Morpheus...

Of tears and fears

2011-06-30T08:39:00.003Z

I dont think any of us recall our first day at our very first school. Well really the first time we went at a fixed time, on a fixed day, to a fixed place, where Mommmy was not around. Do we rememeber the tears? Probably not.
Well I did not know how much I cried, if at all. I am told that I skipped off to nursery without looking back because I was seriously bored at home by myself.

So the time comes to get back to work and send 'my precious' to the nursery. After having his company - 9 in and 12 out - it was hard to let go. To let someone else know how to look after my precious, how to soothe him, make him smile and feed him, how to lay him to sleep, how to wipe his nose and when to give him water. It was hard just thinking about it. The time approached for him to be left at the nursery and so I gathered the troops - the husband was booked on leave for the first day at nursery, and who else did I summon - but my mom, yes I needed to hold her hand in mine, while I let go of my other hand and handed over precious to his key worker. The husband and I smoked a sneaky stressed out 'this-is-hard cigarette' and that DID not help at all. We both felt and looked quite helpless and pleased at the lack of tears, but felt a giant punch of emotion at leaving precious in the nursery for a few hours.

There are few, if any, things that a parent would do, that would make their child unhappy and cry..and this is one of them (the other being medicines and vaccinations). And it was hard to say bye, watch his face turn upside down, and leave. The fact that I cried hard and long enough for my contact lenses to actually fall out..did not make things better. Perhaps some day I shall laugh about this. But for now we are trying to settle in and learn to live apart! All this time I worried about precious having a hard time and crying..and I forgot, well honestly, I did not even think/imagine how hard it would be for me as well. But hey I am all grown up and should behave so. WELL!!!

So this grown up, ofcourse turned to her mother and told her, almost enlightened in her approach, that it is hard to let go of a child. And she nodded sagely back at me, smiled and said, 'I know'. And I am well over the 30 mark, and yet I still thinking, ma knows everything!

The Women We Become

2011-05-25T07:38:00.002Z

This is from Maggie O'Farrell's new book - The Hand that First Held Mine. Found it touching. Here is goes.

The Women We Become After Children:
We change shape, we buy low heeled shoes, we cut off long hair. We begin to carry in our bags half-eaten rusks, a small tractor, a shred of beloved fabric, a plastic doll. We lose muscle tone, sleep, reason, perspective. Our hearts begin to live outside our bodies. They breathe, they eat, they crawl and - look! - they walk, they begin to speak to us. We learn that we must sometimes walk an inch at a time, to stop and examine every stick, every stone, every squashed tin along the way. We get used to not getting where we were going. We learn to darn, perhaps cook, to patch the knees of dungarees. We get used to living with a love that suffuses us, suffocates us, blinds us, controls us. We live. We contemplate our bodies, our stretched skin, those threads of silver around our brows, our strangely enlarged feet. We learn to look less in the mirror. We put our dry-clean-only clothes to the back of the wardrobe. Eventually, we throw them away. We school ourselves to stop saying 'shit' and 'damn' and learn to say 'my goodness' and 'heavens above'. We give up smoking, we colour our hair, we search vistas of parks, swimming-pools, libraries, cafes for others of our kind. We know each other by our pushchairs, our sleepless gazes, the beakers we carry. We learn how to cool a fever, ease a cough, the four indicators of meningitis, that one must sometimes push a swing for two hours. We buy biscuit cutters, washable paints, aprons, plastic bowls. We no longer tolerate delayed buses, fighting in the street, smoking in restaurants, sex after midnight, inconsistency, laziness, being cold. We contemplate younger women, as they pass us in the street, with their cigarettes, their makeup, their tight-seamed dresses, their tiny handbags, their smooth, washed hair, and we turn away, we put down our heads, we keep pushing the pram up the hill.

Really!

2011-04-15T14:39:00.003Z

Time does fly. And its been flying superfast for the past few months or so.
I have done nothing much apart from being mommy and doing my best at that. And that I can tell you is a lot of work.

So..in this time. I have spent the longest time ever in India in the past 11 years..spent a whole 3 months wallowing in the nothingness at home. enjoying afternoon naps with mommy, eating lovely food with MIL and not missing the husband as he kept dropping by..because he 'missed us' though i think he dropped by because he thought he was 'missing out' on something!

Apart from that..i missed out the cold cold snowy part of London..which somehow i wish i had not..i like the cold. the colder, the better for me. I missed new year coming in and going out. I still dont think of Cameron as PM and the CSR in India recently dawned on me. So I am have missed on feeling of elation, surprise, delight, disgust and indignation.

The boy went to India as a cute baby, got the delhi-belly business and came back thinner, longer and now turned into an ape. tail-less monkey indeed. Impossible is nothing. well he gives this cliched line a proper shot. from copying me by trilling, grabbing what he cant/shouldnt etc. and also discovering his yelling voice. ah. that at 3am! go figure!

I have missed not being at work. I have missed the banter at work and the feeling of not being home, so finding returning home...well something to look forward to and something i liked doing. I miss not wearing smart clothes each morning and walking out of the door. I also miss not being able to get out and about on my own. to not be able to talk and call people when i want. I miss the feeling of being one of the commuters on the train to work, with alarm clock woken eyes, damp hair and a newspaper. I have missed out on the news and dont know much about what happens outside the little world of baby and me. Have stopped playing with my iPhone. Just a lot of things have gone. Life has changed into something beyond recognition.

yet. I have the time to read, slow progress and no book gobbling happening..but yes I do read. I like that.
Yet. I have the time to talk my family, quite often. I like that.
I sometimes have the time to speak to my friends who have not abandoned all hope of my reappearing. i like that.
Some family and friends drop by, invite me to meals, to give me a break. I like that.
I escape to watch the odd film, chat till late night over pizza with friends while baby is with his papa. I like that.
Plans on work in kashmir continue to be made. I like that.

Life has changed. Sometimes the degree of the change gets to me and I am desperate for a breather...and I dont always get one. But imagining a life without my smiley bubba with his 1.5 teeth is not possible. I guess the fact that he shall go into a day care centre sometime soon..keeps me sane. Its all fun being around a baby, but its tiring and you do need a break. Lets hope I am not the one who cries more when i drop him off at the nursery.

Gobsmacked.

2010-10-20T23:30:00.003Z

Oh boy.
Yes I know I have a little baby and should have little time to do nosing around into things which are not relevant to me or even of any significant interest to me..but hey..baby is turning out to be a cool guy, called 'Buddha' by my pals and 'chinese Buddha' by those who have noticed his girth, mirth and high raised hands pose while asleep.

So I did get a shock of my life, reading about the various types of mothers who exist, discovered by nosing around the school gate, here is a list (courtesy Mumsnet):

The Queen Bee Mum
The unfeasably glam mum, done up to the nines and whip-thin
The Busybody Mum with too much time on her hands who likes to get everyone's email address and send everyone APBs about cake sales etc
The Keepfit Mum who does the school run in lycra before jogging off over the horizon.
The late mum who lives very near the school but is always rushing in just as the door is shutting.
There's always a Sporty Mum, and there's always Ageing Hippy Mum.
There's always a Popular Mum, who is really nice and smiley and knows everyone.
There's usually Mum of Disruptive Child, who keeps her head down and everyone feels a bit sorry for (but not sorry enough to invite Disruptive Child home to play).
And there's usually a Very Young Mum, and a Very Old Mum.
The mummy who wears sunglasses on her head all year round.
The super-efficient working mum who is always wearing a designer suit, and engrossed in important work on Blackberry until the minute her child comes out of school.
The precious mum who is constantly fussing over her child.
The pushy, competitive mum (loads of those) who enrolls child in every activity possible to give her child the edge.
The 'worn out' mum......fleece and baggy tracksuit bottoms
The 'serial mum'.....a horde of kids,all in different schools/classes

I am Gobsmacked. I am.

I do?

2010-09-16T11:54:00.003Z

And when the clock is ticking and society looks at you and shakes their collective heads in a combination of sadness and sympathy. When that piece of paper by the court - called a marriage certificate becomes all important, do you then say I do?

How important is it really to get married? I am not talking about being single or not, I am talking pure facts - marriage - the whole hog of the Indian style one or the paper version in court, either way - is it important being married?

If your significant other is not married to you, does this mean that they are not as committed to you as they would be if you were married? Does being married really provide any guarantees about the longevity of a relationship? Surely rising divorce rates answer that last question. Does it contribute to the happiness of a relationship at any point?

But does being married really give your relationship a dignity it can only get through societal approval of living together not-in-sin status? How important is it really for any children you might want to have to be married to their parent? Yet again, that all important society and how it would accept/ or not a child born out of wedlock..matters, or does it? Does this really mean that you marry only to procreate? What if you wanted no children at all, and yes that is an option, would you then find marriage all that necessary?

What about parental approval - is that a good enough reason to marry, so your folks can feel that you are now 'settled'? I still do not quite know what that term encompasses.

Is not the institution over subscribed and over rated?

Could you not just live in peace together, without the pressure of society..which always disapproves anyway?

Space, and getting used to it

2010-09-10T10:52:00.004Z

Its been a LONG, long, long time since I shared space with more than one adult at a time. I did not realize how much I valued it and in a very cliched way, yes, how much I miss it when its taken away.

Over a period of time, we, who have lived or spent some part of our lives away from the parental home, get used to being alone. Not alone in the lonely way, but alone in the i-can-spend-all-day-in-silence way. The I dont mind making tea for one and sitting quietly and drinking it. I am used to doing laundry once a week and I only talk on the phone when I want to. I am also used to opening the door of my house to find it empty and silent - in the peaceful, ahhhhh-i-am-home way. I am used to shutting the lights and making sure the door is locked when I leave. I am used to thinking about food and making it to my requirements...

It is a long list when you think about it.

Over a period of time you get used to engaging in conversation when you feel like it. You also know that any physical company you have comes with a time limit and eventually you shall be back in your own space and place with your mind for company. In my case it is books for company. I have always loved lying down with a book and spending hours in silence, deeply engrossed in a book. I also like listening to loud music and secretly dancing with great abandon to it when the feeling takes over.
So, though the word is often used and abused, space, as a concept, should have made its presence known and felt to most people who have spent some time alone. Once you recognize it, you also instantly learn to realize when it is missing.

Recently with family over at my house, guests, visitors and the baby - space seems to come at a premium. Instead of being sunk in seemingly endless space, it now comes with time - defining and limiting it. I only get little windows or pockets of space in a day to match my previous existence. Makes it all the more precious, worth recognizing and protecting.

However it is amazing how well this little pocket or 'timeout' works. A few hours of silence, physical emptiness and peace makes a huge difference to overall day quality. A small amount of 'space' and silence with time limits makes you welcome noise, company and distraction.

Baggage.

2010-09-06T08:01:00.003Z

I remember a certain non Indian relation of mine, telling me a long time ago, that Indians can never travel light. At that time I had never flown outside India, so I put on my indignant hat and argued with him for a few minutes.

A few years down the line, I flew to England to study, of course I had the biggest suitcase money could buy and needless to say I took with me essentials like a pressure cooker and many boxes of spices (did not know at this time that there everything I desire that is Indian is available readily in UK as well). My suitcase weighted close to 65 kilos, but the logic given for this excsssive baggage was the year long stay and the fact that BA was doing a student deal (did not know at this time that there would not be a return deal like this from BA and would cost me over 350 pounds for this).

Over the past decade of so, I have flown many time to many places and each time I have indeed noticed that most people of Indian (South Asian lets say) do not travel light. They will have the biggest bags, with the 'HEAVY' tags on them, and they will need to spend a long time arguing at the check-in desk over excess baggage.

Yesterday I was at Heathrow again, at a terminal which has many flights to India. The check-in process was never ending and the shop selling bags to repack excess baggage was doing good business. There was a proper 'REPACK' area and new trolleys were seen. A couple traveling back to India were with 4 large bags (this is not the norm for EU/UK - Asia flights, as opposed to the US). The man at the check-in desk sighed and hummed and hawed and pointed the brown folks to the excess baggage shop and counter.

Do we carry in the kitchen sink with us? Or are our bags full of presents for the people we so care about? Or are we the 'what-if' category of packers? What is it that makes us pack and pack and pack and weigh everything 5 times before we leave for the airport, all set to argue with the check-in desk guy. Is it financial/ economy reasons?

Going back to my non Indian relation and other non Indian friends who have traveled the planet with nothing much. How do they do this? Simple, they say, you take nothing. You reach India, you buy stuff, you use the stuff, you throw the stuff and you come back! Shaking my head I thought - they clearly dont buy handmade throws and pottery to carry back with them. They obviously dont haunt Cottage Emporium before departure and are not fans of Indian publications!

I know I dont travel light - my excuse is my obsession with all things handmade which keep traveling from UK to India and back. I fit the stereotype. Yes I know. But is the stereotype just my imagination or do we really not know how to travel light?

Temple Treat

2010-08-28T21:20:00.004Z

So this has been a month of many firsts. And one of them included my heading to a Hindu Temple in London, which I heard about for the past 10 years, finally I headed to the Swaminarain Temple in Neasden, London. It is a famous Gujarati temple which is on the tourist trail in London. I had stood in the crowds, close to the temple to see a spectacular firework display on Diwali in 2000, a long time ago. And since then I had not been in.

I am a fairly religious person, though talking about my faith and belief is not something I like doing, therefore temple visiting is not a need/ habit, its one of those..lets go and see it type of situations. Once in a temple I am happy, I pray, look around, feel good and go home. I have somehow managed to travel and see quite a few of the important Indian temples - Tirupati, Kashi, Haridwar, Rishikesh....and I do have a deep desire to see Amarnath at some point of time..anyway, I deviate.

So we went to this temple as a family and so we went in to see the temple and pray.

First we got pushed around quite a lot by some very rude people.
For the first time I was told that I could not take the baby bag as it was a "bag' and bags are not allowed in the interest of security (Heathrow eat your heart out). Then we stood (a first in a Hindu Temple for me) in two seperate queues, one for men and one for women. This differentiation by the same people who point steady fingers at mosques and Islam for differentiating between the sexes.

So the little one who is all of 2 months old was wearing these cute shoes.

Two uniformed men within the worship areas made me take off the tiny shoes the little one was wearing, as they were 'shoes'. They did not mind the leather belts, the phone holsters and the shiny leather wallets, but in the interest of being pure they wanted all shoes. Needless to say my fast asleep son woke up and was not pleased. I dont think I need to tell you that they were indeed very rude, bearing in mind the level of 'offense' and the offender here being a baby.

According to most religions babies/ children are equated to God, Angels, and have a special status which they enjoy till they grow up.
The experience was nasty, depressing and one I shall not want to repeat in a rush.

I dont know if this is a Gujarati thing, a British Gujarati thing, a question of rules of just plain stupidity on part of the temple. It might also be me being jumpy about anything to do with the baby, but I did not like the sex discrimination in the queuing system either. I have a special place in my heart for shoes, now especially for tiny fabric made ones with dragons on the sole.
I dont know if it is all of the above in parts, but, I did not like it. At all.

REALLY!!!

2010-07-26T20:53:00.002Z

'The Supreme Court has frowned upon the clubbing of `housewives' with prostitutes, beggars and prisoners under the economically non-productive' category in the Census, saying this betrayed the "totally insensitive" and "callous" approach of statutory authorities.' from here

I mean...REALLY. And we are supposed to be progressive and moving towards being an equal society. Do they not know the basics of feminist economic thinking? Or even simple economics? Have they not heard about such things as domestic economies.

Beggars in Delhi are known to earn close to Rs 5000 a day at times and often run a parallel economy where in they loan and even donate, yes, donate money to others in need.

I dont even want to whisper about prostitution and economics..really.

I am so in shock, okay maybe not shock, surprise and a deep sense of disappointment maybe..

'There is also increasing recognition of the unquantifiable service women provide by raising children.'
I dont want to keep going back to my baby, but its about 120.00 Pounds per day to get childcare in this country..

And now I am getting so mad, I want to hit someone.

Back with Baby

2010-07-20T19:01:00.002Z

So I am back..
I am back with a permanent resident in my head and a presence in my life which has changed things by 360 degrees..
Had a baby boy a few weeks ago..and its been a whirlwind ride since then! and I am sure there is more to go.
Much as I LOVE my little boy I do think the whole pregnancy, labour and delivery business is a BIG con. The whole thing about 'you will forget the pain' etc etc does not happen. Being pregnant was kind of interesting and fun, given the amount of stuff you can read, absorb and think about..well..it was interesting till the last trimester, which was painful enough for me to look forward to labour pains!! Yes, that bad.
I am still a bit traumatized by the whole child birth business so will spare you the detail, shall just say a bit and then stop.
I had kidney stones, and the Dr then said if you have gone through this pain, child birth will be a breeze. Guess what...he was kidding..labour pains made kidney stones feel like mosquito bites in comparison!!Yes, that bad.

Came home with 20 staples on me and 28 inside me. ahhh!
And then they came out.
And then I was made to walk within 26 hours of being operated..walk, take a shower, eat something and then go pick the baby and feed him. Tough love has a whole new meaning in the NHS, UK.

Baby is damn cute and occupies most of my mind and body and time and energy. I hoped not to turn into baby mush filled mommie who cant think and talk beyond baby..but I have some fears right now about this.

Having a lot of time off as maternity leave, means I can enjoy the baby for a while before he goes to nursery...I hope he enjoys me though. I mean how much fun can someone who wipes your face and nose every 2 hours be?

So yes, life is a bit different now..well more than a bit. And this is not including the thinking I have been doing about my own mother, having people here in the house with me, my relationship with the daddy of the baby and how the world does not look ALL that different yet..but I guess I can take things as they come...

Hope to blog more..and not always about BABY.

Too young you say?

2010-04-14T07:32:00.005Z

We recently lost a friend. A young friend.
A friend who we had seen a lot of, with his young wife and baby.
With who we cooked, chatted, ate and celebrated.
Life moved us to separate ends of the country, yet we remembered the good times.
As a similar age couple, you see yourself in others your own age, at the same place in life in terms of work, finances, family commitments and the never ending promise of and eternity to do all that we want to by 40. It is almost like we have bought a stake in our futures and shall work towards it. Life is good and shall continue to be so, atleast for a while.
Delusional.

A very early morning phone call to say he has passed, came as a surprise. Which turned to shock and disbelief. And now its grief, not just at our loss, but at the loss to this family and his young child who does not understand the idea of 'never', 'ever' and 'forever'. It has been heartbreaking.

None of us, at least all of us under 40 or even 50/60 perhaps dont think about death.
A few weeks ago, I walked past a woman in the shop who was selling legal aid for making a Will and I smiled, shook my head and walked past. Not me! I thought..are oyu crazy, I am too young, thanks, but no thanks. I dont have anything to put in a will and I also think I am too young to contemplate death.

Youth and death seem not to be friends.
But then I make a mistake,
Death is no ones friend.

Surreality in India

2010-02-21T15:56:00.003Z

So I was in India for a few days for my brothers wedding (more on that later). And on one of the evenings that I was relatively free I decided to go out to eat all the stuff that I dont get that easily in UK. So out I went with mom and sister to the local market.

I spied a fellow selling kachaloo chat (sweet potato, roasted on coal, served diced into squares with spices and lemon juice - FANTASTIC). I used to love this chat and I was dying to eat it. However there was also the more pressing need to go to the toilet. Sister points out the McDonalds and says she shall wait in the car while I use the toilet and come.

Off I go to McD and on the way ask the Aloo chat guy to make me a plate quickly. On my way out of McD a beggar woman (lets calls her AMMA) comes and tells me that she is hungry and has not eaten in days. She follows me to that chat guy and keeps begging. I handed her a Rs10 note and she walked away whispering blessings for me.

Now comes the turn of the chat guy to get paid. Its Rs 15. I hand over 20 as I had no change. Turns out neither did he...so he looks left and right and spots Amma, the beggar. He asks me to walk with him, so I do.

We go to the beggar, he asks her for change for a 10 rupee note as I watch.

She pulls out a large-ish bag full of coins and notes of a small denomination....

I stretch out my empty hands in front of the beggar for money...

She hands over a Rs5 coin to the chat guy and one to me, as my sister watches.

I was indeed taking money from a beggar!

Weird. Very weird.

I know I should re think my preconceived ideas...but I never did think that i would ask a beggar for change. In fact one of the standard excuses one gives a beggar is that you have no change to give him/her. Not only did I get change from her. The idea of standing in front of a beggar with my hands outstretched was one of the things I never thought I would see myself do!

The Brightest Spark

2010-01-23T10:50:00.003Z

In life as a lecturer I have come across many varieties of students. Needless to say some are bright..while others..lets just say..the lights are on but no one's home...not sharp, to say the least.

As a fair person with an overly developed sense of fairness and duty I try my best with the second category..encouraging, cajoling, threatening and sometimes also scaring them into trying harder. But it does not always work!

So at the start of last term, I was approached by a very quiet first year who asked me which lecture she must attend. As she is one of my students I told her it would be the Textiles lecture at 12 in the Main Room. She then proceeded to attend the Graphics lecture from 10-12 and then my lecture from 12-2 and then moaned that its too hard. I had to explain quite calmly that she only needs to attend her own class and does not have to sit through some other lesson. (To be noted - each class has over 200 students and so it is hard to notice new faces and figure out for lecturers who do not belong in the session).

It was the start of term, she was new, a little lost and perhaps would figure it out eventually I thought. But nope...she did attend all the lectures all of sept-dec from 10-2pm. She came back this term and told me she cant handle this..and I asked her, without trying to sound condescending..if she is sure that she is attending only my class..and when I heard the answer I gave up. I dont know what she cant get...
- no one in that room is from her class..eg friends etc
- no one in that lesson speaks about textiles...ever
- no attendance sheets in that lesson have her name
- no one else complains of attending 4 hour lectures.

Thus I am pushed into making a few guesses:
A - She likes the Graphics lectures
B - She loves the Graphics Lecturers
C - She sleeps in both sessions
D - She wants to learn more than what she signed up for
E - She is not very smart, and perhaps shall never be.

Oh yes, she is incredibly sweet and nice and polite..but apparently E is the best guess..she is NOT the brightest spark!

and this was a long time coming..

2010-01-12T15:51:00.002Z

So I moved house..it was manic..needless to say. The change of address with a million people, moving of TV and Internet and Phone, buying of new furniture and conflict of opinion about where to put what...well...anyone who owns more than 20 pairs of shoes and more than 4 suitcases of clothes, more than 3 book and definitely more than 1 DVD/CD carton and is a foodie and enjoys cooking, therefore has a huge kitchen... would know what I am talking about!

Mom came to visit me in this part of the world for the first time...and it was a short trip and I wanted to take her everywhere..forgetting her limited energy levels and my unlimited enthusiasm levels :) it was more slow walking, talking, eating, shopping, English Breakfast Tea and Crumpet breaks than sight seeing etc. As usual..good times go by really quick and leaving her at the airport watching her clear security and disappear into the vast terminal was sad..I felt like a school child again..not wanting to let go of that hand. But then I am heading to India soon for the mother of all weddings..so I was okay in the knowledge that I shall be back soon with the family.

I finally got around to attending the PhD graduation ceremony. 2 are held each year and I was busy in India..so finally got my robes, my funny hat and my photos. Mom and the Husband came along with me to the city in which I spend 8 long years..long, fun, sad, painful, hardworking, ill, ecstatic years of my life. I had not been back for a year or more and it felt strange yet familiar to be back. The city of Leicester holds too many memories for me..so after a while of happiness the sad and painful memories came back and I said goodbye. My education..for now..is over..and so the chapter is closed.

Moved to the new house, unpacked with the help of the lovely friends and managed to get back to work without taking time out. And then came sad news of the person I respected the most and loved a lot passing away. Yes he was old and yes he was ill, and yes each time I left India and said Good bye I was not sure if I would see him again. But its known..that when you love someone, truly and deeply..there is never a right time to let go and say goodbye. The news came as a shock..and the instant reaction of floods of tears took a while to be replaced by deep emptiness and a brain struggling to contemplate a life without this important person. He stood for knowledge, humility, justice, affection, indulgence and kindness..memories of wandering Rashtrapati Bhawan, eating Chinese, getting a Sony Walkman in the late 80's, getting endless gifts of books, shoes, music, clothes, warm hugs and endless chats...came back. Being in Delhi without him..is still hard for me to imagine...being away from family and not being able to share their grief and pain was not helping. Even now..I am welling up at the thought of reaching India and not heading straight to his house to say hello before heading home to mum and dad. Strange. Not really.

It was a hard year 2009..with tension, losses, victories, achievements, good, bad and startling news..and so the way to end it was not planned...till lastminute.com happened..so off we went to Prague. It was fantastic place..lovely people..hot dogs and beer, German crafts and tall people. Trams and trains from the Communist past and a new country with clean empty streets, old old architecture and the space to walk and breathe, seeing as its not a very popular tourist destination. The place was straight out of a fairy tale with castles and Gothic spires..very very nice. Saw the New Year Fireworks..interesting it was...and entertaining to see this free for all firework display.

Came back with a tummy bug and promptly landed up in hospital..:) nice. Am okay now, have overcome work and paperwork and all the misc things you queue up to do when you get a vacation. So at the end of my winter vacation..I am finally in a place where I can say..I have nothing to do till tomorrow morning. Really..work done, food cooked, clothes sorted for tomorrow's start back at work. Ah...I think this calls for a cup of tea and relaxation with some music.

Apologies for disappearing...but if the aforementioned is explanation enough for you...come back again..I shall come back to this world now.

Its time to let go.

2009-09-27T07:43:00.003Z

I saw you and thought I could love you and get something back also perhaps. I could find love and warmth within you. I thought I would be secure and comfortable. In you I would find a haven of peace, away from the big bad world, confident of being secure and warm. I could call you mine and introduce you to all those I love and like. I could be myself. I could rest. Worn out and tired and cold..and I would come to you..looking for everything and much more. You were my identity.

Finding you, was such a relief. I could finally stop looking, checking, meeting, fixing, booking my diary, calling various numbers. When I found you I thought this would be end of my hunt. The looking, checking and saying 'pass' to get to the next one. The never ending lacking, the eligibility criterion set by me..were not met by all. But you, you were the one I would want. I could put money on it.

But you were cold. Empty. Dark. You gave little. You made me shiver and you made me sad. You made me worry and you brought me bad news and bad luck. I could not change you, no one could change you. You will always be cold. It did not work. And while I wish you no ill, I wish good luck to whoever, should anyone ever, wants you.
The song playing on repeat inside my head now says...This is the end, my friend, the only friend, the end.

Well..so long..was nice being here, but its time to move on.
Indeed it is..time to move. To pack and move. To find another house to love and cherish.

You dont know who you are, till you are out of your pond.

2009-09-23T11:43:00.004Z

So,
I did not know how English I have become till I went to France.
Lovely architecture, great weather, very good wine (i dont like cheese so wont comment) and very stylish people. Yes the city of Paris had an atmosphere of a certain kind.
But..yes there is a but.

But..it was dirty, the pavements had junk, the streets had graffiti, the subways had water (I do hope it was water) leaking across platforms, the metro stations stank like public toilets!! Uff..and no, before you say London is the same and so are other European cities... this is not the outskirts I am talking about..this is near the Champs Elysees, near the Louvre, near the Notre Dame cathedral..oh boy. I was surprised.

It does not end here. The English it seems have made an art of queuing up. It only needs two people to stand one behind the other to start the formation of a queue here. People will join in an orderly fashion, wait and shuffle along (patiently in most cases) to reach the end of the queue. It is not unusual for people to bring along books/ newspapers to read if they know they shall be in the queue for a while. It is almost an institution to queue in the UK. So was I surprised to find people not queuing in Paris? Yes! They stand on the side, they push past you, they wriggle past you (shoulder shrugs used in vast quantities here) just to get ahead. At the Eiffel Tower this was most evident..and well..in a city known for its museums (and therefore queues) it can put you off.

It does not end here either. The tube in London is used by thousands of people..well maybe not just thousands..but its mostly clean, its worn out and tired looking sometimes but it does not smell as much as the French RER & Metro. Oh boy..there was chewing gum, what I think was water, dust and grime!

Am I sounding like I am complaining? Well read on coz I am not done yet.

Well, having flown to many places, many times, I am well drilled in the check in process, check in, clear security, get rid of liquids under 100ml, sit in lounge, board and go.Right? Well it seems that at CDG, Paris..the boarding/ waiting lounges past security have no toilets. No siree! If you want to use a toilet, you need to leave the lounge, go and come back in only after clearing security all over again. Guess who was smart enough to drink enough water to need to toilet, and therefore spent all of 2 hours in a queue (the flight was delayed! thank heavens!).

Phew. Rant over!
I loved the city, the architecture, the food, Buddha Bar, Ferragamo store, Louvre Museum, the top of the Eiffel and La Defence. So though its incredible..its has sides of it which were unexpectedly and disappointingly poorly maintained and organized.

And the strange feeling of relief when I landed in UK was unusual for me. Yes this has been home for a while..and though I miss my friends etc when I am away from here, I never really see things for what they are when I am here. Sure I moan about the over crowded tube, sure I moan about needing to stand in queues and hate flying anywhere from heathrow. So this whole compare and contrast and therefore by default appreciate was most unexpected!! I dont tend to do this comparison in other countries ever..I dont know if the England Vs France hatred has permeated subconsciously? or its just the surprise of being in the 'beautiful city of Paris'..I dont know. Not sure. But leaving my pond to see another non familiar pond was a good critical thinking exercise!

The Problem with Being French

2009-09-14T11:44:00.005Z

Is that you speak English with a strange accent...
Is that your long features and aquiline noses make you look like a snob...
Is that you have the ability to speak through shoulder movements alone...
Shrugging can depict: yes, no, maybe, dont know, dont care, forget it...
A scrunched up nose can depict: funny, yes, no, maybe, dont know, dont care, forget it.
You do the 'bored' look effortlessly...
You might be known for the 'passion' but you dont look like you would enjoy the thought...
You look cool, but not as cool as the Italians...
You look hot, but not as hot at the Spanish...

- And that ladies and gentlemen is based on the French stereotype + observations of a few French friends and colleague over the past few years. But then...I met and saw some of this stereotyped category recently when I went to get a visa to get into France. And while I waited..I watched, not stared but watched and was amused by how much truth lay in the stereotype!

Must say, they were quick, despite the language barriers.
They were efficient despite the gallic shrugs and the nose scrunching.
They looked cool, despite the large amount of black in the room, sharp haircuts and statement making eye wear.

And now I am off..to Paris. To see the one city which I have managed to miss in my 10 years of living in Europe. The one city which I want to see, but did not want to do it alone for some strange reason (talk about stereotype). And not in the summer (have visions of wind blown walks on a rain slicked Avenue des Champs-Élysées). The paintings, the sculpture, the architecture....have read a large amount about it, have heard painting described in loving detail by my grandpa. Have studied French History at a grad level and now. Now I get to see some parts of it! whey-hey!

---
Image Credit: Benh shall use it till I can get some of my own or from Marooned

Notting Hill

2009-09-04T12:44:00.005Z

And despite a pact to never go again..I did go to the Notting Hill Carnival!

Yes, it is Europe's largest street party. Its loud, its open, its funny and it is full of people peddling drugs like any other party/ festival. There is alcohol to be consumed and jerk chicken to be savoured, celebrities to be spotted, all fun.

Part of the fun is also having people brush past you mumbling, 'get me, 5 rolls for a tenner, get me!' and then there will be yet another who shall walk past quickly mumbling, 'weed, grass, marijuana, e, speed - cheap'. Different strokes for different folks..whatever you speak, you would get what you want there. No problem.

Yet another element of fun were the glass pieces on the floor..with 1 million people pushing through London's narrow streets, its often hard to see where you are going. Mix glass shards with horse droppings (from the Met police on horses) and you get a unique mix of stuff that can screw your flip flop clad feet in more ways than one.

The fun also comes for many in the form of amazingly skimpily clad people...no not in the parade..but watching the parade and shaking their...booties (for lack of an appropriate term) in time to the music coming from the steel bands going past. Some of these skimpily clad women and men were this time around coated in chocolate...so much of it..you could smell it at a distance! Some of them were not clad at all..! I had much fun watching the starer and the stared.

What was not fun were the 222 arrests made in 1 day of people causing trouble..peddling not just drugs & alcohol, but also those carrying knives and guns, wearing bullet proof jackets..using the carnival..now notorious for its high level of 'danger' to the common person. Riots are known to break out during the carnival as gang wars find a place to be executed. Therefore the police was out in large numbers too! Which was comforting at some level..but slightly disturbing as well..as always.

This does sound like a report of the carnival..it was not meant to be. I am sure most carnivals have drugs and alcohol as part of the atmosphere. So I am down to my pet peeve..guns! Held by an officer - intimidating, held by a criminal - upsetting/ scary. But guns in a carnival - pathetic, depressing, annoying..its meant to be a party of good music, dancing on the streets, dressed up people, good food and many smiles. Yet we have people with guns walking around..and not just the police.

Am I being naive/ pathetic myself by being upset? Are guns now a part of our so called 'society'? Or is this just so in UK/ US? and does not happen in Rio? or in Bombay for visarjan? Anyone been part of the Ganpati visarjan crowd for a whole day? I want to hear from you.

Addiction, rush and technology

2009-08-28T08:09:00.003Z

The rush to buy snow leopard is on. All the Apple buffs have been waiting this release and I am sure there shall be a queue to be stood in at the Central London Apple store. Ahh..the complex life we lead.

Need a computer with 24x7 access to the internet, which - must be high speed only, with unlimited downloads ofcourse. Now not just any computer, we must have an Apple..and not just any apple..the top of the top category is a must. And then we must also have the iPhone to go with it..and not just any the iPhone 3G and not just 3G it has got to be 3G-S ofcourse. Now not just that..we need the new OS-X as well..so here we go..chasing our technology demon..which always runs faster than us and can only be momentarily caught. I am not even getting into the accessories for Apple category yet..

Its strange really..the amount of time we spend on things that have battery or power connections is not even funny. The day you think you will not work, you do get on the computer, check your email..chat with some friends/ family..and then maybe even do some facebooking etc. And then you say..today I shall not spend so much time on a computer and so you watch TV instead..and of course you play with your phone during the advertisement breaks..yes? Sounds like you?

Pointing fingers makes you jump and say NO! that is NOT me and NO i am not a technology addict! Sure? Sure! The only time you are not hooked to something electronic..is when you are traveling maybe or visiting other humans..neither of which assures me, that you wont at some time whip out your smart phone and check email/ text or use a Sat Nav to talk to you. Or, when you are asleep! and when you wake up..you reach for your phone? Yes? No?

Here is the challenge..spend one day of the weekend at home. When you have finished your chores.. Dont switch on your computer and pick up your phone only if it rings, dont play with it. Do not watch TV at all and yes, stay at home for 6-8 hours at least. Just pretend that nothing electronic will work today..nothing.. Can you? Can you? Now I, have my doubts.

and if you cant..think about getting to one of the internet rehab places which have recently opened. Check you symptoms here.

and you know what..let me know about how you get on!

15th August

2009-08-17T09:36:00.004Z

What is the whole point of India celebrating independence day in today's time and age?
Quite a few of us dont know what it was like to not be free. That does not mean that we do not value our freedom or belittle in any way possible the efforts made by the freedom fighters to win back our freedom. It just means its somewhere far in our past, a memory of a rule which ended and we started again as a free nation..so, its been many years and its time to look forward and stop celebrating and looking back.

BACK here being the important word. We took back what we had/ we had a right to and was ours. Yes we were ruled by foreign nations and people for many years..and thus on 15 Aug 1947 we won back what we seem to have lost/ given up for many years. So is it still worth celebrating? Did we not just get back what was ours and will remain so indefinitely?

I think celebrating independence day and remembering our past by looking all the way back to 1947 is somewhat akin to celebrating a divorce, which can be seen as the demise of an unhappy relationship. The Brits and India did not have a good equation and parting of ways was finalized, with arguments, discussions and finally mutual consent..so why keep going back to celebrate it? There is something not quite right with celebrating the end of a painful era. Year after year, after year. 30 years since we divorced/gained independence, 40 years, 50 years...why is it a milestone? (and i am not even going far far back to comparing other milestones in our 1000s of years of history which might be more conducive or compatible with a 'celebratory mode').

The other thing also being the partition of India which has the same birthday. Yet another painful memory, yet another unhappy event. So why remember it with joy and pride which seem to be the mood ordered for 15th August. I can fully understand Pakistan celebrating 14th August as the day of its creation..fair enough. But do we as Indians need to do so? really?

We should place the day into a respectful category and move on and completely stop remembering with pride the day our rulers left us. Does it not have slavish undercurrents? remembering the hated ruler/ owner/ master we once had and not letting time diminish or end the memory of a negative past?

Janamashtami memories

2009-08-13T21:32:00.004Z

Its Janamashtami again..one of the two days in the year when I fast for a day. For the many years that I have been away from home, I have missed the special prasad that was made today by my grandma, ma and papa. I missed the prasad each year and even though ma kept some away in the freezer for me to eat when I came at Christmas it was never quite the same.

Living a life in transit in a foreign country meant I put it behind me and carried on like it mattered not. Well to be honest, it did not matter all that much. But as I get older I am keen to get the hang of all things traditional that I have seen as a child. I remember dad getting the ingredients for the prasad. All 3 of them sitting and gardually sifting, grating, chopping, dicing, splicing and preparing big massive thaalis of components. Watched them roast some, toast some and cool them, the aroma of coconut, khas, sugar syrup wafting through the house. Ma would also make some fruit chat and other dry roasted nuts and seeds to be eaten all day by all those who fasted. Ma would finish making them and then each year the test was to see if the pattis (sugar syrup based stuff) had set perfectly. Each year my grandma made perfect ones, dad and mom just about managed to pass the test. 8 different kind of pattis and so the test was a long tedious one. Ma would pass sometimes and scrape by sometimes with semi-solid concoctions. Each year the worry about passing was present in varying degrees! After grandma passed away the varieties decreased in number. With the onset of diabetes the sweets got cut back further. With 2 of 3 children leaving home this decreased further to only one kind of prasad being made...and today in India, my mother has made 2.

After so many years of being away I have finally decided to check out my memory and ability to make complex things. I have indeed managed to locate all ingredients in the British market and have brought them home with great delight. I have been slaving over the stove for the past 3 hours and spent about 2 hours preparing things..so. Miles away from home, the memory, the enjoyment, the tradition lives on in my own head. The deed is done..the family recipe is intact, how well or poorly made it is shall be seen tomorrow. As of now, I sleep with a smile, knowing I have retained some traditions which I enjoyed as a child, and now, value as an adult. Here's to my granny who insisted on tradition and to my mom and dad for being good bahu and beta and passing it on!!

Kashmir

2009-08-11T07:35:00.006Z

So I have been away for a while..
I went back to India..went back to Kashmir.
Each time I go back there, my whole system goes into 'happy' mode. There is something uniquely welcoming and at the same time imposing about the Zabarwan mountain range. Its something to do with their size, their presence, their appearance. They sit there, a constant in your line of vision, present but unreachable. There but not involved, almost watching over Kashmir from behind the Dal Lake. There is something about Kashmir - the emerald green fields, edged with olive green trees, the brooks and streams, the mountains and boats..the people - beautiful.

As my visit progressed, I spent various late evenings sitting on some elevated spots - staring, memorizing. One evening on the parapet of Pari Mahal..watching the sun go down into the Dal. The other evening at Dal Gate, watching the lights come on inside the Houseboats. At Dachigam, at Nagin..I just kept looking..looking..looking..

What I see always brings out the same reaction in me. It leaves me overwhelmed, happy, peaceful, at home, and makes me want to emblazon it in my mind, drink in the feeling, soak in the atmosphere to take away with me. Back to UK, in my mind, in my heart, as images, smells and sounds..to be relished from time to time..in small quantities..till I go back again next year.

In Kashmir, I feel at peace. Yes it is an odd thing to say. I know. But something there makes me slow down, and feel good from the inside out. Perhaps its to do with my genes, perhaps it is to do with my work, perhaps its just the magic of the place.

My Exciting Life

2009-06-29T15:30:00.002Z

So..
I wake up to the first day of my summer break and I have:
~ an email asking me to send some documents to my boss by tomorrow morning. So I run. Type, print, pack, paste and run to the post office.
~ I discover my washing machine has flooded and my kitchen sink seems to not want to drain. So I call the plumber and ask him to come soon.
~ I run to the post office to send the documents. It is a HOT day, there is a long queue and I am worried about being late in getting home to meet the plumber.
~ I stop at the bus stop to wait for the bus to take me home and an old man next to me awaits the same bus.
~ Old man faints with the heat and collapses to the floor. I dial 999 and ask him the questions I need to ask him. How old..? born on 20.06.1926. Ok. Heart disease? No. He could talk..and I was told to rest his head on something higher than ground level. So I sit cross legged on the floor and rest his head on my lap. I ask a man to get some water so I can sprinkle it on his head to cool him down. Water on head reveals bright blue eyes in an old old face, he just turned 83 last week..
~ I check his pulse and the plumber rings me to tell me he is outside my house and I should open the door. I let him know we have a sick man and he is more important than the plumbing in the house and so he can just wait.
~ Ambulance arrives and asks me if I am related and I say no. They take Paul (old man) away.
~ I get home to a grumpy plumber who does not know his ass from his face. He manages to push air down a pipe with a gun and therefore drain the water in the sink and the washing machine on the kitchen floor. It smells like 15 people have thrown up.
~ Dont worry he says I know what I am doing. 1 hour later he still does not know what he is doing. So he asks me to help. I get on my knees to figure out where the water is leaking out from. Fitted kitchens look good...but can be a pain to repair.
~ Much leaking later, the man says he has figured it out and shall sort it.
~ I get a call from a friend who is not too happy with her man and so she calls to sob on the phone.
~ yet another one calls to check if we can meet tonight for dinner...
~ My mother calls to check I have not called her...
~ Husband calls to say we have guests for dinner ...
~ Pilates instructor calls to check if I am coming for the class..

Is it me? Or is everyone's life this weird?

A web of deceit.

2009-06-19T09:02:00.003Z

An email arrives stating that your job application has been successful and you have been hired. Celebrations happen and then the nitty gritty gets read.

You need to apply for a work visa to UK and you shall have to pay upfront for this London based job. The money being asked for is a substantial sum but fades into the background when you see how much they shall be paying you once you reach London, more money than you have ever earned before and its London!! So you think why not.

You dont stop to think:
~ there is no employment contract or letter
~ the money being asked for by this posh London hotel is a little too much
~ they have asked you to transfer it within 48 hours to an ICICI bank account
~ the letter you got asked you to get a visa for NZ (not UK)
~ the advert you responded to appeared on a website
~ there was no interview at all
~ no one at the employing hotel ever spoke to you on the phone
~ you are willing to take a chance with all your savings in the hope of a better life
~ being from England the English in all the email based conversation is obviously incorrect grammatically and otherwise.
~ no contact phone or postal address has been provided to you
~ the cost of work permits/ visas is less than 1/10th of what you have been asked to pay.

You share the good news with a friend who has lived in UK for a long period of time, who shows surprise at the pay packet for a seemingly low skilled job. Friend shows doubt and offers to find out about it. Calls the relevant hotel and gets told..no there are no jobs, no they are not recruiting from overseas, if they did, it was upto them to secure you a working visa, and there is no one here by the name of the email ID who has emailed you, HR does not have anyone by that name... and yes..this is a scam.

You stop, you think, dreams and aspirations of a comfortable life and financial security get crushed. Along with despair is some relief that you were saved from spending close to 5000£ on a scam.

The UK govt has warned people about the increasing incidence of fraudulent behaviour and the rising number of scams that are around in this recession hit country. However the Indian government seems to have not warned its vulnerable sections of society of such things.

I feel sorry for those who fall for it. However my jaded eyes also notice that yet again, the more vulnerable people often get entangled in such webs of deceit and stand to lose what they have worked hard to get.

The Joy of Summer

2009-06-16T08:04:00.002Z

And yes I have been meaning to post more regularly than before..but I have a problem. And its called Hay fever. I am allergic to tree pollen, it provides me with swollen sinuses, watery itchy eyes and internally fitted taps in my nose that spend the summer in my nose.
I sit surrounded by tissue paper and have flatter abs thanks to the constant sneezing. It also means I cant sleep at night..as cooler air, pollen settles and makes life harder. I watch the Man sleep peacefully..and hate it!

Needless to say anti histamine category of medication is being eaten like its going out of fashion..

Despite suffering from it each summer for the past 9 summers..my mother always thinks it is hay FEVER and asks me how much is it! Every year we have this conversation, and this time I had to ask her if she remembers anything from last year. Ofcourse she did not.

This time the doctor cheerfully told me that the pollen in UK causes a lot more allergies than anywhere else in the world..so Europe etc dont have this prolonged 3 month hay fever season..

So while people frolic in the sun in small dresses, strappy sandals, big sunglasses and ice lollies. I shrink in the shade (dont like direct sunlight), cover up (to prevent myself from burning) and carry wadges of tissue paper, and find it hard to breathe. I do eat the occasional ice lolly..but you see with little sleep, perpetual runny nose and itchy eyes..I am not overjoyed when the sun does come out. I kind of like the rain. I love the rain..
I really do..perhaps I live in the right country then..we get more than enough rain!

The Simple Life

2009-05-28T12:35:00.005Z

Have been sitting and wishing life was simple. That my list of to-do's, should-do's, must-do's and this-should-have-been-done-yesterday did not exist.

Memories of sitting in the shade, near the wire mesh windows, hearing the buzzing of insects of all sorts outside the window near the Leechee tree, eating mangoes come to mind. I used to sit staring out into the sun, watching the small shifting shadows created by the breeze. Living in a never ending summer vacation where cold coffee mornings were followed by endless play through self entertaining mind games. I could read my Enid Blytons (and not worry about political correctness), read Indrajaal and Chacha Chaudhary and a whole long list of Amar Chitra Kathas. I could sit and chat with the grandfather who would tell me long stories about his life from 1910 onwards..

I could sleep when I wanted and not worry about anything, nothing. School was a distant memory. I did not know of plans for visiting or traveling, just went where I was taken. I would ride my bicycle aimlessly, feeling the breeze on my face. The brother and I would line up his dinky cars in a long queue across the room. We would take buckets of water and play in the kitchen garden, making ladoos out of mud, checking the carrot leaves to guess it was ready to the pulled. Summer afternoons of hazy lazing, with the sound of the ceiling fan whirring away. The occasional sound of the kabadi waala's call, the koyal and the mynah birds.
There were few things that I wanted..and those were also temporary thoughts, that would slide in and out of my mind. My mind was not empty..just not worried about anything. It was a random quiet space, which brought contentment and smiles..

No thoughts..no worries..nothing.

No thinking about..
~ books to read, buy, catch up on
~ work pressure
~ income, budgets and planning
~ tickets for travel
~ weight loss
~ bank statements and incoming post that needs filing
~ membership renewals and tax payments
~ visitors and their dates and times
~ doctors appointments
~ clothes and shoe buying
~ car and house buying
~ grouting issues in the bathroom
~ bills for various services
~ cooking or shopping for food etc

...it IS an endless list..but stop I dont wish to complain. My mind is full of reminiscences of simplicity of the past.

Of mangoes to be eaten, insects to seen, leaves and flowers to be looked at, birds to be observed, hours of sleep to be slept and pleasant nothingness..which left me smiling constantly. It was the simple life.

Explaining being Kashmiri

2009-05-26T14:21:00.005Z

Hmm..its a hard one this.
Once I have got over the you must be from the 'North' and therefore a Punjabi discussion.

No I am not, indeed I am Kashmiri - the northern most of Northern states.
Conversation moves swiftly on to - Hindu or Muslim?
I do sometimes wonder if I responded by saying BOTH, where the flowchart of questions would go.

Hindu - Go to Q 4 - do your parents still live there?
Tempting answer - do you not read the newspapers?

This moves to Q 6 - How come your roots lie in Lahore? Well..a lot many Indians moved from there in 1947..my grandparents were one of those many. (Tempting question do you not read?Newspapers perhaps?)

Do you speak Kashmiri? No, but I can say things you would not want to hear. And yes I shall get what you say in Kashmiri next!

Do you have family in Kashmir? The answer being no, but yes I have friends over there.

So do you want to go back? Bearing in mind I did not live there going back is a strange question, right?

Yes I am Kashmiri by birth..but the roots to the place have been lost, replaced, revisited and they seem to be fading.

However what worries me is the fact that few of us, want to go back or even want to think about it.

We did this.

2009-05-22T15:14:00.002Z

We humans have drawn lines which divide us as people, as races, as religions, as castes and as nations. We draw the lines, we respect our own and debate others.
We question the need for lines when we want to cross them.
We insist upon the need for lines when we want to stay safe and insular.
We have a huge planet and yet we divide it amongst ourselves. And then we draw lines and specify crossing it. We limit who we want in and dictate pages of rules to keep others out.

Yes indeed I am talking about borders, immigration, visas, travel cards, ID cards, work permits, H-1s, B-1s and the many thousands of varieties available. To travel we face forms, money, photographs, bank accounts, security, police clearances and whole host of other essentials we believe shall help regulate populations and help promote security. We create new jobs for immigration lawyers, travel agents, VFS agents and HR.
We create volumes of paper which never gets thrown, we create the need for new softwares and technologies to reduce human identity and individuality to a bunch of genes evidenced in a biometric scan. We issue limits on others and make a business out of doing so.

For anyone who has traveled out of their home country, this process of making applications, attending interviews, presenting documents, crossing fingers and waiting, getting visas, traveling and standing in long queues with often impolite people on the other end asking you personal questions - is all known and experienced.

I would be stupidly Lenon-ish in wishing for a world without borders. It would silly to assume that this would one day end and family and friends wishing to see each other would not need to go through an elaborate process to be able to sit in an aircraft.

I am silly but I know a person with 2 little children in school, a house, a car and a good job should not be asked to leave a country overnight due to a visa expiring.

I am silly but I know friends and family who acquired visas and bought tickets to board a flight were declined the right to travel because they could not transit for 45 mins through another country's airport.

I am silly but I am the one who has for the past few months been pushed around by this insanely bureaucratic system. A system which questions basic ethos of life, marriage, work, education.

Am I right in being slightly upset and more than slightly annoyed?

I wish we had not built these boundaries to remain safe. It does not work.
I wish we had respect for others boundaries. We go to war - it does not work.
I wish I could point and say the few nations who do this. They dont, we all do.

Fine Print

2009-05-20T15:48:00.004Z

You know how well most lawyers are paid.
Well I now know why...
..they spend all their time being pedantic and thinking up fine print for documents that need your signature. I experienced the immense frustration of it, again, after a long long time.

Yup, it is always to do with money and what you can get refunded, or paid for, or compensated. Negative perspective - it is always to do with your money, fools and parting with it...

Recent raised eyebrows at my expanding girth have been depressing me. So off to the gym I went to get membership. Our man, the young swashbucking sales guy/ CSE was sweetness, sunshine and honey! (think shiny black shoes, pin stripe black/grey trouser/ slick hair and oodles of charm and truckloads of perfume).
He got me a drink, asked me how my day was, what my goals were (read in KILOGRAMS) etc etc. And then zipped through the costs of joining, which came with long links to minimum contract period, cooling off time, one off payments, admin fee, pro rata joining fee, termination of contracts, membership renewal, injury and sickness cover, redundancy cover, BUPA discounts, freezing memberships when on vacation etc etc...

It was a bloody long list! and I read it all. AND...I still got taken for a walk. Was told about cost of a 3 month contract...and was made to sign a 12 month one..:( so within 2 hours of reading what I had signed..i went back to the swashbuckling sales man.

The man had possibly got a 666 tatooed on his ass in the meantime, for all the attitude and grief he gave me. He indicated the fine print that was and shook his head slowly and played with the golf ball in his hand. Sorry, he said..cant help you, you signed it...Yessss.... I know..I WAS thinking of hurting him...but..I did not..well behaved girl from good family and all that.
However I managed to throw a tantrum, saw the manager and tried to get it sorted.
They shall let me know by post what happens and are sorry for my experience at the club.

I also got to see the fine print for health insurance...the list of pre conditions they do not cover made my eyes water and would make Michael Moore reach for his camera and dictaphone! The fine print prevents me from using this health cover unless something ridiculously strange happens to me between now and Aug..and if it does..I still have a £100 excess to pay. It said so in the 56 pages (front and back) of fine print called the 'Membership Guide'! Alternatively if I do make the mistake and go see a doctor...I could land up paying something like 350£ for 20 mins of pre-consultation, and promise to see the man 3 times in order to complete treatment to the doctors satisfaction.....NICE!(I suddenly love the NHS more)

Is there no such thing as straight forwardness left in this world which is not written in font size 4 by over paid legal eagles?

The boy who knew too much

2009-05-15T10:51:00.002Z

On my way back from work.
Boy - aged 5 or less, mother and older woman (suspect it to be granny)

Boy opened a large bag which contained a shoe box, he opened the shoes, shiny new black lace ones. Gave each shoe a beaming smile and put them back in.

As the train came to a stop, people got up as did this trio. And then he said something which is still making me smile. Says boy to his mother...

'Now dont you go forgetting those shoes on the seat my dear' (Said in a posh British accent)

A few people smiled and some (read me) burst out laughing.
The mother shook her head and rolled her eyes at the grandma!

Does India shine?

2009-01-27T22:50:00.002Z

Ironical really, I come back to the world of blogging after a long break...my silence broken only after reading what happened in Mangalore.

I did read about it in the news and while I was even starting to contemplate and begin to understand the what..whuh..huh...WTF...really?...seriously.? you have got to be kidding...no? really??.....
I was transitioning rapidly between these. Then I read what Chandni had to say..
I read about Sanjay Dutts comments..but I did not react..
I read about the Ram Sena but I dont react..
Shiv sena, Bajrang dal..Thackerays and their loony psycho followers..
I read about couples not being able to hold hands in public..
I read every Feb about Valentine's Day being squashed out of people's lives...

Is my country really shining? Did this idiotic bunch of men jump off the evolution cart and decide to walk backwards?
Do I want to share my Indian identity with these brainless twits?
I pray every day, and can decidedly say that I do not need representative of Lord Rama to tell me what to do with my life.
I, who know what I want from life will not be beaten by any twat who thinks he can tell me what to do and not to do because I dont own a penis.

I sometimes wish I could do unto others as others do to normal people. Why dont a bunch of us meet, identify these people and go beat the shit out of them...for any reason..breathing too loudly..farting in public, scratching their privates in public..anything..you choose. How would they like that.

Pardon my language...but I am just really mad about this...

I have a nasty sneaky feeling these are the same people who whistle at item numbers, who rub themselves against women on public transport, who rub past you in a shop... I also have a nasty feeling they are the same buggers who support Shri Sanjay Dutt and also maybe the rest of the Bajrang Dal. Perhaps they are the very same smart asses who sat on top of Babri Masjid and tried to break the dome (which has stood for many centuries) with a small hammer.

Assholes!!! Piss off and leave my country alone.

India Shines! Does it?

2008-12-15T14:28:00.003Z

I have heard it all before, how India has progressed, how things have changed, how there is a reverse brain drain, how people are moving back to the country, how everything is much better than ever before...haven't we all? We have all heard it, sometimes also said it, yes we have moved on, but...there are a whole list of 'buts'

The loudest I hear this 'India Shining' rant is from my own family and my mother, who so loves the coutry, she is reluctant to see other parts of the world. She is convinced that the country will 'get over' what happened in Bombay, it is a case of onwards and upwards..which is good, yes indeed, but is it really? And I am not saying so because it was Bombay as so we need to stall and think and act. I say so..because we do need to square up and look around ourselves see what (ALL)is wrong and why. Its not just my city, state, language, class, culture and friends...it is a lot more than that..

Just read Mad Momma's take on India's Elite Ironies and agreed with her view..

'Fifty million Indians doing well does not for a great India make, given that
500 million are grovelling to survive. Sixty years after independence, it
can safely be said that India’s political leadership — and the nation’s
elite — have badly let down the country’s dispossessed and wretched. If you
care to look, India today is heartbreak hotel, where infants die like flies,
and equal opportunity is a cruel mirage.'

Google Zeitgeist

2008-12-10T18:23:00.004Z

Quite interesting this year was...am stuck inside various bits of the Google Zeitgeist.

'As the year comes to a close, it's time to look at the big events, memorable moments and emerging trends that captivated us in 2008. As it happens, studying the aggregation of the billions of search queries that people type into the Google search box gives us a glimpse into the zeitgeist — the spirit of the times. We've compiled some of the highlights from Google searches around the globe and hope you enjoy looking back as much as we do.'

Check it out here

...interesting to note Sarah Palin beats Obama on this list
..India's most popular how to according to Google is 'how to reduce weight', oddly comforting thought for me.
..very heartening to see Kashmir at the third place for top holiday destination in India..
..most impressed by Katrina Kaif for turning up on so many lists..

I am still reading through it..

Bringing up the sibling..

2008-12-10T14:44:00.003Z

I do know quite a few people, including my own mother, who have been looked after as children by their older siblings. About two generations ago, people had more than the regulation 2 children. They also married younger and thus had a lot more time to have more than 2-3 children, which meant that there was a possibility of large age gap between the youngest one and the oldest one. This often meant that the older child would do a lot of babysitting, feeding, cleaning, playing and general being in charge of the well being of their little sibling. It was not uncommon to see an age difference ranging from 10-20 or more years. This allowed the oldest child to sometimes act as a quasi-parent, willingly or reluctantly.

I have heard stories about my uncle taking his 21 year old younger sister, my mother, to school till one day he overheard people at mom's school assume that he was her father, that was the last day he took her to school. Being the youngest of 6 children, my mother had the advantage of having much older siblings so her homework, heat her milk bottle and do anything she needed done without having to make much of an effort. She was babied and looked after by her siblings. Which meant that as an adult she had an almost child-parent relationship with her older siblings. They even today treat her like one of their own children. Which means they are close..but its not the same thing as having a sibling.

Siblings are friends, foes, adversaries, confidantes, the team you join when you need a big moan about your parent. The cheerleaders in your life, the people you discuss your troubles with when you don't want to worry your parents, the people you introduce your girlfriend/ boyfriend to as a possible potential tester for parental reaction later on. They are the people you are embarrassed of at some point of life. The people you whinge and crib about. The people on who you can test run your opinions about life. They are the butt of your learning attempts at criticism, they knock off your corners, remove the chips from your shoulders, they teach you how to whine, tell tales and eventually temporarily hate a person. They make you angry enough to want to kill them and ask God, why they were sent as your burden to bear! They love you unconditionally (if you have been brought up right) but they are not responsible for you. There is a Lot of difference between them and parents.

While I don't think its wrong for older kids to chip in to help out the parents with the younger ones, especially when there are quite a few young ones around. I do feel that putting the responsibility of one of your children on another child is not quite fair for the older child. Yes they learn how to care about their own siblings, but they also need the time and attention of the parents themselves, after all they are children too. I also think a sibling bond is essential but when an older sibling is like a parent the equation changes. And remains so even after the children have grown up and become adults.

I do see the need for respect and love between siblings, but the parent child equation should not be played out between children, unless of course there is a lack of options. I am told that this perspective is the reason why there is little affection between siblings in the modern world.

I think it is unfair to take a child's ability to be a child by leaving them in charge of your own children. Chipping in from time to time is very different from making them responsible for the younger ones. Am I being too 'western' in my thinking as I have been told..or is this more practical approach better in the long run?

Do something..

2008-12-03T10:15:00.004Z

I am appalled at the way the media has covered the events in Bombay. I am shocked at the insensitivity of the reporters. I am horrified at the risk they put the security under..just speechless.

This petition by Vishal asks the Indian courts to formulate a model Code-of-Conduct within a fixed time frame; that should be made mandatory to the TV News Channels, to regulate the 'Live' broadcast of such and similar eventualities and operations that India might face in the future.

If you see his point, you can sign up here

_______________________________________________________________________________________

The Petition

TO THE HONOURABLE CHIEF JUSTICE AND OTHER PUISNE JUDGES OF THE HIGH COURT AT BOMBAY.

My name is Vishal Dadlani. I was born in Bombay in 1973, and have lived here my whole life. I'm a musician.

Just like the rest of the world, from the moment I learnt of the attacks, I stayed up watching television. I saw our local Police try to figure things out, I watched our valiant Officers Karkare, Salaskar and Kamte arrive, and almost immediately, lose their lives. I saw the NSG and Marcos arrive and started to watch each step of their operation, when suddenly, realization dawned! Over the next thirty or forty hours, I watched, helpless and frustrated, as our very own electronic media did things that seemed blatantly wrong to me.

What they were broadcasting in the name of the news, were in fact the exact operational procedures, locations, and actions of our anti-insurgency forces! Minute-by-minute!

I don't know anything about how the Armed Forces work, and I understand nothing of terrorist-strikes and the correct media procedures involved. There are a few questions I would like to bring up, and have answered, though.

1. Is it acceptable to us that what should have been a classified operation, was in fact an open book? Are we fine with the fact that terrorists inside the besieged buildings could have had real-time access to the same news channels that we did, thus giving them complete and thorough information about the actions of our forces? Is it condonable, that some of our men may have been placed at a disadvantage (and even killed) due to the fact that the very terrorists they were trying to locate and subdue, probably knew every detail of their positions and plans?

The electronic media may defend their position with the "Freedom of the Press" slogan that has been so often invoked, but I beg to differ. I think that in the absence of responsible self-censorship, the media must be instructed to act in a particular manner, as required by on-ground reality.

The TV channels may try and say that their "live" feeds are slightly delayed, thus reducing their relevance to the terrorists. However, consider a terrorist inside a building, who has no information as to how and from which direction the forces are approaching. Then, consider the same terrorist, a few minutes later, with complete details as to where the forces have entered from, and obviously, the direction of their approach.

It was approximately forty hours after the attacks began, (and I'm told, on repeated requests from the I & B ministry) that some channels started to point their cameras away from the operations, and started to say things like "without giving away too much detail"! Too little, too late perhaps?

This was obviously a huge mistake. I think it's crucial that this blunder not be repeated, and to that effect, a code of conduct be created for the electronic media in times of national crisis.

The electronic media must not be allowed to show a live anti-terrorist operation until it is safely concluded! They must obey when they are told to disperse, and they must respect cordons created by the operating force.

2. Another question I'd like to ask is whether it's correct, both morally and legally, for a TV channel to broadcast to the Nation, an alleged live phone call, purportedly from one of the terrorists. The perpetrators of a colossal crime against our Nation, being allowed to air their vitriolic propaganda on one of our own news channels! Does this seem wrong to anyone else?

3. Some TV channels also had "live-and-direct" phone conversations with guests within the hotels, in which the said guests divulge their locations and room numbers. I can't see the point, or the newsworthiness of this. Someone who has managed to get away to a relatively safe place, unknown to the terrorists, is made to give up his location. The guest, of course, assumes it will assist the rescue operation if he tells them where he is, but the TV channels broadcast this information, possibly even to the terrorists themselves. Is this OK by us? I sincerely hope not!

This a time of great anger for India. We feel violated and hurt, we feel helpless and lost. Without credible leadership anywhere, we are left to our own devices. I think it's important, however, that we set aside our anger and our emotional responses, and with a calm and collected rationale, think of the things we can change to make our country safer for all of us to live in.

If we can all make or facilitate one change each, I think it will add up to making a huge difference! I ask all of you to join in and sign the following petition. Hopefully the Courts will take cognizance of our opinion, and help us to make this small change that will keep our Nation and the defenders of this Nation a little safer in any future eventuality of this nature.

PETITION TO THE HIGH COURT OF MUMBAI:

We, the undersigned, citizens of India, humbly pray for the following reliefs;

1. That this Hon'ble Court call for the complete and unedited footage from all TV News Channels broadcasting the attacks 'live', starting from 9:30pm on Wednesday 26th November 2008 and until the morning of Saturday the 29th November 2008 and examine the same by itself or through any appropriate agency as appointed by it, to investigate and determine the manner in which sensitive information pertaining to the movement of Counter-Insurgency Operations was broadcast 'live'.

2. That this Hon'ble Court take cognizance of the broadcast of inflammatory propaganda (if any), on any such TV News Channels, and an appropriate Writ Order or Direction be passed by the Court against such TV News Channels as this Hon'ble Court may deem fit and proper.

3. That this Hon'ble Court make and issue such other Writ, Order and Direction as it may deem appropriate directing the Authorities to formulate a model Code-of-Conduct within a fixed time frame; that be made mandatory to the TV News Channels, to regulate the 'Live' broadcast of such and similar eventualities and operations.

4. That this Hon'ble Court make and issue such other Writ Order or Direction as it may deem appropriate in the matter.

Sincerely,

Vishal Dadlani

and

The Undersigned (scroll down below for complete list)

_______________________________________________________________________________________
From the website mediaverve

Where The Mind is Without Fear

2008-11-29T14:11:00.001Z

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

~Tagore.

..let my country awake..
..let my country awake..

Speechless

2008-11-28T17:32:00.003Z

Angry,
Sad,
Upset,
Worried,
Surprised,
Teary eyed,
Horrified,
Tired..

However I still agree with a fellow famous Indian...

'An eye for an eye shall make us all blind'.

Respond we must, react maybe, but lets not jump at things and make it worse, or allow others to run away with our futures by having knee jerk reactions on our behalf.

I wonder where the Shiv Sena and company are at this time..
I wonder why NDTV calls bombay a 'conflict zone'
I want to know who the people outside Nariman house were.
I want to know how old the equipment is that is used by the NSG and the Police and the other heroes of the hour..
I do wonder if Bombay is a 'war' zone..after all wars are fought by military, not civilians..

We need to understand terrorism and make no mistake about it.

Not one of mine..

2008-11-26T23:42:00.006Z

Here I was wallowing in self pity and now there is horrible news from Bombay. More people killed, after the first shock of the news wears off, the mind records the numbers dead, thinks, and then notices the numbers injured. Statistics, cold and hard facts about how many were effected. And I am full of questions, to which I have no answers. I seek.

A shame, that people need to die this way.
A pity that they get reduced to statistics.
Appalling, that we 'carry on' nonetheless.
Almost nonchalant about the fact that no one 'I know' has been hurt or worse killed.

Is this not an infection of some sort that all of us have? The ability to hear bad news, horrible and terrible news, watch it live, read about it online and see photographs of it, then close the newspaper/computer/phone call and turn over and sleep. Carry on. We always carry on.

How? Why?
Are we cold people, who care only about their own limited circles? Are we so busy making our money and earning our daily bread that we feel no pain of the people who have actually been impacted by this nasty event, and the many others that have preceded it? Or maybe we do feel the pain, but shrug, since we can do nothing about it.

I borrow from Ms Roy,

'...To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never, to forget. ...'

How long will we blame Pakistan and Islamic terrorists? How long before the last drop of blood has been shed and the last atom of fight has been fought?

We have become too friendly with the word 'terrorist', we know the predictability of the unpredictable tactics they use. We have made them a part of our world and learned how to give concession to terrible acts when carried out by 'terrorists'. We are not 'terrorized' anymore, merely surprised, perhaps appalled, maybe slightly worried. But in our already crowded lives, we have squeezed this unspeakably violence in.

Why? Who are they? Why are we victims or our own species? Why are we silent? Is there nothing? anything? we can say? Is it not frustrating to be a silent spectator of this horror show?

The Stone, the Stent, the Stint and the Surreality

2008-11-24T14:49:00.006Z

All done, the stone has been ground to a million pieces, the stent has been removed and my stint at the hospital seems to be over. I shall tell you about the surreal though. The shards of the stone have been picked by a cystoscope, and I, ladies and gentlemen have a long lists of firsts added to my life experiences.
So:
~ my first stone
~ my first surgery
~ my first stay in an Indian hospital
~ my first total loss of dignity
~ my first brush with spinal and general anaesthesia

and..what this post is about

~ my first experience of regression..

So, the General Anaesthesia I was given for surgery made me pass out a lot quicker and painlessly than its predecessor which was jabbed into the base of my spine with a long painful metal injection a few days earlier. I was told GA will make my throat sore as they would send in an oxygen pipe to make my lungs work (to keep my heart going). They also told me I would be miserably nauseous and sick when I come around. The first happened the latter did not.

So, up on the operating table, I lie down, I hear the beep of my pulse, the blip of my heart and various machines winking at me, the large light on the ceiling stared back at me, looking a lot more dramatic than it does in movies and TV. They connect me to a whole load of pipes and tubes and then I am asked to look away as they put GA through an IV injection. This time there was no oxygen mask, which I had when I got the spinal Anaesthetic for the previous op. So I soon drift off, the last thing I remember seeing or feeling was the cold injection and the sharp pain of it filling my arm. and then nothing.

Nothing.

I cant say I was awake, and I know I was not physically awake. But very gently I felt my own presence in a silent space, silence so sharp it was obvious. Hard to describe, it was like being in a silent white room, except that white was not a colour but a light, a light so blindingly white, clean, clear and silent and a room or space which had no identifiable boundaries or edges. I did not see myself, its like my brain was in this space of nothingness. Absolute silence..and then a thought.

A mere brush of a thought, followed by a pattern of silent thoughts, slithering into this space, following each other, asking questions, answering themselves..there was no me, just thoughts and white light and silence. Thoughts, not in my voice, just there. We think in our own voices and thoughts have accents too..but this was not so....here is what came into my mind..in the order I can remember it in. It was not this unclear, and there was no sound. Almost as if I could feel my thoughts and not think them. Hard to describe.

...I can think.
..how can I think..
..where is my body..
..under sedation..
The Mind is beyond sedation..
..what about the body..
disdain at the body which succumbs to chemicals
...thoughts are beyond chemical sedation..
why am i thinking..
is this hallucination..
..no..
..i am clearly thinking..
..clear thoughts..
..will i remember this..
..yes..but only for a bit..
this place is very quiet and peaceful..
..very quiet..
..very eerie..
..am i afraid..
..no i am just wondering where the thoughts are coming from
..no wondering where I am..
..why..
...have been in this space before..i know it...
..will i remember this..
..yes but only parts..
...there are people outside this white space..
..yes..
..they can see me, hear me..
why cant i hear them or see them..
..oh my eyes are still closed..
..so am in imagining this white space..
..yes..silence...whiteness..no i am here its not imaginary..
..now someone will call my name..

And there it was, the doctor said instantly 'Can you hear me? are you ok? nod..' and I did. Like my mind could read minds and actions of others before they occur.

The thinking inside my head stopped..slowly..I could not open my eyes for a long time and I could not talk, even though I wanted to, I could hear my mother, my sister whisper, I could hear the nursing staff tell me, we are moving you to your bed now. My mum asking the surgeon if I am awake? when I will come around? If the operation was successful. I could feel them around me, touching my hand, whispering. I could not respond. It was as if I was in a coma. It was weird.

The thoughts in my head faded, but that feeling I had..of being in such a clear, quiet, white place, where the silence and peace were tangibly sharp was strange. It spooked me when I recounted it to my family and friends later and even now as I write I have goose bumps.

It is hard to describe.

More surgery...

2008-11-10T10:12:00.002Z

yes I was stoned and last week I did think it was all over and tonight the stent shall be removed and I shall be fine. Well not so easy say the Gods from above.

A bit of the stone chose the hide behind the stent and caused major pain, its still in there, so tomorrow I head for the oxygen pipe, the anaesthesia and the surgeon who shall get the stone out, watch me in hospital and then hopefully send me home completely cured.

A month has gone by in a haze of pain, a long haul flight in pain and I am still in India aiming at being completely cured.

Luck, stars, God, previous birth, bad Karma..dont know what it is, but sure is sticking around for way too long.

Update

2008-11-07T02:48:00.002Z

Just to bring the weirdness in my life to a brand new level. The last post told you about the fact that I have 3 kidneys..double on the left etc..turns out I have four. Yup Duplex Systems on left and right side!They did not bother to check the other side in London.

Have had a painful time so far in India as a medical tourist. With Spinal Anaesthesia and stents and IV medication and hospital stays.

Shall bounce back shortly.

Torn into two..

2008-10-29T13:56:00.002Z

I remember hearing older women saying that they could not go anywhere alone because their husband are helpless without them. I remember hearing this and being annoyed with them for putting themselves in a situation where the man of the house wont be able to find his toothbrush without the woman putting the paste on it for him and handing it over to him. For having to starve if she is gone, going out in crushed, dirty clothes coz he knows not how to wash and iron. Gender based roles being played at their extreme. I hated it.

I also remember hoping that marriage would not change anything much. But then I would see my aunts coming to meet us without the husbands and then letting their hair down with their mother. I also remember cousins not being able to come and spend the night chatting as the husbands would take them away after dinner, not being able to talk on the phone for long etc. I used to wonder why, and get annoyed that the woman needed to be taken away, back to her married home, by what seemed like force. Against her internal will and wishes. She went quietly..and I thought..that wont happen to me. I shall go and come as I please and nothing will change.

Well, realization has struck. I would love to go and stay with my mother for a few weeks, knowing that the husband shall survive without me. He is capable of making Dum Aloos and Palak Paneer, so the kitchen is safe, he is sort of capable of finding his own things, even in a mess of his creation, he kind of knows where his things are unless I have moved them. He is ok with a fast internet connection and a Nikon within arms reach. I am sure he shall miss me etc etc..but he is an independent person.

However I am in torn into two. The need to go home, get to India, and the need to stay back and be with him. My love for my mother and family, it seems, occupies a different sector of my heart and is there permanently and does not overlap of overshadow the sector of my heart that loves the husband. Its weird, wanting to go, but not really, wanting to stay, but not really. And I know what is going to happen..the usual..when I am here I want to be there with mum, when I am with mum I want to be here with him. The solution perhaps lies in living in a house that contains both these people! But that is not always possible.

Thus the realization has struck that perhaps some of these aforementioned women went home because they HAD to, while the others seemed to make noises about not wanting to go, but doing so happily, as they missed their spouse. Perhaps they were, like me, torn into two.

Possible?....

I Love You

2008-10-24T14:26:00.003Z

He sat there, surveying the world from his seat. Blond eyelashes flicking up and down to see things and people as they passed by. A frown of concentration furrowing his brow. His shoe kicked the air and he resettled his padded bottom into his pushchair.

Sticky bright pink sweet in mouth, he looked up with blue eyes with flecks of green.

"I love you mummy", he said.
"Love you too", said she.
She bends over to reach him and asks, "Wont you share your sweets with your dad?"

Out came the sweet from his mouth, dripping with sugar, colour and saliva and also LOVE. He took it out of his mouth with his grubby, chubby fingers and offered his sweet to his father.

"I love you daddy" he said.

I am Stoned

2008-10-21T12:10:00.006Z

Well looks like the bad days are here to stay. I have been in and out of hospital, for a few weeks, with the most excruciating pain I have ever had the misfortune to feel...was diagnosed with Kidney Stones and sent home with truck loads of painkillers and antibiotics. Have been asked to join the queue that social medicine demands. Was told to wait for further instructions about when I shall be seen/ operated/ cured and sent home. So the days go by in bed, being in and out of chemical induced sleep. However this blog is not (always) about the mundane inanities of my life...so I shall tell you the deepest secret I have held inside me since I was born.

This secret was discovered through one of the tests that I underwent at hospital, to understand why I was in so much pain, whereby a dye was injected into my body to see what is inside me. Dye injected and 20 mins later I am X-Rayed. And then on a computer screen came the image. The doctor sat there scratching his head. Trying to locate the stone in my kidney it seems. While the husband and I sat there, just staring at the screen. Something did not seem right. Well..I seem to have 't(w)o many' things inside me..I seemed to have more than 2 kidneys...yes I have three.

Ladies and gentlemen I have been blessed with 3 kidneys and now know the reason for never suffering from hangovers. Ever, despite drinking copious amounts of alcohol in small spaces of time.
Apparently its called a 'Duplex' system and means I have an extra kidney. Strange things. The weirdness of life just got multiplied 10 fold. Much thinking of strange thoughts and speaking them out happened. Why? How? Does it mean anything strange/ sinister? Do I need to have it removed? What the long term impact? I was told that its not so strange apparently.

Once the initial shock wore off..the jokes began..about going on vacation by selling the third kidney, about being a tri-renal beast, about being just about human, about being able to give love from the bottom of all my three kidneys, about out drinking all people, about eating extra for all my organs etc etc..When the stone was discovered I was told that Beer helps. Now I am being told to drink up..afterall three kidneys can do a much better job of filtering and cleaning than 2!!

The joke has now moved towards my being called a Medical Tourist, I can get things sorted in 2 weeks in India..while the National Health Service is going to see me only at the end of Nov to start solving my problems..hmm. Hospitals in India now welcome Medical tourists with open arms, as can be seen at the Apollo hospitals website, dedicated to welcoming International patients at the airport itself. They have a special marketing division, with costs in US $ for anyone who wants to come in. The idea being medicine should be accessible to all..preferably those who are able pay in the case of Apollo I would think. But I am not complaining..no just discovering the world with my new found kidn-eye-s!!

On top of all this I spent Saturday night watching Michael Moore's film Sicko...again...liked where his jaw drops open when he sees the NHS hospital in Hammersmith paying patients money for the cost of transport to and from the hospital. Not complaining anymore about NHS.

....still in shock over too many things and the randomness of my life..burnt my finger this morning too..looks like the bad days are here to stay and I should start writing pleasantly surprised entries for when I do have a good day or two.

The Queen Googles.

2008-10-17T09:29:00.003Z

There is a Royal Channel on YouTube..and it now has the video of the Queen's visit to Google offices in London. I like the Queen's reaction to the giggling baby video on youtube, the excited American employees and the accent in Nikesh Arora's English,"google is about cool, quirky, funky things"

Sure thing...must be they have seen a 26% rise in profits.., its the best company to work for according to The Fortune online..
Google is also 4th out of the 20 most admired companies in the world..and Eric Schmidt, Larry Page, and Sergei Brin are the 4th most powerful men in business today..*

The Queens visit to Google..seems slightly ironical to me..or is it just me?

*If you are wondering about the first 3..well Apple and Steve Jobs..Goldman Sachs..(!!??!!) News Corp..etc beat them to it..

Of Dust..

2008-10-13T08:47:00.003Z

Lately have been ill, and thus have been lying in bed, high on pain killers and medication. Which means the man is incharge of the house..the cooking and cleaning and washing and shopping. Needless to say he now knows where things are in the house, things like the washing powder, disinfectant wipes, broom and brushes, he knew about the vacuum cleaner etc..he does help you know...
So I spent the weekend lying down to watch TV and come in and out of sleep, while he hoovered the house, cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, washed machine loads of clothes and loaded the dishwasher. He also proceeded to cook dinner (and lunch) for me.

The conversation last night was about dusting, a concept alien to most men. The Man says, ' I dont understand dusting'...the eternal debate of dusting first and or vacuum is like a chicken and egg conversation in the house. He does not see the point, or for that matter the dust. Which lead me to point out, that it nneeds doing or, he shall be able to write things in the dust on things. Specially things like the TV screen, which he proceeded to explain with the tiring wisdom only seen in engineers talking to non engineers...that the TV screen attracts dust. Which lead me to point out..dust falls everywhere and needs cleaning.

He does not agree, so now i am planning to write things on surfaces once they have been coated with dust..

The few smart arse lines that came to mind were:
~ can you see me?
~ this is dust..
~ If you can read this, clean me
~ I love you
~ Hah! proved you wrong
~ Dust is a fact of life
~ Nobody loves me
~ I demand cleaning
~ Wife is right, dust exists
~ Eat Dust!

Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

2008-10-09T10:38:00.003Z

Goethe's Faust...(Part I, Scene III)

Mephistopheles

I am the spirit, ever, that denies!
And rightly so: since everything created,
In turn deserves to be annihilated:
Better if nothing came to be.
So all that you call Sin, you see,
Destruction, in short, what you’ve meant
By Evil is my true element.

Faust

You call yourself a part, yet seem complete to me?

Mephistopheles

I’m speaking the truth to you, and modestly.
Even if Man’s accustomed to take
His small world for the Whole, that’s his mistake:
I’m part of the part, that once was - everything,
Part of the darkness, from which Light, issuing,
Proud Light, emergent, disputed the highest place
With its mother Night, the bounds of Space,
And yet won nothing, however hard it tried,
Still stuck to Bodily Things, and so denied.
It flows from bodies, which it beautifies,
I hope the day’s not far away
When it, along with all these bodies, dies.

Faust

Now I see the plan you follow!
You can’t destroy it all, and so
You’re working on a smaller scale.

Mephistopheles

And frankly it’s a sorry tale.
What’s set against the Nothingness,
The Something, World’s clumsiness,
Despite everything I’ve tried,
Won’t become a nothing: though I’d
Storms, quakes, and fires on every hand,
It deigned to stay as sea and land!
And those Men and creatures, all the damned,
It’s no use my owning any of that crew:
How many I’ve already done with too!
Yet new fresh blood is always going round.
So it goes on, men make me furious!
With water, earth and air, of course,
A thousand buds unfurl
In wet and dry, warm and cold!
And if I hadn’t kept back fire of old,
I’d have nothing left at all.

Making Mistakes

2008-10-01T08:14:00.002Z

As a parent you never want your child to come to any harm. You want to make the best decisions for them, and you hope in time your children make the best decision themselves. However the point of letting go, which opens the possibility of mistakes occurring is a scary one. When is it right? if ever?

Letting go, and saying, your life, you decide. I will not push you, pester you, into behaving and doing things which I (the parent) would be happy with, is hard. Its hard to not emphasize, insist, brainwash, convince and often also use emotional blackmail, knowing or unknowingly.

As a child I sometimes found it hard to do what I wanted, as I knew I shall meet my mothers disapproval. I found it hard to resist things, but I knew I could not disappoint my mother. Being the middle child, I got over the 'approval' need mighty quick. Soon I would do what I wanted, which often lead to arguements, fights and many a tears for me, but never lies.
My mother is a tough cookie and she is not open to manipulation. Sad. She has seen through me, and continues to do so even today. She was not the modern parent, who wants to be a 'friend' and a popular one at that. Often being a friend of your child makes it unfair to pull rank as a parent when needed. We cant always be liked, and often doing things in the best interest of your child, is met by tantrums and 'i dont like you' type of comments. I guess its part of the job. Being disliked is the price you pay for correcting and guiding your child. And its often the harder route. Agreement and popularity and ease of parenting come as a package, at a steep cost.

It is only later in life that I could make decisions independently and stick to them. Initially I found hard taking decisions which my parents did not like/ were not in agreement with me. They said so clearly, this is what We think, now its up to you. hmmm! Tough one that. Sometimes the ma-isms were tacked on for further effect.

In my mid twenties, my mother told me something, which I will always remember. She said, we parents are like hands, we hold you when you are small, as you grow, we help you walk, and then the hands stand by your side, protecting you, but not holding you. If you fall, we shall pick you up, but dont keep turning around to check, we are here, always, walk ahead, confidently, make decisions as an individual, because standing as we are behind you with our support, we cant see what you see. Walk ahead, knowing that if you stumble or fall we will be there.

What she later added was, our life experiences are different, you see things which I cant imagine, you meet people, see places, do things which I have not. Your decisions are based on your sight. I am a parent, but sadly, now that you have grown up, you need to be let into another secret, I (mother) dont know everything. No I am not the walking encyclopedia you thought I was as a child. I know a lot, but not everything. This I admit came as a surprise. Mum not knowing everything, meant she could make mistakes too. This was hard to digest and took me a while to get my head around.

That I think is parenting, letting the child know what you think, what is right, wrong, black, white and also grey, and also your own limits as a parent. And let them decide. You can not influence them or push them without getting a reaction. You cant be popular or liked all the time. You dont own them. They have their own personalities, character traits and destiny. As a parent, you just need to be there. Always, unconditionally, without sarcasm, scathing remarks or bitterness. Dont chase your children away with disapproval, welcome them to discussion! Let them grow into thinking individuals who see logic and reason and have the confidence to chase their own dreams.

The return to Lahore

2008-09-29T15:47:00.004Z

Eight generations of my family lived in Lahore. We are a Kashmiri Pandit family who had lived for many years in the same 'haveli' in the same location for generations. All that changed in 1947 when my grandparents packed themselves and their children, my father and his three sisters, and moved to Allahabad, as India got divided into two. The hindus moved across to India, and the Muslims moved to Pakistan, causing untold misery, death and devastation.

As a child I heard stories from my Dada (Grandpa) about his life in Lahore, the haveli, the paintings, the gardens, the library, the temple in the house, the well in the house, the furniture, his cameras, his friends, his walks, his college (Govt College Lahore) and then the sudden decision to move. He mentioned these things as memories, fond ones, I never heard a hint of bitterness or regret in his voice. He always believed in fate and destiny, and what is not meant for you, will never be yours kind of thinking. He missed his life there and at the age of 37 when he moved to India, he found it tough. They were compensated by the Indian govt for their losses in Pakistan and in his case the compensation was substantial (from my perspective) but nothing in comparison to what he had left behind, but hey, it was something. My grandma never spoke of Lahore. She had managed to dig out a Hanuman and a Kali from their home and those statues are in the temple in my house even now. She did smuggle some of her jewellery by stitching it to the insides of her clothes, some of which I now own, but she lost a lot more material wealth and peace of mind, then what she was compensated for.

Time passed. No bitterness or regret was heard. They mentioned once that they would like to go and see their home before they died, but that did not happen.

My father, who was very young when they left and had seen many pictures and heard far more stories than me decided to go to Lahore. It was the first time, someone from my family would go back.

He walked to what used to be his house and its vast grounds. It now is a block of apartments and the grounds have been turned into a market place, so there are no open spaces or trees, just a large old building (being a listed one, it still stands) surrounded by a market. He saw the name of his ancestors, still there, engraved in marble, attached to the boundary walls of the market.

He then went scouting around to his maternal grandmothers house, they were also Kashmir and had lived for many generations in the same house, in Lahore. He walked along the road, but again it was unreconizable, so he stopped and asked an old man if he knew about the Haveli and its grounds and whereabout they were. The man asked him why he wanted to know, to which my father replied, they were his grandparents and he was looking for their house. The man asked him if he knew what the neighbours were called, my father said the names and the old man's eyes lit up. He walked my father to the Fatima Jinnah Medical College, the old house had been sectioned into three blocks, with five apartments in each block. The grounds of the house now held towering blocks of the Jinnah Medical college's hostels for women!
The old man asked my father to stay and talk, but being in a rush he could not stop. The man asked him to come for a longer time when he was free and they could talk about the past.

From the sounds of it, my father was quite taken by what he saw. He did not know what to expect. He still owns old architectural plans of the house and its grounds, he has photographs of his mother as a newly wed yougn girl, sitting around the house. I have photos of my grandfather standing along with his fellow Kashmiri friends in his house. They are all memories, of lives transformed by politics and religion. However there is no resentment or regrets. Dada did not believe in wasting time regretting thing, life was too short. Live it to its full he always said, he did.

Bad Day II

2008-09-25T12:28:00.004Z

So the story continues. After being stung, jabbed, jabbed and cut (in reverse oreder), I thought I would come home and rest. No such luck it seems. After trawling through Yahoo Answers about, 'Shard of glass in foot' *
I decided I shall need to sort my foot out. Off to A&E and X-Rays later I was told, yup, there is a shard in your foot. We shall get it out under local anaesthesia.

Conversation:
Doc: Little jab under your foot and then we can cut out the glass
Me: I am not brave, have had an overdose of injections in the past 2 days
Doc: Leave glass in, it will only get septic
Me: Will it hurt?
Doc: The injection under your foot will be VERY painful, grit your teeth, then you will be ok
Me: Mommy!!!
Doc: Here we go.
Me: YIKES!
Doc: all done, now let me see where this glass is.
Me: ok (small voice)
Doc: Dont want to cut your foot, so shall try push it out
Me: (silence, I want to die)
Doc: Nope, this is not coming out (goes gets a fancily wrapped sterile scissor)
SNIP! SNIP!
Me: no pain, I am ok
Doc: (smiles, knowingly, he is thinking, HA! she will know when the anaesthesia wears off)
Doc: I see it.

he gets out this piece of glass, puts it in some tissue and hands it over to me.
All done. Go home, rest.

I think I shall get home, lock myself in a cupboard and sit still till bad luck and bad days are over. And I am able to leave home without cutting myself, stabbing myself, getting stung or getting any other injuries.

Bad days (shaking head) bad days (shaking head)

Needless to say, my mother wants to visit the local priest and ask him to say some prayers on my behalf, obviously my daily praying is doing me no good just yet.

*sometimes being an internet hypochondriac helps!

Men with sexist views 'earn more'

2008-09-24T15:26:00.002Z

From the BBC's health section..

---------------------------
Men who grow up thinking women should stay at home may be labelled "old-fashioned" - but could end up well ahead in the salary stakes.

A US study, published in the Journal of Applied Psychology, suggests that they will consistently out-earn more "modern-thinking" men.

On average, this meant an extra $8,500 (£4,722) a year.

One UK psychologist said men inclined to wield power in their relationships might also do this at work.
It could be that more traditionally-minded men are interested in power, both in terms of access to resources - money in this case - and also in terms of a woman who is submissive, Dr Magdalena Zawisza, Winchester University

The study, carried out by researchers at the University of Florida, was conducted on a large scale, with 12,686 men and women interviewed in 1979, when they were aged between 14 and 22, and three times in the following two decades, the last time in 2005.

The researchers asked them whether they believed a woman's place was in the home, or whether the employment of women was likely to lead to higher rates of juvenile delinquency.

Predictably, more men tended to hold these views than women, although the gap has narrowed significantly over time.

However, when the men were asked about their salaries, another gap emerged, with those holding "traditional" views earning significantly more.

Conversely, women who held the opposite view did earn slightly more, on average $1,500 (£833) more than women with "traditional" views.

Dr Timothy Judge, one of the researchers, said: "More traditional people may be seeking to preserve the historical separation of work and domestic roles - our results prove that is, in fact, the case."

Dr Magdalena Zawisza, a psychologist from Winchester University, said that there were a number of theories which might explain the difference.

She said: "It could be that more traditionally-minded men are interested in power, both in terms of access to resources - money in this case - and also in terms of a woman who is submissive.

"Another theory suggests that employers are more likely to promote men who are the sole earner in preference to those who do not - they recognise that they need more support for their families, because they are the breadwinner."
-------------------------

Do hope the Man has not read this :)

Bad day

2008-09-23T15:44:00.004Z

So, I was sulking on sunday as I managed to walk over a shard of glass and cut my foot, some part of the glass seems to be lodged in my foot and I am being a baby about it. So I was limping. I thought I would go see the doctor and ask him to dislodge anything that may still be in my foot.

I walked out of my house and got stung by a bee for the first time in my life. I know some people could be allergic to stings and bites, but I dont know if I am on that list. One way to find out I guess :) I also think the mean thing was waiting outside for me, tapping its feet, waiting to have a go. One bee, at this time in the year, its autumn after all, and it finds me, in a city full of people, who are out and about, I step out for 2 mins to check mail and BANG!! hmph!

So off I went to the doctor, sat there for a few minutes waiting to be seen, feeling a bit sick but not bad enough to laugh at the others in there. The others were babies, all between the age of 6 months and 2 years. All heading towards the nurse gurgling, coming out bawling, as it was vaccination day. There I sat thinking..HA, HA (like the Simpson kid) till I got called in.

Seems to be I am allergic myself, so off came the jeans and there came the jab! Ouch!! Now the foot remained to be seen to. So guess what, up rolled the sleeve and there came yet another jab..tetanus this time. double Ouch!

Bad day, very bad day, left foot out of commission thanks to glass, right arm out of commission thanks to bee, and left arm out of commission thanks to tetanus, one half of bum out of commission thanks to anti-histamine shot. Yargh. 1 sting + 2 jabs = miserable me!

..and on my way home, the pathetic sense of humour comes back and the only sad joke I could think of, came to me.

What did the terminator say to the bee when it stung him in SanFrancisco?
He shot it, and then said, Hasta La Vista Bay Bee!!!

Straight Talking.

2008-09-18T17:43:00.003Z

Being an immigrant in any country / city means a lot of times, the easiest conversation consists of a compare and contrast discussion of cities and places and people. In my case I have heard the Delhi Vs Bombay, India Vs UK, London Vs Edinburgh, Leicester Vs London Vs Cambridge Vs Glasgow etc etc too many times. Often leading to broad generalisations, personal opinions and some very heated heads.

So when my friend came over for dinner..the conversation veered towards the Uk vs US debate. I have never been particularly keen to visit the US..nothing lures/ interests me, call me stubborn (but I have my reasons)..so when a friend who defines herself as Leftist / Marxist went for a short US holiday and came back, she was surprisingly surprised to find herself liking the place. And highly recommended a visit. This though is not the point here. The converation..thats what I am talking about here.

The conversation:

Friend: I loved SFO, its great. Pretty, cosmopolitan, lovely weather..really really loved it. You must go.
Guest: Yes it supposed to be great.
Husband: Yes I was supposed to join work in San Jose, not too far from SFO
Friend: Oh you would have loved it.
Guest: You did not go? why? You chose London over SFO? UK over US..(intensely incredulous look appears on guests face)
Husband: (killer line coming): I chose MY WIFE.
Silence on the table, while friends give husband more brownie points, guest is appropriately shut up, and wife is suitably impressed!

Ahhhhh!!

* Need to blog about 'guest' in detail later

Some more in the name of Religion

2008-09-15T09:32:00.002Z

The Delhi blasts came out the blue, as blasts tend to do. Here I was sitting miles away, worrying, fretting and hoping that by some miracle the ones I love were not close to the horrific blasts.
You always hope, that no one you know, is amongst the statistics that come out of such news. Frantic phone calls/ emails later, all seemed to be ok. Relief? Hardly. You hold your breath for the next promised one, and try to live with the held breath, whispered prayers and a wish for peace.
Some more precious lives, taken, in the name of God. In the name of freedom. In the name of justice or whatever it is the bombers want. It is not right, its not agreeable and it gets you nowhere. Killing people for what? As a reaction to something? Is it a tit for tat? No..every death, adds to the toll, does not take away from anything. It adds. Eye for an eye will make us all blind someone said...so should we keep going? Are bombs the only way to make yourself heard? Are we that deaf to other people's plight, that we need a blast to wake us up?

Waking up, getting on with our lives, as if nothing happened? Is that a solution?
Saying, we carry on, undettered..is that a solution? or an ostrich like attempt at problem solving. Why would some kill? It is not human nature.

Where are we headed?

Ma-isms (Mother-isms)

2008-09-10T20:16:00.005Z

Things I have heard my mother say, over the years, repeatedly, which I have over a period of time realised were not exclusive to my mother..hence the list. I dont tag, but feel free to add onto this list:

1. Listen to me, I know
2. I know because I am older (thereby wiser)
3. I only want the best for you
4. In doing/ listening/ obeying me, you shall save yourself a lot of misery
5. If you listen to me you wont suffer
6. I dont understand these new fangled ideas
7. By the time I was your age, I had been married for 6 years and had 3 children
8. You never listen to me anyway, so why are you asking for advice?
9. You think you know it all, you don't
10.There is no harm in listening to advice once in a while
11.No matter what you say, somethings will not change
12.There is a time and place for everything, you have to deal with it
13.Friends are good, but not always, maintain distance
14.My hair has not turned grey in the sun (they denote wisdom of the years)
15.Someday you shall have a child of your own and then you will understand my pain
16.For your wedding I shall do as I please, you can have your way at your child's wedding
17.There are some rules, which need to be followed, not questioned
18.A boy never has anything to lose (as opposed to a girl aka me)
19.No one wants a girl who airs her opinions freely, all the time
20.Learn to sit still
21.Dont listen to me, but then dont come crying back to me either
22.We shall think/ see about that later (means NO!)
23.You think I know nothing
24.I can see inside your head and heart
25.You can never lie to me, and get away with it
26.I always want what is best for you, you might not always see it, but I can
27.Why cant you just listen without arguing
28.There is no point in my saying anything to you, you think you know it all
29.Men expect certain things in a marriage, no matter which century we live in
30.Space is good, take it, dont explain it, never argue over it
31.The man in your life, does not need to know everything, always
32.Traditions have no reasons, they just are, made to be followed
33.I shall call you by your married name, like it or not (changed or not)
34.For me, you shall always be a child
35.Please behave your age
36.The later you leave it, the harder it will be (have children now)
37.You young people/ generation your minds are in the skies
38.I always wish you happiness, but you seem to not want happiness
39.You overreact to things, calm down, grow up
40.Tch, I am not going to say anything (followed by a 40min monologue)

Tahaan

2008-09-09T14:11:00.003Z

I cant wander too far from this topic. I had not been thinking too hard about it till I saw this

Tahaan, is a story set in Kashmir.

Another movie about Kashmir. I dont think it shall be able to skirt the political conflict in Kashmir.

Last night I saw the trailer, it blazed the mountains back into my mind, I heard the wan wun being sung...and it came rushing back. The love I have for the place and the strong urge to drop everything and go back. Seeing the mountains through the eyes of Santosh Sivan made me shiver..I want to go back. To my mountain land.

High snow capped mountains,
with snow and clouds intermingling,
making the peak play hide and seek.

Mist rising from the mountains,
the sheer drops and sharp angles.
The smell of winter,
of wood and wool.

A sound track plays in my head,
the thrill of being here cant be described.
The need for going back cant be explained.
The place where my soul comes to rest.

I saw the cities,
I saw the countries,
I saw the seas, the lakes and the rivers,
None held me back,
none made me turn and whisper,
I shall come back, soon.

Kashmir did.
ravished, ruined, bled.
tears, protests, death.
missing people, maimed people.
distress, stress and strong sentiments.
riches and poverty,
guns and narcissi,
lakes and boats,
beak noses, skull caps and pherans.
Pain of loss.
Attempts at peace.
Sorrow.

The valley remains,
heart achingly beautiful.
Snow covered and mist shrouded.

Parts of it like a newly wedded bride,
hidden behing multiple layers,
glimpses visible,
hiding, shy, beautiful.
Parts of it defiant and challenging,
mother nature in all its stark, raw beauty.
Awe inspiring, beckoning, challenging,

whispering...
..softly, on a misty breath..
come..come back.

Police complaints

2008-09-01T14:26:00.001Z

I tend not to resort to using other people's writing on my blog, but this was too good to not share. This is a complaint to Devon & Cornwall Police Force from an angry member of the public.

Dear Sir/Madam/Automated telephone answering service,
Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Bodmin police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead.

Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Bodmin, by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or Ouija board.

As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in St Mary's Crescent, which is just off St Mary's Road in Bodmin.

Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building.
This game is now in its third week and as I am unsure how the scoring system works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.

The remaining five walking-abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on speed.

I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the bottle of Calor gas that is lying on its side between the two bins.
If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches.

Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.

What I suggest is this - after replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a Panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.

I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.

I remain sirs, your obedient servant

???????

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr ??????,

I have read your e-mail and understand your frustration at the problems caused by youths playing in the area and the problems you have encountered in trying to contact the police.

As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.

Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details (address / telephone number) and when may be suitable.

Regards
PC ?
Community Beat Officer

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear PC ?
First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original e-mail.

16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Bodmin Police Station, and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris McWhirter for inclusion in his next book.

Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has its own Community Beat Officer.

May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills? In the five or so years I have lived in St Mary's Crescent , I have never seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand basin? It's surely only a matter of time before you are head-hunted by MI5.

Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking place in Bodmin, such as smoking in a public place or being Christian without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these tw*ts that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere.

The pitch on Fairpark Road , or the one at Priory Park are both within spitting distance as is the bottom of the Par Dock, the latter being the preferred option especially if the tide is in.

Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free to contact me on . If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in the Cat and Fiddle Pub.

Regards
?

P.S If you think that this is sarcasm, think yourself lucky that you don't work for the cleansing department, with whom I am also in contact!!

Senses

2008-08-22T14:26:00.003Z

As I walked down a leafy hill towards a London suburb I could smell the rain on the wet leaves, I could feel my stomach hurting and I was missing monsoon weather from long gone days of high school when our uniforms were drenched and every puddle was a challenge to new found maturity. I could hear traffic but there were promising sounds made by the birds and the bees..I recounted the senses we humans are known to have..but something seemed to be missing on my list..

Eyes - See
Nose - Smell
Skin - Touch
Ears - Hear
Tongue - Taste

Should there not be heart/mind in this..feel. You can see something and it can sometimes move you close to tears or towards elation. You can sometimes smell something that reminds you of something or someone, the smell of Sambhar, the smell of rain on dry earth, the smell of warmth and something undescribable that comes from the baby's head (u2 put it better I think). Sounds you hear, voices you recognise..they do make you feel depressed, happy, excited (depending entirely on who's voice it is) and taste..i must say this is the best one linked to feeling..you can feel intense joy and satisfaction on eating or driking something you like, and the fact that 'feeling' drunk is something that happens to most of us at some point or the other.

How come we dont have a sixth sense which has nothing to do with Mr Shymalan and everything to do with something in your head and heart?
Use 5 senses to live and the other non listed ones to be truly alive.

Kashmir

2008-08-18T07:54:00.003Z

Making it to the headlines across the world again. The right to self determination...separatist leaders plan to submit a memorandum to the UN office in the city outlining their demands (BBC - South Asia)

The world looks on, Kashmiris look at the UN. Why I wonder do we look at the UN..if we are so sure of what we want, why do we need nods of approval from a body which obviously is non functional or of no relevance to the greater powers in the world. The Bush does not ask for consent or approval. Why do we? Why does India even contemplate battles of words with bureaucrats and diplomats in the UN..have they made a difference? Are they capable of doing anything except rounds of useless talks.

US, UK, Russia, Iraq, Seirra Leone, Timor Leste, Sri Lanka, Afghanistan, Iraq..the list of nations in conflict is long..stable lasting peace..has not happened. I really do wonder what the UN's role really is in this world of Putin and Bush and Mugabe and Gen Than Shwe and Sanjagiin Bayar..look around you..are we being realistic?

What about Kashmir? Is a seperate state a possibility? Will an independent Kashmir be safe/ stable/ secure? Is it really impossible for the Kashmiri Muslims to live with the rest of the nation? Does India really need Kashmir and its problems? Do Kashmiris really need a partition of the state? Does Pakistan know what it could do with Kashmir if it gets there? Is joining Pakistan a profitable option in this day and age?

And if there is a need for all Kashmiris to vote on its future..ALL Kashmiris should..those who are born there, those who speak the language, those who are genetically Kashmiri..everyone who is Kashmiri, should decide..not just those who live in Srinagar.

I dont have an opinion about Kashmir per se which wont offend just about every reader here, I do however feel more than a bit upset that after nearly decade of relative calm..protests have started and the 'struggle' has been reawakened. It does make me wonder, no not wonder actually, it makes me re-iterate the reality of the debate over the losses of peace and profits of war/ conflict.

More money in war. Simple as that.

It's over.

2008-08-16T13:44:00.004Z

Two words. Simple, effective, to the point.
Could mean relief, happiness, heartbreak amongst other things.

Could also mean fresh beginnings, new approaches.
Could mean end of patience and the ability to tolerate more of the same.
Could mean end of the rope, the line and patience.
Could be tough decision making.
Could mean the starting point of memory gathering.
Could mean the line where the past ends, present and future start.

Always means the need to move on and start again.

Epic Journey

2008-08-12T09:16:00.007Z

Nostalgia hits me as I make my way to Edinburgh after two years. There was a time when the Man used to live there and I was in Leicester. On Fridays I would carry a small backpack to work, leave it with security and at the end of the day I would dash to the train station to catch a 5.30pm train to Edinburgh Waverley and reach there by about midnight. I did this journey which takes 5-6 hours on an alternate weekend basis. The tiresomeness of the journey, which many of my friends mentioned, did not feature in my mind then, maybe I was younger..or maybe it was just L=O=V=E.

I would sit with my water,salt and vinegar Walkers, Kit Kat and a juicy book + iPod and make my way to Edinburgh, only to return in 48 hours. hmmmm. And last night I was trying to remember the route..all 395 miles of it..

Leicester - Derby - Chesterfield - Sheffield - Doncaster - York - Darlington - Durham - Newcastle - Berwick Upon Tweed and finally to Edinburgh.

Edinburgh - where the man lived. Romanticised in my head..as living high up in the mountains, surrounded by dark grey clouds, crumbling rock castles built at great heights, sea waves crashing by the Forth bridge, sharp billowing gusts of wind (non fiction - Edinburgh is like this)..and he would come, get me from the station and take me home...

I must have made this journey close to a 100 times..just to see him.
Edinburgh played the role of the perfect romantic destination. Dark, brooding, old architecture, Gothic spires, stained glass churches, narrow alleyways, steep staircases, winding cobbled streets, tall trees, dark clouds, cold weather and ofcourse..the Castle perched on top of a volcanic rock, vigilance despite the years. I do wonder if the Man had lived in some place like (dont want to insult anyone here but..) Milton Keynes or..Skegness or...Grimsby..would I have been as impressed?
Too late to ask such questions..and I am rambling here..

But yes..I am making the journey again..to Edinburgh, to see the festival, to revisit all the places I went to. And yes..I know I have been to many other lovely places in other parts of the world..but if there is one place..I would be happy to live at for the rest of my life, it would be Edinburgh. Kashmir comes close, but is not as much of a possibility as I would want it to be.

~Image courtesy jimbodownie and Alllfff

Of culture, snobbery, pseudo intellect and other such like.

2008-08-10T22:37:00.004Z

This was too interesting to not share...

Dear Dr. Kierkegaard,

All my life I’ve been a successful pseudo-intellectual, sprinkling quotations from Kafka, Epictetus and Derrida into my conversations, impressing dates and making my friends feel mentally inferior. But over the last few years, it’s stopped working. People just look at me blankly. My artificially inflated self-esteem is on the wane. What happened?

Existential in Exeter

Dear Existential,

It pains me to see so many people being pseudo-intellectual in the wrong way. It desecrates the memory of the great poseurs of the past. And it is all the more frustrating because your error is so simple and yet so fundamental.

You have failed to keep pace with the current code of intellectual one-upsmanship. You have failed to appreciate that over the past few years, there has been a tectonic shift in the basis of good taste.

You must remember that there have been three epochs of intellectual affectation. The first, lasting from approximately 1400 to 1965, was the great age of snobbery. Cultural artifacts existed in a hierarchy, with opera and fine art at the top, and stripping at the bottom. The social climbing pseud merely had to familiarize himself with the forms at the top of the hierarchy and febrile acolytes would perch at his feet.

In 1960, for example, he merely had to follow the code of high modernism. He would master some impenetrably difficult work of art from T.S. Eliot or Ezra Pound and then brood contemplatively at parties about Lionel Trilling’s misinterpretation of it. A successful date might consist of going to a reading of “The Waste Land,” contemplating the hollowness of the human condition and then going home to drink Russian vodka and suck on the gas pipe.

This code died sometime in the late 1960s and was replaced by the code of the Higher Eclectica. The old hierarchy of the arts was dismissed as hopelessly reactionary. Instead, any cultural artifact produced by a member of a colonially oppressed out-group was deemed artistically and intellectually superior.

During this period, status rewards went to the ostentatious cultural omnivores — those who could publicly savor an infinite range of historically hegemonized cultural products. It was necessary to have a record collection that contained “a little bit of everything” (except heavy metal): bluegrass, rap, world music, salsa and Gregorian chant. It was useful to decorate one’s living room with African or Thai religious totems — any religion so long as it was one you could not conceivably believe in.

But on or about June 29, 2007, human character changed. That, of course, was the release date of the first iPhone.

On that date, media displaced culture. As commenters on The American Scene blog have pointed out, the means of transmission replaced the content of culture as the center of historical excitement and as the marker of social status.

Now the global thought-leader is defined less by what culture he enjoys than by the smartphone, social bookmarking site, social network and e-mail provider he uses to store and transmit it. (In this era, MySpace is the new leisure suit and an AOL e-mail address is a scarlet letter of techno-shame.)

Today, Kindle can change the world, but nobody expects much from a mere novel. The brain overshadows the mind. Design overshadows art.

This transition has produced some new status rules. In the first place, prestige has shifted from the producer of art to the aggregator and the appraiser. Inventors, artists and writers come and go, but buzz is forever. Maximum status goes to the Gladwellian heroes who occupy the convergence points of the Internet infosystem — Web sites like Pitchfork for music, Gizmodo for gadgets, Bookforum for ideas, etc.

These tastemakers surf the obscure niches of the culture market bringing back fashion-forward nuggets of coolness for their throngs of grateful disciples.

Second, in order to cement your status in the cultural elite, you want to be already sick of everything no one else has even heard of.

When you first come across some obscure cultural artifact — an unknown indie band, organic skate sneakers or wireless headphones from Finland — you will want to erupt with ecstatic enthusiasm. This will highlight the importance of your cultural discovery, the fineness of your discerning taste, and your early adopter insiderness for having found it before anyone else.

Then, a few weeks later, after the object is slightly better known, you will dismiss all the hype with a gesture of putrid disgust. This will demonstrate your lofty superiority to the sluggish masses. It will show how far ahead of the crowd you are and how distantly you have already ventured into the future.

If you can do this, becoming not only an early adopter, but an early discarder, you will realize greater status rewards than you ever imagined. Remember, cultural epochs come and go, but one-upsmanship is forever.

~from New York Times op-ed Columnist David Brooks - Lord of the Memes

Seaside

2008-08-05T11:43:00.002Z

The waves come running to you,
happy to see you.
Eager to present you with a gift they dug up,
from the bottom of the seabed.
They come again and again,
in an attempt to appease.
The wind tugs,
like and impatient child,
at your hair, your clothes.
Wanting something,
not quite sure what.
The sticky feeling of salty air,
the burning sunshine.
Warm sand thats intrusive,
and likes the hide in unlikely places.

Sea gulls in mid air,
frozen still in their attempts to fly.
Lazy gulls that fly but dont flap,
come close,
looking out beadily for crumbs.
Static gulls, posing for perfect photos,
suspended mid-gust.

Children with spades and buckets, digging.
Building castles, being taught to write names in sand.
Babies toddling around, dropping and getting up unhurt,
wading into water and returning with soggy nappies.
Old people with books, hats and suncream,
young people with music and fashionable swimgear.

Endless white sand and green water,
long lazy walks,
with sand between your toes,
and sea shelss in your hand,
eyes scrunched up against the sand,
hair messed with the wind,
and a smile...

North meets South

2008-07-24T10:16:00.003Z

Had some people over for dinner, colleagues of the Man. I always think of Indians as one large homogenous group...the differences owing to the directions of our origin apart, we are not too different..or so I would like to think.
Well, apparently not!
For starters there is the presumption that anyone with a lighter skin colour is either part foreign. But if you are from Southern India..fair skin, plus smooth hindi = Punjabi. And I always clench my teeth and highlight the fact that there are more states north of Punjab that exist..hmm..no one ever thinks of Kashmir unless voting is around the corner I guess.

The next thing is the language barrier, Hindi is the national language..right or wrong..but most people dont speak it, people in question here were from Tamil Nadu and Karnataka, they spoke good English with a different accent, but Hindi conversation between us (incl the Man) was met with blank looks. And I say..come on..something..anything..you must have seen some Hindi film..no? no! No.

The approach to food was wary, chicken curry, chola, aloo, and cabbage with peas, all made indian style were reluctantly tested. My food is not mild in terms of spice, but it turned out without pepper corns, food is not categorised as hot, which is typical of 'North Indian' food..is it really!! Apart from the chicken nothing else was eaten..maaaaybe it was alien to the taste buds. But suddenly I was very aware of the fact that I am NORTH Indian. Hmmm!! My curiousity and fondness for food means I am very happy (and well acquainted with all things South Indian) also gujarati bearing in mind London is full of all kinds of Indian food..and I have travelled a fair amount in India. Thus this reaction towards my food..was hmm..surprising. I had made some well known dishes..Aloo is universally eaten!! Even the yoghurt was rejected for being too thick!!

Apart from the apparent, there was a distinct difference in reaction..to conversation, to thinking, to behaving..including sitting on a sofa, carrying on a conversation. One person decided to sit ramrod straight and stare, whilst the other went on giggling..make me quite confused really..as to what to do. Their opinion about my house was 'lovely' but why do only 2 of you live in such a large house..hmm? Understandable I would say. Puzzling reaction though!

Being in London and not being curious about everything around you..specially the well known, thanks to Bollywood, landmarks..well you HAVE to see them..but nope. They had not seen them and were not keen to either. Most people would think..financial restriction to spending a large amount of money causes prevention to seeing places. Hmm..not true really..its not cheap, but it aint stupendous amounts of money either. It seemed to be a lack of curiousity..and I am sitting on judgement..forgive me. But these people are paid decently.

Initially uncomfortable, then strange, turning to curious and then just plain confused happened over a couple of hours to me. Am I too North Indian or have I just not met too many different people from other parts of my country.

iPhone 3G = Cool

2008-07-14T09:08:00.005Z

Ok so I am not too good at finding phones with contracts. I have had a long strange equation with most of my phones I guess as long as I have one which catches some network and has a long enough battery life I am happy.

The good old Blackberry had stopped working as well as it did before..and before I knew it, it was time to upgrade. Being married to a geek means any phone I liked aesthetically was pooh-poohed, any phone I thought was smart was not good enough for him, and ofcourse I should never buy 'first generation' technology. So I sat with my Blackberry..waiting for a nicer newer phone..hmm...I was told all about the Google phone which shall some day arrive..but now..I have gone ahead and got myself the iPhone 3G. the idea of having music/video and internet on a good looking (though slightly large) phone was appealing. The fact that the O2 contract here was the best deal iPhone is offering was mentioned by Pushkar and the idea kind of stuck on from there. However I refused to stand in long queues on 11th July when the phone was released..after much media hype, I am not going to scream for my handset, I shall not be one of those people on TV who were camping outside the phone shops, standing and standing and then watch them run out of phones. I would do that for a new Harry Potter..but for a phone..uhh..NOPE! So I ordered it and sat and waited for 48 hours.

Meanwhile the Apple fan husband decided to go hunting online for reported faults and glitches in the new phone. Looked for discussions and conversations..could not find any realistic ones..so I was told..there are no reported problems..as people have not got the phone yet...O2 has run out of handsets, as have CarphoneWarehouse..so..By twisted logic..there are no problems, coz there are no phones, and as there are no phones, dont be surprised if yours does not arrive tomorrow. Be prepared to battle O2 to get your hands on one. hmmm!!

And I waited..as promised..its here..dot on time. In well designed packaging...which I shall take photographs of to use for my teaching..small, well shaped, tiny manual, smart box, little text, straight forward graphics, minimal use of paper and packaging..and ofcourse all recyclable! Now I need to avoid using the Man's Mac..as his iTunes library shall get messed..so now I need to buy a MacBook - Air to complete to cool look :)

Guess who is going to be busy all day reading manuals and downloading, uploading and importing? Guess who is going to hurry back home from work..to make sure the wife does not 'mess up' the phone or his lovely computer!!

No Real Reason

2008-07-11T08:22:00.003Z

After having known hectic schedules, constant chasing of my own tail, being a headless chicken, I am in a period of forced rest. Yes I am on holiday and have little to do..which means the little that I need to do also does not get done. Which means the little piles into lots and then inertia strikes. Making it impossible for me to actually do ANYTHING.
Not needing to get out of the house, translates into not needing to dress up, which now means I need some more track pants! The fact that the British summer is not really here, and from the looks of it, wont really get here either, I see no reason of getting out in the cold and wet outside.
Which leaves me at home, with the internet and TV and a LOAD of books for company. Ideal situation some would say. After seeing some people struggling to cope with 24 hours in a day..I find myself lucky..to have time, sleep, books and nothing much else to worry about. I know it will be shortlived..and so I need to enjoy this space and time..I might not get it back!
However the feeling of being 'useless' is not easy to shake off, it multiplies when the husband comes home, tired, hungry, cold and wet..and yours truly has just finished watching The Simpsons with yet another cup of tea!

Nothings sweet about me

2008-07-08T13:35:00.002Z

I seem to be unable to stop..I keep singing the chorus of this song..well have been doing it since Saturday morning..I am starting to get to myself!!

This is Gabriella Cilmi 'Sweet About Me'

Ohh watching me, hanging by a string this time.
Don't easily, the climax of the perfect life.
Ohh watching me, hanging by a string this time.
Don't easily, smile worth a hundred lies.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, tell you something that I've found, that the worlds a better place when it's upside down boy.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, when your playing with desire, don't come running to my place when it burns like fire boy. Chorus:

Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh

Blue, blue, blue, waves they crash as time goes by, so hard to catch. Too, too smooth, ain't all that, why don't you ride my side of the tracks.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, tell you something that I've found, that the worlds a better place when it's upside down boy.

If there's lessons to be learned, I'd rather get my jamming words in first so, when your playing with desire, don't come running to my place when it burns like fire boy.

Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh
Sweet about me, nothing sweet about me, Yehh

Stumbled upon James Frey

2008-07-03T18:03:00.004Z

Yup..I picked it up, after seeing someone look completely absorbed in it on the tube. Okay I am not exactly picking it up while its hot. But I have spent the best part of the weekend stuck inside 'A Million Little Pieces'

Its a serious, dark, well told tale of an Alcoholic, a Drug Addict and a Criminal.
I did not know the Queen of TV and pretty much anything else of any consequence in the US..Oprah herself has been involved in the huge debate that surrounds this book. Apparently its not all non-fiction and the author, James Frey, has been asked to apologize to the public.

I did not know about the debate, I have noticed the book in various locations in book shops and also on some charts sometime ago. So while shopping for groceries I picked up 'A million little pieces'. I must say, I do not care about the debate too much - the book is great, it asks to be read at one sitting! Its straight forward, graphic, in places disgusting, very realistic and cynical, some interesting philosophy in places. Now I shall have to pick it's sequel!! Read it. I kept thinking that I need to go back to prison and read bits of it to my students..but I cant..I dont work there anymore..perhaps one of my ex colleagues can do that. I used to teach drug addicts gone cold turkey..and some of what I am reading in Frey's book recalls conversations I have had in prison with people.

'Her' Photos...

2008-07-01T21:40:00.004Z

The ship I wrote about..Sarah her name was...here are the pictures..
The first ofcourse is the colours of the flag..British. The second shows how long she is..all the way to the small tall chimney like thing in the front (and we are 1/3 away from the back end of the ship). The next one is the exhaust pipe..which is tough to show in context..lets see..the two on the side are for the generators and the big one is for the engine..lets not even start talking about carbon footprint for Sarah:) The last one is of the cranes that are used to load and unload the ships at the port.

Mobile but unplanned

2008-06-25T01:22:00.002Z

I forgot my phone at home yesterday. I knew I had and it was too late to get home and then get to work without being really late for work. So I just went ahead and left home without my phone...for perhaps the first time!

It did make me think. Apart from keeping in touch with people constantly and being available all the time for a conversation..mobile phones also make us less disciplined. How many times have you actually called someone to say..yes I am about to reach this place, or called to ask where they are? How many times have you called to confirm things and change things at the last minute. Ask questions which came to you after the meeting finished. Called to say I am standing here under this big tree with orange flowers.

What used to be planned..time, place, space and conversation..is now a free flowing list of 24x7 questions. What used to be the occasional long call to be made to catch up is now more frequent text messages.

Would you be lost without your phone? Would you feel incomplete and insecure without it?

I did for about 10 mins..and then it was almost liberating to know..I dont need to answer any calls at any time. It wont be my phone that bleeps in a meeting. I dont know what time I shall get home but thats ok. Na-ice.

Its a She

2008-06-18T10:01:00.004Z

Output of engine - 55,980 BHP @ 94 RPM
Length - 300 mts
Fuel capacity - 6645.7 Metric Tons
Speed - 24 knots

She needed to switch off her engines and wait quietly for the Tug boats to pull her in. She needed them to help her park at the port. Her engine being too powerful to be used inside a dock.

This was a huge cargo ship I was on at Felixstowe. She had all of 12 floors. She was quite old but she was beyond my expectations. I thought Titanic, boats, ships etc..same thing. I expected some amount of movement of the ship as it rested on water. But instead I went inside and it did not rock. At all. The captain's floor which was just below the bridge (cockpit equivalent) was like a rather large apartment, complete with a bar, pots of coriander growing on the windowsills, a laptop with music playing.

I was shown maps, radars, ship paths, sea depths, routes to avoid, maps in different languages, sat nav systems, auto pilot controls, the engine room..the list went on.

I was taken aback by the sheer size of the thing. Having grown up miles away from any water body I am not familiar with ships of any sort. What struck me though was the fact that the engineers, the captain and pretty much everyone on board called it a 'She' very affectionately, but definitely a she. When questioned I was given the amused but will-not-tell-look by one and all. The captain later said its on old debate..aircrafts, ships etc..they are all female for some reason. The tug boats however..were not female..they were coming to get her, and help her park, they were strong and she needed them. hmmm.

I sat there thinking, if the ship could tell stories of its travel, it would last forever..and if 'it' was a 'she' indeed..I would love to hear them. What would it be like to be on sea, for 3-4 months at a stretch, no land, no docking, just sea, wind, sky and the sound of the massive engines!

Stay at Home?

2008-06-13T10:32:00.003Z

Recently had one of those discussions with the Man about young people not wanting to live with their parents after they finish their education, which started as a discussion and concluded with a 'end-of' statement.

A lot of people in UK and Europe expect their 18 year olds to move out and get on with their own lives as soon as they turn 18. Infact retirement plans are often made on the basis that there will be no children in the house by a certain date and then the parents can get back to leading their own lives. Which sounded strange to me the first time I heard it..but now I guess I am used to the concept.

A long time ago I did contemplate heading back to Delhi for good, however having stayed away from home for a longish period, I was not too keen to go back home and live with the house 'rules'. I do love my folks and everything..and I dont think it needs explaining, but I also at the same time think that asking my folks to change how they do things to suit me would not be fair. I would be working full time, and coming home to my family..nothing wrong with that he says. No there is nothing wrong, but I would rather have a place of my own..nearby maybe, but space of my own..to come back to. This case was presented to Him, who says, whats different, you stay at home. Your folks are friendly people I am sure they wont mind your socialising..and coming home at odd hours.

But I dont think its quite the same thing. There are nights when we sit and chat and eat and drink till late with our friends, when someone eventually grabs the couch to pass the night, friends who drop by with wine and then stay for the night, friends who drop in at odd hours to check if you are free to watch a film etc, impromptu plans made for the evening and weekends, lunches and dinners. Now this all does happen, when you are single (probably), have just started working and earning a decent enough amount to afford a social life, and have other people like yourself as friends...chances are you lead a somewhat similar life.

The life before this was full of education and parents and rules and targets and interviews and exams, the life after this will be probably married or with a significant other, with a social life of a different kind, and perhaps later you shall socialise with your insomniac child and a bottle of milk! Things change. People need space to get to terms with their changing lives. Ofcourse if there is an option of getting space to begin with.

So, coming back to staying at home. My mother always thought that until the date I marry, I shall stay with her, find a job in Delhi, stay at home and post marriage live with the husband, I dont think this thinking would surprise too many Indian parents. Its the done thing. However in my case, this event did not occur. I moved out to study and work and have not gone back, have got married as well..so chances are slim I would stay with her.

I think I might have sounded a bit miffed, because the conversation we were having reached the statement point, where in He says, ' My kids will damn well stay at home, no need to go anywhere, if you are on holiday you are at home!' end-of.

But it is hard to explain, when you step away from home, you grow the innate ability to watch your own back, to understand budgets and finance, to see friend from foe, to stumble and fall, get up without assistance and get going, you learn to keep things to yourself which might worry the people back home, you see the value of home and family, you form your own small quasi-family of friends, you learn and you then set up a style of life/living/thinking/behaving which is uniquely you, adapted and adopted from your family in parts perhaps, but tailor made by you to suit you perfectly. And this..(nameless) state of existence and living is what you grow into and start to like..which when you move back home..does not quite fit/sit perfectly with what your parents (state of existence) maybe.

After being away from home for long, it is nice or rather lovely to be back for a while on holiday or just for a bit, but after some time, I start to miss my own space, my own existence in what I tend to call 'My house' and I like coming back to it.

So needing space, away from home is nothing to do with what you think or feel for your parents, but more about how you have changed and grown into. To understand the change, accept it and live with it happily without making others change for you. The bottom line being..you know..home with your parents is always there, its back up...they will always welcome you home, you can always head back..but its ok to need your own place and space.

Of distant thoughts, time and other such like

2008-06-11T07:54:00.003Z

The mind has a mind of its own, time passes like a silent visitor late at night, not making a sound, but striking the realisation bell that something has brushed past and gone. It will not stay even is asked.

There is sound, rustling at the back..of someone smiling and then gradually laughing silently. There are voices that can be heard whispering and nodding in agreement.

And then there is the loud noise of heartbeats, thudding inside. The assurance that something is alive inside and perhaps trying to get out by being persistent. It perseveres despite being ignored.

Attempt at silencing all thoughts, all feelings and trying to stop time does not work. Time afterall measures all that has gone and forecasts all that will come. Like a log, of what happens, each moment, each day..for the rest of life and even after. Its the only constant.

Summer Breeze - Isley Brothers...

2008-06-09T09:41:00.001Z

See the curtains hanging in the window
In the evening on a Friday night
A little light a-shining through the window
Lets me know everything's alright

Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind
Summer breeze makes me feel fine
Blowing through the jasmine in my mind

See the paper lying on the sidewalk
A little music from the house next door
So I walk on up to the door step
Through the screen and across the floor

Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
When I come home from a hard days work
And you're waiting there, not a care in the world

See the smile a-waiting in the kitchen
Food cooking and the plates for two
Feel the arms that reach out to hold me
In the evening when the day is through

Cancer - The Thief

2008-06-04T07:05:00.004Z

Last year I lost a very dear member of my family to this awful disease. It took time to get over it yet I missed him. He was stolen by cancer. I missed him when I returned to India, and I missed him at my wedding, I wish...there was a lot I wished at that time, and I still do.

Today the thief is back, in another part of another body of yet another family member. She is battling it in surgery today and it does not look good right now. A lot of placating techonlogical jargon has been given, all the stuff about 'technology and new century and best surgeons' has been spoken. People donate to the Cancer Research Fund and Charities..and have been for a long time..has the technology changed and evolved..? Should I believe that? I did, last year, but did it work. Na. And right now, I just dont know. Dont know what to think or believe.

I do not know because I heard these words not so long ago. About the strength of the spirit, and the support that family gives, and the pray and it will work, the trust in God..loads of things were said. None worked.

So where do I stand? Between beleiving in God and the brilliance of Doctors.

The two people I am talking about..were/are the most highly spirited people in the family. The dynamic ones, the ones who made you laugh, made you think, made you crib and made you realise that they are tough nuts to crack. And guess who they met..Cancer.

I do not know if I should give praying another shot. I do not know if crossing my fingers and hoping for the best will work. Is there any point I wonder...this disease seems to win most battles it gets into eventually. Should I block it out of my head, is it possible? Should I try not to worry. Should I take one step at a time, should I wait and see..is there any point?

Am not making much sense to myself right now. Its deeply upsetting, unsettling and depressing, frustrating even..to have a problem and know it is not solvable, not in your control, and there is nothing I can do to change that.

Daddy!

2008-06-02T10:03:00.003Z

This little girl saw her father dress in a suit and head to work everyday. She waved good bye to her Daddy at the door and welcomed him home when he came back. During the day her mother would take her to toddler groups, parks, play grounds and around shops.

One day the mother decided take the little one along and meet her husband for lunch near his office, which was incidentally in the financial hub of the city.
Little child gazes in wonder at the peak lunch hour rush of busy suit clad men, never has she seen so many men, and that too in suits, and says,
"Look ma, so many daddies!"

This little child is my now-not-so-little cousin who now works in the financial sector herself...

Differ

2008-05-09T07:03:00.005Z

Random walk through a standard British High street shopping complex. Visible are the many children who are out. The sun is high and thereby a lot more people are outside their homes. This is the place with next, Oasis, HMV, M&S, Clarks, Primark, Boots, River Island, Debenhams, Top Shop...etc etc..

I see: an English Couple..who I think were in the Chav category. Her in a tight fitting low cut top, and a short denim skirt, loads of makeup, hair scraped tight against her skull, about 4 ear piercings and what looked like too much fake gold. Him in a hooded sleeveless Tshirt, jeans slung low and bright red sneakers. They had a child of about 4 sitting in a push chair. Above his head with animated faces I saw him telling her how the new toy works. The toy in question was a big black plastic gun which was had been bought by him for their little one. The conversation was animated in appearance and the child looked quite involved in the whole thing.

Slighly further on I see: An Asian couple. The standard jeans and T shirt with white sneakers for both. Standing with their 4-ish year old. The child was staring at distant nothing while the parents above his head were busy discussing the new book they had bought for the little one. A book on how to improve handwriting in 4-7 year olds. It was a serious looking discussion with much frowning, shaking of the head in the horizontal 8 figure, gesticulation and finally nodding. The child did not look interested or excited in the least. He was strapped into his pushchair.

What struck me was the seriousness of the second conversation. What made me notice the two cases was the fact that these 2 couples were standing only a few feet away from one another. I do not understand the promotion of guns as toys. Do 'boys' really need them to turn into real 'men'? But what I do not get either was the need to push your child into perfect handwriting..specially with the schools on a break and the summer holiday for schools not far off.

Did I notice them because of the colour of their skin and difference in their activities based on stereotypical image of race? - perhaps yes. What made me write this was because the situation was one which appeared black and white to start with and turned out to be completely grey when analyzed.

Dr Morpheus...

2008-05-02T09:43:00.002Z

I passed. The viva was tough, I got asked the generic questions I expected..but also unexpcted detailed, specific questions..between two people..they went on firing question after question, with no break..it was not fun!
But they concluded..I should get the Doctorate..and I did.
I have some corrections to do..which do not worry me..we all (at PhD level) get them. So yup...I am done. Its been a roller coaster journey..with me hanging on to the need to finish..the reason to finish. Loads of times I did feel the PhD was taking over my life..it did...but life goes on..as one wise friend of mine remarked...you cant put your life on hold and get into 4 years of research..truth!!

Challenges..personal, financial, emotional...they all came. But with two supervisors..one to cajol, encourage and comfort me, and one who kicked my arse constantly..it got done.

The Man gets a special mention..for making tea, getting me everything from paper, to post-its and asprins. From telling me I will finish, I better finish..and ofcourse..the last one before the viva..if you dont pass..we buy a one way ticket to India..and stay there...no pressure then huh?

Family and friends..who encouraged, used negative psychology on me..pestered me, asked me..pestered me..told me things like..'I am growing old watching you study', 'now everyone knows you are doing it..you better finish it', to saying..'ofcourse you shall do it, ofcourse you shall pass..to doubt is silly, but we shall pray for you anyways'..

Thanks one and all.

But..mum gets the last word..'I never thought YOU would study..you would walk around school, cut classes at Univ, scrape past in Physics, fail miserably with single figure marks(out of 100) at Maths..get bored and get told off for staring out of the classroom. You wanted to not graduate but do a fine art course..I am happy and surprised that you have managed to climb up the furthest on the education ladder..there is nothing beyond this..I am proud and stand corrected in my judgment of what children are capable of..one never does know'...

Thanks Ma.

Pass or Fail

2008-05-01T14:10:00.000Z

Why do I need to think about this...for the past few weeks I have been worrying about defending my thesis. The problem in UK being..there are no assurances of a pass, you have to defend a thesis completely and competently..else..a FAIL is a possible..very possible option. I was told only 40% of UK researchers who start a PhD complete it, the rest drop out. I was also told that only 30% of that 40% pass the viva :) SUCH FUN!!

Now I am sitting and earnestly wishing I had rewritten some parts, used a lot more than the 327 books I read..but hey..I think its too late.

So I shall crack on with preparing for any question in or outside the book. Apparently a PhD is given to those who:
- make a useful and original contribution to a field of knowledge
- who show expertise in the area they are working in
- should know all work done previously in the field at all levels
- should be able to demonstrate an in-depth knowledge of the field
- should have used academically acceptable sources and methods of work
- should have in thesis presented a coherent and well sustained argument about the work

..and the list..goes on..

Problem being..you do not get marks - its a pass or a fail. hmmm! yup!! Thats the way it is..

I shall get back to my books!

PATIENCE

2008-04-27T14:27:00.001Z

yes..i have a lot to say..and no i do not have the time. does not mean I am off writing...or am too busy. It just means I am doing something which is absolutely essential to my happiness.

Shall be back in 4 days!

Patience is all I ask for!

Thought Variation

2008-04-06T05:17:00.003Z

Too many thoughts went through my mind as usual while I was in India. These start here in a random chain-
- There are way too many men in Delhi..you hardly see women. I saw fat men, thin men, men with beards, men on bikes, men in cars, men in buses, men on carts, bald men, long haired men, men with combs in their back pockets, men with one long finger nail, men picking their noses, men itching and scratching, men peeing on walls, men spitting on roads, men hanging out of buses, men crossing roads, men in auto rickshaws, men selling stuff, men driving buses, men filling fuel. There were just too many men. I rarely saw women, next time you are in Delhi...keep a 10 min track and see how many women you can spot. Sex ratio in Delhi seems to be twisted.
- Malls seem to be competing for space and attention with fly overs. Delhi was previously a city under construction, fly overs were being made everywhere. Now malls are being made everywhere. I must say flyovers do make life easy - they could improve sign posting to prevent people backing up on one way, high speed lanes. Good roads mean more space to speed and I am not sure if its a good thing. Recently lost a lovely 21 year old girl I knew to a high speed car crash in Delhi - speeds are high!!! Lane driving in something people laugh at, drunk driving is cool, people protest but I did not notice anything being done.
- Malls seem to be full all the time. Gone are the days when one would shop before a festival..now people just shop. Which is great, there is never a dull moment in malls. People demand better products and the products appear - well designed, well presented, well priced, often badly packaged..but hey I aint complaining. Products fly off the shelves as does the food. Everywhere I turned I saw people eating - chat, samosa, chicken tikka, chola bhatura, pakoras, momos, chowmein, kala khatta, dosa, idli, pizza, vada, lasagna, pasta, ice cream, kulfi, freshly washed and sliced coconuts..its eat time. I must say though I did not see any FAT people.
- The consumer spending is amazingly high. Little surprise thus happened when I tentatively mentioned the American economy sliding and the British one just about hanging on..and what this will translate to in India. I was told to shut up and stop being a negative NRI and see how 'strong and robust' the Indian economy is and how it can 'live through anything'. So I did shut up. What pray do I know about economics, except that I read the warnings issued by the Reserve Bank of India in the Economic Times and other newspapers, and was foolish enough to believe it. I was also told to think about the 'media' that likes to scare people and thus not believe what I read.
- The magnolia trees in bloom in India made me smile. There were lavender colour trees as well. Also seen were bright red flowers in tall trees with no leaves. Spring had sprung in Delhi with daisies and pansies and lilies and jasmine and roses out in full bloom. The trees were green, though a bit dusty. It looked pretty and welcoming. However I did not see as many Gulmohar trees as I seem to remember seeing as a child. Where have all the Gulmohars gone?
- My travels included Delhi & Jammu only. Delhi was crazy with the number of people I was supposed to meet competing with the people who I wanted to meet who were competing with people I was told to meet, which all clashed with the shopping I wanted to do, shopping I needed to do and shopping I was told to do, which clashes with my standard must-go-to list of Delhi - Dilli Haat, Baba Kharak Singh Marg, walk the entire inner circle of CP, walk along Janpath to Cottage, GK 1 M Block Market & Hauz Khas village. I must say I managed to do everything...but could not get to spend enough time everywhere.
- I was fed, watered and welcomed home as usual. New member in the house is yet another Black cocker spaniel called Scooby who deserved a post of his own. Let me just say a name like Lucifer would suit him well. I spend much time playing with him and getting affectionate licks every 3 mins. I am told I am being missed by him, he sleeps by the door till 3 am these days..waiting for me. {Awwwww!!}
- At my in-laws home I was fed to within an inch of my life. I slept till 10 am each day and also a bit in the afternoon. I woke up to the morning breeze with undercurrents of rose. Roses that grow in the garden outside the window and are carried by the cool air through the open windows. I heard bird song each morning..it was quiet, idyllic and relaxing. Spent most of my time in Jammu talking..non stop. It was good fun.
- Met old relatives and great aunts of the husband. Which was nice yet strange, good job my little 5 yr old nephew was not there or he would have asked his standard question for old people,"Where do you keep your teeth?"
- Jammu is a nice place for a short break..nothing to do. Eat + Sleep. It also has amazingly small tiny alley ways and lanes which sell everything from Amartya Sen's books to Indian Kitsch! Glitzy clothes and garlands made of a notes..real notes, which I had always seen on TV but never up close..so in Jammu I went and felt this garland to see if it was made of actual currency..seems like it does. I now know how to mortify my brother (who is a total city slicker) when he gets married!! Jammu also enticed me with its river side palace which has a superbly located restaurant- service was poor but the location was good. I also saw the old secretariat which burnt down..lovely..amazingly beautiful building. [Shall post pictures soon I am assuming]
- I know no one in Jammu apart from my inlaws + my mobile phone does not work there..which means I got no phone calls and I had to meet / speak to no-one I knew :) I do not pick the home phone as I am new to the house, same reason why I dont answer the door bell...it was peaceful!
- Met cousins and friends..which is always good and comforting. Good to catch up specially since time was precious. As it always is in a short break. Managed to talk a lot, hence sleep was evaded. I now need a vacation to recover from this one on India.

T4.

2008-03-10T10:04:00.004Z

T4 is the poorer cousin of T3 at Heathrow. All of 3 shops at the departures, one chemist - Boots, one coffee shop - Nero, and one book/ newsagent - WHSmith.

British Airways owns this terminal, and HSBC has selected it to be the target of all its adverts. And outside the airport terminal there is never ending construction work with a bold title on the scaffolding, 'BAA Working towards building an airport London could be proud of'. I say..wow! ooh! I see!

The thing is I can not see, the amount of tax we pay for this, and the amount of service I expect in return is obviously not matching. I do expect a pub/ restaurant of sorts, I do expect a decent set of shops, several ATMs, several phone booths, an internet cafe etc etc. Yes I know its departures only and all you need to do is check in bags and walk into the world of Duty Free! But many a times you get there and wait till check in opens, specially when you are catching connecting flights. There is no where to sit and wait, there is nothing! Pathetic! Not to mention people who wake up at an alarmingly early hour to meet and say good bye to loved ones..who have nowhere to sit and chat.

How come in Europe, they have a proper cafe culture even at airports, why do they have shops that sell more than newspapers and medicines at the airport. How come there are comfy seats to sit and wait on, even decent bars to have a quick drink with your amtes before you need to get into security and get out?
And last but not the least..it is an UGLY UGLY building..

And now they are testing out T5 for comfort etc..sigh!

Homelessness

2008-03-08T13:43:00.002Z

Just when I had figured out which of my paintings goes on which wall..ding dong. Bell. Recorded delivery. Tenancy cut short, please move home.
So the search has to begin again. For another house. SIGH!
Bearing in mind how hard it was last time around..oh..I will not even bother writing. Depressed at the very thought.
These record my thoughts from the not so long ago house hunt
House and Home
Finicky Woman
Where do I begin

Just when I thought I shall go to India, chill, come back, study, give Viva, add the 'Dr' before my name! Now I have to pack, find house, unpack! oh Dear!

Mobile Phones and Me.

2008-03-06T14:37:00.005Z

Ok..its officially time for me to get a new one. I have spent a year with the same phone and now I am due a free upgrade. The problem is...I hate looking for the right deal = Rental + Handset + Free Minutes + Texts + Network of my choice.

Needless to say my current network provider has been chasing me with their 'amazing deals' which are of course 'tailor made' and only for 'me'. These offers supposedly do not last beyond 48 hours and must be taken 'now'.
And it does not end there, I need to hear about how expensive the new handset is and how many phones are lost and stolen everyday in UK..and therefore I must buy insurance on the phone. The fact that I have never in the past 10 years lost one..makes no differebce.
I also have to hear about the 8GB memory, 5 mega pixel camera, slide phones, slip phones, QWERTY keyboards (that was easy to type!), Bluetooth, MP3 player, light weight phone, display size,...the list just goes on..and on and on...

Too many options are sometimes not nice. So far I have had many a Nokia, Sony Ericsson, Seimens, Motorola, Sagem, Samsung, NEC, Blackberry, LG. I grew up and out of Nokia..for some reason..flip phones aint my style, slide phones are just fiddly, qwerty keyboards make handsets huge. Grey colour phones are boring, black ones try too hard, chargers ofcourse have been designed to cause us customers as much pain as possible, fat ones do not fit easily into my dinky handbags, the very slim ones generally dont do much apart from looking thin(quite like their human counterparts), the huge screen ones get scratched easily, putting a phone in a sock is so NOT me..

So what do you want? was what the sales guy asked me.

Bearing in mind this little object shall go pretty much everywhere I go with me for the next year..it better be worth the effort..or buying and carrying..

So, what DO I want..hmm..let me think, a phone which rings, talks to my computer, plays music, has a good battery life because I talk a lot, and is light and small. And it should not cost anything..I want it free, and I want it delivered by tomorrow morning.

The options I have been given are..Blackberry 8310, (the Pearl has a s**t tracker ball..I am hoping this one is better). Sony Ericsson K860i (touch phone with a tracker wheel), HTC - MDA touch (looks good..but is it any good?) I do not want a Nokia..and I do not want the iPhone..its too big to be of any use to me with my microscopic size hands (its amazing the people who made the Air, also made the iPhone!!)....plus there is a monopoly of O2 over the phone, and it is locked to the network..and it still costs a lot!

Hmm...so here I am thinking about phones..when all I need is one that rings and does not need to be plugged to a wall each night! But guess what, I have been meaning to figure this one out since Jan end..and have I? Nope? why? Because unlike other things which I can decide about with my eyes closed and not regret..getting a phone..which you need to hold on to for a year..is hard! Oh I wish someone would decide, book it, get it and give it to me..I have started dreading this time of the year now..EVERY year I have had to face the trauma of upgrading my phone for free!!

I acting like a girl. I know. But I am.

India..here I come!

2008-03-02T08:07:00.003Z

The tickets have been bought. And I am heading to Delhi once again on my annual pilgrimage to India.
To meet the loved ones, the not so loved but must-meet-its-rude-not-to ones, the adored ones, the not-so-little-anymore ones, dearest friends, relatives, in-laws, relatives of inlaws, those who came for the wedding but I did not get a chance to talk to (on account of attempts being made to be the coy, shy bride)..the list goes on.
India also means the annual emotional battery recharging that I need. The need to connect to base, or as my mother calls it, head office! I need to go back to head office, let my hair (or whats left of it) down, sleep, eat, talk, make friends with the new cocker spaniel pup in the house and of course do the inevitable shopping.

Now, this is the thing. When I first moved to UK in 2000, there were a 1000 things I did not get here which I dearly wanted..pickle, hajmola, aam papar, bombay mix chewra, masalas, cotton clothes, flat shoes. If it was not in style, it was not readily available. This is of course before I had access to Ikea and Primark! So I used to make a long list of things I wanted from India. And needless to say used to come back with overloaded suitcases! Now I live about 10 mins from an area where not only is there Indian food stuff of every kind, there are onions flown in from Bombay, thepla from Ahmedabad, Revari and Gajjak from Lucknow. Everything is available, easily and it does not cost an arm and a leg!
So when my mother asked me this morning what I want..I actually had nothing to say. Craft made bed covers and cushions, check. Rugs and Carpets, check. Bedcovers and duvet covers, check. Pressure cookers and karahi, check. Masala box with those miniscule round katoris for 6 masalas in one steel box, check. Yup..I can go on..and on..and on..and on and they are all available here. So what do I want from India?

And it works the other way round. When I used to leave from here at the start of this decade, there were requests for Body Shop body butter, Marks and Spencer clothes, comfortable high heels, Dior lipstick, chocolates and scotch whiskey. Now, all these are available more readily in India now and I dont need to lug them there anymore. Which means I am all out of gifts to buy. Ok some chocolates like Milka, Maltesers etc I have not seen in India yet. I have also not seen chocolates and biscuits for people with diabetes. I do not know about Laphroaig whisky or Glenmorangie..both of which are made in Scotland...so yes I shall carry my pack of chocolates and whiskey.

I always get caught up in last minute gift thinking. And then I also load myself at the airport. And once I am home, I unpack and hand out gifts, eat what I had ordered 48 hours ago and promptly go to sleep. That is just the way it has been for the past 7-8 years.

And so it begins..yet another trip to India. I have lost count of how many times I have been home in the past 8 years..3-4 times a year sometimes, sometimes less..enough to collect air miles and fly free to India..yes. I know I should get over the excitement which is borne not only out of travel..but the chance to be home. The last time I was home it was exactly a year ago..to get married..and that was good..but not what I would call fun. Had it been someone else's wedding I would have deployed that word. However I did not get the chance to relax and catch up with everyone. Now I shall make up for that.

Long distance travel + Heathrow Airport = Mental tiredness at the very thought.
Home + Mom + Dad + Siblings + Mad dog = Happy hand rubbing in glee thought, I am more than willing to fly 8hr 45min to Delhi..:) in a week then..I shall be there.

Possibility of both?

2008-02-29T09:49:00.005Z

Of course he should bring me flowers on a whim.
He should whisk me away for a weekend to Paris.
He should also buy me things to wear..clothes, shoes, perfume, jewelery..
I want to be swept off my feet..politeness and door opening, and all that...
Precious is my middle name. I wear high heels.
I like floral prints.
Small and petite I am, I like it when people help me lift luggage to high racks.
Candlelit dinners, long drives at night.
Walking on a beach in moonlight,
and listening to the silence of the mountains.
I like holding hands and being told I am loved.
Yes I am a romantic.

But then..
I also do not want to be treated like I am made of porcelain,
Cleaning and cooking do not come as bonus skills with a uterus.
Vacuum cleaners and dishwashers are not gender specific.
I do not like being told what to wear.
The body I have is not all that I have, I would like appreciation of what resides in my head too.
I am not on object and do not like being treated like one.
I can drive, open doors, unlock phones, operate machines,
I also like technology and know how to work it.
the presence of breasts does not diminish my ability to use logic.
The love of high heels does not mean I cant outrun you.
I work hard, and play hard.
Scotch on the rocks and cappuccinos are equally favoured.
I am not a responsibility.
And no one owns me.

Is it possible to be a feminist and a romantic?

London

2008-02-28T13:18:00.004Z

Shot by yours truly.

60 every year

2008-02-20T14:58:00.003Z

I spent...

5 years = 60 months
Thousands of £££ on living expenses
On software, hardware, cameras,
dicta phones, batteries, paper,
phone calls, air tickets, fuel,
bus tickets, train tickets...
Many streams of tears
Many days filled with worry
Endless hours reading
And even more writing
Learned how to hide from things,
how to forget about things,
how to speak about things,
and find out about things.

A long journey of 5 years, and all I have is
300 pages. 60 every year.
All I know, and all I learned, packed,
in a linear fashion into an academic thesis.

But I am glad..its over,
and now I await my exam.

My Baby is being Born!

2008-02-17T20:09:00.003Z

Oh dear! This is painful. No one told me I would be this nervous, so unprepared and so worried. I am worried about how it will go, if I shall get through it smoothly and one last chance to hold on to this thing that has been a part of my for the past 5 years!

The PhD ladies and gentlemen is about ready to be born. I am ready for a final colour print and 5 copies, glued and bound to be submitted for examination. And I am nervous. Yes I have presented papers, given lectures and published my work. Yes I have done over 7 drafts of it and can recite forward and backwards in my sleep. Its been the pain in my life. The never ending work of writing and re-writing. Of traveling to Kashmir and back, transcribing interviews, asking pointed questions, lying or sitting still contemplating. Worrying about the end results. Thinking about word limits and the use of subjective opinions, of reading lists and reference formatting. It has been one long painful process of regurgitating my thoughts into text. Writing a linear story of a circuitous route of research. Mind maps converted into chapters and text. That flows, in terms of structure and content.

And now I have been given the go-ahead by my mentor to submit it for examination. No more edits, nothing. Hand it in and let the baby be. The baby shall be up for examination sometime soon and I am so nervous. I am not worried, I just wonder if perhaps I could improve it in some other way, give it yet another once over. Edit and edit more. Make it more perfect.

Which is why its my baby. I wonder if people (who examine it) will understand it, look after it, care about what it says and understand the painful process it has been, this journey of birthing it. I worry if I can make it a better baby and if I have been as good as I could have been to it.

And once it is out of my hands, it shall be out there in the world, to be read, used by anyone who wants to know about Kashmir, women, crafts, post conflict reconstruction, Islam, NGOs. It shall no longer be research close to my heart. It shall be a baby on its own. And then I shall get tested on it!

I feel like saying Boo!hoo! and Yipee! clicking my heels together midair. I never thought this point would come, I have dreamed of finishing, I have felt like finishing it, quitting it, getting rid of it, not thinking about it, trying to ignore it. But no more! Life as I know it, shall be different from Wednesday onwards!

Of The Lord Of The Rings and V-Day

2008-02-15T17:28:00.007Z

Last night was magical. Apart from Londoner's turning out looking lovely and smelling good. And roses available everywhere, the air, albeit cold, was fragrant!
Him and I went to see The Lord Of the Rings at the Theatre Royal on Drury Lane of Covent Garden. I have seen some musicals and quite a bit of theatre but nothing came close to magic of this one.
I sat there, completely enraptured!

The option for V-Day for me was a cryptic text message, 'Fantasy OR Hollywood'. I did not know what he was thinking but the surprise plan was to ask my opinion and then lead me on to see it! I chose fantasy. And oh boy, did it live up the expectations and a bit more.

The LOTR had magnificent sets, and thats a bit of an understatement! It initially made me look at it and think wow! I moved from being a spectator of the proceedings, aware of the people around me, the heads of the people in front of me, the sounds of people coughing, of crisps being eaten and the occasional mobile phone going off, as things moved on stage, I sort of fell into it. Enraptured, sucked into, speechless and absorbed to the exclusion of my surroundings. The interval made me come back to life and my surroundings.

The costumes were amazing as was the music. Sometime into the play, some Orcs made their way up into the audience and decided to breathe loudly around us and stare up close to our faces, scaring the life out of some, but making the make-believe even more real. They thumped around and snarled and shocked people, especially the children in the audience. It was really good! The Gigantic spider was unnervingly real as were the scenes of battle and the very fluid, slimy and creepy Gollum. Galadriel was ethereal and Gandalf had great delivery with a booming voice. The music of A.R.Rahman made itself known through some beats and use of musical instruments that are familiar to people who have heard his work.

The place was jam packed with families, couples and individuals. The whole thing was seamless.It was well worth a visit. And I was glad I was kept out of the mushy restaurants with hearts on the walls, and roses, and confetti and champagne and starry eyed people staring at each other over candle light. Valentine's day makes me sick with the amount of sweeti-ness that goes around. Him and I tend to run away from the crowds on the mushy day of the year. Whether it is to South Queensferry in Edinburgh, or to Lonavala I think we are expected to quit being mushy in a post marriage stage anyways! I am warned there shall be a day when if he brings me flowers I shall need to ask him - whats up?

Both sides now..

2008-02-14T12:57:00.002Z

Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
Ive looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
Ive looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its cloud illusions I recall
I really dont know clouds at all

Moons and junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
Ive looked at love that way

But now its just another show
You leave em laughing when you go
And if you care, dont let them know
Dont give yourself away

Ive looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
Its loves illusions I recall
I really dont know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say I love you right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
Ive looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say Ive changed
Well somethings lost, but somethings gained
In living every day

Ive looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
Its life's illusions I recall
I really dont know life at all
Ive looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
Its life's illusions I recall
I really dont know life at all

~Joni Mitchell, Both Sides Now

More from her here

Spaced-Out

2008-02-14T12:37:00.003Z

Deja Vu happening.
Have been here before,
in a space where I seem to be free falling.
In a time vacuum where nothing moves normally.
Things only seem to float by,
gravity-less, in slow motion.
Time stands still,
and then passes in large chunks.
I stare, watch.

Things outside,
a glass wall outside.
a bubble.
Its Zorbing in slow motion.
Sights, without the sounds.

And the lyrics in my head go round and round,
on repeat

'In my head there is a greyhound station,
where I send my thoughts to far off destinations'
Death Cab for Cutie - Plans

US Embassy, London

2008-02-13T08:55:00.004Z

Well big headed moi has been invited to lecture in Buffalo in the US. Not too sure if I am going, so I thought lets start at the visa end and see how the process works and which category I can apply under, costs etc.

Well to know anything about booking appointments at the US embassy London you need to call a 0903 number, this costs £1.30 per min + the costs of the network provider. Not only is there no other way to book an appointment apart from calling this number. This number once it rings will book you an appointment, take your details, and also a payment in advance for your Visa. Should you not get the Visa, they shall keep the money! So its the standard 131$ for the B-1 + about 60$ for the phone call!! And then maybe you shall get an appointment in time to get a flight..6-8 weeks min time, 3-6 months max time..and then also there might be a refusal at the end of it!!!

I mean hello? Do you want me to come? I will not bother with this process, the effort involved in applying for a US visa is not only too expensive but their approach is condescending and he dont-bother-to-come, we-dont-really-want-you-there attitude sucks. What if I dont have a phone from which I can make a call to this number. In which case the USELondon page says, ask your friends or family to make this call. They know this number is costly and most phones wont allow you to dial!! And then there is the non refundable fee!! Tch!

Other embassies for European nations also have these numbers, but you can book things online if needed, they will take longer but at least everyone should have access!!

I am sure someone should raise this as an issue to the Brit authorities, this is unfair trade, after all we are consumers/ customers, we are paying for a service, not a favour!! It makes my blood boil!

Too much I tell you! And when people ask me if I have been to the other side of the pond, I say NO! And I dont want to either, they recoil with shock. The No.1 nation, the freedom of America, its power, its glory..they dont attract you? I am asked.
Nay, says I, Nay. Nothing does! And this is without my even starting a rant about Bush!

Curse You!

2008-02-10T11:35:00.000Z

Came across some research around the history of an ancient Chinese curse,

'For centuries the Chinese used an ancient curse: "May you live in interesting times!" It isn't a curse any more. It's a blessing. We're scientific and civilized. We've got so many rights and liberties and freedoms that one can yearn for chains for the sheer pleasure of busting them and shaking them off. Reckon life would be more livable if there were any chains left to bust.'
~Eric Frank Russell, April 1950.

This curse of living in interesting times should be read as living in 'turbulent' times, which acts as a curse for anyone who considered stability and constancy as a sign of prosperity. This is in line with Confucian thinking..where stability acts as a precursor to happiness, peace, wealth and well being.
This curse could be seen from varied perspective, depending on your personality type. Many a person would rather die than be in a stable, secure, uneventful environment. However there are those who have lived through years of turbulence and only wish for peace..it depends on what, where, how and who you are. Something to think about I guess...

This curse gets upgraded (as the person thats cursing gets increasingly agitated I suppose). It goes on to become:
* May you come to the attention of those in authority
and then worse still...
* May you find what you are looking for

Eerie, creepy, but there is some truth they hold. These people really did think out things in depth and use them right. I am glad mum's not Chinese or inclined to such thinking..such a curse from someone who knows you would (should) freak you out!

Kabul

2008-02-08T14:02:00.000Z

As part of the work that I do and am involved with I have a deep interest in the women in Afghanistan, specially so Kabul. The stories of buzkashi and kite flying have been shown in popular culture..but I have been looking for more personal stories..I dont know why, but there is something about a nation in conflict, of rulers and dictators, beauty and cruelty, mountains and poppy fields..something stark, raw, wild yet beautiful.

I came across this poem (from which Khaled Hosseini found the title of his new book) - Its called - Kabul, by Saib-e-Tabrizi, a 17th century Persian poet.

Though somethings get lost in translation..i describes achingly well..the city that was, and his love for it..

Ah! How beautiful is Kabul encircled by her arid mountains
And Rose, of the trails of thorns she envies
Her gusts of powdered soil, slightly sting my eyes
But I love her, for knowing and loving are born of this same dust

My song exhalts her dazzling tulips
And at the beauty of her trees, I blush
How sparkling the water flows from Pul-I-Bastaan!
May Allah protect such beauty from the evil eye of man!

Khizr chose the path to Kabul in order to reach Paradise
For her mountains brought him close to the delights of heaven
From the fort with sprawling walls, A Dragon of protection
Each stone is there more precious than the treasure of Shayagan

Every street of Kabul is enthralling to the eye
Through the bazaars, caravans of Egypt pass
One could not count the moons that shimmer on her roofs
And the thousand splendid suns that hide behind her walls

Her laughter of mornings has the gaiety of flowers
Her nights of darkness, the reflections of lustrous hair
Her melodious nightingales, with passion sing their songs
Ardent tunes, as leaves enflamed, cascading from their throats

And I, I sing in the gardens of Jahanara, of Sharbara
And even the trumpets of heaven envy their green pastures

London is a Kind Place

2008-02-05T10:19:00.000Z

Moving on from having damaged my Medial Collateral Ligament..which means I walk with a stick, and shall have to for the next 6-8 weeks. So having sat on my backside for a long time to rest my knee just as I was told..I decided I could not take it anymore and so went out for the first time with my shiny new crutch. I have never used one before..and so it took a bit of time to get the hang of it. I am ok to walk, but a stair or a step is a bugger! And there are brand new aches and pains from using the crutch which has thrown my body out of alignment..and it HURTS!!

Anyhow..so I am getting out and about London for the first time with a crutch...
I take the London Public transport to the National Film Theater on London's Southbank. And I enter a whole new world. Not talking about the theater here...the crutch..people are SO VERY nice to you. I did not realize it. I am sure I am the same when I see someone with a walking stick/ wheelchair/ crutch. I did not see it coming at all.

On the tube, the ticket/Oyster check guy opened the wide gate for me so I would not struggle through the barriers, people stood behind me patiently, waiting for me to climb in and out of the train , they got up and offered me their seats one old man insisted I sit in his space. Someone held my elbow as I scrambled to get into the tube. On the escalator, people let me go first. Someone helped me get off it without falling over. When I went to the loo, people let me go first, held open doors. The serving staff at the Cafe came out from behind their counters to serve me, made me sit, got me my stuff while others stood patiently in the queue waiting to pay for what they had picked up. At the theater the security guy called the lift for me, let me sit on his chair while I waited for the husband to come and fetch me. When I got up, someone helped me with my coat and bag, yet another time someone held my things while I slowly sat down on my seat.

On my way to work, rush hour pushing came to a halt as I hobbled along. On the commute to another city to teach I was asked if I want a tea or a coffee and I paid someone to get me a hot drink from the buffet car, saving me the hassle of needing to walk in a high speed lurching train.
Smiles I got loads of smiles. Nice ones, sympathetic ones, I am sorry I did not see your stick ones :) it was nice.

I dont know why I am so surprised. I dont know if I should be. I mean the very same people push and shove and rush you when you have fully functioning limbs. The very same people go tutting when you hold up a queue. The very same people will make you wait for hours on your own without a nod or sign of support if you seem to be fit enough to take it.

I am happy there is some amount of kindness in these people who rush around London and seem careless and cold. I am glad to see politeness as well of standing patiently. I love the good hearts these people hide well within them. To help, without asking.

I am not sure if I would feel the same if this crutch was a permanent part of my life. I might, in that case, take this kindness as patronizing..But the point is. It is not patronizing at all. It shows that people can be kind, when needed.

Joint problems

2008-02-01T17:34:00.000Z

And so it happened that we walked along the Southbank, along the Thames, past Westminster, past The London Eye, past the coffee shops, along the stretch of the river till we reached the Tower of London which most people think of as London Bridge..walked walked walked, ate some pastry, had some coffee, caught the tube, went to South Kensington, walked around Harrods, walked around Brompton Road, had more coffee and then went back to Oxford Circus, walked to Edgeware Road...ate kebabs..walked past Maroush and then got home.
I managed to twist and wrench my knee. It got swollen, now I can not walk without wincing..and need to see the Doctor to get a walking stick!

Life sucks! Or maybe its Old Age!

When 3 is a crowd.

2008-02-01T15:55:00.000Z

Marriage is a strange institution, those in will testify to it testing their limits and reaching points where you wonder why you did this to yourself, willingly and happily. Those who are married however will also tell you that there is a lot of good in it which is hard to explain and give examples of. Often you would find the Smug Married Couples egging on and fixing up dates for their single friends. Yes it has its downs and sad times, rough times and 'wonder why' and 'wish I had not' times but then nothing in life is ever smooth sailing anyways. You would disagree with your parents, siblings, colleagues, friends..and in the same queue is the spouse as well..expecting any different would be silly I would think. Marriages are strange but I still believe in the institution, why, is another post.

It comes to a point sometimes when marriages do not work out and then the legal systems of justice are sought to sometimes willingly, sometimes reluctantly, more than often painfully hand out the respite needed for a couple to part ways- divorce. Not easy, not fun, but currently becoming increasingly common. I am sure you know someone or of someone fairly close who has been divorced, its not uncommon and its not taboo anymore. Okay most people would rather not talk about it but that does not mean its not an increasingly common phenomenon in our society. This established lets move on...

On to the mid way point. The point where there are 3 in a marriage. Where one person deems it ok to seek comfort, warmth, love and solace elsewhere due to unhappiness in their marriage. Where one party is finding comfort knowing the marriage is not working and thus moving on. But is it really moving on? Are affairs justified in this day of easy divorce? I am sure there are many kinds of affairs, some to pass time, some to elevate boredom, some to test the greener grass, ego boosting affairs, what was i thinking affairs, i was lured into it affairs. But the ones which are I-was-unhappy-therefore does not make sense.

It is increasingly easy to dupe and lie as we all(men and women) work now, we have a life, friends, meetings, team building session, break away sessions, away days at work, the gym, the driving instructor, the IT guy, the interns etc etc..the list is endless. We meet people of all sorts, sit judgment on some, make friends with others, quite like somethings in someone, dislike others..social interaction on a daily basis with strangers is a part of our lives. We can choose to do what we want, think what we like, and come home..back to the person we married. The ability to meet someone new is constant. A problem at home might send you running in the direction of someone who looks remotely decent to you. Might be the wrong person..but to someone its escape..from the problems at home.

I know I am no one to sit judgement on someone else's life and decisions, but if a marriage has died, and you want to move on, would it not make more sense if you let the other person know. Close the chapter on it. Then move on. Are you not willingly hurting someone (agreed you dont care about them and dont love them anymore) but are you not going out of your way to hurt someone willingly by lying and doing what comforts you? Is it justified to hurt someone because you are unhappy?

Whatever happened to the sanctity of marriage, agreed trust and honesty collapse when a marriage collapses,but what happened to mopping up the mess you make. And from the other persons (the affairee if such a term exists) point of view. Someone who is in a relationship with someone who is unhappy in a marriage, probably quite messed up in the head, who needs support yes, a shoulder maybe, but also practical sense, they do not need people to help mess them up even further.

I dont know quite what to think about this. I am quite anti-cheating. If you are sure enough that you want something else from your life, then be brave enough to express it, be strong enough to talk about it and be kind enough to let the other person out of the marriage as well as yourself.

In some culture I read about it says that when you lie you kill a part of your soul. Maybe it is true.

Could you love Facebook?

2008-01-31T08:03:00.000Z

This is something I just read, about Facebook. For those of you who have been away from Planet internet, Facebook is a social utility that connects you with the people around you. With a population of users which is deemed to exceed that of UK...it has become a popular way of connecting to people.

This post is a reaction to what the Guardian UK had to say about Facebook..

Interesting..rant if I may call it that. It does have a lot of background information. It is always good to know the background of things you use/ know of/ believe in..however it seems to be nothing I use is devoid of any evil thinking behind it. I use Google (who doesn't) for mail, blogging, photographs and many other things, I walk on streets which are loaded with CCTVs, recording my every move, every time I use my Oyster the Mayor of London, amongst 1000s of other people at TFL, knows where I have been, my credit cards show what I have bought for how much and my store cards tell you what I like, my blackberry tells anyone who wants to know where I am at what time, speaking to who and for how long. I sign data protection statements and then they go and misplace CDs with personal data which is not even encrypted. Wow! And then there is the ability to talk about privacy settings on Facebook! Hello?

It is good to be kept in the know, but I think something good has to be said about facebook too. Apart from the fact that I can now communicate almost daily with people without needing to ring them, I have also managed to locate school friends and college friends as well as Univ friends who are scattered across the planet. I would never have thought of meeting them or seeing them again..but we were great friends when we were in the same geographic location..its good to be able to see them, see photos of their children, who look exactly like them, see videos from the kids I used to babysit, see my neice and nephew who keep traveling the world, I did not have email addresses of all my friends and family to start with, so finding them thus has been good.

Thanks to facebook I can join Anti David Cameron groups, be part of and create pressure groups which have managed to push MNC banks back about some new charges they created for students. Imagine being able to change HSBC's mind without raising placards and walking through wet cold streets in protest. You would say there is something inspiring about marching in protest..I would say not, I was there for the anti-war marches all over UK, the first time around in Afghanistan and the second time round in Iraq, it is not fun, democracy is just about alive anyways...but I digress.

I will not say Facebook is evil scum and should not be used, I will not say it is BAD and should be banned, I would ask what isn't? After all using our options and things available to be used / misused around us for our own advantage is what it is all about. No one is squeaky clean, its is about what you want to see and know about things and then see what you want to DO about them. As they say in Hindu philosophy in the Bhagwad Geeta, everything happens for your own good.

You Tend To Wonder

2008-01-30T13:44:00.000Z

Random thoughts happening. I have a load of things to do and get out of my way (dont we all) and of course the more pressing the need and the closer the deadline..the further away I want to walk from work. My mother calls it 'shirking' some call it 'escapist' others call it 'lazy', I call it, 'work-best-under-pressure'...I do. It makes sense. When my back is against the wall and I KNOW that something needs doing, doing well ofcourse, but urgently needs doing, I think about it, I put it to the back of my head and then have Random thoughts:

~ Whether my dog is feeling better after being rather sick
~ I should upload a new version of my lecture on the e-learning website
~ This haircut is not very nice
~ Facebook is addictive and I should not use it
~ I missed that film which was based on the book
~ I never see chick flicks anymore
~ Why do men like action films with blood and gore
~ Would I sleep all day if I could?
~ Will India be cold in March?
~ Do I feel any differently about India than I did 10 years ago?
~ Why does winter behave like a petulant child and not go away quietly
~ Do I want to teach for the rest of my life?
~ Where would I like to travel to if money and time were limitless
~ Why do I like all mountainous places?
~ The Shampoo is running out
~ I need to think about calling some friends to dinner sometime soon
~ Why does going to gym make my mind empty?

....the list goes on..I can sit, thought hopping all day. I dont need a book, internet, TV, human company, phone..I can just sit there..thinking random useless thoughts and wondering..its amazing..and this need to wonder is directly proportional to urgency of things that need doing.