The Connection

As I handed that Arabic learning book to the lady at the Library for re-issuance, she smiled, and said, "I used the same one!" I smiled. "It is really good", she continued,  "but you cannot learn only from this". I couldn't agree more.
"Yes, you need to speak the language everyday to really learn it."
"And this one teaches you Arabic as it appears in the newspapers and books, not the colloquial Arabic."
"For how many years were you there in Egypt, D?", asked her colleague.
I cannot remember what her reply to that was, but she continued, "You have to know Arabic to actually live in Egypt- whether you go to shops, taxi, anywhere for that matter...everyone speaks Arabic."
"I think that's the problem here- everyone speaks English and you have no opportunity to really learn this language. It's a shame, and yet convenient for a place like Dubai," i replied.
We agreed, nodded, and reissuing the book she smiled and said, "Next time, i know how to greet you...Ma'salaama!"
"Ma'salaama!"

The language that she had learnt and was forgetting, and i was trying to learn, had given us an opportunity to strike a conversation, and know a little bit more about the people we meet every couple of weeks. When my friend lived in Indonesia, she had to learn the language there to communicate with her staff. When another friend visited Russia, she was thankful she had a Russian speaking host there because that is the only way to communicate there. India was also like that, not very long ago. But now, in the wake of new found economic prosperity, we  proudly say to the visitors to India that everyone  understands and  speaks English, more to reassure them that they will be able to find help if they need it. For economies depending on Tourism, like Dubai, it becomes imperative to embrace other languages and cultures so the visitors feel comfortable about spending their holidays there. The lack of real opportunities for non-native Arabic speakers to learn Arabic is just a small side effect of this whole balance. I wonder though, how has Egypt managed to, so far,  lure the tourists and, yet, retain its beautiful language?

I had been to Egypt a few years back. The Arabic our driver taught us in our one-week stay was more than i had managed to learn in a decade here. That was simple, spoken Arabic, without getting entangled in the rules of grammar or script, and that was the Arabic i had enjoyed learning the most!

Languages are complex, private and exclusive. Yet, they deserve to be shared with more and more people so we don't forget them for the other easier ones, or more convenient ones...

A Fragile thing called Life

Maria was my son's friend's mom. That is how she became my friend too. We would drop kids' at each others' for play dates, buy gifts for each others' kids, shared school notes, and i usually called her for French. She knew French and I didn't. Greek by birth, Canadian by upbringing, she worked to realise other people's dream of moving to Canada.
One summer, they went to Canada...but never came back. We wondered why the kids were missing school, and wondered if they were planning to move back to canada. Trying to reach her, I had the opportunity to speak to her husband. I can only imagine the shock they would have all been in when they discovered mid-holiday that maria had cancer,and it was terminal.
I had no words to console the family....the fight was going to be long and hard. Honestly, my prayers were more for her kids, who were very young and needed their mom for a long long time. I wanted Maria to get well soon for them, first.
I gathered to courage to speak to Maria one day and expressed my deepest hope that she would be fine...she seemed tired but was pulling it along.
My phone was stolen in the coming months and i lost her contact details. Thanks to FB, I got in touch with many other long lost frineds, but Maria- she was not on FB. She was still on my mind, as i wondered how was she doing, hoping that she was alright and her kids were happy. As i searched for her again on FB today, I found a group in her memory.........She died last January after a long battle with cancer.
Unfair, cruel---the first two words that cropped up in my mind for the power that lets a person die at 42! I wondered about her kids- the awesome boy my son had befriended and the responsible, vibrant elder sister of his. I hope they will learn to live their lives in her absence...with their Dad by their side.

Maria, may you rest in peace. You will always be missed! My prayers are always there for you, and your family.

The Power of Positive Thinking- is it for real?

A dear friend recently shared the power of positive thinking with me. It has helped her immensely, both personally (finding a space in a congested carpark only by visualising about it...how cool is that?) and professionally (being promoted when others are being asked to leave...that is worth visualising!). Inspired by her real life experience, i thought to give it a go too! She had advised me to start by thinking positively and visualising for smaller things...so the first thing i thought about was getting a call from my agency. I saw myself (in my mind's eye) being called and agreeing to go and completing the assignment and...two months down the line, a pay cheque for the same! I even visualised myself following up for my delayed payment and politely asking the Accounts guy if their company was facing any problems financially since our payments were being delayed.

With a big network of freelancers at its disposal, the agency has ample choice. I, on the other hand, look forward to being called for an assignment! So, it was not impossible but a difficult thing to happen. And yet, i wanted to test her faith... if everyone else was busy or away, may be the agency will have to just do with me...the positivity was taking me everywhere now.

At 7.30 in the evening, I did indeed get a call from the agency- post the office hours. How magical is that? I immediately called up my friend and shared the news with her, and then with my kids. It is a great quality of mind that kids can cultivate and benefit from. With this thought i told my younger one to think and visualise about one thing the next day, on the condition that that one thing should be 'possible' (don't ask for the moon just yet, e.g.). He was very excited and told me that he was going to visualise that i will finish my work early and come to pick him up from school.

"Fair enough", i thought. Both the positive thoughts are 'possible' and connected. We were both excited the next day, lost in our own positive thinking. I confirmed with the agency at 10.30 if we were going ahead with the assignment. The answer was a loud "Yes". And yet, there was tiny little voice in my head that told me to wait. At 11.30, I got a call from the agency to tell me that the assignment had been cancelled, just now!

Needless to say that my son was equally disappointed when i did not appear in his classroom that afternoon and had questions about the power of positive thinking...

I have still been advised that it works. It works for migraines- if you keep asserting to yourself that you are fine, that migraine attack will probably bypass you. It works for self confidence, if you keep telling yourself that you are doing just fine. But i have yet to find proof for myself...does it work for a mom who is worried sick for the health of her brood? or is there not a very thin line between positive thinking and denial? (I have headache but i am thinking i am fine...am i just denying it, or am i forcing my brain to be stronger about it???). I have tons of doubts...and hope that positive thinking actually works; because if it does, it will save me a lot, in both stress, and money!

Handwriting...

In the middle of an intense revision session, just before his final Mathematics examination, he got a stern warning from his dad.
"This one is also wrong! You are reading your own 4s as 7s and vice versa!"
And then it started, "when are you going to improve your handwriting?", "You will repent later on if you don't work on it now...when you can!" and so on and so forth.
Visibly irritated with the contradictory results (he had received his 'Student of the Week' certificate for his performance in Mathematics the same day and here, at home, half of his answers were wrong!), and itching to get it over with, the soon-to-be-10-year old replied, "It is okay!"
"How is it okay? I cannot even read it?"
"I can read it....it is my font!!!!!!"
"hun?" followed by laughter and more laughter.
He knew he was really reading his 4s as his 7s but for a change, he had used humour to his advantage...and seeing us laughing, i think he assumed that it was okay to use his own font all the time!
Well, no amount of examples of regrets of great leaders; like Mahatma Gandhi; over their own poor handwriting are going to be enough i guess. Even though we use less and less of this art in our daily lives now (even lovers resorting to sms and social networking engines rather than lengthy hand-written love letters!), a beautiful handwriting is not only a treat to eyes but a reflection of personality of that writer. I am no Handwriting Analyst but at one point of time, i did read a few books on the same and found it interesting how our carelessly written dots on i and j and sloppily written M's can reveal us...is that why people don't even send handwritten invitations anymore??

Politely yours!

I asked him if my son's outgrown car seat would be of any use to him. I just wanted to give it to someone who would be able to use it rather than just throw it next to the garbage bin and waste something that some one might actually need.
I am now trying to avoid him.
Unknowingly, i have allowed him into my life, not in any unacceptable way though. He calls me his elder sister, and it is all very nice but somehwere, i can feel growing expectations and diabetic sweetness. And yet, i cannot bring myself to say no to him, out of politeness...

Like the invitations we receive for social networking. We either sit forever on those, or simply accept them even when we would just like to be left alone! It is said, we should be careful who we open the doors of our home and our life to...because people who come in through those doors might not want to leave; even when you want them to.
So, is it better to be firm and speak your mind (and risk being called rude and anti-social) , or is it good to be polite and create an inner sanctum which politely accepted social acquaintances do not get acquainted with?

Being beautiful!

"I am waiting for her to grow up so i can start threading her upper lip!"

This was the most shocking comment i heard in all of that conversation. Coming from the mother of a 5 year old girl, i found it strange rather than amusing.

We thank God for everything, then why not for what He bestowed us with? We all are ample in one or the other area of life; precisely why the grass is always greener on our side when someone less ample in that area looks at us!

I have battled with this all along. Feeling overly conscious of what was not my choice but God's choice when He was creating me. Trying all kinds of products in the market and in the process, ending up spoiling my gifts was what i did at one point in my life.
Years ago, I decided, looking good was too much of hard work and i should concentrate on being good instead! I cannot say if that has been a wise decision though since the first judgement is always passed only upon your looks. It is like a gift-wrapping. You could have a rotten apple inside that awesome gift box but the beauty of the box will generate an instant smile and loads of expectations from the receiver.
So, being a plain brown gift-wrapping paper could very well mean losing a chance of a lifetime- whether you are appearing for a job interview, a marriage interview, or just interacting with someone. But, it is easy. It is easy to be who you are than to spend hours and loads of money trying to be who you are not.

I once knew a very pretty and lovely natured young mom. She was a professional make-up artist. No wonder then that she was always impeccably made-up. Her son would come to the park every evening with their maid but i saw the mom only occasionally. Once, i asked her the reason and she said that when she is tired, she does not feel like putting on any make-up and hence, she cannot come to the park.
I could not help wondering if i would have appreciated her lovely nature any less if i saw her without make up, or that why spending time with her son was less important than looking good to others?

We set our standards, and then fret all our lives over meeting those standards!

Having said that, it is not to undermine the importance of looking (and being) and feeling clean, presentable and hygienic. It is the over-obsession with superficial beauty that is overwhelming!

A world of choices!

Time: 11am
Venue: a popular mall's food court
Day: weekend
Observation: people having McDonalds for a breakfast!!!!
Reaction: ???? (lost for words)
And what was i doing there? : I was with a friend and thankfully, enjoying fresh fruit juice...
Why am i sharing it with you? Because we all could and should start wondering if this is the best we can do?
With the obesity levels and hence, diabetes levels in the country reaching all time high, should we exercise restrain in places like food court or should the governments ban sale of high calorie cheap food completely?
I don't know. But what i do know is that everyone is sane enough to make that decision for themselves. There is only so much that the governments can do.

Look at tobacco. The UAE government has taken strong steps to curb this habit and yet, when my neighbour's teenage son has late night parties that keep us awake, forcing us to stand in the balcony and look at what's going on, it is shocking to see this whole group of teenagers smoking like a kitchen chimney. I wonder if they really go to a school. Because if they did, how can they not understand what smoking does to them? Do their parents know about it? Where do they get the money for this? Where do they get their cigarettes from- since they cannot be sold to those below 18? Or, are they 18 and yet, they think it is cool and fashionable to smoke and burn your lungs???
Call it communication gap, generation gap or just the arrogance of hormone-laden youth, or even the so-assumed wiser, older age...we are bent on destroying ourselves. We allow ourselves to eat junk, drink junk and are finally becoming junk.
CONGRATULATIONS!

Mangalore crash

A plane full of people. Reaching their destination. Some for happy, others for sad reasons. Destined to be together. Ill fated.

All that is left now is sadness. Immense sadness. Families have been wiped out, bodies burnt beyond recognition. The very very very few lucky survivors have an even tougher job ahead- the mental trauma, the physical reality of absence of the loved ones, and above all, a realisation, a haunting acknowledgement of the fickleness of life....

Why does it always take a big tragedy to make us look into our own carelessness? Whether it was the treacherous runway, or the pilot's fatigue, we do not know that as yet. But what we do know is the huge void left behind by the deceased passengers...who not only died, but died so violently...only consolation being that in those last minutes before losing it all, families were together, at least some of them.

What would you call it, if not destiny- when some who survived did so completely by chance- a human error, a spur of the moment judgement; some who did not, had needed to reach their homes so urgently that they took the flight, leaving no stone unturned to get a seat on it...

When the time comes, we get pulled to it. Death, the ultimate power, as strong as the life itself.

My heart goes out most to the kids, who lose their parents in such tragedies. All hopes crash, all positive thoughts seem meaningless, and all prayers seem useless. And yet, we know, they know that they have to survive, somehow, even when pain tears their hearts and lives apart.

I wonder...

I had an Afghan neighbour till last summer, who had come from London. She later moved back to London to be with her huge extended family.

I have a Palestinian acquaintance whose Russian wife has gone to Russia for their first delivery...and this young man, could not get the visa because of obvious reasons.

My American-Pakistani friend does not want to travel to meet family in Pakistan anymore because she and her kids are scared that they can be abducted and ill-treated anytime, anywhere- and if not, they will be in constant threat of another bombing. Recently, however, she braved her fears and traveled to her Pakistani home...but stayed holed up inside the house for all the 15 days that she was there.

My Nepali acquaintance has to travel to Nepal next year but she is already worried that she will need to be accompanied by a male member of the family- thanks to the terror the Maoists have created there. Rape, forced arms training, destroying the common man's property and wealth- being just a few of their weapons.

Unfortunately, this mayhem is neither limited to these countries nor does it end here. Everywhere we travel, we have the terrorism quietly walking alongside, ghost-like .

I wonder,

one, why don't these people see that all a common person wants is peace, a chance to live life normally?

two, why were we not taught by our parents, teachers or schools how to tackle bullies? They force us out of our lives, out of our homes, out of our countries...we flee, we get scared- and that is what gives them happiness and satisfaction. What are they, if not another kind of big bullies??

Where are we heading? Will our children ever be safe from these threats? Is there any end to this nonsense? May be, after every terror attack they should go back to their moms and ask them if they did the right thing...because no one else can understand the preciousness of a life as much as a mother can. Or, what if all went to back to the old times when we lived peacefully in our own territories- the whole terror business started when we became greedy, for the other person's wealth, territory and possibly, woman. If we all stayed within our boundaries, no one will be unhappy, i guess...and hence, there will be no need to use force or terror??

I wonder...

CAROLYN SARITA SANTHOJI...

It was a hot summer day. A class of grade 7, neatly seated as two rows of girls and two rows of boys; just about to start their Hindi lesson. And then, she came, out of the blue, just like that! Our Hindi teacher introduced her to us as Carolyn Sarita Santhoji...a very young, petite, South Indian girl.

We got along rather well, but then she was friendly with everyone. Over the years, we fell into a comfortable friendship where we shared secrets, food, betrayals and gossip. We even managed to get a special permission for our after-school 'picnic' once- just us- Sarita, her brother, my brother and I. She got fresh, hot idlis from her on-campus home while my mom had either sent the extra snacks with us that morning or my father came to give them in the afternoon, i don't remember. But i do remember that while we were hoping for it to be an all fun evening, it started seeming very eerie after the whole school was empty and it was just the four of us left there...even though we had all the swings to our disposal, it was not all that fun not having to fight with anyone for our turn!

I can still see her walking across our vast playground, her ponytail and her smile...

Then they moved, and we lost touch after a couple of years...until recently. Yes, i got in touch with her family again after about 20 years, and was eager to know about her.

Life did not turn out very well for her. Her family went through one personal loss after the other. And yet, i was hoping it will be all OK in the end. I could hear a nagging thought at the back of my mind, "Good, she didn't know any of this back then. It would have taken her smile away too early then..."

Sarita was sick, terribly sick for the last couple of years. So sick, that i had to ask that question again, "why she??" But i never still imagined it will all happen so soon, no one did, i think. Even though we realise now, may be this was for the better- so much of suffering that she and her family had been going through...may be it is God's way of putting an end to that suffering.

And yet, you couldn't help thinking, 'how can someone so young die so suddenly??'

As we shared the sad news, a friend said "wish we had spoken to her!"
It broke my heart...

Yes, wish i had spoken to her. Wish i had said a hello before i realised i could not ever say a bye to her again...wish....

I realised, how important it is to DO the right thing immediately, instead of waiting to find time, or even the right moment- because, this is THE right moment! If only i had spoken to her right when i got in touch with her brother, i would have been able to make new memories of her, to relive our friendship though a bit distantly...Now, i am constantly haunted by her images from school days, wondering, how she did know what lay ahead of those sunny, laughter and confusion filled school days. Wondering, if she had gotten better, she would have been able to look back at all of this as just a bad phase in life...

I thank God for not letting us see the future, because if we could, we would forget to even live our present...

Sarita, i am so sorry i did not speak to you when i could...but i hope you are happy and healthy there...I really do.

Home, sweet home!

Home. Where is home? We have an address and yet when someone asks us where we are from, they expect us to tell our 'home country, state and city'. When my kids were younger, we had a hard time telling them that though they were born in Dubai, are being brought up in Dubai, they are from India! How do you explain to a 5-year old why where he lives will never be his permanent home, or country?
And yet, when on an airport at a foreign country, with PA being made in a foreign language, we instinctively followed the women wearing the abaya...

When the UAE Ministry of Education made it mandatory for the schools to play the National Anthem in the mornings before the classes begin, there was some criticism from the expatriates. Reason was simple- our kids are anyway confused about their true identities, this will confuse them even further, and what purpose will it serve anyway (since we all will go back eventually...)?
And yet, surprisingly, the kids have picked up the National Anthem faster than expected. Even my KG going child who does not understand Arabic words, can hum the whole music!

They might not know the Indian National Anthem as yet but do realise that though ultimately they will have to move from here, this place is the dearest to them. The respect for the National Anthem comes from the sense of belonging here, however brief that association might be!

best wishes for the survivor...

Read in the newspaper toady: The 9-year old Dutch boy who was the sole survivor of a plane crash in the Libyan capital left for home yesterday, 3 days after the disaster that killed his parents, brother and 100 others.

I could not help thinking what this boy must be going through....what is ahead of him? Will he ever be able to foget this life chaging horror story that he made through, and yet, lost in a way? What will be his future?

It is a nightmare, thinking the family must have been going there for a vacation, and it ended so badly and so sadly...

Wish him all the very best...hope he smiles soon.

Charity- Who needs it the most?

A few years back, I realised it was time to introduce the idea of 'good deeds' to my 'growing up' boy. So, as a part of his birthday celebration, when he went to the temple, I asked him to keep a small amount of money separate and give it to the person he thinks needs it. We also discussed how and why he should use not only his heart but also his head while taking this decision.

Over the next few days, he kept coming to me asking if the sweeper is needier or the gardener, the life guard or the maid, or the construction workers? (He had been spared the heart-rending scenes of poverty from our own home country until then...). This went on for a few weeks, and then there was quiet...

Unfortunately, it has been a couple of years since then and it is still quiet... I cannot blame my child for poor decision making because the truth is there are so many needy people around that it might seem easier to just donate the money to a charity. If you get talking to anyone, absolutely anyone, and I am assuming they are open to talk to you too, you realise, everyone has a sad story. An absconding maid who continues to work illegally and hence, dangerously only to support her family, the gardener who is young enough to be studying in college himself but has 2 young children and an extended family to support back home, the cleaner who sweeps the roads everyday without any weekly off even in harsh weather conditions, the security guards who keep us safe for a salary that does not match their contribution to our lives or worst, the labourers who slog day and night to build our beautiful buildings, comfortable roads, and magnificent country, patients who cannot afford a life-saving treatment…Where do you stop and where do you begin? Every hand needs a helping hand...

While I have taken it on me to find a charity that we can put our faith and money in, my child has found the idea of sharing food most appealing; imagining the satisfaction from giving a bottle of cold juice to a construction worker in the middle of a hot day…and realising that this way, he will be able to help more people than just one, even if for just that moment!

Bad Karma alias sickness?

A brand new day, a brand new possibility- but the hope is always the same- May no one fall sick today!
I had a very unique ring tone for my kids' school number- so every time the school would call me, i would almost have a heart-attack. Not because it was always bad news but because one, the school does not call parents unless it is absolutely necessary; and two, the 'unique' ring tone meant i could recognise it as anyone would recognise an ambulance siren! So, my first reaction upon receiving such a phone call would be, "Gosh! what happened??".
After a spate of heart-attack inducing calls (thanks to my child visiting the school clinic so often!), i decided it was time to change that ring tone.
Unfortunately, changing the ring tone hasn't changed the fact that I still visit the hospital as much as before.
Like every other mom on this planet, i wish for complete elimination of disease itself! Why do we need to fall sick when we are going to die anyway? Why, at every stage of life, sickness follows us like a ghost and attacks us anywhere? And, it is not even only the virus, bacteria or the in-betweens- it could even be a sudden, unnecessary breakdown of our body machinery, with no spare parts available or changeable without enough physical, mental emotional and financial agony. Even if it is the result of our bad 'karma', aren't there any other ways that we pay for it??

The answers are many, if you look in any religious book- but all lead us to believe that this is all God's will...but why would God want us to suffer?? Is it because it is that one direct pain that only the sufferer feels the most, one pain that includes all the others in it?
And yet, it is just not fair not to know what you did so bad (bad karma) that you keep on breaking your bank balance and filling up the hospital's!!!! On the lighter side, i also like to console myself by thinking that my visits to the hospital are keeping someone (or many?) in employment and hence keeping at least a couple of families well taken care of!!!

How romantic!!!

What is romantic?
A cup of coffee in the rain? or, a cone of ice cream in the rain? or, a cup of tea early morning? or, late night? Plain tea or masala tea? A train journey in India or, a flight to see Eiffel Tower in Paris? A cruise or, a motor-bike ride in Goa?
When i was a student, a cup of hot, frothy coffee made my study of literature more interesting by not only helping me concentrate but also by transporting me to the world of those English poets, or so i felt. Now i wonder, if it was really the coffeee or just my assumption that it did what i felt it did?? Coffee may still sound romantic, but a cup of hot tea in cold winters scores higher- the steam caressing your face like a warm blanket, the aroma, the thought that what you are drinking is full of antioxidants, or even the whole idea of tea being served in delicate China-ware or silver ware...
To tell someone that you went on a train journey this summer in India might sound oh-so-colonially-romantic but the truth is that unless the train in question was Royal Rajasthan on Wheels, all notions of romance attached to a train journey would have crashed, in all probability.

It is all in our mind, i think- the notions of romance. We imagine. And we attach our imaginations, good and bad, to something more physical like the Eiffel Tower or the cruise or the beach or even camping in the desert...or anything for that matter...the truth is, it is so easy to romanticise anything under the sun...