What do Indians know about football?
Everything. I’m staggered by the stats, the stories, and the memories my South Asian fans have about this gathering that I’m just learning about.
(South Asian men on Doha’s Corniche celebrating Brazil’s national team)
But, as Qatar resident, Najla Nabil explains, Argentina has been her home team since she was five years old. She is ‘from’ Pakistan.
(Najla Nabil, a die-hard fan of the Argentine national team)
It’s cheesy and overused and not always true – I wouldn’t be a believer if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But football can bring people together.
That is, if we can open our eyes to who/what makes a fan.
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Connect with Mohana on Facebook and Twitter. Learn more about her work here.
To learn more about life in the Arabian Gulf, check out the Crimes In Arabia series!
The group stages of the World Cup started in the kidney-shaped emirate of Qatar, located on the tip of the Arabian peninsula. Situated above Saudi, it is the first Arab and Muslim nation to host these games that inspire unique national fervor. There were many questions when they won their audacious bid back in 2010.
How would the tiny, conservative country, which prefers for people not to wear shorts in the malls, host the world with all her many citizens, customs, and behaviors?
Yesterday, Saturday, November 27th, marked the end of the first week, and the answer, we who are here and experiencing it live, can say, with great humor, hospitality, and enjoyment. Fans are having a great time trying out the traditional male Gulf headdress, known as the gutra, with the coiled black a’agal, made in the color combination of the 32 countries, which has turned out to be perhaps one of the best marketing/commercial choices of merchandise in the history of merch-ing.
Men from all nationalities are getting help from Qatari police officers, security guards, and onlookers with how to put it on. You can’t really be mad at someone who is trying to learn your culture; you give a bit of trust to the person close enough to touch your head.
Where connections haven’t gone as smoothly, however, is the subject of alcohol. Football (soccer if you’re from certain places) is synonymous with drinking. A pint, or two, in a bar, while the game is on – all of this is at odds with the collective impressions about life in Islamic countries.
There Are Bars in Qatar
But, yes, there are bars in Qatar – (and the rest of the Middle East) with much higher prices for drinks than in other places because the only outlets allowed to sell alcohol are usually in four-star hotels (or higher).
Yes, people do drink in Qatar, and other parts of the Middle East, both Muslim and non, in public and at home.
You need a license to buy it from the one authorized distributor, known as QDC. Muslims are not allowed to have such licenses, and yes, it does ask for your religion on the application. Plus, your employer must provide a letter so that your total allotment does not 10% of your annual salary because lonely expats do turn to self-medication.
Yes, there is a rehab center, again for expats and locals alike, because, as we know, addiction knows no nationality or faith.
The bar area in a restaurant at the Sheraton hotel in Doha, Qatar by Hani Arif
So if the residents of Qatar have controlled access to alcohol, then why all the fuss about beers without balls?
If you’ve been reading around here for a while, you know I’ll say, the answer is complicated because Islamic identity in the Arabian Gulf has a different permutation than elsewhere in the Muslim world. Some identify this as Wahabism (a whole book in itself). Others describe the unique combination of wealth, small homogenous populations, and geographic isolation as a particular mix, different to say, Lebanon with Christians and Muslims, or Iraq with various ethnicities.
Take all of that and add the fact that alcohol is synonymous with westerners, and any concessions to it are tantamount to comprising one’s morals, for conservative Muslims, and you have the grumbling that began back in 2010.
Qatar is a case study of how leaders, with a vision, are working with a citizenry that might not have bought entirely in. The carefully curated process of modernization has been stepped forward that is sometimes met with resistance based on people’s values (sound like anywhere else we know?).
Alcohol is not the only challenge to a perception of self or nationhood – art as well, what is depicted, and what is permissible, has also been the subject of public scrutiny. Sculptures, especially of humans, for example, are not permitted in Islam, because they can tip one over into idolatry.
So the sale of alcohol in the country due to the World Cup caused several strands of conversations, both within and without Qatar.
The Beef about Beer at the World Cup in Qatar
Fans at the 900 Park, one of the specially created fan zones, selling alcohol during the World Cup
First, the officials said beverages would be available in fan zones made for footballing culture (aka beverage and big screen) near the stadia. A multi-million dollar contract with Budweiser later, and it looked like all would be well. A measure of progress in the way labor reforms have come developed over the twelve years of preparation as the stadia were being built.
Then, as the date came closer, in September 2022, it seemed the possibility of a drink would be even closer – on the premises of the stadia itself.
But, in an inexplicable twist, days before the opening, there was an about-face, first noticed by reporters who saw the Budweiser branding being moved off the stadia grounds, later confirmed by the declaration from the organizing committee that alcohol would only be in specific, authorized ‘fan zones’ with screens, games, and entertainment.
A Tweet by Budweiser (that has since been deleted) when the change in arrangements was announced.
What is puzzling to anyone who knows anything about football (or communication strategy) is that alcohol during games in stadia is, in fact, not offered worldwide. In fact, the ban against sales in Europe was only lifted in 2018; in England, you still can’t drink in your seats. At LaLiga stadia, in Spain, for another example, there is no sale of alcohol, only in nearby bars.
So what is all the fuss about? In not offering alcohol in the stadia, or even on the grounds, Qatar is actually in keeping with sound football hosting.
Well, changing the plan a few days before people who have spent hundreds to thousands of dollars land, is not a great look.
Beyond that, however, is the power dynamic between FIFA, one of the world’s largest so-called non-profits, and Qatar, a country that is continually expanding its soft power network with sports hosting as a key part of its strategy.
And also the space in which we understand what it means to live or visit an Islamic society as a non-Muslim.
Because, as I had to explain to many, many friends at home, the headlines are deceiving when they say there is no beer being sold at the World Cup.
One of the bars at a fan zone in Qatar
Perhaps this is another example of losing nuance when the conversation goes wider; there is beer in the fan zones, there is beer in licensed bars and restaurants, and there is beer here, there, and everywhere but on the grounds of stadia.
Despite how the decision was delivered, there are some interesting positive developments to maintaining the limit of alcohol:
… the medics operating the ‘drunk tank’ from Hamad hospital (hello, free health care) find themselves with much more free time than those working in other World Cups.
… many have pointed out that having lots of beer can make you miss the game because you’ll be constantly running to the bathroom.
… as people worldwide have commented on social media fora, if you can’t skip a few beers now and then, perhaps there’s a larger force at work.
And I am absolutely no expert on this, but apparently beer isn’t the alcoholic beverage of choice for most consumers….
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Connect with Mohana on Facebook and Twitter. Learn more about her work here.
To learn more about what life is like in the Arabian Gulf, check out the Crimes In Arabia series!
