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Monday 18 March 2013

Travel and Souvenirs


Many years ago, when I started travelling abroad, I noticed people buying things that they didn’t really need. I was brought up in a middle class home where we only shopped for things that we needed and nothing more. Therefore I was surprised when I saw people buying dozens of assorted key-chains as if they were free.

That was the first time I was introduced to the concept of souvenirs.

I learnt that people shop for souvenirs to bring back home the memories of the places that they visited and to give away mementos to their well-wishers too.

I used to love dolls, I had decided then that I would collect dolls from every country that I visited.





But this passion did not last long, because after traveling to many places, storing the dolls was an issue. There are many souvenirs I have collected over the years but most of them I have given them away. They attract me but the thought of storing puts me off.

Walking through the narrow streets of Ghana I came across this wooden carved figure and I couldn't resist buying
 trekking through the dirt path in the interiors of Tenerife in Spain, I came across a tiny shop that sold this metal lizard with a baby
 Then I was looking for table lamp and loved this hand painted shade with a carved metal stand when I saw it in Spain
masks always amuse me and this tiny wooden mask captured my attention




Over the years I have collected many souvenirs that have included books, artifacts, coins, key-chains, fridge magnets and many more.



It becomes easy to give as souvenir to friends, specially those who appreciate it.






I have tried many airlines but I like to travel in those flights that have good inflight shopping. Most of them have duty free stuff like perfumes, jewelry and drinks. But sometimes if you are lucky you might find rare things too, for example this ‘camel-tooth-pick’ souvenir that I had purchased during my travels to Dubai.



When the inflight shopping is interesting, then it is certainly much better activity than just sleeping and eating, no?


Sunday 10 March 2013

Women’s Day Tea Party


International Women’s Day is celebrated on March 8. The idea of celebrating this day is for recognizing the importance of women’s role in the society. It is an occasion to review how far they have come in their struggle for equality, peace and development. It is also an opportunity to unite, network and mobilize for meaningful change.




And I got opportunity to unite and network with women this week end when I got an invitation from Rushina to attend her Tea party at her studio.

All I could feel was thrill, thrill, thrill!



At 4pm I arrived with my friend at APB cook studio. I am always impressed at this cook studio that has a large kitchen with 6 working stations. Plus there are shelves of products on sale that include sauces, jams and other food items, there are also food magazines and other interesting kitchen articles like apron, kitchen clocks that we may not find at other places.  



The room was filled with beautiful well-dressed ladies, all with their smart phone, ready to click the event. There was ample food and drinks to pamper the taste buds. There were bite size desserts from ‘Icing on Top’, mini cakes from ‘Piccoli Tortini’, sauces from ‘i2cook’ , wine from ‘Fratelli wines’, tea from ‘tea Trunk’. The evening was all about networking, sharing of ideas and communicating. I had an interesting conversation with Meeta who updated me on healthy eating.



The evening was packed with activities like sharing the skills and demonstration of recipes.



Akshola Honawar of ‘Runal Salon’ educated us on hair care telling us the importance of massage and spa.




This was followed by the reading of a book “Escape from Harem’ by Tanushree Poddar.




Next there was a discussion on adding prunes to our regular diet followed by demonstration of recipes with prune by Harsha Sabnani




Rushina demonstrated the recipe of stuffed mushrooms and chicken in orange juice and wine, which was tangy and sweet, an interesting combination.



The evening was lovely, made lots of new friends and yes, not to forget the gift hamper that had peanut butter, pitted prunes, a test tube bottle of tea leaves, fig jam and spicy Paan masala






Tuesday 5 March 2013

No More Visits To The Libraries



Remember this? A library card that was stamped with the date, on the day the book was borrowed. The popularity of the book was judged by the number of times it was borrowed.

I remember those days when I was more regular at the libraries than in the classrooms. I was allowed to borrow four books from British Library, which was located in South Mumbai. The books were heavy but it did not deter me from carrying that weight. The monthly trips to the library were quite tedious. There were no auto rickshaws in those days, hiring a taxi was out of question; there was no direct route by bus. I used to walk (a good 15 minutes) with that heavy weight from my house to Bandra stations, then a local train ride of 30 minutes from Bandra to Churchgate, and then another walk for 30 minutes to Nariman point, where the library was located. I marvel at my energy quotient at that time. Auto Rickshaws have made me lazy, I think.

The reward after this tedious journey was an entry into an air-conditioned room full of books and magazine.

Rows and rows of books, categorized according to their subject and titles, found their place on the shelf. We could search the book either by going from shelf to shelf or go through the categorized cards that had list of all the books.

Spending a day at the British library was an outing by itself. I used to spend all hours, watching documentary films, reading magazines and then borrowing books. Silence was maintained that allowed us to concentrate on reading. Many times I used to be distracted by young couples, playing footsies while reading, an uneasy distraction perhaps.

Internet had not yet made its entry into my world and I depended on books and magazines for an inspiration to write. Not that I wrote much, but it gave me immense pleasure to read at leisure and be in my own sphere.

I loved being surrounded by books. It was like sitting in the middle of boat where stories are doing their rounds. The words floated in the air, silently attached to each other by series of hyphens. Even during my travels, I looked for a library to spend few moments of peace.

I dreamt of owning a library of my own and had even started a collection, but life took too many turns, the migration to different countries made it impossible for me to carry my heavy books with me. Heart bled as I distributed my books away before moving. Most of my books have not come back, I am not sure if they are safe in their adopted homes.

Books have a life of their own, their own fragrance, and texture that cannot be compromised by e-books. The few books that are left with me are the feast for my eyes.



Monday 4 March 2013

Condolence: I am Sorry!



In Tenerife, there is a festival at the end of the carnival called Sardina during which burial of sardine takes place. There is a huge procession of men dressed as weeping widows. Women cover their heads with traditional black lace veil. The mourning atmosphere is created with wailing, beating of chest and some pretending to faint and this is all in a game, a mock kind of humor, a tourist attraction.

But, I am surprised at the people who pretend to cry to gain sympathy in real life. There are those who cry just to show off. They don’t feel the pain but feel the need to be part of the group.

Losing a close member of the family is painful only to the immediate family but expressing the pain openly depends on the demography of the person. I don’t wish to be judgmental, but I have noticed that people who live in smaller cities are very loud. We watch the elite wear dark glasses to hide the tears, you see the common people cry openly, head nodding, mouth open, not caring about how they look.

I cannot stop staring at the people who cry so openly with loud wailing sounds, grabbing the person sitting next to them, hugging them tightly, dropping on their shoulder and wetting other people with their own tears. I am too embarrassed to bring myself close to the weeping person; moreover I am afraid of losing my balance with their sudden grip. During funeral, I always sit at a safe distance, away from the crowd.

I remember Mom mention about the custom in Pakistan, (where she spent her childhood before partition), that people had to hire weeping women to cry during funerals to help people who don’t feel like crying. Wailing and expressing sorrow was considered as the sign of respect.

Tears are the personal property to be shed in privacy. I never cry openly at materialistic loss, at farewells, or at the funerals. I don’t feel like it and I don’t like to pretend. Does that mean that I am insensitive?

Death is something that no one can control, it comes to everyone, only once in a lifetime. Where do people go after they die? For whom do we cry? Do we cry for the soul that has left or are we weeping for their loved ones who are left behind without their support?

I am not even sure about the grief shared by people who attend the condolence and prayer meetings. The sentiments are not present; it has just become a head count, to see and to be seen. Many of such meetings that I have attended recently are like fashion parade, an occasion to wear diamonds and white branded suit with matching white bag and shoes.

There is too much crowd for twelve days with people visiting at all odd hours. You don’t actually get time to mourn. Actual mourning takes place, when you start clearing their personal belonging; the clothes, the personal wallet, the empty side of the bed, when you get the death certificate in your hand, when you realize that the person is coming no more.

The heart begins to bleed, the sentiments dig into raw wounds when you begin to understand that you are left on your own and have to move on. The grief arrives and it never ends its stay, ever.

The tears that fall henceforth are the silent tears.

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