Belated Apology

I forgot my friend's daughter's birthday, in spite of remembering it rest of the year round!
I forgot to return a borrowed pair of shoes back in University, in spite of seeing them every day in my room.
I forgot my colleague's birthday too- only because i was away on leave and was not checking FB regularly. On any other day, you could ask me and i would know for sure when she cuts her cake!
I forgot my friend's anniversary, only to ask my husband a couple of days later if it was the 22nd today! "Oh God! I forgot V's wedding anniversary, again!"

What is worse is, i haven’t made amends. Not because i did not want to but because i was too embarrassed in the first place. I was too embarrassed to admit that i was so busy in my life that i forgot important days in my friends' and relatives' lives. I could have made amends, following the adage "Better late than never", but it never seemed right enough and it just kept on getting late and later and latest.
In hindsight though, it seems it would have been really a good idea to follow that adage.
 It would have been less damaging.
It would have been better than my friend thinking on my kid's birthday, "She never remembered my child's birthday, why should i remember her child's?”
 It would have been better than my other friend thinking "She 'kept' my shoes!" when i didn’t. I was so embarrassed at the delay in returning her shoes that i just did not have the courage and in the end, just before leaving the hostel, i gave them away to one of the helpers there.
Just before i wrote this post, I made my first such amend. I had missed wishing a senior colleague on his special day, because i simply didn’t get a chance todo so on that particular day. But I wrote to him today to let him know that our best wishes were just a little late. It has been easier than having to explain later, more out of guilt rather than anything else,  all that contributed to forgotten birthdays and anniversaries and everything else in between.
So, this is my open apology to all my friends and relatives and colleagues and acquaintances-
"No, i did not forget it. I just could not wish you on your special day for reasons i have forgotten myself now. So, just so you know- best wishes, always!"

The 'Speaking' Shopping Trolley

All the Carrefour counters had long queues. It did not matter which one i was in- it would always seem to move slower than all the others. Standing with a trolley full of grocery, i was irked by this lady who shoved her way into the queue. No apologies, no sign language of politeness. I decided to keep quiet- she had just a few items in her trolley.
As the queue moved slowly, she started getting impatient. We happened to make eye contact and she made a hand gesture to show that she had a flight to catch. I looked at her trolley again- she was carrying chocolates- Toffifee, Lindt, Quality Street, and surprisingly, a couple of kilos of ginger. I concluded, may be ginger is not so easily available at her destination. The lady seemed Iranian from the way she was wearing her head scarf, but i could be wrong. She managed to cut the queue once again, and thanked me, for our mute conversation, in a language i did not understand.
As she was paying, i looked around at the trolleys around me. It was sea, an ocean and yet, each one so distinctive. Trolleys spoke so much about the person/ family towing it, paying for its contents.

The gentlemen ahead of me seemed to have just moved here because they were buying mop, clothes stand, ironing board, ready-made pizza, bath robe...

The trolley in the next queue was full of butter- yes, packs and packs of a Danish brand of butter. The wildest guess was that the guy owned a shop elsewhere and was buying butter in bulk here to save money.

The trolley behind me definitely belonged to a family that was not vegan. There were packs of meat in different forms, milk, bread, eggs, some fruits, packs of chips and long life juices. And then there was another one that had bought clothes in bulk.

It was so interesting, so educating in a way. Yet, at the same time, i wondered if i would like to be assessed, judged, and inferred by anyone based upon the contents of my trolley. I am pretty sure i do not want to tell a stranger or even an acquaintance the brand of rice i eat, the soap i buy, the shampoo  i use, the cereal  i prefer, or the fruits i can afford (thanks to most fruits now priced at AED 25 and above!)- they are all too personal....
I think, just like the family cabins in the restaurants, the check-out counters should be closed cabins (weird thought, i know!), giving us the privacy of our decisions.

Calling the Call Centre...do you have what it takes???

For all of those who think they have mastered Patience, here is a test: call Global VFS at their Call Centre if you have any questions about UK visa, and they give you a free 'Patience test'. I passed it with flying colours- my record: 180 minutes, and still waiting on number one now- and i was the 8th caller in the queue when i started! The reward: a bit disappointing. I was hoping there will be a grand announcement, a certificate or something, but i learnt, the fact that you get to talk to the 'representative' is THE reward! Besides, there is a feel-good factor if you are calling from your landline (at least you didn’t waste your mobile recharge waiting for your turn!).

People complain about Customer Care standards in Dubai. I think they are one of the best, compared to what we see back home. Yet, that is no excuse for the terrible Call Centres here. My bank has made all calls to its call centre chargeable and it comes with a guarantee that you will be in the queue for a minimum of 30 minutes!  

Similarly, the pizza company is prompt at taking the order but wouldn’t pick your call when you want to check if they are still ordering the dough from Italy, 1 hour after placing the order.

Try calling the telecom company, and they pass their test of frustrating the customer beyond imaginable limits with the same flying colours!

Come to think of it, with our patience being tested on a daily basis, should we be thanking all these so called service providers for improving our sense of calm and composure? The thing about a normal phone line was that nobody kept on thanking you for your patience and increasing your blood pressure. No one told you that your call will be connected in exactly 30 minutes or 30 seconds, or that you are at what number...if the phone was busy, you would call back later...simple. The level of precision, or the intention to improve the positive attitude of the customer by putting them on waiting line, was beyond the capabilities of a normal customer -care phone number.

At the same time, the more i think about it, the more it appears that this is all a trick to frustrate the customer so much that he hangs up the line, and they do not have to answer our queries. Or, is it a signal that we should take our business elsewhere- be it the bank, the pizza company, the telecom company, the country you are planning to visit for a holiday....as a customer, thankfully, sometimes, we do have options. We are just too lazy to explore them!

Rx: New Love!

Have you ever been prescribed 'Love'? Yes, i am serious. Ever?
Well, ever since i have been, my husband forbade me to visit the same doctor again, and my friends have been asking me about the doctor's contact details!

It is not what it looks like really...precisely why they said, "Don’t judge a book by its cover." But still, when
I went to consult the Orthopaedic for a nagging neck pain; all he prescribed me for relief was a 'New Love'!
One look at my neck, and without an X-ray he said, "It is a spasm, some stiffness, some knots in the muscle there...do you work?"
I wondered, as i always do when someone asks me that question, if my Freelance work really counts as 'work'. In the end, i just said, "Freelance".
"Hmmm...” i think he too wondered whether to consider it as serious work or a time-pass fascination of a housewife! Nevertheless, he continued, "I think you just need to find a new love..."
My mind did not wait for him to finish. It went in overdrive and started racing...
"New love? Is he mad? Not that i would mind being the centre of the universe once again, not that i would mind receiving all those lovely notes and attention, not that i would mind looking forward to meeting someone everyday........." i think i was smiling at that point, "but wait!!!!!", i heard the brakes, "i am not a young, single woman anymore", that was my head talking now, "I have a husband, kids, a home....as much as the idea of love is tempting, it is just not worth it! I am very happy with what i have been blessed with...thank you very much!"
Yes, i had made up my mind. Thankfully, before I opened my mouth to reprimand the doctor, i heard him say, "Find a group activity. Join a gym, an art class, anything- anything that will make you meet more people...it is just stress!"
"Oh! Stress!” i thought, "when i was working i had stress, when i am not working i have stress..."
"I didn’t know stress can cause all this...” i said to the doctor.
"Oh yes, stress can manifest itself in many ways other than BP or heart conditions...."

As I left the clinic, i walked home that 30-minute walk, thanking God that it was still not too hot to walk. On my way, everyone i saw seemed okay as far as stress is concerned. People in their cars, nannies pushing the prams, gardeners rushing on their bicycles, and various service providers entering and exiting the communities en route. I wondered if they were happier doing what they were doing, or happier just because they were doing something? I wondered if a 'coffee morning' was more de-stressing or having a coffee on your way to work? I wondered if too much work was stressful or doing nothing all day long. Who is not stressed really? The unmarried are stressed because they want to get married, the married  have their own stress, the divorced are under stress becuase they want a new companion, the kids are strssed out because they are kids and have to go by their parents' and teachers' ways, the elderly are stressed because their younger generation does not 'listen to them' anymore, the boss is stressed and stresses the suordinates- exactly, who is NOT stressed?
I am sure this prescription will work for just about everyone, as long as it is not taken literally!
For me, I have concluded that I need to push myself out of my cocoon every morning, count my blessings, work the work that makes me happy and focus on the goodness of life.
And yes, my husband also changed his mind about the doctor after listening to the whole advice!

I confess...i pretend!

I have been taught to pretend. And i am sure everyone is. It is a part of our growing up.
"Smile and say hello when the guests come," i am teaching my brood to pretend, pretend to be happy when we socialise with people other than they know, or are friendly with.

"Oh, he knows all the poems! Chalo beta, recite that Red Balloon one for uncle-auntie", haven’t we all gone through it? For the sake of our parents and avoiding a lecture later, we all have endured being the unwanted performer in front of an uninterested audience.

"That house is your home now. Stay true to both the homes my child," is the usual parting advice to brides in our country. And yet, from when she comes back for her first visit after the marriage to whenever she comes later, everyone tries to find the inside secrets of her new family.
"How is your sister-in-law? Does she take all your clothes?"
"How is your mother-in-law? Does she help you or you have to do everything?"
"What? They drink every night? OMG!!!"
The bride, however, is generally trained to pretend, and pretends that all is fine. All is well. The mother laments that her daughter does not share anything with her anymore, and by that she actually means that she does not tell her any problems that she is facing in her other home. The mother-in-law fears that her daughter-in-law will go and share the family issues with her parents and the matter will be aggravated. The bride fears that one day she will lose her mind in the middle of these two mothers! Nobody told her that marriage was a tough thing, much more than the nice clothes and jewelry and the happy send-off and promises of love.

"Oh, my wife is a great cook" boasts the man in front of his boss, even though he knows his wife got migraine attack at the mere mention of having his boss over for a formal dinner.
"Oh, it is all my pleasure", gushes the wife when the boss and his wife thank her for having taken all that trouble.

"Hey, why don’t you stay with us?" the husband screams on the phone to his long-lost friend who has bothered to call him only when he is planning to visit the city. There is no space in the house to have house-guests but they do host them, all the while pretending what a pleasure it has been to host them and meet them after decades of  hibernation.

I am sure i am not the only one who is the dutiful bahu when one of her in-laws visit and the in-control daughter when someone from her 'own' side visits. The same holds true for our spouses.
At least one of these is a facade, or are we really so unbelievably perfect?

"I am so sorry...I already have guests coming over this weekend", we pretend to have a perfectly busy social life when we are invited to a party we hardly want to go, even though we will spend the weekend grumpily in front of the tv.

Sometimes, it is tempting to stay true, to not pretend anymore. But i realise that that would mean less headache for me but more heartache for many more people in my life.

So, you see- we are a species who pretend. We pretend to be happy, sad, innocent, demanding, accommodating, furious and all things in between. We are positive thinking personified. How? Don't all of those books tell us to believe the make-believe- "Believe you are happy and you will feel happy!", "Believe you are fine, and you will feel fine!”
We believe our pretence because it is a way of life. The only way to wade through those muddy, confusing waters of life we call a journey!

Chaat- the distinctive Indian treat!

I had the opportunity to spend my growing years in a very lively corner of the town. 15 years since I have left the town, and it is still the liveliest place closer to home. There is everything that the people of a small town need there- a couple of Pharmacies, tailor, groceries, photographers, snack shops, DVD shop, etc. etc. The most distinctive shop, however, has been a chaat shop. The Panna Chaat shop. Having enjoyed the gol-gappas, tikkis and papri chaats in abundance from there, i no longer really crave it but it is some kind of an icon nonetheless, a thread that binds all of our age group in the town. We all have been there- for birthday treats, exam-treats, just-like-that treats, on an impulse, to follow someone entering that shop...the reasons have been endless! It is still the best chaat-shop in town.

Over the years, everytime i have passed by that shop, looking at the crowd of young girls with their moms, teenage boys, couples with young kids, newlyweds, I have had just one thought...what is it that this chaat gives them, all of them? It had to be beyond its trademark flavour or the buzz of that square. It had to be something that has contributed to this shop's long life and reputation.

After years of pondering, I have come to the conclusion that in a small town, with our mundane lives and the monotonous routines, the chaat with its tangy and spicy flavours gives us something new to feel. It breaks that monotony. It allows us to be happy for much less, even if for a very short period of time. It adds variety to the boring daily life of an average middle class person. It hits a desire for the fresh, better, new, different, yummy, spicy...in pretty much the same way gossip does for most women!

Yes, it feeds a desire.

At the same time, it allows us to really enjoy that moment when we drink that sweet-sour water with the gol-gappas or enjoy the smooth yoghurt on the papri chaat...its tanginess akin to the tanginess we crave in our lives when we see the grass always green on the other side, or the gol gappa bigger in the other's plate!

Happy 'Chaatting'!

Living the World Cup fever in India!

I missed being in India last night. There is no place like home to watch the World Cup- each palpitation is loud enough and the collective palpitation can be heard and felt all around- the sighs for a 'bad' one and the crackers for every four or sixes! I was there during the India -Pakistan semi-final and never before had I witnessed such madness for a sport. The streets, as predicted, started getting lonelier after 2.30pm. The women were busy preparing for the evening- "Men folk are going to be at home watching the match- they will need a constant supply of savouries...” told a lady i smiled at acknowledging her purchase of namkeens. From projector screens, large gatherings, constant inflow of tikkis, samosas, dahi-bhallas to chai and pakoras with a small group of friends, or just a drink with a close friend- you could see all varieties glued to their TV sets. This was a war without the traditional arms and ammunition, a war with a different and thankfully, lesser casualties. Nonetheless, this was a war for the national pride. The most exciting match for the Indians. When India won this one, people seemed content- they had won over their arch enemy, this was their World Cup. They went bonkers. Gathering at all the intersecting junctions in the town, waving the national tricolour, blowing trumpets, vuvuzelas and what not, beating the drums, hanging out of their car windows and sun roofs, dancing, bursting crackers, and above all, screaming- just one word- INDIA- everyone, literally everyone went bonkers. What a moment it was, to revel in that happiness, seeing people forget everything else and live that moment to the fullest. It was absolutely amazing being in the middle of that frenzy, and precisely why i missed being there last night!
In anticipation of the match, i was asked two questions that i thought were interesting. First was, if both India and UAE were playing this match, who would i cheer for? Honestly, it was a tough one and yet the obvious one. Tough because i love the country I am in and obvious because this country does not love me yet! So, my loyalty between this country and my own will be with India for sure- the country that i still call 'home' and the country that calls me its citizen and gives me  my rights and responsibilities. I think i would have been confused if I had the nationality of another country...

The second question was a bit shocking for me. Shocking because i had never thought that someone around me could think like this...
"Do you think the Muslims of this country will cheer for India or Pakistan?"
"Of course India!” was my instant reply. "You are confusing religion with national loyalty..."
"May be...but don’t you think people who moved from Pakistan after the partition still think of Pakistan as their home?"
"We too should be cheering for Pakistan then, no?” i said, referring to our roots in the then Punjab that became a part of Pakistan after the partition.
The discussion went on for just a little longer with the conclusion that any hardliner still finds it difficult to alienate religion from rest of what makes an individual. All a fundamentalist sees is who you were born as and not what you have learnt to become besides that.
Thankfully, the match started and the unpleasant discussion was drowned in the answers of  "Who won the toss???"

The Cupboard Saga

It is that time of the year again. No, it is not Diwali yet when you are supposed to spring clean your cupboard, room and home of all the unwanted stuff and make way for Goddess Lakshmi, alias new things! Practically, now, it is all year round. Given the smaller spaces, better affordability and bigger materialistic appetites, the cupboards are ready to fall apart unless they are reviewed every quarter, at the least! One of those quarters is when I visit home. I review the cupboards to see what is 'passable' to whom, age wise, relation-wise and appropriateness wise.
Starting that exercise this morning I realized, I am in a big mess! ‘Water, water everywhere, not a drop to drink!'- That is what it is. My cupboard is overflowing. Overflowing with clothes I might need to wear on one specific occasion or the other, just once or twice in a year! Saris, Salwar-kameez, Western Casuals, office wear, formal Indian wear!!!! Give me a break! When I am here, I wear the stuff everyone wears- western casuals or formal, as the case may be. The saris get worn only twice in a year- but you cannot repeat them! Can you? So, every year you buy those two 'new' saris!! When I go home, Salwar-kurtas seem more appropriate, functional and acceptable. The ones in my cupboard have already gone 'out of fashion'- so do I have a choice but buy new ones when I am there?? And of course, for socialization with 'our' people here, I need to keep a stock of formal Indian wear too!!!!
Every spring cleaning hits me in the face with the clothes which have never been worn and have gone out of fashion in their hangers, the money and time  wasted on buying them, and the fact that I will need to do all this, all over again! So much for adhering to, “While in Rome, do as the Romans do"!

My Dutch neighbour had once remarked that he knew his receptionist was Indian because of the brightly coloured clothes that she wore. He was right! I also wonder sometimes how and why Europeans spend their life wearing whites, blacks, greys and browns. I go berserk looking at the colours in the INdian markets when I go home and end up buying some really bright suits. Once here, i have not dared to wear them even once for the fear of being reported for hurting public sensibilities. 

In the end, my cupboard is as  multihued as it could be- blacks, whites and greys stand right next to the lime greens, baby pinks, fuchsias, turquoise blues and bright oranges. The 6-yard drapeable fabric on the same rod as the tough denim or the softer silk and chiffon. In the end, my spring cleaning will have to go on, and so will my thought-  am i losing myself in a big boiling, frothy, cooking bowl, or am i being open and embracing the different flavours? Whatever it is, one thing is clear- I NEED A BIGGER CUPBOARD!!!!

Obituaries

I have this strange habit of reading Obituaries in the newspapers as and when and where I see them. My first instinct is to look at the date of birth of the departed one, and assess if the deceased had had a long life. My eyes then shift to the names and relationships mentioned below the picture. An older person has grandchildren, while a younger one would have the spouse and children mentioned there. The most tragic ones are the youngest lot, who had yet to see the rainbow their life could be. I cannot help wondering what could have caused their departure- was it sickness, accident, a foolish decision...either way, it is sad especially for the immediate family. A long life, on the contrary, carries an assumtion of a well-lived life and a lot of relationships that adorned the deceased's life on this earth, and death seems to be the natural course of life cycle in such a case.

This may sound gross to some, but I just cannot help noticing it. A silent prayer for the gone passes as I hope that their loved ones find the courage to move on. But there was something in the obituary i saw yesterday that made me pause a little longer than the usual. The gentleman in this one was born in the same year as I, and is survived by his wife and daughter. I felt weird, sad and scared, all at the same time. I could not imagine that I am already in the ‘possible to die now’ age range. I could not imagine what it would be like for his wife and daughter now. Everyone who loses a dear one, or a dearest one, ceases to live for a long while, but in this case, their lives would  literally cease. Their bank account could be frozen, their visa cancelled. With the breadwinner gone, they have to move back to their home country, learn to live without him,  all on their own, and all over again. It would be so much of hard work, both emotionally, and financially…I really hope their future life is not as tough as it seems to me right now…

On a similar note, I was wondering why is it that when you hear the bad news, you keep getting bad news. It started with our teacher's father’s death, followed by my friend’s mom, then a colleague’s brother, then Japan…it seems God needs everyone at once! I am now waiting for the good news, and I know once you start seeing birth announcements, you will keep on seeing them everywhere- God probably sends also in batches, at least  I hope so!

The 3-crore wedding/ Shaadi 3-crore ki

I know, i know, it is criminal but to alleviate the seriousness of  my offence,  i confess- i watch reality shows! Not all of them, but some. They are anyday better than the sad, run of the mill 'serials'. Enough in my defence!
The latest one that i have started following is the 3-crore Wedding. Honestly, having attended only 3 weddings in the family in the last 14 years (what a shame!), I have no clue how much do weddings in India cost now. But i am enjoying watching all the ceremonies, all the 'functions', all the banter within the families that is normal at these times, trousseau shopping, and what not. I am enjoying looking at all that greasy, heavy food and all the sweets, and all the 'inside' emotions of extended families, which do point to one fact, money rules!!! The groom-to-be is cute and the bride is shy. The overweight  relatives are happy in their skin and keep on repeating that it is a 3-crore wedding and they have to look the part. Both sets of parents look adorably protective of their child's interest, especially the girl's mother. Can a normal daily soap compete with the more convincing, even if scripted, cunningness of first cousins and their wives?? I doubt! The clothes shopping made the relatives ask, rather frankly, for their own personal budgets. The gold shopping is still pending, and i am waiting to see whether the wicked plan of relatives to get the Wedding Jewellery budget allocated in their favour will work or not? More than anything else,  the bride and the groom-to-be seem to be so much in love that this wedding  speaks in favour of the traditional 'ARRANGED' Indian marriages!

mmmm...I am loving it!

Is that rabbit yours?

When we stopped because of a black furry 'thing' ahead of us, we thought it was a puppy, having been let out by someone for some fresh air. We were more than surprised to see that it was a rabbit- a black rabbit with a band of fur around its neck, which looked more like a pet collar! It went hopping all around the park, with us in tow, curious to know who did it belong to. Suddenly, it took a service road and hopped out onto the main road! Worried that it might get run over by a car, we followed it. The bunny was for sure lost, because it was responding to the sound of clapping or any whistle, when we tried to attract its attention to the carrot in our hand. It was hopping from garage to garage, probably trying to locate its lost home. Unfortunately, they all look the same, except the make of the car(s) parked in the garage! So much for symmetry!
"This one, or that one?", the rabbit seemd to think as it stopped in front of each garage.
 It was getting dark, and while we did succeed in feeding it the carrot, we did not know what else we could do to save it from getting mauled by a cat or a dog or worse, killed by a car! We called the Community Security and asked for their help. The response was lukewarm, telling us that they will see what they can do. Luckily, a security staff patrolling on his bicycle was passing by and we stopped him to show the rabbit and ask for direction in this regard. He was more honest and said, "Where will we keep the rabbit? But I will inform the head office."
As the bunny hopped on, we had to come back home.
Once home, we called up the Municipality, which is responsible for taking care of pets-related issues, besides a whole lot others. DM was less than forthcoming though. We were told that since this was within the 'community', the Community Security was responsible for it, not the Municipality.
"But you do charge us  a hefty Housing Fee every month," I could not help saying, wondering if the Municipality is not 'responsible' for what goes on in the community, why do we have to pay such a huge amount in Housing Fee to it in the first place.
"Well, that's for everyone!"
"Yes, sure!", I thought, not wanting to discuss the fact that many many people had been living for years without having to pay the fee, and in spite of the Municipality’s claims that their system had been improved and now everyone was being charged fairly, there was no guarantee that we were not being ‘penalised’ for being the law abiding citizens!
"You keep the rabbit", the gentleman on the toll free number said generously.
I wanted to tell him that while I was an animal lover, it was only from a distance- I could not handle them, leave alone catch a hopping rabbit!
I called up the Community Security again and briefed them about my conversation, and requested them to do something before the rabbit gets run over by a driver considering the community roads a highway! Honestly, they said, there was nothing much they could do.
We gave up, hoping that the rabbit with its shiny black fur, attentive ears and happy hopping will be able to find its way home. I have not yet received any 'missing rabbit’ notice from any resident, so that is a good thing. (Or, is it worse- have the owners, like many other pet owners, moved out of the country and left the pet behind to fend for itself on the streets of the city? I hope not!)
On a sadder note, the rabbit made me think that we too are like it. Being non residents of our home country, we have no rights there, except to a NRE account! Being a non-national here, we have no rights here too! I hope, like that bunny rabbit, we can also find our real home one day.

Wishing well...

The Namesake was one novel and movie i enjoyed reading and watching thoroughly, i think because of its closeness to reality. The bad news, both, regarding Aushima's father and later, her husband, comes via the telephone, the routine object that we use many times in the day and that is the bearer of most of our news these days. It reaffirmed my hatred for late night phone calls so much so that i have come to dread them. When i heard about my friend's mother passing away yesterday, i could only hope that she had had the opportunity to be closer to her mom at that time of unexpected departure. I could only hope that she had not got the worst news of her life through the phone.
I want to speak to this friend, to try to convey my feelings; and yet, i am at a loss for words. What do you tell a person who has lost a parent? Will, what i say, lessen her grief, or help her at all? How do i tell her that I understand,  that her excruciating pain cannot be mitigated, except with time?
 Parents are irreplaceable, our sole source of unconditional love and acceptance; witnesses of our life with all its inside stories; our pillars of strength, unselfish advice and prayers; despite all our disagreements and arguments and what not. Losing  any of them is a thought we never let come to our mind.
I see them growing older, and i get scared. I want my stronger daddy back, a little voice in my head tells me. I want my active mom again, the image search department of my brain screams back, showing me her images of managing her job and home and kids and social circle, and everything that we have been taking for granted. I want them to be around for a very very long time, I want them to stay happy and healthy, and i hope the same for everyone's parents. God bless all the parents, always!!!!!!

The pursuit of happiness...

One look at the sky above with its uncertain clouds; deciding whether to play hide and seek with sun today, or stay right here for a while and unload their water tanks; the sun trying really hard to show its luminous face, the birds talking rather excitedly, the wind giving the last signs of a waning winter and the impending hot summer ahead- for once, I did not feel like having my usual morning cup of tea. I enjoyed just sitting and watching, and wondering why haven't I done it all winter? I have had the opportunity but I have chosen more mundane things over the exciting ones, letting another beautiful winter slip by in the process.

Every afternoon, I tell myself, I must have lunch outdoors. The sun is not going to be kind all the time...and yet, I turn on the television and watch some silly reality show to make my lunchtime more alive.

Am I the only one like this? Are the people employed in well-paying, full time jobs more disciplined to have their quality times? I have doubts. Others' lives always seem more interesting, but if I had to go to a coffee morning every day, or even every other day of the week, I will be bored to death. If my idea of fun had to be just shopping every day, I will not only be broke but again bored to death. If I had to go to full time work every day that finishes when the moon has already said hello to my part of the world, will I be happy then? NO!  And yet, we see these people, all around us, seemingly perfectly happy with themselves, their lives. Either they are really happy or they believe that they are happy, or worse, we believe that they are happy when actually they are not! My conclusion-  everyone to his own! Happiness will always be both, illusive and elusive, until we figure it out in our own minds and hearts.

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.