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...."