That Phone Call

What is one thing that NRIs are always scared of? 

That ominous phone call- in the middle of the night, early in the morning, anytime of the day…that unexpected phone call that tells you that you have lost someone. It is the loss coupled with that feeling of helplessness…you cannot even rush to attend the last rites- by the time you reach home, it is all over. A chapter closed. An opportunity to see one last time missed, forever.  A regret mixed with guilt stays in your heart that tells you you were the only one absent.

As that feeling hit home today, it left me nervous. My first thought was to go home. Next came the practicalities. Where should I leave my kids? Should I try to find airline tickets? Will I be able to still see my grandfather, or will it be too late? I do not want to go home and see his empty bed after 6 months. I do not want to cry alone with his memories in my heart. I want to celebrate his long life (99 years) and remind myself that he is probably with my grandmother now, and happier.  But sitting so far from home, it is not easy to let go; to not remember him with his walking stick,  his conversations, his treats, his hand on your head even when his memory was failing him, or even his sickness in the last few years…

I have to admit- I hate these phone calls…

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????