Seize it - NOW!

Shoot! Why didn’t I go atop the Eiffel tower??

****! Why didn’t I go for those rides @ the Ferrari World before?

****! Why didn’t I go for Zumba and salsa and all those fast-paced aerobics classes before??? Not even the free trial class???

Everything – a regret, and a wish- wish I had done it before...before I was told I couldn’t do it anymore, not in the foreseeable future- thanks to years of prioritising everything else before taking care of my own body! Not even the desert safari? I couldn’t help scolding myself, feeling bad at that moment- when I realised, there are still a thousand other things that I can do today, that I might not be able to do tomorrow. Finally, I understood Kabir's words- kaal kare so aaj kar, aaj kare so ab... pal mein parlay hoyegi, bahuri karega kab...literally translated as:

What you have to do tomorrow, do it today; what you have to do today, do it now- for any moment might be the final moment, when will you do it then?

I have used and heard and read those words umpteen number of times; and yet, it took me so long to understand. I should have remembered those profound words every single day of my life...I wouldn’t have missed living life so much then! I am glad though that there is still time- time before arthritis makes my knees weak, before high BP and cholesterol strike my head and heart, before my eyes grow weak with glaucoma, before the wrinkles make the red lipstick look horrific on my lips, before I am rendered incapable of wearing the silk sitting in my special storage boxes, and before I have to just pass on the jewellery so lovingly gifted by my husband and parents to my daughters-in-law. There is time before I am told I am too old, too fat, too wrinkly, too this, too that, too whatever...to do what I can do today, now; I still have time to live.

Of Tea Cups and Coffee Mugs, and beyond...

“Wow! So many cups!” was her first reaction when she opened the cup cabinet.

I smiled. “I had got so bored with the same cups Madam has…” she continued.

She was a visiting maid, having accompanied my friend that day, and was now helping me serve tea.

I smiled again.

That was probably the first time I thought why I loved buying cups and mugs and kettles…did they remind me of my Kitchen Playset and pretend tea parties we had when we were kids, or did they quietly comfort my ‘scared of change and yet, get bored easily’ streak? I think it is partly both, but more that streak related to change.

Everyone gets bored, and yet change is sometimes not possible (you cannot change your family, your relatives, your boss,  e.g.) or  advisable (changing your spouse or having an extra marital affair just to add some excitement in your life….would be on the verge of stupidity actually!), or  is unaffordable (your home, your country, or even your job…), or even scary (any of the above could be scary, depending upon individual circumstances!).

It is then that these little cups in bone-china, porcelain,ceramic, stone, steel and baked mud come to my rescue…they add an excitement to life without all the side effects of change! A new cup, or even the cup that has not been used for a long time and hence feels new- both have the same capabilities of adding colour, romance, and life to something as mundane and humdrum as teatime. Probably, it is the same reason why we want to eat out, or sometimes just go out for a cup of coffee or a plate of chaat…it helps break the monotony and routine of something as simple and essential as eating and drinking.

For long, I have kept the special crockery for special occasions; and frankly, for practical reasons (it is expensive, and I cannot afford it being chipped, lost, scratched upon during the course of daily wear and tear); some of it, I still do. And yet, the other day when I decided to have coffee in one of those special bone-china mugs mom had gifted me, it was an amazing feeling to see the froth rise.  As I took my sips, I felt on another plane, that familiar and yet untraceable rush of mushiness enveloping me all over again…

I realised then, that every single piece of crockery serves a purpose besides serving food or drinks…it helps me live an ordinary and everyday  experience like an extraordinary one. It  can make me feel special (say, when it is a delicate white, embossed floral bone-china or fine porcelain),  nostalgic (an older piece flooding me with memories of how and when and why it was bought- like those regular brown ones I had bought only because they reminded me of my holidays at my aunt’s place!), excited (a new piece with its new feel), bored (when it is the same blue stone cup!),  enthralled (the one with the Japanese birds drawn on them…) or even romantic (the bone-china coffee mug with the froth dripping over the rim and smelling so divine)- just by being what it is!

I think I just enjoy the easy change I get by just choosing a different cup for my tea, whenever I want.

Remembering the good, and only the good...

When I went there after almost two years of leaving the job and met all my ex-colleagues, I saw a man smiling broadly as we were all talking.
"Sorry, I did not recognise you,” I said. 
"...You shared your lunch with me,” he said. 
I still had no memory of that incident. He elaborated "It was my first day here and I hadn’t brought anything for lunch. You gave me an apple from your lunch. You are a very nice person..."

I was dumbstruck; not because I had not remembered it, not because I had only given him an apple, but because he had remembered that small incident and that small impromptu act had made me a nice person in his eyes.

I can assure you, I am not that nice a person. In fact, I can be mean and selfish, just like anyone else. However, this gentleman’s words reminded me how a small act can not only leave a good or a bad memory, but can also make or break relationships.

A few years ago, when my husband was travelling, I fell sick during the night. In the morning, still shivering, I wrapped myself in the quilt. I could not drive in that condition, not across the ocean (then and now) called SZR. The only person who came to my mind was my then colleague and friend AKS. She lived in Golden Sands, while I was near the then Defence Roundabout, and it was a time when Oasis Centre was as far as the people not working in Jebel Ali went on SZR! In less than half an hour she picked me up, took me back to Bur Dubai to our insurance approved doctor, helped me with the medicines, took me to her home, force-fed me the breakfast, and then dropped me back home...I have never forgotten that act of kindness. I could have never done it , especially if I had a baby to take care of. Every time I think about her or see her on my FB, that one incident towers above all to tell me that a friend in need is a friend indeed. I am ashamed to admit, I would have most likely failed her in her such time of need- thanks to my fear of SZR!

Whether it was the boss who took time out from his very busy schedule to answer my non-job related questions on Advertising, or his wife who always met us like she was one of us, the colleague who volunteered to show me how to put baby pics on the office desk without the horrible tape showing, the colleague who made dhansak for all of us, the friends who took care of me when I was sick in college and didn’t even take money for the fruits they had to buy to help me recover, the friend who took it on him to take us all out in those Eid holidays because my husband was travelling, the friend who offered to take care of my baby if I wanted to take up some classes to enrich my life, or the stranger who helped me on that cold Delhi evening when the auto-wallahs went on strike....each one is so different in their acts, and yet have the common thread of having been kind to me.

It is also surprising as I write this, that I only remember the good, happy, kind acts others have done for me. Not a single memory of a routine bad deed comes to my mind; not even if I scratch my brain.  So, I let go of it...I am happy to report that it feels lighter :).

If only I could say a big thank you to all those people whose acts of kindness in my time of need or otherwise helped me keep my faith ...if only I could promise myself that I will always only be kind to others, and create a memory that they will be happy to remember when they see, hear, or think of me...

The Signs of Life

I have always been confused about the concept of 'signs', as they are called. I have never really figured out how to read them...when I am trying to get something but don’t get it in spite of my 'best' efforts, is that a sign that I am not supposed to get it, or is that a sign that God is 'testing' my mental, emotional and physical strength, and sooner or later, I will be rewarded? I have never quite learnt to decipher them...

And yet, I allow myself to get intrigued by them. I wonder, when you meet someone, just like that, on the road, in the supermarket, at the bus stop, in the school, at the hospital, in the lift at your work place...just about anywhere, and your eyes lock for just that fraction of second, and you exchange a polite smile, a ‘thank you’ or ‘excuse me’, or 'you dropped that', or just start chatting about something you booth seem to be looking at or looking for....is it all so meaningless? Are all these people, I cross my path with on a daily basis, just meant to be casually passing by my life?

I met her also just as casually, in fact more than that. I had been going for those classes for a few sessions now, and hadn’t yet made any friends...the ladies would quietly pick up their belongings, walk out of the studio, and into their worlds; except the occasional ones who knew each other from before.

That day, while waiting for the class to begin, I went out to make a quick call. The phone was in my hand, and I was about to hit the dial pad when she came from the opposite direction. 

"The class never starts on time" I remarked, looking up at her, and expecting a grunting “Yes’. I thought she was the same woman (blame my memory cells! No one takes it seriously when I tell them that I have started forgetting things, names, faces….) who had been really upset due to late start of the class just the other day...and had left the class midway because it had upset her schedule.

"Yes,” she laughed and gave me a big smile, “but sometimes, the teacher comes on time- just to give us a surprise!"

We both laughed. She told me she tried but managed to come only once a week for the classes. (So, she definitely was not the same woman who had got upset the day before!)

And then, it just went on.

She offered to pick me up for another class elsewhere where she thought the instructor was better suited to my objective of attending these classes. I wondered (in a nice, and yet a bit sceptical kind of way!), what is this woman… she hardly knows me and yet she doesn’t mind picking me and dropping me back at my place for a class that I have shown no inclination for, so far. Then, we spoke about our kids, their schools; her vacation (she is going away today) plans, compared different education systems (IB vs. SABIS vs. British/ American), discussed the problems of our growing up kids, and compared notes on our teacher's way of teaching. By the end of five-seven minutes of our nonstop chatting, we had exchanged our names, shaken our hands, and smiled broadly at our teacher whose arrival meant we had to stop that high-pitched conversation and laughing.

At the end of the class, we exchanged phone numbers, and she surprised me by hugging not only me, but asking me to hug the kids also for her...

It was so surreal. At a place where women did not even bother to smile, I had made an instant connection with a woman who was as different from me in appearance, culture, expertise at the art, everything; as can be...and yet, it all had seemed so effortless. I hadn’t felt that connection with anyone in a long, long, long time.

Now, again, I am not sure if we were both just passing by each other's lives, and were just meant to have those happy moments, or will it eventually become an unlikely friendship. Either way, I think it was her warm smile that gave me the first sign!

That Split Second...

I was in my comfort zone. No tension, no SZR, no high speed traffic…this was the community area, and you could just roll down your windows and drive at 60-80 km per hour, enjoy the weather as you drive and finish your errands along the way. I turned towards the Town Centre, my indicator clearly showing my intentions. I saw that delivery van waiting to come out from the same point where I was supposed to go  in.  I was right in front of his vehicle. And we both stalled for a few moments considering the narrow entrance and exit respectively in front of us. I saw the three men including the driver sitting on the front side of the vehicle. It was an X position. I had to make an inverted forward slash to go in and he had to make the backward one. Since he could not have come out unless I would have gone in, I almost took that gentle curve to go in, when I saw that delivery van moving forward…there were just a few inches between my car and his van on that narrow community road- just one lane to go in and another to come out. I raised both my hands while looking at him in a gesture of shock “What are you doing? Can’t you see… I am right in front of you and you can’t go flying over me?” and went in, and he moved out. I wanted to stop my car on the road, just where I had made that hand gesture, get out of the car, and confront him for what could have costed me my life, and my kids their mom…but I thought the better of it. I did not even bother to see which company’s delivery vehicle it was, or the plate no. or anything.

I was not unnerved, in fact, I did not think about it at all until later that evening. It was that fraction of a moment. It would have been a terrible collision. He would have hit me straight. Who would have called the police? Would anyone have called the police soon enough? Would I have survived? If I did, would I have suffered any major injuries that would have crippled me for life…and I would have missed rolling down those windows and feeling the cool winter air on my face for rest of my life? Who would have picked the kids at home time that day? What if my husband was travelling at that very moment? Who else would the police have contacted? Who could I have trusted my kids with in that emergency? Who would have taken the trouble to coordinate everything in absence of my husband? Would I have cursed that moment when I decided to go to Spinneys for that bottle of milk? Without realising, I knew, I was thinking about the worst-case scenario in the UAE. With no real family around, we do not know who to turn to in times like these…and in death.

I realised how God had saved me that day, by a split second; and I realised how I cannot thank Him enough for saving not only my life but also of the people I love, my family. It was a miracle...really!

Every accident, on the road or otherwise, causes damage, usually irreparable. But I had always assumed that accidents occurred on highways, or roads where there was a reason for people to ignore the traffic rules (no cameras, for instance; or just an empty stretch- a tantalising, tempting stretch of road beckoning them to test their F1 skills!) or are caused by RTA taxi drivers (who stop anywhere on any road to pick or drop a customer!). But I now know - accidents can occur anywhere. There is no need to panic but there is a need to be ever vigilant when on the road, even if it is the road in front of your house! Idiotic, selfish, mean, dumb drivers are not yet extinct, you see!