You are Invited For a Tea Ceremony

If you come and spend a day with me, we will chat a lot, you can talk, I will listen, if you like a game of scrabble, we could do that too and in-between our usual activities we will have tea ceremony.

What say you, will that do?

Well, you may ask me what is this tea ceremony and how do I know about this? So let me begin to tell you that I just attended a talk by noted tea connoisseur ‘Radhika Batra’ who educated me on how to soothe my senses by refreshing and aromatic tea ceremony.

Did I tell you that I am regular at Nature Basket and I seem to be shopping for all my groceries from this store that includes sauces n cheese n those exotic stuff. So, this month my shopping coincided with this talk-show on tea ceremony and I walked into the wine section of this store, where normally all that food talk takes place.

The table was laden with fancy teacups and tea-kettles, different types of tea jars and bottles of spices like rosemary leaves, thyme and cloves, lime and cinnamons.

Now normally when people visit me, I just give them a Indian cutting chai, a black variety cooked on the gas with milk and sugar and the conversation is never about tea, I mean what can we discuss about ordinary tea making? We have been having our cup of tea from childhood with no extra fuss except to crib sometimes about the quantity of milk or sugar..

Every country has its own traditions and customs in serving tea  Like for example:

The samovar, a symbol of tradition, is used to brew tea in Russia. At the base of the samovar, a charcoal fire burns, and a metal pipe runs up inside the container to heat the water. Tea leaves are infused in a concentrated form in a small teapot that rests on top of the samovar. Water dispensed from the copper vessel is mixed with the strong tea to create a hearty drink that is often served with sugar cubes that are held in the mouth while drinking. In Iran and Turkey, the Russian samovar is used for special occasions and holidays.

But this time I have decided to make some fuss over you if you visit me. I will have a tea ceremony with you and that means we will have the ritual of tea five times a day, yes! You heard me right, it’s a tea ceremony remember?

Early morning we can have ‘Longjing Chinese Green’ tea. All we need is hot water and patience. Just one teaspoon of green tea with hot water, and we keep it for brewing for five minutes and it’s done. This tea I always order in the Chinese restaurant after meals; it washes down the grease form the food. But when you visit me, we shall have this green tea to start the day.

Now you may ask me what is this Longjing tea? This is one of the purest and most popular green tea mainly from the mountain lakes of Hangzhou in China. These pan fried leaves give out a pale yellow liqueur and as you sip it, you get a slightly sweet cherry blossom aroma.

At noon we shall have mid-morning blue, a Darjeeling Black tea. We shall brew one spoon of black tea with lemon and cloves. If you like thyme or rosemary flavors, we could do that too. Black tea is best brewed in a kettle instead of on stove. Since these are plantation fresh, the same leaves can be brewed twice. I could even flavor this black tea with tulsi and ginger or cardamom and cinnamon.

After lunch around 2 pm, we could have mid-eastern infusion, a ‘Barush Flower’ tea.. This will not contain any real tea leaves but it will be made from the potpourri of flowers and herbs. I love this tea because of the sweet aroma of different flowers. Hhmmmn..deep breath..Nirvana! This middle-eastern flower blend is bedecked with colorful flecks of dried flower petals of Rose, Chyrusanthanam, Marigold, jasmine.

During evening we could have oolong Shanghai style, the champagne of tea. We could swirl this with cinnamon sticks or Vanilla pods to get that fragrant whiff. You will love the toasty sweetness.

And late evening we could have the fruity lovers’ tea, which is simply from mixture of fresh and dried fruits.

Imagine the VIP treatment you will get if you visit me on the days when I am in that mood of hosting a tea ceremony…you can enjoy the tea all day but just let me win each game of scrabble, one after the other, without getting annoyed each time you lose….hehehehe….want to come?

Royal Massage on a Lazy Afternoon

Walking for two hours on a dusty road can be tiresome especially when the scenery around you is all shoes and clothes, sea of perspiring people and the noisy traffic. It is at such moments that a visit to an air-conditioned mall can bring relief (even if it is only for a short visit to the loo). My feet are soaring and I spot 'Sabal', a foot massage parlor. I am reminded of my last visit to Bangkok, when at every opportunity we jumped for foot massage and it used to be such a relief. Late at night, my cousins and I, after shopping and dinner would head to the nearest massage parlour to pamper ourselves. Just for 300 Bhats, we would sit side by side, next to each other, on the smooth reclining chairs, behind the glass windows and get some relaxing massages. It used to be such a pleasure as we floated on our feet on our way back home.


I decide to try this one in the Link mall at Bandra.

The receptionist sitting outside the parlor hands me the various types of foot-massage on offer. There are four different kinds and she advises me to go for herbal massage. Since I have tried none before I opt for her choice.

I enter the dimly lit room that has a strong aroma of lemon grass. There are perfumed candles everywhere and one big picture of Buddha dominates the wall under warm spotlights. After a cold glass of water, I am led to the reclining sofa with cushions tucked behind my back. There are several girls in the room but they all look alike, same narrow slit eyes, long face, large forehead and nod with a smile. How do they recognize one Thai girl from another? Anyways, even in Bangkok I am confused when I see so many people of similar features. One with the crinkly eyes comes closer with a hot tub of water, containing some flower petals. She washes my dirty feet and I apologize. In India we wash the feet of the spiritual gurus, and I pretend I am the one. She smiles, maybe she is used to many, more such dirty feet walking into her parlor. She wipes my feet with warm towel and gently lifts them over a small stool. I stretch my feet and close my eyes. There is a soft, soothing piano music in the background. I am drifted to ether world. Wow! Such is the life!

The masseuse brings a tray of different herbal oils. She pour oil into her palm, rubs the oil between her palms and with circular motion she massages my feet, calves, knees and toes. I remind her to be a bit careful because I am afraid of wrong pressure on my nerves but she is proficient and works very efficiently. It is very relaxing and I take in deep breath (having learnt on TV channels that when we have nothing to do, we can utilize that time with breathing exercises, breathes in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.....) I feel her kneading my muscles with her knuckles, and then with finger tips and nails pressing on pressure points. When she starts her massage with blunt roller, I squint to see that blunt object but feel too drowsy to keep my eyes open. I drift back to sleep enjoying the soft music and pleasure of the warm tingling sensation on my feet. Suddenly there is a warm steaming rub under my feet. I cringe. The room is now filled with vapors and the scent of lemon grass is strong. This time I am curious to see the source of the vapors. I see a tub containing hot steaming oil on her side. She had a small muslin potli filled with lemon grass leaves. She dips this potli in the hot lemon seed oil and presses it lightly on my skin.

I am amused and started to converse with her, thanking her for the nice treatment. She asks me to visit her more often, explaining that it is good for circulation of the blood and in keeping oneself healthy. She talks about her life in India and tells me that everything that she used during the massage was imported from Bangkok. Her boss is an Indian married to a Thai woman. They have two outlets in Mumbai, one at Bandra and other at Infinity mall in Varsova. There are seven reclining chairs at Bandra branch spread over two levels. I did not see other clients and I was the only one, alone during my visit. Maybe it is expensive. For my foot herbal massage, it cost me Rs1500, if I were to ask the masseur to come home, they normally charge Rs150 for body massage. But then I think we pay here for the ambience and the feel good factor.

After the foot massage, I am asked to sit on lower stool and she gives me back and head massage, stretching my arms backwards and sideways and finally ended with massage on my arms, shoulders and fingers.

I was just thinking of visiting a natural ice-cream parlour across the street, post massage, when she entered again with the tray of fresh fruits (grapes, kiwi and apple) and a cup of hot ginger tea.

Light and refreshed I felt like a royalty in the kingdom of my own..

Corruption - Root of all Evil

During my growing up days, getting admission in colleges was easy. We neither involved our parents in our admission formalities nor in selecting a college for us. The only criterion that was important was high percentage or a wee bit of friendly influence. I don’t remember paying anything extra than just fees which was affordable. Some of my friends were undecided in choosing their career and would hop from one college to another over the period of four years and after graduation, would choose a completely different line. Some were successful in life and some not, but none of them had wasted millions of rupees during their fickle-minded career hip-hops.

Things have changed. More people are educated now and most of them are sure (well, almost) what they wish to do. They have career guidance centers that help them choose the right track. The only problem (now-a-days) is that they need their parents’ help to escort them because unless the parents don’t co-operate to bribe the college faculty for their admission to a good college, they are not likely to pursue the studies of their interest. Corruption is deep rooted in our world today and those who cannot fight, join in.

I met one such parent who had a story to tell.

Sunita is the single parent, a widow, who is a mother to a bright twenty-two year old youth. Yesterday, she proudly showed me her new blackberry that her son had gifted her from his first salary. There were tears in her eyes, tears of joy, happy that she has an earning son. She recalls the day, two years ago, when she had tears of different shade. Those were the tears of fear and stress. She was so stressed out during those days that she would visit every temple, which were known to perform miracle. She prayed to Gods to help her fulfill the dreams that she and her husband had nourished for many years. She wanted some miracle to happen to save her from paying the bribe of seventeen lakhs that the management was asking for granting a seat in their prestigious college.

She was seeking admission for her son for MBA at management institute in Mumbai that boasts 'of professionally managed, multi-disciplinary and multi-faceted oasis of knowledge'. This institute with a mission to redefine the system of education believes that the most profound learning that they can give to their students outside the textbooks is the importance of value, the strength of upright character and an ability to make difference that can set them apart.

Before meeting the student, an interview with their parents is a ‘must’

Sunita, along with group of other parents, waited in queue for an interview with the director of the institute. When her turn arrived, she was asked to deposit her purse and her mobile outside the room. (Were they afraid that she might record the conversation?) She entered a posh room and sat opposite him, admiring the expensive rings on his eight fingers. This gentleman had good taste and to afford that kind of luxury one needs to earn an attractive salary.

“I am a single mom, can you reduce the amount by few lakhs, maybe fifteen?” she pleaded, “Seventeen lakhs is lots of money and I cannot afford that kind of donation.”

“I am sorry” he replied , "We cannot reduce it. We don’t even reduce it for those people who say that they are over-burdened with 3 daughters and that they need to save money for their marriage, nopes, we don’t bargain at all. It is the same amount for everyone.”

Unabled to speak more words, she sat quietly, staring at the blank wall with tears glistening in her eyes. The director moved uncomfortably in his chair, changing his posture..

“However, there is a solution.” He said, “We will be conducting formal interviews for admission next month; all the students who have applied in our college will be called for an interview, if your son excels in that interview successfully then maybe, he will be spared.”

The interview was held for 2500 students and only 60 students were selected from merit list. She was lucky that her son was selected on merit.

“Miracle, this was pure miracle, I just couldn’t believe it” she says “I had gone all the way to Navi Mumbai to one particular temple to pray, actually I went to many more. I am sure God listened to my prayers. I used to emotionally blackmail God to help me fulfill my promise to my hubby”

After finishing two years, her son has a job now and is earning twenty-five thousand a month. She had paid only five lakhs for the course, plus the transport and the food which might take another two years for him to cover the cost of his education.

Yes! He might make his mark in the corporate world (as was promised by the institution's capability to deliver professional education that meets the highest standards of professionalism worldwide).

BUT.....What about those students who did not make it to the list of lucky 60?

Those who were forced to pay the bribe of seventeen lakhs plus five more lakhs as tuition fees plus the expenses of text books, transport and food? What about those desperate ones who borrowed money to fill those greedy bellies of prestigious institutes? How many more years will it take them to earn back that amount?

The foundation of their education was corruption and we should not be surprised if they will fight back with more corruption.

There is no end. me thinks OR Is there?

The week that was……mid March 2011 and my 'FB Status'

Much too much happened during this week, a fierce earthquake that ruined the town of sushi and whales and bombed their proud nuclear plants. Many lives were lost, houses crumbling like match boxes, sea animals suffered too. It didn’t affect me, because I have no one in Japan whose pain I could feel…

You would think that life in Japan came to standstill?. Nah! There you are wrong! It affected few people who lived near the shores, but for others life went on as usual.

I continued to update what was on my mind at FB status regularly. “Life goes on if it doesn't affect us....sensitive are those who ponder over solutions and meditate on how they could help and act accordingly without any expectations for recognitions”. I wrote.

Those who have powers to help were extending their support and if Starbucks was in India, I would have happily had few extra cups of coffee too.

But how could I have helped? I have always been afraid of earthquake and my fear is deep rooted. The fear was instilled in me when earthquake happened during my school days. The earth shook slightly, all children ran down the stair, shouting, screaming, some of them sliding down the railings, some rushing and pushing past me. I had missed my step and had fallen down on my knees, nobody cared nor saw me curled up on floor, they just ran amok in all directions, few children had walked over me, their shoes piercing through my ribs, the pain was intense at that time, my body ached, but I was too proud to cry. I sat still, curled up, till all the children had walked away towards the open ground. Senior nun had helped me walk and join the crowd. Nothing much happened after the earthquake (not that I know of) but the screams and fear had coated me with this emotion of fear, I was not afraid of earthquake but I was afraid of falling down once again and people walking over me,. “For many days after that, I tied my little finger to my mom’s pallu and followed her wherever she went”. wrote I on my FB status remembering that incident. It was the security I felt being close to my mom. Every time mom went to loo, she untied my finger, but I continued to wait outside, waited to hold on to her pallu again.

Now as I sit here, I feel the same fear for those children who will know the pain the first time, although I have not yet seen any pitiful faces of Japanese people. World is awed by nation’s quiet dignity.

"Yet, it is also the response of the Japanese to catastrophe, told to us in shards of stories of shared blankets, patient calm and decorous lines of waiting people, that has stirred us.

A petrol pump attendant apologises profusely for not having fuel to long waiting lines of motorists where no one cuts in or bellows in frustrated anger. Those in food queues take just enough so as to leave some for others. In everyday life this is nice, in distress it is astonishing."

Had it happened in India, we would see everybody breast beating, self-pitying “Why us?” cries openly on all TV channels. “Shame: an ornament of virtue to remain within boundaries, without which one stands bare of all its glory” was my FB status to express that feeling.

After the earthquake, many NRIs returned to India. Why didn’t they stay back and help the people in the best of their ability and show their moral support for people in need? Why run back to India? “How far can we run away from our problems? They have this cunning habit of clinging to us and following us wherever we go. It is only when we stand still, face it, snarl back, catch it by its tail and dust them off, that they decide to walk away...” said my FB status..

Life goes on…There is more political drama back home…but then that is another story.

Till then FB status continues to wonder what's on my mind “The little terrorists are back again with their fiercely looking water guns”…holi hai!!!

What a man likes in a woman

My BIL spends most of his evenings with his friends on the terrace, they sit togather, drinking, snacking and chatting.Today since my sister had gone off to a temple for Mata Devi darshan, I went with him to the terrace. I was sitting with his friends, enjoying the cool breeze and just listening to their conversation without taking part in any of their chat.

His friend, a baldy one in late 60s, was talking of his youth when he had to choose a bride for himself , he says...

At a marriagable age, I told my mom very clearly that there are three things that I will expect from the girl whom I marry.

One

She should not be too bony around her neck area, because when I wear her a diamond necklace it should look nice on her neck, if she is too bony then the necklace will look tilted and lop-sided

Two

When she smiles, there should be no gums visible, it looks very ugly then they have smaller teeth and large pink gums staring at you

Three-

She should have etiquettes and must not do funny things with her hands..like scratching unnecessarily, picking her nose or rubbing her face

Hahahaahaha!! What a creep!!!

(Un)Blessed Children

I feel pain, an intense pain, when I see children begging. I never give them cash, always afraid that they will know the taste of easy money at this age when they should be learning that begging is not a dignified thing to do, that education is the better option and if one is educated, there are wide choices available out there in the world. But at this tender age, I see them at every signal, running from one parked car, to another auto, to another car, some of them selling flowers, some of them sell books and some of them only beg, peeping through the glass window, putting on the pathetic face and asking for cash of which they may not even comprehend its value. Many of them might kidnapped and abused, their childhood scarred forever.

But then what can one do??

In my life time, I have taught many maids to read and write, teaching them simple mathematics, to read and write alphabets, to write their name, to be able to write phone messages and numbers for their employers. There have been many maids who have learnt a lot and have migrated with their employer because they are able to read and write. But most of the time I have been disappointed. I spend money buying all the necessary books and stationary but they lose interest and are not sincere. Some of them are plain stupid and I have to really try very hard to make them learn some simple things. And most of them have interfering parents who are always suspicious of my willingness to teach.

I once had a maid who used to bring her 9-year-old daughter to work. Most of the work she would ask her daughter to do, with her only supervising her daughter’s work. I would feel that she is taking advantage of her young child and thought it was not very nice thing to do. But the kid excelled in all the chores that she did. She washed utensils, swabbed floors and did all other work efficiently. She was an enthusiastic learner too and I saw great potential in her. I wanted to educate her and asked for her mom’s permission.

Her mother was very pleased. She suggested that she stay with me and help me with the household chore while I could teach her whenever I could. The next day, she moved into my house and into my private zone. Now I am very uncomfortable with live-in maids and I prefer to do odd jobs on my own. I don’t like to take any service from anybody and especially not from this 9-year-old kid. Anyway, now I was committed.

Her mother enrolled her in a school and I got for her all the necessary things that she would require like school uniform, books, stationary and all her personal items that she would require for her day to day activities. I was feeling like her prodigal mom. I fussed over her food, making sure that she was ate well, took up her school work and doted over her. She would wake up early morning, get ready for school, come back and study. Personally, she was of no use to me; the only work she did in my house was to help me with chopping of vegetables and dusting the furniture. All her free time, she would spend in her personal grooming or watching TV. But her mother thought she was doing me a great favor by getting me a live-in maid.

As the days passed, it was becoming very cumbersome for me to have this girl in my house. I couldn’t leave my house unless I chose to take her with me. Her family would visit her at all odd hours of the day. Her TV habits were giving me a head ache. I had lost my personal space. Since she was a normal girl, just like the children her age, she would have her temper tantrums when the things would not go her way. At once such occasion, I scolded her and she decided to go on hunger strike.

She just refused to eat.

What can one do if the person is stubborn? I was not about to apologize to her for the scolding which was due and proper. Sometimes it is important to point out the flaws in the person to show them the right track.

I tried to coax her to eat but no cajoling helped.

She skipped dinner and the breakfast the next morning. When her mom came to work, she complained about me and accused me of starving her.

What followed next is too messy to relate.

Till date, I have never again invited any maid for free tuitions nor do I go out of my way to offer my help to anybody. I would rather help in an institution voluntarily and work at my own leisure. Sometimes it is best to leave things as they are.

What can one do?

‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’

I saw this tag ‘Sin against Gender Stereotypes’ on the pages of several bloggers and secretly learnt about likes/dislikes of many blogger- friends, but waited patiently for a formal invitation, I am not a gate-crasher and therefore never make any entry till I am invited….and when Pallavi tagged me, I, most happily, cleared my throat…..cough, cough…to speak….so here I go….

I used to be a girlie-gurl once upon a time, a shy, reserved, timid, invisible till I grew up to discover that I am a human too and not a show-piece and am allowed to have a mind of my own. I realized that if one likes something, one does not think of gender, but is led by the instinct of doing what one feels is right with clear conscious and doing it in the best way that one can…..and so the freedom of expression was born in me and I learnt to live.

 NOW if I… feel like doing something..I will do it.. I need no permission, nor any public approval nor any gender margins to do what I please:

1.  I like male-talks better than girlish-chat..I hate talking abt maids, children, kitty parties, prefer to talk biz, money, investments or lifestyle trends..
2.  I like humor and also PJs, ragging, sharing anecdotes and will stay up late nights to chill with friends
3. TV..nah…no more… .once upon a time I was a couch potato, knew all the TV personalities by their first name, their problems, their relationships on screen, could discuss the soap/serial characters as if they were family members.. until the computers and web 2.0 took over my life, now I am glued to the virtual world. Can't detox because my virtual friends live there and I love to meet them everyday.
4. Cannot cope up with high class designers labels nor able to afford the extravagant life-styles of my Sindhi community, so have got over the fetishism over fancy, loud clothes and diamonds and have reverted to simple clothing and unreal jewelry.
5. Would prefer walks by the sea-shores rather than imprison myself over three hour of torture inside a cinema hall munching over unhygienic samosas and stale popcorns. Nevertheless, I do go for a film if others want me to go with them.
6.  Prefer home cooked food over the restaurant food. Have difficulty in swallowing white moldy parathas that contains sticky oils and the over-cooked veggies that contain too much of random spice powders.
7. Sleeping late, waking up late makes me miss some important dates.
8. Can repair everything, radios, clocks, lights, iron, electronic gadgets, plumbing, zips and even broken umbrellas and shoes and bags.
9.  Can read and understand the manuals, never use anything without reading the manual, will not sign anything till I have read all the fine print, will not believe anything unless I have heard, seen and witnessed it.
10.  Find it difficult to say ‘NO’ to anybody seeking favor, love kids and old people and will always try to make things easier for the weak.

And now to tag……umph…er..my friends…whom I truly want to know their sins….

My friend has threatened me with a curse to wear blue pants (since I am a woman) and it was pink shirts if I were to tag a man – for next twelve years if I did not compile this list and now, after having done my bit, I pass on this curse to you UNLESS you list at least ten things you have ever wanted or done which your gender is not supposed to.

The tag is called ‘My Sins against Gender-Stereotypes’. And you must tag twelve blogging friends or else you will be ….. er…what was that you said, Pallavi??? So get going gals....

Hiyaa Israni
Ani
Vimmi Jaggi
Mayuri Sharrma
Pragya
Alakaline
Suniti Joshi
Darpana
Ratna Rajaiah
Sangeeta Patni
Gayatri
Jhumur
Laxmi
Natasha Sinha
Baisali Chatterji
Soma ghosh

And like I whispered to you earlier, I now repeat 'khule aam'
"Sweets things r easy to buy but sweet ppl difficult to find, life ends when u stop caring, friendship ends when u stop sharing….."

so taking few liberties, I tagged u in my note hoping that you accept my tag and tell me things that I wish to know…..because I am confident that u r my friend….hugz 

Diamonds are not forever

Finally I gave up my fetishism on diamonds.

It was difficult at first, what with me belonging to the culture (I am Sindhi) where diamonds play an important deciding factor for placing you at certain strata of society and earning that false respect. The bigger diamond meant a respectable position in Sindhi community, a front door entry to any important religious meetings, an admiring friend’s circle hovering around you, even though you might not part with a centimeter of your carat with them. Ah well.

But diamonds were my best friends, even though I could not compete with my rich cousins. Every time, my cousins flashed their real diamond jewelry I would secretly wish to buy me a better stuff. But my limited budget allowed me to live within my means (as my mom would often say, not to destroy my shack by building castles in air). Nevertheless, by the time, I reached middle age, I had enough of everything. Enough I say because I was satisfied with what I had, and I had everything in diamonds: ear-rings, rings, bracelets, watches, bangles, necklace, pendants, though not those big, huge carats, nah, they were not as impressive as my rich cousin’s booties, but was decent enough, some gifted by my mom, aunts, sisters, some inherited and some, I know not how they arrived at my tijori. I had planned to buy me some more really big ones, those fancy ones that you see in the shopping window, hoping some day in future (when I became truly Richie rich) I would own that too, until one day, suddenly my taste took a U-turn from gaudy to subtle, and it was thinking whether it was really so important to carry such heavy stuff on my neck and on my ear lobes that was dangling so much with its weight that I need doctor’s help to prevent it from becoming a torn chappati. I decided that I don’t really need it. Specially since it was also giving me unnecessary stress.

Now let me explain. What use is wearing all those real diamond-sets that cover your every possible skin so much, that people cannot see you beyond those glittering stones? And you are so busy flashing them, that your topic of conversation is limited to fashion and shopping, while your subconscious mind is eagerly waiting for the compliment that may not arrive from your envious friends. And then you are always living in fear of losing your possessions so much so that you become too obsessive in guarding them. You become vigilant about your cupboard keys and are always hiding the keys in such odd places that you cannot find them yourself. And when you have misplaced it somewhere, you start suspecting everybody: Your maid, your guest, your friend. Okay, you will tell me that I can keep them in bank locker. Then what the bloody hell is the use of freezing them if I cannot wear them? You advice me that it is important to save it for the bad times. So should I wait for those bad times when I can happily cash out diamonds and release them from lockers?

Instead of spending money on diamonds and freezing them in lockers, I have discovered a better value for money. Investing the money in proper way in funds and bonds and see it grow, yielding regular dividends gives special kind of pleasure. It is fun to travel with that extra cash in style. Buy some luxury items to enhance the atmosphere: nice bed spread, good curtains, jacuzzi. And sharing the excess cash with less fortunate and winning their million dollar smile is an heavenly experience.

Also, I am enjoying shopping for artificial costume jewelry, nothing flashy but classic, yes. I like that. No worries about guarding it, hiding it, storing. If it gets lost, I don’t care, I get one more reason to buy another one. I can now concentrate on reading and on other things that I can truly enjoy.

And to enjoy the company of people who can see and hear, just me.

Mumbai is not afraid.

Early morning my sistah calls me and warns me not to step out of house. I want to know the reason, and she says, because flu is in air, (but that I already know,) media has pounded me with an overdose of this news, and if I have work to do, it cannot wait. So I leave for school on this dangerous morning But the streets are full, aren’t all the people supposed to sit indoors? Nah! The spirit in Mumbai is that it never sleeps and when they can dare floods and riots then who is afraid of this silly disease? Just a flu (never mind if it has got a horror name-swine flu) People in Mumbai always believe that nothing can hamper their spirit and streets are crowded like they always are. Did you say that Children are vulnerable to swine flu? Well, this kid must be not more than 5 years and he is here on the street without any cloth covering his mouth,(I did see many people with their mouth covered) but not this kid, he doing his odd jobs of begging….I saw him run with a packet of Vada Pav, (which somebody had given him) and was back to the same place (without eating his share) to continue his begging And what about this dabawallah…he takes a breather on his inverted stack, smoking his beedi and then taking a short nap. But I play safe. I decide to go to school in AC bus. When I reach school after two full hours of travel, there is a sinister look in school….school is closed…..

Pure friendship have no name......

 It is important to hold on to those who genuinely care, because in times like these, they are very rare…..If we loosen our grip or snap our connection, there might not be another chance for redemption.

If we look around us, everybody is getting more and more selfish, and true love has ceased to exist. A do-gooder is always questioned for her intentions/design of why it is done. There has to be some motive behind an act, there can never be a deed without a purpose. Relationships are going sour. There is no genuine love in this world anymore.

What with those crazy labels that are attached to every relationship?

 If you love someone of opposite sex, you will be labeled as flirtatious, show the concern and love to same sex, and you will be labeled as gay/lesbian. Sex plays the important part in everybody’s life; there cannot be pure love anymore, especially not for a person who is single.

 A single person has to be pitied at all cost.

Why didn’t they find a mate? Is something wrong with them? What do single people do in their free time? Do they watch a porno to curb their libido? Or perhaps they use some dildos? Are they sex starved? It’s funny how far their imaginations can run.

 Sometimes I feel like addressing things. And what gets me tired is how often we can see the need to address things before we get tired of doing just that! I mean, why do we have to give explanations of our every deed and every act?

 One advantage a single person enjoys is that they don’t have to deal with insecurities of others. They are their own boss. If they decide to indulge in certain activities, it is purely for their pleasure. If they decide to reach out to people who care, it need not necessarily mean that they seek out sexual contentment.

 But the present scenario of gay/lesbian concept has eclipsed all relationships.

 Ouch! Even an innocent act of just holding hands, or a peck on a cheek, is watched suspiciously. Communication is important ... "how" we communicate is of the utmost importance. In the friendships, there may be pure intimate relationship and there is tendency to read "exactly” what is said without needing or wanting more because the outcome of a conversation may not have as much meaning as it is expected.

We're emotional beings ... right?

No apology necessary there... how we process these emotions and think things through can make all the world of difference.

 Friendship can be experienced and identified individually only by person involved in that relation. Until very recently, much of what has been documented about women's sexuality has been written by men, in the context of male understanding, and relevant to women's associations to men—as their wives, daughters, or mothers,

 During the 17th through 19th centuries, a woman expressing passionate love for another woman was fashionable, accepted, and encouraged. Whether the relationship included any genital component was not a matter for public discourse, but women could form strong and exclusive bonds with each other and still be considered virtuous, innocent, and chaste; a similar relationship with a man would have destroyed a woman's reputation. In fact, these relationships were promoted as alternatives to and practice for a woman's marriage to a man.

Around the turn of the 20th century the development of higher education provided opportunities for women. In all-female surroundings, a culture of romantic pursuit was fostered in women's colleges.

Older students mentored younger ones, called on them socially, took them to all-women dances, sent flowers, cards, and poems that declared their undying love for each other.

The invisibility of lesbians has gradually eroded since the early 1980s.

Psychiatrists and feminist philosophers noted that the rise in women acknowledging same sex relationships is due to growing social acceptance, but also conceded that "only a certain kind of lesbian—slim and elegant or butch in just the right androgynous way—is acceptable to mainstream culture. 

Yet, the term “Lesbians/Gay” is so liberally used in present scenario!

How ignorant can one get? It is outrageous! It has curbed our desire to express our love to people whom we truly care. FB has many applications to express our friendship, but we are afraid to post it to our virtual friends, always afraid of forming a wrong notion. Should we send a bear hug across? a gift perhaps or a comment on superwall? How intimate can one get over the internet?

 Should we really care?

Go Away! I am Busy!!!!!!

Darn! This doorbell…why must this ring? I hate answering doorbells, especially if it is vegetable seller, fruit seller, sweeper, Phone Company or some stupid courier service. I think I prefer snail mails (although they are extinct now-a-days), What I liked about sanil mail was that they would just drop the letters in my letterbox and I would pick it up whenever I feel like it, but with these couriers that are frequent, I have to get up forcibly, wean myself from this huge screen and attend to this courier fellow, take the post, sign a form and take my unimportant mail that is announcing some silly sale, somewhere in the town. (I must remember not to give my address to these boutiques henceforth) why do I need new clothes? I hardly ever go out. Most of my friends are there on the FB. And they don’t care what I wear, I could be wearing just underclothes for that matter…..…who cares!...arrgh… I get very angry when I am on computer playing word twirl or lexulous, trying so hard to think up of a seven letter word and this stupid door bell rings. Or sometimes I am chatting with my friend on Face book, the conversation that I have on face book (with the person whom I have never met) seems to be more important than the phone call that I receive from a family member. I so badly want to end the conversation on the phone to continue talking with my fingers with a friend on other other end of this cable contact. And today, when I was chatting with one of my FB friend, the doorbell rang again…now I am having very interesting conversation, my friend finds me very friendly and jovial and here the door bell is wacking my brain, and I run to my door to answer before her next chat continues, there is this fisherwoman at the door. She sells the best fish in my building and saves me the trip of going to that stinking fish market, but I am afraid that my FB friend will go offline if I take too long in answering her, so even though I so badly need the fish, I tell her bluntly that I don’t eat fish anymore…and run back to my computer. That conversation with the fisherwoman must have taken me only two minutes (just nodding and repeating “no, no, I really don’t want” just five times) but my friend is already offline! I go back to my door to see if I can buy the fish intead, and she has gone too….darn! I will have to go to fish market or skip the fish meal… This internet illness is really eating off my brains. My pots and pans are getting blacker by day, because I remember to keep tea/veggies on the gas for cooking but forget to take it off when it ready and am reminded only when I can feel the disaster through my nose (my maid suggests that I use pressure cooker, now how do I make tea in pressure cooker?) Everyday I promise myself that I will chop off my habit on the net, but hardly an hour goes by with that promise and I am itching to see the red blinker on FB, and like a zombie I am back on this compu chair, Suddenly this red dot (on the FB) has started haunting me, (some times even in my dreams) I so badly want to see those compliments on my FB walls which I secretly hope that my 200+ friends are also reading and forming a good impression about me… i have lately started feeling very proud of myself, posting notes, tagging people and sending virtual gifts with tight squeaky hugs. I m getting to be popular, but I think I am cut off from my real world. I have not seen nor met my neighbor for more that 15 days, I am thinking of inviting my next door neighbor to the face book, that way I will be able to communicate with her, specially when I m short of one onion or potato and I need to borrow in emergency. my virtual friends will not help me there… See what I mean?????

It takes all kinds to make this world…

Last night I received a call from my cousin across the seas, asking me to help his friend who has recently moved to Mumbai and is completely lost and confused. He was worried that she might go into depression if she did not find something worthwhile to do. I called her this morning and asked her what would she like to do? “Social work” she said “I just need to kill time.” “What kind of social work would you like to do? What are your interests? I asked her. She was not sure what she wanted “I want to do something like what you do. I like children, find me something where I can help children” she said. I asked her if she would be interested in teaching to slum children in Byculla, I thought she could help my friend in Byculla who runs activities classes for slum children during late afternoons. She said she didn’t want to go too far “No, I don’t want to go too far, can you find me something close by, in Bandra or Khar” she said. So I asked her to go to Carter road, early mornings, and there are free classes conducted for street children there. She said she cannot get up so early in the mornings because she has late nights and cannot sleep before 5a.m She wanted to do social work at her own timings and at her own conveniences.” Fine” I said “so what do you want to do?” “I am very lonely and I need somebody to stay with me, a paying guest will also do. Can you find for me a paying guest?” she said. Now she was asking me to get a paying guest for her. “How many rooms do you have?” I asked “I have only one room but I can share it with them. I don’t mind sharing my room with them. That way I will have company” she said Hello! Paying guest need space, they rent a room to keep their luggage and rest their feet. They are not there to keep company. I wanted to tell her about the pains of sharing your space with strangers. In one room it will be even more difficult, what if they want fan at a higher uncomfortable speed? What if they snore? What if they want to put off the light when you prefer to read? Too many sacrifices are needed if you accommodate people and charge them rent. They want full value for money. They are not there to fade away your loneliness. “I will see if I can find a paying guest for you” I said and wanted to end the conversation “No but I need something to do,” she continued “I need to talk to you, can I come over and spend some time with you? She said Now, since last fifteen days I am having guest, where is the time to listen to her? I told her that I was busy with my guests and she could come when I am free. She wanted to know when I will be free….My own work is pending, there was too much back log already and how do I answer her. I told her to come next week. “Is there some club or social gathering where I can find some friends?” She asked I told her about laughter club where people meet early in the morning at 630 am. I was not sure if she would be interested because it would mean getting up early in the morning at 6am. “Oh! There is a laughter club in Bandra?” She said “Yes, but it is in the morning so I m not sure you will be able to attend it since you sleep late.” I said “I think, I can try to get up early in the morning if you can take me there.” She said I told her that I cannot go but I gave her my friend’s name and contact and asked her to meet her (since she was a regular and friendly) at the laughter club and that she would introduce her to the group. I informed her the benefits of the laughter club that she would meet many people, who are jolly and maybe find some solutions for her loneliness, and they go for regular picnics, do social work and meet everyday to laugh and to exercise. The prospects of joining this club are good enough for her and she was quite pleased. I am feeling good to be able to find some solution for her and prevent her from going into depression…I hope she finds some comfort and joy and my overseas cousin might be happy too.

Beggar Artist

Each time, my vehicle stops at the traffic signals in Mumbai, I am surrounded by swarm of beggars who invent different tricks to attract my attention and I always practise yoga to be able to ignore them if I am not feeling too generous. But here in Tenerife, it is a different story. First of all, there are hardly any beggars. Sixty percent of the population are floating tourists who come here to breathe fresh air and the government supports its local population by either creating a job for them or paying them a substantial amount till they can find a job, but they make sure to keep them off the streets. Unless, The beggar has extraordinary begging skills Like this man who was dressed in white from head to toe and his hands and face painted in white too. He stands there in the busy tourist area, in a perfect pose, still, like a statue, frightening the passer by, every time that he makes a slightest move. It is a pose that requires skill to stand there without even blinking for five complete minutes. Many people stop and click his picture and wait till he changes his next pose. Children walk over to shake his hand, placing coins in his hand and clicking pictures with him. Now that is the art you just cannot ignore! Technorati Profile

Five days have passed since I have landed in Lagos...

it started on a wrong footing...and all due to my carelessness...imagine, I didn't take my purse when I went to a rest room in the airplane, and left my handbag on my seat. I got stripped off my green notes and was quite sad.....but like they say, everything has a purpose, maybe the person who had the courage to rob me needed the money more than I do, so I move on, probably borrow the money and start enjoying my self....coming so far from my home town and mourning over the lost money is not a good idea, I might spoil the fun of others who are with me... So here I am enjoying the nature of Lagos...there are so many trees in this city...Neem, Mango, Coconut, Papaya, Banana.. Everywhere, there is greenery and the air is so fresh.....but there is too much traffic on he road and what amuses me is the number of things that are available at the traffic signals Almost everything is sold on the streets; watches, telephone cards, fruits, vegetables, drinks, cigarettes, magazine, clothes and many more articles. This reminds me of Mumbai traffic signals where we too have vendors selling their wares at the signals. The weather is very warm (hot winds) and it is difficult to breathe without an AC. Most of our time is spend indoors (a wise thing to do) but today we went to market place to get the feel of the city. They roast corn on the roads and fry red bananas. The market was full of handcrafted items and lot of paintings. One particular painting that impressed me was a collage of butterfly wings.. It was very beautifully made, then there were jewelry, clothes, wood craft, paintings and also fresh fruit and vegetables in the market. My cousin who lives here in Lagos has good set of friends and these five days I have met most of them at the restaurants or they have been visiting us. Some of them I met at her kitty party. The Chinese food here is very much different from what we have in India.. It is just fantastic.. very yummy but living is quite expensive. They have Naira currency (125 Naira equals one dollar.) My cousin bought some fruits and vegetables and then she took us(five of us) out for sandwiches and soup and I saw her spent 20 thousand Naira. The local Nigerians are very friendly and they don't stare. (unlike India, where everybody stares) At the market place, they address you as Mama or Ma, and politely invite you to buy their wares...and they are easy to talk to. They speak English but it is difficult to follow because they a different accent, most of the word are rounded and merged with overlapping of sounds. My cousin has two maids, one for cooking and other for cleaning the house. They live in servant quarters, which is behind the building; They take three hours in the afternoon to rest. The day starts quite early; 630 am and the activity in the house starts. The markets are open from 7am to 5pm. Nigerian is the sixth largest oil producing country, but I am surprised that it is having fuel shortage. I saw long queue at the petrol station due to fuel shortage. It has crude oil but no refinenary (sad but true) Do Nigerians have a good love life? (According to the Nigerian youth, he says) "In Nigeria today many, many girls are driven by both poverty and greed. The disadvantaged position of women due to a male dominated society puts men in a position where a lot of them just look at women as objects that can be bought and paid for. There few jobs after leaving school and many parents cannot meet with their kid’s demands. It is a sad situation and unfortunately I don't see any hope as far as the economy remains the way it is. Its all about money for hair, money for handset, recharge cards. Romance and love tend to flee this sort of arrangements so it is getting rarer than before." However, A Nigerian man will marry only if his lover gets pregnant.