The Right Punishment for a Rapist...

As women living in India, how many of us can say they have never felt scared being out after the dark, or even during the day (depending on which part of the country we live in)? Walking the roads in India for women was never safe, and it still is not. If anything, it has only become worse. Women earlier were used to being whistled at, hearing the lewd comments being passed, teased and so on and so forth. We were taught to mind our ways, ignore such men, and be back home before sunset. Now, with so much ‘progress’ that our country has supposedly made, the eve-teasers, as they have always been called, too have graduated to become rapists? The North, in particular has been in the news again and again in the past few months for rapes- nothing was done except giving sympathy and monetary compensation to the victim’s family (at best!!!).

Unless lawmakers think it through, and make tougher laws to deal with use and abuse of the laws, the loop-holes, the implementation and the corrupt system that engulfs it all….we will just feel sorry for the victims, and hope we do not have to go through that pain at personal level.

What is the right punishment anyway for a rapist? Should he  (/they) be hanged to death publicly, ostracized from the community, castrated (as most of the women feel), beaten and shamed publicly, or should we just tell ourselves that we cannot stoop to their level and let them just serve a few years in prison? What can be done with the current rotten state of India’s legal, political and administrative system? The truth is, a rapist or his family can never understand the victim’s pain, the emotional scarring, and the mental trauma. A rapist deserves to feel that pain, to wallow in the same sadness, to feel the burning sensation of an unwanted touch, to acknowledge that what he did was utterly and absolutely wrong…

What is the best way then to  teach him a lesson, to punish him so anyone even tempted to rape thinks thrice before putting his temptation before him….????

Is there a way to change mentality really?

Can we make the men on those streets, public spaces and offices and everywhere else respect women if they have not learnt it in their own families and surroundings?

We need to redo the emotional wiring of these men I think…if there is way to do it.

On My Way Home

The UAE National Day fever has gripped everyone. Everywhere you see- schools, malls, offices, residential buildings, libraries, private houses, roads- everywhere- all you see is the four colours of the UAE flag. The balloons, the huge flags, the pins, the badges, the car decorations, the cupcakes, the special edition T-shirts, the candies...everything. It fills me with happiness, pride and a sense of camaraderie. 

Giant delight: A huge UAE flag on display at Al Wahda Mall, Abu Dhabi.

Image Credit: Gulf News

In the middle of this frenzy, this morning I was asked a question that left me speechless. Here is what happened:

As a part of the UAE National Day celebrations, the school gave out postcards to children to fill and stamp with your contribution to the nation, your thumbprint and your details. In the area where you had to write 'Emirate', I wrote 'Dubai'. 

My 7-year old protested, "NO, you are supposed to write where you were born."

"Where do you think you were born?" I asked.

"India."

"No. my dear, you were born right here, in Dubai."

"So I am a local!?" came the immediate reply cum question.

I have put the ! and ? together to signify the feeling that was in his tone- it was that of a sense of realisation plus a confirmatory question put to me.

Thankfully, i was packing his lunch and did not have to look at him directly. 

"You have asked a very difficult question sweetie..."

Without waiting for me to say any further, he went on, "Because they had a meeting for locals day before yesterday..."

"What meeting?"

"That they should be wearing the national dress for the National Day celebration..."

He trailed off...

This made me realise how difficult it is to explain to expat children that the place where they were born, are being raised  and have their home is actually just a temporary destination in the big picture. Gulf expats live an intricate dual life, which is both, a blessing and a curse. We call our home-country 'home', and yet, spend our silver, golden and diamond years making  UAE our home....

To honour, celebrate and understand the life of Gulf Expats better, I am embarking on a personal journey, On My Way Home.

It is the story of just one of thousands of Gulf expats who make Dubai their home, and yet have no home at the end of their long journeys. Uma and Neel are in the process of meeting the same fate...the question is, which is that one place they can call 'home' in their twilight years? Will they ever find it, or will they forever be travelling back and forth? Will it be 'home is where the heart is', or will it be the heartaches that are in store for them?

To read the first few chapters, please go to the link below and click to read- I look forward to your comments on my blog re the book, and rest assured, each one of them will be precious to me :))

http://authonomy.com/books/46210/on-my-way-home/

Your comments will be the best feedback i will have as i develop the story further...

A bit MORE about the book: 

Name: On My Way Home

Genre: Fiction

Theme: The theme is very close to my heart and i relate to it as much as other expats anywhere at all...
The story takes you through the couple, Neel and Uma's life, the reason for making the choices they made, their losses, their gains, their lost loves, their yearnings, an eternal confusion...in short, it is a journey of discovering life.

It is a work of imagination, and under process right now, but a lot of it is based on real life experiences over the last 15 years - experiences of friends, colleagues, neighbours, and total strangers who were generous with sharing their stories. 

Please let me know what you think of it....whether it is too bland, too sweet, too salty? In the end, if you do not enjoy reading it as much as i am enjoying writing it, it is just not worth it!

Looking forward to your feedback...

N.B.: you do not have to register at Authonomy to read the book- just click on the link above.

Thank you all for your support,

Monika.

Promises to Keep...

I am one of those people who believe that everything happens for a reason. and i have to admit, sometimes i wish it didn't! But when your belief system accompanies you to the radiologist's office (and all the way into the cold, sterile room with scary looking machines and white gowns!!), it can make you feel very very scared.

As it is, October gives me jitters- so when i prepared to go to the radiologist's for my mammogram; i was not sure why i had to hear a conversation of two women in the car park about someone having cancer, or the week before why did i pick (of all the books) The Emperor of Maladies (and then put it back because i did not want to feel scared or depressed any more than i already was), why did i meet this woman in the waiting area at the hospital who has had multiple surgeries on different parts of her body and has now given up on hospitals and doctors- and was there for a Compression Mammogram and possibly, a core biopsy.........needless to say, as much as i tried to stay upbeat, the belief that everything happens for a reason, filled me with a lot of fear. I asked if i was being prepared for something? I wondered if i was just being cautioned that really bad things do happen to people and it is important to take care of yourself? Or what?

In the moments leading to the machine,  I promised myself that if everything comes out alright with me, I am going to live a fuller life. I promised:

1. I am going to start using cosmetics.

(ridiculous as it may sound- i am pretty anti-chemicals, especially unnecessary chemicals- so I have always tried to stay away from them as much as possible, even at the cost of looking the way i do!)

2. I will buy a bright red Clinique lipstick and use it too.

(Silly it might seem, but the only time i forgave myself for using such a bright red colour was at my wedding! But what the heck...here is my chance again!!)

3. I will spring clean my cupboard- promise, finally.

(I had been meaning to do it for over two months- but it always took a backseat...)

4. I will wear the stilettos i had bought on an impulse.

(I am no fashion model, so at my age, as much as i am still in love with all colours of shoes, i stick to the comfy ones- but this black pair- i just could not resist- it is time to air it now...)

5. I will watch more movies, but preferably if they are off beat or comedies.

6.I will join that Drama group that i have been secretly wishing to join for over a decade...just to know what is it all about, whether i fit in anywhere (i doubt- but still!)...it is all about living one's life, no?

7. And most importantly, i will start devoting a fixed time DAILY to my pet project- a project that has theoretically been in my hands ever since i can remember but that still has to see take a tangible form...

8. Oh yes, and that eating healthy and going for Yoga lessons promise--- how did i forget that?

As i made these promises to myself, i realised, how much can fear make me do. The fear of being trapped in the endless medical treatments- the doctors asking you to keep coming back for follow ups and repeat MRIs even when you know that the whole medical industry is just that now- a money-based industry, the fear of losing the quality of life, the fear of upsetting the life of my loved ones...fear is more powerful than anything else. It made me realise the worth of all the blessings in my life- everything that i had taken for granted, everything that i had had the choice and the option to postpone until the next day, next week, next month, next year...

I am praying and hoping to face my fears, and fulfil the promises i made to myself (a lot more came to my mind as i travelled back home)...if only the mammogram results come out absolutely clean....(keeping my fingers crossed!)

Aiyyaa Part 2- Issued in the interest of General Public

I was asked to go and watch Aiyyaa since i had written about it. So we spent an evening in an almost empty theatre (but then, it was a weekday evening!) watching the movie whose songs (except a stupid 'What to do' song!) have quite grown on me (Dreamum is still playing in my head!).

I would like to henceforth share that it is mildly humorous, poorly directed, and could have done better with a more well written script. The first half is a real drag and the only reason to sit through is Rani Mukerji. She is absolutely fabulous, in fact, a real treat to watch; followed by Prithviraj- whom i was watching for the first time, and who, in spite of his limited role in the movie, makes his presence felt, and is very endearing when he finally speaks Hindi in the end! 

In short, if you:

1.  are a die-hard Rani Mukerji fan, and/or
2. can spend the first half munching your popcorn and slurping your Pepsi (the second half is good), and/ or
3. want to see a TDH South star in a Bollywood setting, and/or
4. want to see a 'light', non-sentimental, non-melodrama movie, and/or
5. don't mind spending AED35 on a movie that had potential to be a good comedy but unfortunately only becomes a mild one (it will surely make you laugh a few times in the second half at least :)

then...go ahead and watch it. 

In all, it is a nice attempt to make a comeback, to show the world that she has what it takes to tackle different genres, and all she needs is a good script and a better director...

Statutory warnings :

Mynah is the most irritating character in the movie- so be patient.

It is nothing like The Dirty Picture (THANK GOD FOR THAT!)

Enjoy!!!!! 

To Share or not to Share?

I have always treasured privacy. Call it a side effect of growing up in a literally close-knit big family, but yes, privacy became a big deal for me. I believed that happiness is to be shared but grief is to be kept under lock and key in your heart alone. i believed that you are supposed to face the life with a straight face and strong heart. And that there was nothing in-between.

When i got into 'human-watching', which is actually just sitting and observing people and then using your wild imagination, creating their own stories in your mind based upon your lessons and judgements and prejudices- so very unfair, but fun!- so when i got into this hobby, the one thought that constantly occupied my mind was "what is going on in his/ her body, mind and life right now?"- i would see and think that about anyone and everyone. 

Then on one of my visits to India, i felt like coming out in the open, not keeping any secrets, sharing and sharing openly. I had had severe pain in the neck for a while and the doctors here had only made me go round in circles. So, i was planning to get a check up done in India. 

It felt so liberating. I did not have to make any excuses if i was offered something and i did not feel like having it (nausea!), i did not have to lie if i was giddy from pain in the neck and just could not visit an aunt for lunch, i did not have to visit people i had no desire to visit because they all knew i had this pain in the neck! It was so very liberating. I was less anxious, less worried, and more assured of the support system i had around me.

It was at that point i realised that why not very long ago, people in India were happier than their western counterparts...because not very long ago, ALL the joys and sorrows of one person were joys and sorrows of an entire clan, although it did backfire sometimes- but it saved people from anxiety and depression; it allowed people to ask for help; it allowed people to worry less about their own brood since they knew they had a support system in place. While i was still admiring our 'joint family system', and admonishing myself for always 'wanting my own space', I realised why i became what i became- annoyingly personal. 

Everyone i met asked me the same question, "So how are you now?"

I would take a moment to think how i was, and then reply.

Next, everyone would tell me their own tested and tried doctors and home remedies and alternative therapies and lots of free advice and stories about someone else who went through the same pains and aches.

"Get out of the house."

"Hire a maid."

"Take up a job. It is all in your mind."

"Start regular exercise."

"Just let go."

"Oh, it's nothing- you are a strong girl...just face it."

Typical advice i got from well meaning friends and family and everyone else. And even until now, every time i back home the first question i am asked is, "So, how are you now?"

I know these are well meant concerns, and i should be thankful for that. But i think there comes a point when you know that no one can help you in real terms when it comes to your own health, and it can become very very annoying to be asked the same question, from every single person of my (touchwood!!) big family back home. On the other hand, if i was in their place, and didn't ask about the health or other concerns like financial situation, court case, or any other such problem of a relative or a friend that i was aware of, it would seem rude and selfish and so uncaring....

So now, sitting alone on this table, typing on the computer, i am thinking shouldn't there be a way of offloading your pains without making a fool of yourself? I do not want to be judged or scolded or advised...first i want to be accepted, my problem acknowledged, and then you give me your advice and support; and certainly not pity. A lot many times, free advice is mistaken as 'support' while the real support might mean you sending a cooked dinner when i am not well, you helping me out when i am stuck in traffic and the kids are waiting for me at the doorstep, you letting me wake you up in the middle of the night when my pain needs a visit to ER and i cannot leave the kids alone....

So, is there a middle path really, of sharing and still keeping yourself sane? Or, is it really better to just face it alone, pop all the pills the doctors give you, grovel in agony but put up a cheerful face to the world and just get on with your life?

Octoberfest!

I have a love-hate relationship with October. The weather is changing, a certain something is in the air that i can never find the right word for (and no, it is NOT called virus!), there is a reason to look forward to gorgeous winters over the next 3-4 months, the municipality has already planted marigolds and very soon Dubai will be adorned with colourful petunias and bright yellow auspicious smelling marigolds....I love it all.

And then there is the pink ribbon in October- a reminder of fixing my annual mammogram appointment, my efforts to push it under the carpet by thanking God when the lady at the hospital tells me that the next appointment is only available after 14 days, living in continuous fear of discovering 'something' sinister, and then of course the inevitable bouts of flu around the house- thanks to the changing weather. This is the part i hate.

Don't get me wrong. Active screening and awareness about breast cancer is a great thing...but the fear kills me straight, even without having to listen to the doctor's findings. 

So, it is October again. We have had one course if flu in September through the house, my mammogram is scheduled and I am so very scared about that. 

I have decided that this time if the doctor calls me in again and while filling my history asks me if i smoke or drink, i will take that as a 'sign' and start doing both, or one...coz she will only call me if she has a reason to believe that my vegetarian diet and a teetotaller lifestyle has not helped my worst fears to vanish in thin air....then finally; i will have a valid reason to argue (with myself) that life is too short to be spent picking and choosing what to eat or drink or wear or believe in....life is too short to hate or love a month in the calendar, then finally, may be i will forgive October and move on to November....

 

Aiyyaa! That's a lot of Hard Work!!

When i saw it first, I thought it was a very desperate attempt to regain a foothold in the lost kingdom. Yes, Dreamum Wakepmum sounded strange, and looked vulgar and cheap. Over the days, though the music kind of grew on me, i could only pity Rani for having to bow down to the Dirty Picture (which, for the record, was the worst movie i have ever seen) level. 

And then, i saw Agaa Bai...and there was only one word that came up in my mind- Respect. Her belly dancing (I have never seen her doing this before, so assuming it is her first) is fantastic- especially the last bit where she actually seems to vibrate her whole body to the drumbeat. Definitely better than the other belly dancing queens (all of whom are definitely younger, BTW)- Katrina Kaif, Kareena Kapoor, Gauhar Khan...

Respect. Because she is fighting to the core- accepting what rocks at the Box Office, and working hard to get noticed again.

And then it occurred to me... isn't it so universal-this insecurity, this trying to regain a lost kingdom, this frustration at having to compete with the new kids on the block while you thought you had so much experience that was worth much much more than their skills combined together?

It is everywhere.

The mother-in-law feels threatened by the daughter-in-law, the older senior executives constantly feel threatened by the new, fresher, more energetic, up-to-the-challenges younger executives, the aging parents feel threatened that their rules might not run the household anymore, the parents of teenagers feel they can only teach their growing up kids and not learn anything from them in return.....and that all leads to stress, bickering, frustration  fights, depression and what not!

Youth is such a powerful force. It allows you to take that leap, jump from that roof, dive into that sea, fly from that cliff...and so, as and when it slips by, we do not even notice it because we are so busy living it. And that is probably a good thing. But what could be a better thing is that we accept that change is inevitable- we will always have someone younger, stronger, prettier, more positive, go-getter ready to jump in and take our place on the ladder.  But that's nothing to be sad about especially when you acknowledge that even if you tried your hardest, you couldn't hold your youth in your fist, or an airtight jar, or even a vault. Look at the brighter side that we are now allowed to move onto something new, something where we can use our experience and build more of it, even though everyone is not lucky enough to have all those opportunities at constantly inventing and bettering ourselves.

And this acceptance of truth is probably harder than anything else. And hence, the constant fight and effort for scaling those dizzying heights of success, again and again...

Hence, Respect to Rani Mukherjee, for having not given up just yet, for trying her hardest to regain her title, for having the heart to compete with the newer generation, for not letting her frustration shadow her work; even though i personally believe there is a time for a graceful next move- (like a resignation before you are kicked out; unless of course your company has a wonderful 'kick out' package!).

After all, trying to make today better than yesterday, and  tomorrow even better than today  is everyone's right. Isn't it?

The (Mis)Interpreter

Without realizing it (of course!), I have developed (over the years) a knack of being misunderstood as far as my written communication is concerned. A letter written with a lot of care and mild tone had upset an older relative so much that her unhappiness at seeing me even today is pretty evident; a ‘yes’ has often been interpreted as a ‘No’, and vice versa; friendships have been endangered but luckily saved, just in the nick of time; doctors angered with my questions  at their diagnoses and prescriptions and then lost forever; and so on and so forth…so much so that I prefer now not to write letters/ emails anymore and would rather pick up a phone (or, Skype) if I have to. I have to add here that SMS may be small in size but it is equally potent as far as the danger quotient is concerned.

All this while, I blamed myself for using wrong words (because obviously, I cannot adjust my words or tone in a letter as per the facial expressions (used to judge the reaction) of the listener, or reader, in this case), and  wondered why or how a simple piece of written communication could be so misinterpreted, and whether it was all worth it.

Then I realized, it works both ways. 

If you are a good friend, you would first take my words in a positive tone, and in case of doubt, try to clarify it. But if you are naturally fussy and egoistic and oh-so-delicate; every word would be  a potential health hazard (for me!). And then of course, the language – how familiar or comfortable is the receiver in the language I have written the letter or the email. A general ‘you’ has been often misinterpreted as a specific ‘you’ (‘You’ cannot adjust your tone- the ‘You’ here is referring to a general ‘you’ and not ‘You' you, a specific person!), and has caused the worst ever damage.

I like this theory because it accepts that communication, written or verbal or even visual, is a two way process- I write, you read - you reply , I read; you upload, I see- I like, I press the like button; I don’t like, I keep mum; you talk, I listen- I talk, you have to listen! And this also involves a certain sense of familiarity at both the ends. Do you take the credit card welcome letters personally? I don't  because i know they are simply mass-generated. Do you take the  letters from the school personally? I do, because they are meant to be personal to a certain degree- meant for parents of that specific child in question. Do you worry about your letter being delivered to the wrong person? May be! Depends on the reasons of writing that letter in the first place.

Well,  my theories were tested recently when I read a message on a friend’s wall, congratulating his kids on becoming older brother and sister. The content was (names omitted for obvious reasons) like this:

“Many congratulations; (Name of his son) now has a younger brother and (name of his daughter) is finally a big sister too...”

"Hmm…” I thought, “he has been blessed with a baby.’

I sent him a congratulatory message, explaining how I had got the good news (rather, deduced the news).

His reply told me that I had made him lol- laugh out loud- because the baby was his cousin’s and his children were now older cousins to the new baby (and hence, referred to as being the older brother and sister now!).

I felt so embarrassed.

I apologized for my stupid interpretation and this friend of mine is sweet enough to have a hearty laugh about the whole matter and just leave it at that. So, no real harm done! Thank God!!

So, my new theory is:

“Words are dangerous. Use them with caution, care and in an appropriate manner; but not necessarily sparingly. If in doubt, pick up a phone and talk- way better a weapon of damage-control. If you have no phone credit (or another similar excuse) accept that it does not matter what damage is caused because of your written communication!”

Good luck with your words’ interpretations.

So, how would you like to be remembered?

While talking to my mom on the phone yesterday, I realized how the most prominent thing I remember about my mom (at the same age as I am today) is her active life- her being busy all the time; her running around between her job, social obligations, us, domestic responsibilities, and her colleagues, her camps in Simla and Kashmir, her travel to Manipur...I do not remember a single time when she had health issues. That certainly does not mean she did not have any- she had her share of pains and pills, but the fact that she did not let that dominate her life is the only reason why I have no memory of it.

Compared to that, I wondered, while still talking to her, what would my kids remember me as? What would anyone else remember me as?

I am not a politician, so there is no chance of a public holiday to celebrate my birth or mourn my death and no inclusion in school books of my biography detailing my achievements in life and my contribution to my country.

I am not a celebrity, so no back to back movies or songs or plays either to showcase and remember and revive my magical acting or dancing or singing or musical abilities.

I am not a page 3 socialite, so no mention or pictures of me on page 3 either.

I am not even in a full time job anymore- so there goes the two-minute silence (and by the way, that would only happen once- they wouldn’t remember a co-worker the next year!).

I am not a social worker- so no such thing as having changed others' lives and living through them...

Oh yes, I do donate blood, had pledged my eyes (wonder about the validity though!)- But that’s no big deal, hundreds of thousands of people do that. 

So, who would remember me and why?

May be my family- my kids, and for a while, their kids; my siblings and their kids, my cousins and their kids, a few friends, old neighbours....That’s actually about it.

And what would they remember me as? As someone's mom, wife, daughter, daughter-in-law, sister, aunt, niece, cousin etc.etc. That would be a celebration of the various relationships that I was enriched with but not the person I was, not what I cherished or believed or rebelled against, or achieved, or even did not achieve, loved or hated, understood or misunderstood.....

And what would they remember me for? For just playing the role that was handed down to me as a matter of fact?

I hope though, that my kids remember me for love, for taking care of them to the best of my ability and understanding, for choosing them above all else, and not for the arguments  that we have, the forced trips to various kinds of extracurricular classes, the anxiety about health, the trips to doctors  or  even the stern denials that parents have to exercise sometimes. I also hope though, that while I am still with them I can do something worthwhile enough for them to be proud of me…(I guess that would be an easy aid in remembering me later J)

The truth is, I realise,  we all have an opportunity to be remembered; and a choice too. We can pass through our life and onto the next, just as a matter of routine; or we can do something to celebrate this life and be remembered for it later....I am ashamed to admit that so far, I was just passing through mine, I wonder though if I have earned the wisdom to do something better with it now...

In Shock and Awe

I tucked him in and reminded him to say his prayers before sleeping. He nodded and as i got up to go, he called me again.. Said he wanted to tell me something. As i sat next to him, he brought his mouth close to me ear and whispered , "Someone said they will break the face of ... (the name of a Hindu God)"!

I thought i heard it wrong.

"Who said, and what exactly?"

"..."(he told me the name of a boy) and repeated his earlier sentence.

"Is he in your bus?"

"No, in my class."

"Does he sit next to you?"

"No"

"Well, ignore him and next time, he says something like this, tell your teacher and tell her i might have to bring my parents to the school."

I told him what i thought was best, at that time. I didn't want to show my shock and anger to my baby at that time.

But I just could not shake this eerie feeling.

They are just 7 years old, 8 at the most. Why this hatred? 

I wondered if it was time to tell our children that in the real world, where they would be alone pretty soon, there is no such thing as 'universal peace and acceptance', but there is such a thing as 'hatred'. I wondered if it was time to introduce them to trivial and stupid reasons for this hatred - a difference in beliefs, faiths, skin colours, creed, race, gender, status etc.etc. It would shock them, break their heart, and confuse them because right now, none of this matters. It might even shake their faith in the adults in general because aren't adults supposed too be better behaved, logical, understanding, peace makers, protectors, accepting, loving and forgiving? 

Right now, my children make friends based on common interests and a sense of comfort rather than nationality, religion, language and least of all, the colour of the skin! They compete together and they celebrate together...irrespective of whether they are Muslim, Hindu, Christian or Atheist; or come from Pakistan, India, China, Japan, Belgium, Iran, Jordan, Egypt, Afghanistan, Lebanon, France or Timbuktu!

I wondered whether it was time to move back home, to India?  India is a secular country, constitutionally and in today's India  a lot more people believe in secularism than fanaticism...but, i reminded myself,  it has some very dark spots of religious riots on its land. Not a very nice aspect of a motherland to introduce your children to!

Isn't Dubai better then? Though an Islamic state, it has shown more tolerance and acceptance than anywhere else that i know of. Religious riots have never been even heard of- isn't that commendable?

And yet still, coming from the mouth of a 7 year old boy, this religion based hatred has left me shocked. I am not sure i understand the how and why of this. But  I am sure i do not see a bright and peaceful future ahead for the world if this what the next generation is already thinking!

Apologies, i tried to see the bright side of this, but failed miserably!

Happy New Year!

It’s back to school; and back to normal routine. I am still missing the kids, but I think I have started appreciating the organized days, slowly and steadily.

Holidays were all about experience this summer; an opening of mind and eyes.

 I met some of the most wonderful people in south India- simple, and yet more warm, helpful and accommodating than any other family I have ever ever met. We got a chance to compare the French and the Germans in their approach to tourists; and I can safely say that if you leave the magic of Eiffel Tower and Disneyland on one side, Germans have my vote. They were far more helpful, everyone spoke English, normal vegetarian food options were more easily available, shopping was more interesting and varied,  and although the metro-stations had a weird rubber like smell that hits you on first day, they were definitely more cleaner than French train/ metro stations...  We also said goodbyes as more neighbours, friends and colleagues moved – some back to their home countries, others to their retirement homes, and still others to greener pastures.

Post holidays, though there is a sense of being wiser, the sudden quietness (even though farewells are so intrinsic to Dubai!!) hits you. There is no more Cartoon TV (or for that matter, a constant negotiation on TV time allowed per person!), no more shouting and screaming of kids in the park, no more constant fights over pieces of Lego, no more familiar faces in the neighbourhood, not even the Hoover’s noise next door!

On the brighter side, there is now a choice to get into a  better routine,  an option to get back to our original New Year resolutions before Dec 31 actually hits us, an opportunity to make new friends (again), meet new neighbours (it’s a fast selling neighbourhood!), and refine the art of creating our temporary, small support circles around us.

In all, it seems like a fresh start to a familiar and yet tantalizingly new journey with a definite end and end date in view J

Happy New Year everyone!

The best part of being a Tourist

It is so liberating being a tourist...I do not have to worry about their taxes, the broken plumbing, the right candidate in the political scene, the daily routine, the grumpy neighbour, the aging car, the stinking metro stations, the graffiti on the city walls, the littering on the streets, the dog-owners who do not clean up after their dogs,  or anything.
Finally, I can be just an outsider, put my feet up, look at the gorgeous sky above, and just live this very moment...the past here was never mine, and in all probability, neither is future...It is just this very present that belongs to me here....ahhhh! and that too, for a finite period of time....
It is so liberating being a tourist;  even if that makes me a walking talking expense account!

Stumped!!!

This was not meant to be. Our visa had been rejected once, tickets canceled,  reapplied through another embassy, awaited, and finally, those tickets also canceled. We had started making alternative travel plans, assuming there must be something good in all this quashing of plans, waiting for that unknown greater good to appear before us and satisfy our curiosity....
And then it happened! Two days after our tickets had been cancelled (for the second time) and shopping plans shelved, we got the call from the embassy to come and collect our passports. As we did so, we contemplated  rushing to the airport directly to catch the flight due to depart in two hours; carrying nothing but money and passports- the two most important travel essentials. The project was to start the next morning, we had already requested for a refund on our apartment booking, there was no flight available at such a short notice for all of us.....
Finally, we decided not to panic....at worst, we could split our flights and meet in paris.

Well, I think that was when God finally softened :). Our good friend MB was able to secure us tickets for the night flight that night on the airline he works with.  The landlady emailed us to share the loss since she had been unable to find another tenant. We had no time to shop now but we did have time to pack essentials. Everything seemed to be finally falling into place...
So, that is when I started marveling at the mysterious ways of God...for days, and weeks and months, everything was going wrong in spite of ample planning and good intentions. It seemed He was signaling us...."cancel this trip....cancel this trip"; and just when everyone accepted defeat, accepted that  there must be some other plan for us, HE changed His mind.
 Was He just playing hide and seek with us? Or was He testing our determination? Or was HE proving that man proposes, God disposes?
All I know is, it helped to accept it all as fate and wait for His bigger and better plan to be revealed; to let go; and finally, to allow myself to be surprised by His naughty and yet benevolent ways...

The Chutney Bowl

We had met for coffee at a beautiful coffee shop on Palm Jumeirah, and decided to go to Festival City for dinner from there. It had been a nice evening and the kids (five in all, age ranging from 5-23 years old) agreed for an Indian dinner offering both vegetarian and non-vegetarian options. It was a weekend evening and so no reservations were available, "First Come, First Serve basis on the weekend ma'm", I was told.

We walked into the familiar decor and thought ourselves lucky enough to see a large table being vacated in a corner; we settled down, ordered our choices and enjoyed our dinner while chatting, commenting, making promises to meet again soon. As we waited for the table to be cleared for dessert, we stumbled upon something that left me so shocked that I then vowed never to go back to that restaurant again.

Now this restaurant has a delectable collection of chutneys and pickles which is served in small individual bowls with their own spoons, and roasted papad, in a heavy, round brass divided tray. Just as we were waiting for the dessert, we saw this family of five-six adults, who definitely did not seem to be from the Asian subcontinent, tucking into these small bowls of chutneys and pickles and dips directly- and by that I mean, dipping their papads into it (if you are a fan of Food Detectives, you would know that that harmless act can and does leave you exposed to others' mouth bacteria!) at first, and then putting the dainty serving spoons direct into their mouths and then back into the bowls again.

I almost threw up, wondering how many people had done that to the bowls I had taken my sweet mango and mint chutneys from! Now, these are serving bowls and are only replenished (I doubt they get washed like rest of the crockery and cutlery after the table is cleared). Giving them the benefit of doubt (may be those guests were not aware of this), I wondered if  the restaurant staff serving them did not want to antagonize the patrons, and endanger his tip and so, kept his eyes closed and mouth shut?

Was it the restaurant’s responsibility to educate the guest about the etiquette, or was it the guests' responsibility to ask the restaurant if it was ‘their’ personal bowl like rest of the crockery being laid out for them?

Either way, it has completely put me off the bowls of dips and chutneys served in the restaurants!

As a topping, another restaurant, another place, another evening but the story of lack of civic sense and hygiene continues. I see one of the serving staff coming out of the loo but she walks out of the ladies room without washing her hands! Eeewwww!!!! And to think, she would be serving us?? No way. I do not mind being blunt and refusing that but then I just saw her, what about the others I didn’t see????

Finding Calm

"Now close your eyes....imagine something peaceful...try to remember something that makes you happy...your childhood, your mom, a day at the beach....go back...."

As the teacher says these soothing words at the end of the session, and I frantically try to transport myself to a happy, calm, serene, soothing place outside of the world around me. The only calming thing that pops up in my mind is the faces of my children...but it is not what the teacher means when he wants us to experience meditative sleep/ happiness in those five minutes of shavaasan.

As I wonder why it takes me forever to take my mind to happy times, I discover that it is because I find calm at an unusual place.

I find that the most appealing images of life to me are those of people eating - in a restaurant (not a fancy one with piano playing the background, and the fountain's tricking sound soothing you; but those of common tea shops and Bikanerwala's, and Haldiram's and the likes), in a food court, on the bus and train stations, in fast food outlets, in offices, at home..... Everywhere.

The reason is pretty simple. I find that looking at all the people eating makes me happy because it tells me that all is not yet lost. It tells me that in spite of knowing that they are eating stuff that is supposed to be rich in all the things bad for us- oil, sugar and salt, cholesterol and saturated fats- they are eating it and they look fine. It is comforting in an unusual way.

Yes, it might be bad for the body but it tells me that so many people are healthy enough to eat this 'bad' stuff- may be once in a week, once in a month or even daily. Their hearts are in the right place, doing the job they are meant to do; their muscles and bones will still take them back to their cars and their homes and their offices, their waistlines are never going to go away but then they know it....it is a sin they a committing very knowingly, and enjoying it too. It fills me with a sense of calm and peace to see the world around me at that point immersed in eating what they want to, and enjoying every bite that they take...right from the young children to their grandparents. It tells me that we all are in the same boat, even if it will eventually sink one day; it makes me feel a part of the bigger community of human beings who are committing the same mistakes (another way of saying that it reduces my personal guilt!) and most importantly, it takes my mind away from the harsher realities of food- hunger, pesticides, additives, preservatives (all the E numbers), hormone fed fruits, veggies and chickens, artery blockages, reduced immunities, gastric infections, tipping needles on the weighing scale, failed kidneys and livers, and doctors.

I know, it is warped logic, totally opposite of what I tell myself and my kids....but it is calming, even if only for a little while.

There is no rule about what should or should not calm you, is there?

Food for my soul

I know I am doing it again, but believe me, it is like one of those things which are beyond control. It happens, at the most, three times in a year; and every time it happens, it leaves my soul fed and hearty for a while.

Today, it happened by chance. I had no plan to sit in the school cafeteria for three hours, waiting for school exams to finish; but with the temperature in the car showing 50 degrees, i thought it best to bring the kids home with me rather than letting them walk to the bus area. So, there i was, in the school cafeteria; with the one-of-its-kind opportunity to observe children of various age groups and nationalities in their own element.

What fun! What joy!

How i wished i could be like them, one of them- that group of 8-9 year old boys sharing a box of store-bought humus with the soft triangles of khaboos put directly on the table (yes mommy! no napkin, no plate- didn't even sanitise hands!!!!), and enjoying every morsel of it. How i wished i could grow younger again and not worry about germs and sickness and anything beyond the moment i was presently in. Oh! what calm.....

Then I met a group of chatty grade 3 girls- three different nationalities, who, looking at the bags i was carrying thought i was a 'Miss', a teacher at the school. They reminded me why i miss my girlfriends so much! They were very friendly, shared their jokes with me, told me why it was bad to go out in sun in such weather, laughed with me at our sweating faces as we stood waiting and waved a lovely bye when it was time for them to go. I am thinking, they were really the conversation gurus every corporate team building event and every social etiquette class needs. They needed no introductions, no reasons to start talking to me. We were just at the same place, at the same time and in those ten minutes they spoke to me as one of their own- jumping and screaming with extreme joy when i reminded them that the school vacation was just a week away. They reminded me what a beautiful age it is - this 6-9 years age. Wonderful, carefree, curious, open, innocent, pure.

And then i saw some of grade 11 or 12 girls with their manicured hands and pedicured feet, wearing Birkenstocks with their school uniform, in their own world of prom night and university admissions.

Soul food...that's what it was.  One school cafeteria is a small reflection of the types of people (and in Dubai, types of nationality) one can find in the world. From  black to white and all shades of brown in between; from grumpy to happy and all shades of personality in between; from studious to carefree and all shades of casually-looking-at-the-revision-sheets in between.....it feels quite like an airport here. Everyone sharing the same goal of boarding a flight and yet, everyone going some place different; carrying their own luggage!

Over and Out...for two months!

It is that time of the year again that moms in Dubai love and dread, simultaneously! Yes, two months of summer vacation...a wonderful opportunity to spend more time with your kids, a reminder of our own happy schooldays, and a constant worry about what to do every single day! There is no holidays' homework; the kids have been doing their extra-curricular activities all through the year, and so, you cannot really push them too much now even if it seems like such a waste of time if the kids are not utilizing this extra time to learn a new skill; the weather is already 45-48 degrees allowing them to play outdoors only after 6pm; and most of their friends travel away from such horrid weather....so what do you do? Especially if both the parents are working? Leave the kids to watch TV and skype on the internet all day long; or let the maids entertain them?

Sure, there are 'summer camps' which come in especially handy for working moms, but under no circumstances should they be confused with the American summer camps we have so often heard about in the Hollywood movies. If you decide not to get trapped in these camps then all you are left with is DUCTAC summer camps, an anticipated holiday back home or somewhere, visits to movies, shopping malls, Ski Dubai, Ice rink and Modhesh fun city....rest of the time, it is a constant battle of wills! And yet, these two months fly away sooner than expected....so, must be the good times I guess!

So, yes, it is that time of the year again when you say hello to Shinchan and Doremon and Ben10; bye-bye to yoga sessions and structured routines...only for two short months!

Happy Holidays!

"You know me!"

"You know me!" she said with a big smile.

I wasn't sure. It was the first time someone had used those words with me and expected me to know them enough to guess their choice/ reaction/ preference. The fact was, i didn't know her well enough to know her choice- and here, i was being presented with a picture, a group picture, of young men and was expected to correctly 'guess' the man of her choice from that group.

I fumbled, i tried and failed; miserably.

I blamed myself for not knowing her better.

Years later, another colleague used the same words with me when i asked her what she wanted to eat.

"You know me" she said.

"This one is easier to figure out'' i told myself. We had been colleagues for three years and had shared lunch times. I did better.

But there was no stopping her. She continued (and still does!) to use, "You know me" every time we met, for everything; and everytime it turned out something that i didn't know and she expected me to know about her- her choice in fashion, jewellery, her relationship with her mother-in-law, her career choices, her preferences with regard to friends etc etc etc..

I blame myself again thinking may be i didn't pay enough attention to her, may be i should have made an effort to know her better, may be....until recently.

Recently, as i sat with an older acquaintance, who i do know better than i knew any of my colleagues or friends above, she said, casually, in the flow of the conversation, "You know me..."

I sat there, not reacting, hoping this would pass.

She continued, "I am fond of solid stuff- no small diamonds for me...." and off she went on her trail of elaborating about her taste and choices. And i can tell you i was thankful for that. I really did not know all that lot about her; but this time i also made a decision.

I decided, next time anyone says "You know me..."., i am not going to get all self-conscious and blame myself for actually not knowing him/her. It might be a better idea to say, "Actually, I don't think i know you not that well....", as long as i can manage to stop squirming from within and plaster a smile on my face to mask that thumping of my heart!

All my Pleasure!

What all we do for pleasure....shopping, socilaising, facebooking, reading, sports, playing music, pottery, quilting, gardening, charity work....the list is really long, if you really make an effort to know it all.

Ever since we are small kids, we are told to develop hobbies and interests, in order to be able to enjoy our free time; although we are perfectly happy watching our TV shows or running up and down the swings in the park or reading our Superman comics books, or now a days, being glued to the PSPs and iPADs. So is pleasure a very personal thing or does it have to be 'approved'  for appropriateness?

As i grow older, i find there is nothing compared to the happiness that fills my heart when I see my children sleeping safely in their beds; there is no anticipation bigger than holding my favourite author's  brand new book in my hand and looking forward to my reading time; no laughter compared to the laughter when  my children share a joke with me; nothing warmer than the hugs i share with my family every time i meet them, nothing more enjoyable than a good good movie that matches my expectations....it ends up becoming so personal that i forget that somewhere it did all start with  my parents advising me too to cultivate appropriate interests! It does make a difference- like a clay that can only be moulded when it is soft; before it is 'set'- to be able to learn and enjoy life; even if it means each one to his own!

India's Dr. Oz?

I am all for inspiration- inspired writings, inspired movies, inspired lives...but where it is due, and where it is possible, credit should be given to the original creator. I happened to watch 'All is Well with Dr. Ahluwalia' on Colours today. I am wondering why does it look so similar to Dr. Oz's show? The format, the topics of discussion, the audience involvement, the friendly doctor hosting the show....except that Dr. Ahluwalia seems very young (there goes the 'experience' part of credibility!, and i missed the beginning so i am not sure who Dr. Ahluwalia exactly is excpet that he hosts this show!!). I waited until the end of the show to see the credits for any hint of a "Thank you for not copywriting your format", or "Sorry, we borrowed the format without permission", or acknowledgement "Yes, we did copy the format but then we are experts at that...remmeber KBC etc. etc.???". But the credits rolled so fast that i could not read anything at all.

What is next...Doctors (Indianised of course!) on a competitor channel? Any day now!!

Struggling with my Thank You note...

So, how do you thank God when you really really mean it, deep down in your heart? How do you say thanks for that one moment of sanity, that one fraction of a second, that one flash of thought in your mind? I am struggling.

That Thursday evening,  when i reversed my car in the Spinneys parking,  making sure that the car next to me, behind me, or around me was not reversing, and was about to turn left to get out of the parking, the Hummer appeared just inches away from the back seat window- where my son sat blissfully unaware with his eyes on the screen and ears plugged with earphones. I honked, and honked. The Hummer stopped immediately, and I went back into  my parking space. For a moment, i could not fathom where had this Hummer appeared from and how had it come so close to my car which was already out of the parking space.

This Hummer was reversing from three spaces away from me but for some reason had taken so much space coming out of the parking that it almost hit my car. I stopped the car and got out, ready to confront the driver for being so careless (even if Hummers do not have any beepers, they do have rearview mirror, don't they???). The front window rolled down and the Asian lady driver said, "I am sorry, i didnt see..."

"You were about to hit my kids!" I was angry.

"I am sorry I didnt see."

But I saw. I saw the white earphones dangling from her ears. Was she busy talking on her mobile, or listening to music, oblivious to the world around her?

Still shaking from the acknowledgement of possibility of the worst, I came back; looked at my son who was still busy watching his movie, hardly aware of what had just happened, or could have happened. I thanked God for that. I wouldn't have wanted him to get anxious or worried....but i could not get the sight of the Hummer backing and almost touching that window out of my mind...

I came home, and straight went to thank God....but nothing came out of my mouth except, "Thank you, thank you, thank you God...for saving us today".

I did not know what else to say for that flash of a second when I looked onto my left and saw the Hummer, or when i honked really hard; i could only shudder to think what could have happened if this had not happened!

Like the Ceat tyre ad says, "The roads are full of idiots...."

Go, Gossip!!!

Well, after years and years of assuming, learning, observing and concluding that I hate gossip; gossip is bad (at least for someone's reputation); that our problems and woes are ours alone; that my life is just my business and I do not want to talk to a third person about it...well, after all of that, I am now learning (afresh!) that gossip might actually be good for me! And for you, and for just about anyone!

It appears that the bottled up emotions; good, bad, neutral; fear, elation, love, hatred, and the whole lot; they are not good for us. We need to release them. And by releasing them, I do not mean go on the web and its multitude of social networks and start talking just about anyone. I only mean to say that we all need to have at least one good friend with whom you can share all of your happiness and miseries. Now that friend could be your spouse, your brother, your sister, your parent, your partner, your co-worker, your classmate, even your mom-in law- just as long as you do not spread malicious rumour about anyone , I think you will reap the benefits of talking. Apparently, talking relieves the stress of not talking (i.e. same as keeping quiet = keeping it all bottled up inside you= danger of that volcano erupting one day= chemical imbalance in the brain/ emotional breakdown/ depression). I am no doctor- but I am just sharing with you the advice I have recently received myself, from a most trusted professional. 

So, lighten up. Share your pain, your story about the people in your life (boss/ colleague/ roommate/ partner/a friend turned foe/ neighbour/ the stinky lab partner/ in-laws -yes, believe it or not- they are universally prone to be gossiped about the most!- et al), the sickness that you are going through, the happiness you experience, the little joys and the little sorrows (the maid being late for work again, e.g.!) ....it might just do you good!! Just give it an outlet, and the other person's insight might come as a bonus along with it.

 Finding someone you can trust more than enough; someone with enough patience and time to listen to your babbling.....that is the most difficult part, the only one problem in the whole deal. May be I need different people for different kinds of gossiping! (and spare that one person i was thinking about earlier!!)

P.S.: Take this advice at your own risk. Discretion is highly advised. Again!

Trying to understand His ways...

I have been taught (I am struggling to still learn it…but that’s another story!) that God knows the best…and our difficult times are just a ‘Test’. And a whole lot like that…

I am still struggling to understand these fundamentals of survival because for the life of me, I cannot figure out why does God have to test His own product? He should have some faith in His own creation??

Why do good people get tested more than the bad? Is that also His preparation for something bigger and better?

Why do young people die? They shouldn’t! At all….what could be a possible explanation for this? Is it their karma? Or are they just paying for bad karma of their parents (since their parents get punished when their young one is taken away from them?)??? And why wait for so long to punish one for the bad karma…that they have no memory of what they did so bad to deserve a punishment now?

I met this gentleman yesterday. Now, Dubai is a strange place- it is so small and yet you never ever bump into your colleagues or exes or neighbours or friends or even your FB group or yoga class members anywhere; and yet, you can, most definitely can, bump into a trolley full of grocery…belonging to your ex-ex-boss; just like that! I was seeing him after almost 13 years…and I had no difficulty in recognising him. As I initiated the conversation and asked the usual, “So, where are you now?” I could see that he was trying hard to recognise me but I am not sure if he did. And suddenly, just like that, in the middle of shoppers in the Fruit and Vegetable section, holding onto our trolleys, he told me his 21 years old daughter has stage 4 cancer, and he has just come back after finishing first five weeks of treatment for her. I was shell-shocked. I didn’t know what to say. I had seen this young girl when she was about 7 or 8…and the only thought that crossed my mind was (and I am sorry if anyone thinks this is blasphemy) that this is rude. God cannot do this, should not do this. Isn’t it sadistic on His part to give something, let it be nurtured and made beautiful and; and then suddenly, with a snap of His fingers, harm it so much? Who is He testing, and for what? The doctors here had a part to play in this plan of His, is also worth a mention though (they couldn’t diagnose her cancer for a year, resulting in it reaching stage 4!)

At a time like this, it is easier for an outsider to give a lecture on all the morale-boosting words he has picked up along the life’s way; but as a sufferer, it is so difficult to keep faith. You oscillate between praying and getting angry; hope and despair; negotiating and giving up…

I cannot figure out why, just why does God do this? It is okay to test, but making a young life (and there are younger lives…children with leukaemia, thalassemia, and other diseases for which nothing can be done except managing the pain…) go through so much of suffering does not justify it. Or, maybe I am just too weak; not brave enough to withstand the pressure of His tests. Forgive me, but that’s how He made me!

Disclaimer: I hope i have not hurt anyone's religious or spiritual sentiments by expressing my thoughts on the 'will of God'- that was certainly not the intention. I am only searching for the answers that seem to elude me.

That, my friend, explains it!

“My one cat has a British passport, and the other- UAE passport.”

“What? Cats also get passports?” said one.

“Our kids don’t get the UAE passport, but the cats do?” another disbelieving voice.

In reply, she just shrugged.

But it just did not leave me. Was the cat’s life really better than ours, or just simpler?

After all, a cat does not worry if it gets its last rites done here or in the home country.

A cat will, most probably, not have a will- so whether the Sharia laws apply, or that of the home country do- it doesn’t matter.

A cat doesn’t worry if it gets any benefits from having a particular nationality, or if it is eligible for social benefits because taxes have been paid on its behalf all through its life- including, fines and tolls…

A cat is happy to live wherever its family lives- the human family- and doesn’t fret over being away from its roots.

A cat doesn’t have to think if a citizenship will help its kittens get admission in prestigious universities in that country.

A cat doesn’t care if it has a property here or back home, or loans, or a fancy car, and its loans; or an overdue card – it doesn’t need those designer shoes or bag or dress, or hobby lessons….

It does not even have a religion- so it does not have to worry about any rituals, restrictions, religious holidays, freedom to practice its religion, or just plain sense of comfort from being amongst more cats from the same region/ religion/ caste/ country/ colour…

The cat doesn't think about which country has good healthcare system....

The cat probably, most probably, doesn’t think about retirement, and all the practical problems that come with it…

All it needs is a loving family, and just enough money to meet its needs…

Of course, its life is so much more simpler to manage and afford- even for the government!

Now, if only human life was just as straight forward……my friend wouldn’t have to clear that history exam to get her British passport! Probably!!!