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.

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?