Because…

Because hoping is better than living without

Because dreams really do give you strength

Because if the evil eye is true, so is the power of prayer

Because peace is not a state of mind, it’s a way of life

Because that relief on another person’s face after they hear what they desperately need to is sometimes worth the temporary lie

Because at least one shoulder to lean on needs to always be your own

Because the million reasons not to are easily offset by one reason to

Because distance created and communication broken leads to silences that words can rarely fill

Because being in physical company of people tells you if your body and soul can actually relax around them – because that’s what makes it a silence worth filling no matter what

Because memories and the past can bind up to a point – shared experiences, happiness and sorrow makes for blossoming relationships

Because sometimes fear of the unknown can take away happiness of the known

Because happiness of the known can bring a smile and hope that can melt away the fear

Because sometimes standing still is way better than moving on – if you don’t stand and observe you won’t know where to move to or how

Because a deep breath really does center your body which calms your mind – two seconds of diverting your mind to breath rather than worry does really clear the air

Because desires and dreams are real we take a step forward

Because comparison is easy and perspective goes missing

Because our lack of control over a lot of events messes up the mind

Because the thing you can control is your mind

Because forced laughter is more helpful than real sorrow

Because you can only move forward when you move

Because a view from the top is not always worth the effort – but sometimes it is

Because what’s worth it and not is about what you gave up

Hum of the Day

There are a million reasons why truisms are true and another million why they are no t. The side of the coin depends on the view you are looking for.

I Remember

I remember my first journey to play school. I was in a cycle rickshaw – those three wheel cycles that allow two people to sit on blue or orange seats on the back. I remember thinking what a treat it was to ride in the open.

I remember the name and face of the driver and of the servant my mother sent with me to the school. I think those journeys were a treat for her too.

I remember playing simple games. Jumping portholes and counting tiles.

I remember the squeal of laughter that burst from my heart when I was tickled. It still happens.

I remember my school playground and my kindergarten classes.

I remember the grey and white tiles with the orange benches lined up in a row.

I remember my grade 3 teacher – Gloria teacher we called her. I remember her noticing that I know my math but not how to copy the numbers from the board. That was the year I started wearing glasses and discovered that I had shockingly bad eye sight.

I remember the jeep parked in the school playground- it as greenish grey with a black step at the back. I remember standing in front of the jeep and sipping water from my brown Milton bottle when a ball came and hit the bottle. It was the year I broke my front tooth.

I remember my friends in my building – I remember I was the outsider among the sisters yet the common friend between the two.

I remember the balcony where we had secret meetings that everyone knew about. I can still smile at the innocence of plans made and secrets shared.

I remember the bulb my father installed in that balcony – the installation formalized our secret society of three.

I remember performing for our parents. We got some money I know but what I remember is that we also got the permission to climb up the steep slope which lead to the main road so that we could go visit Dig-inns. This was the new confectionery store that sold ice cream and sweets. I can still taste the flavor of the freedom I felt. I had arrived at the age of nine.

I remember being told we were moving cities. It was time to say goodbye to my friends and life. I hated the idea of something new.

I remember being the new girl at school at every school I went to after that. It was a routine that replayed in almost the exact same manner at each school. I would walk in tentatively watching the crowds of girls all huddled up into their own groups. I had to be introduced by a teacher after which all eyes were on me as I slid into the seat assigned and wished I could be invisible.

I remember the first girl who befriended me in my sixth grade. She became my friend for years to come. I think I will call her soon and perhaps say Thank You.

I remember the fire at Pratt Memorial School and being told to walk in straight lines. I remember leaving the lines to find a friends sister. We did find her right after we saw two flaming green window panes fall inches away from us.

I remember the jhaal moori and puchkas of Calcutta. I remember the old man who made jhaal moori outside my building and knew the exact blend of flavor that I liked.

I remember Mustakeen – the driver who drove me to school for four years. I remember feeling shocked to find out that a man so nice had two wives.

I remember Shanta Bai – the old maid who worked for us in Mumbai. I remember her arthritis ridden hands and the love in her eyes. I remember the hand on my forehead when I burned with fever. I always had some hands on my head when ill – if not my mother’s then they were hers. The love was probably almost the same.

I remember after time, looking forward to the change which was a part of my life. It became a way to start anew. I remember the feeling of wanting to leave things behind.

I remember the anxiety of being a new girl in 10^th grade – the final year of school in Mumbai. I remember no one befriending me. Ironically, my best friend was among those who ignored me. One of my close friends here is also among those from that very class and school. It’s funny how life turns out. How the things we want to erase sometimes give up the bonds we need to survive.

I remember the freedom of college. The rush of feeling like I had grown up and life had no boundaries - the rush of innocent crazy dreams.

I remember the little girl at Aaakanksha – a local non-profit organization that taught street children. I went there every Thursday for two years. I remember her runny nose, unkempt hair and gorgeous smile. Her laughter and glee at learning that C followed by an A and a T is actually an animal still warms my heart. I know I made a difference to that one girl for that one hour.

I remember the rush of my first article being published in Teens Today – a magazine targeted at teenagers in India. I recall I received a cheque and letter which made me weep as I hugged my mother because it meant that the thing I love could potentially and eventually be a way of life. I wish I held on to that dream.

I remember turning practical a year later choosing a career and a life that made sense. I know now that sense and sensibility are both over rated concepts. The rush of madness and impetuous dreams is what gives true strength and confidence.

I remember the day I got admission into a graduate school for my MBA. I knew I had taken that final step toward my future.

I remember my first corporate project at a small brokerage that operated out of a single floor in a residential building. I remember the awful shirts and mismatched trousers of the men on the floor. They spoke in loud tones, yelling numbers and other expletives. I remember wanting to run away – which I did when it seemed like everything they did was illegal.

I remember my first job and the 24 other people who joined the same company with me on that day. I remember the green carpet and my first desk and desktop.

I remember that the head of the office sat behind me. Watching my back got a whole new meaning.

I remember leaving my home Mumbai because my parents were making a new place a home. I never did leave it. Home is where your heart is and mine will always be the city that made me and accepted me.

I remember leaving my new home in Delhi to make yet another home with my husband in a place unheard of to me. I remember the raw fear that enveloped me on my flight to Kuwait.

I remember the emirates flight that took me there and the red seats that made me want to hurl.

I remember holding my niece wrapped in the green hospital sheet. Her red little face and tiny nose which perfectly matched her beautiful face - it was love at first sight.

I remember needed to start afresh again over and over – with memories to keep me going.

Hum of the Day

Last night I went for a writers' workshop here. We took a cue from a book called “I Remember” by John Brainard. We all have common memories it seems and can relate to each others memories like our own.The idea is that when you start each sentence with “I remember” you trigger memories which can then be used as inputs in ones writing. For me, it just triggered me writing again. 

A Piece Of Me

The other day, an acquaintance who is four months away from marriage, no job and a new country, was telling me about how scary the thought of so many changes is. She had it all planned in her head: she would take whatever job she got, make sure she had her own set up and her own identity. She did not want to give away who she was.  It was imperative that a sense of who she was be retained. In the end, that was what would help her to keep her feet on the ground and hold on while change swept over her life.

It got me thinking – this time not about change. My thoughts were more in line with adaptability of our own sense of who we are. If someone asked any of us to turn back time, perhaps we would do some things differently. But my feeling is, most people, if they look at themselves objectively, would be happy with who they have become as a result of all the mistakes, good judgments and life experiences.

I know I gave up multiple pieces of me – sometimes parts of my behavior, sometimes my beliefs, sometimes work, friends – the list is actually long. But what is equally long is what I got for each piece I gave – it was a new piece, a new perspective, new thought, new pattern, a new way of life. And it was as much my choice as the rest of my life has been. 

Did the core of me change? Yes it did. But was it at the cost of my identity? No it was not. Because your identity is what you decide it is. You could be a banker, a teacher, a lawyer, a doctor. You will always be that internally – it’s your training and thoughts which were tailored in addition to a degree and education. No one can take that training away from you.

Sometimes, life may force you to use those very skills to do other things. Often, it may give you a chance to convert a talent into a profession or even discover a new talent. It can be a new way of doing old things or doing new things an old way. But all of that, each step you take, does not take away pieces of you – it just shows you new facets, new choices and a new identity.  No one can ever take away who you are – not a spouse, not a job and not a new life. Because, “who you are”,  is not constant. And it should not be.

Hum of The Day

I am who I want to be. Who I am is not, should not, and cannot be dictated by the profession I choose, where I live, who my family is. Identity is far deeper than society. We mistake pieces of us with pieces of our social lives.  Yes these pieces are like those of a jigsaw puzzle that forms the complete picture – but in life, those pieces are far more easily molded than we think. In the end, the picture will always be complete if you give up and re-mold the facets of you wisely.

Because You Have To

There are five steps to any unexpected situation – denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally acceptance.  It can be quite exhausting actually, especially since unexpected and life can almost be synonyms for each other. But we do go through the drill; we pretend, rant, negotiate, wallow and finally dust off, get up and move on. The last stage is usually for the lucky and strong ones. A lot of times, moving from wallowing to doing is a vacuum that cannot be navigated.

Perhaps because reaching the last stage of acceptance, implies change. It means looking at old things a new way or looking at new things altogether. It is a move away from the comfort zone and that’s a very uncomfortable change.

These are the phases when the post-it like profound statements screams out at you.  “Change is inevitable”, “change is the only constant”, “everything happens for a reason”, “in the end it will work out”, “if it’s not happy it’s not the end” – the list is long, monotonous and probably the ray of hope to cling on to. Clichés became clichés because the work – another profound statement I recent heard.

But where does one get the strength to change everything from? How do you do something as simple as just put one foot in front of the other so as to take that step forward? This is especially true when the task ahead is daunting, arduous and evidently time-consuming.  I think it comes from ensuring that you get the strength from deep within who you used to be before life changed. You get it from the dreams you dreamed as a child. From the person you knew you wanted to be.

 You move away from comfort by realizing that sometimes, you don’t even know that you are uncomfortable – the discomfort is such a part of who you have become.  You do it so that you can look yourself in the eye and know that you are not living a compromised life. You may not be living the ideal till long after you move, but knowing that you are walking to somewhere and not running to anywhere can be a big motivation to lift that foot and just step, breathe, and step again.

Hum Of The Day

Change, is constant but never easy to live with. My constant struggle with it is evident by how often I have written about it. But like an old t-shirt that is tattered, torn, shabby but comfortable, at some point you just have to throw away the old. For no reason but because you have to – the childhood blanket gave way to a teddy bear which gave way to something else. Each new comfort was at the price of an old. That’s just the way it has to be.

Life or something like it

For the past month or so, we have had a spate of man-films. Action-packed punches, guns and abusive language. At its best it was thrillers, murders or episodes of “Castle”. To add to it, I picked up “House of Silk” – the new Sherlock Homes novel. All gripping, all interesting, all absorbing – but all mind-twisting as well. I started to feel like I was living on the sets of an action movie and even in my sleep, all I see is stuff about murders, lawsuits and unpleasant things. So, yesterday, I decided that I had enough (we saw the Dark Knight Rises).

Two new girlfriends and I made a plan to go see what we thought was a chick-flick. “Ted” turned out to be the worst movie I have seen in my life. It actually may have been the worst movie the three of us have see collectively – and yes we walked out.

But, turned out, today I seem to have found a life – or something like it. The movie was preceded by lunch at a nice continental restaurant and lots of female chatter and coffee. It was followed up with more chatter and coffee – a session that ended because our husbands beckoned. I think I made two new “friends” today in a more real sense than I expected to.

“Life” as I had planned it included a career, a certain environment and a whole lot of things. But today, I found that I had most of it. No career – but that will happen soon. In the interim, in a new country I have a group of friends; I have places to go and things to enjoy. I have laughter in the day; I have people to at least vent a little with. I have a small sense of a life other than my husband. That may not be “the life” but it’s a life. And it’s a life worth living.

Hum of the Day

Everyone says attitude is what shapes your life. To me it’s not attitude, its expectations - tempered expectations and a willing to face life head on with all that it offers. I no longer want to fear what life holds for me and I don’t want to plan and expect certain things to happen. I feared the time on my hands and decided to start my day early and meet that fear head on. I did not expect anything more than acquaintances but found friends. Life may not be what we expect but perhaps life as is comes is life as we all know it. We just need to embrace it. 

What next?

Yesterday, on our way to see The Dark Night Rises, we were listening to music in the car. Or, more accurately, my husband was trying to listen to music while all I could do was flick “seek track” to see which song was next. I would zero in on one I liked, and the 30-40 seconds later, I was “seeking” again. Everyone has a “thing” which defines their most quirky quirk – that’s mine: impatience and an inability to see anything through to an end!

My mom also pointed it out to me the other day – so must be some truth. I have started innumerable diets with great enthusiasm and never stuck through any. I usually started studying a new topic with a thirst for knowledge but ended up turning to water to quench it about two pages down the book. Even at work, initially I will love it, and then I will get bored. Oh and “Bored” is my almost permanent status update! So yes, fact proven – I’m impatient, bored and a quitter.

But I no longer want to be. And this time I think it may be possible. This time, I am taking baby steps, I am doing small things and not getting over enthusiastic about anything – apathetic maybe and unhealthy to the naked eye; but, what works for me may not work for another and vice-versa.

I have often looked at others lives and thought that something of what they had looks good. I hope there are others looking at me that way as well. Who says that grass is greener on the other side can only mean that it’s pointless to aspire for something which is not a part of you because it’s a package deal. Perhaps it’s not as good as it seems but it may be better in some ways; it could be possible to tweak the package to take some good that comes with the acceptable bad. And that’s what I am now aiming at. Picking the things I see around me that are greener than my grass, allowing myself to want it and then taking baby steps to get it.

Hum of the Day

In line with my Nike themed life, if you don’t see, you won’t know. If you won’t know, you won’t want. If you want, move to get it. Aim for the stars, move to the target, and don’t give up till you get somewhere. It may not be heaven but look down and you’re away from the dirt. 

Simplifying "Musings"

Since childhood I have been a voracious reader - and have also been gifted with the ability to use complicated words, speak and write in long sentences and essentially exterminate any possible simplicity in my life. This filters down to complicated thoughts, thinking about things not worth the effort and worrying and analyzing endlessly.

I think one of my first few posts or articles used the word "musing". My sister was innately amused and called me to laugh at inability to use simple words. I went on to marry a man whose life mantra is "keep things simple". Poor guy did not know what he was in for.

For the longest time, writing was cathartic and somewhere and somehow, I used complicated words to simplify my complicated thoughts. Then, in my head, my life got too complicated for words and I pretty much stopped writing - except sporadically when I felt a wave of fresh air or some hope in my life.

Then today, sitting at my window, staring at the muddy Bahraini concrete around me, I realized that life is not worth all that incessant musing. I was remembered a dialogue from a new series I like to watch "Bunheads" - "Sometimes, there aren't words which are enough. Sometimes, there is nothing to day -you have to do something" (that's my interpretation of what I remember of it).

Simple words. Simple thought. Very effective.

Life is not complicated, life is not boring and its not monotonous or frustrating - unless you choose to make it that way. And like all choices, those choices are also what we live with and those are the choices we answer to when we look in the mirror.

So instead of saying and planning and thinking - I've started doing. I have started using the gym,eating healthier, reading, dreaming (not planning) and just doing what I need to for that dream life to come true.

Do I have time on my hands - "yes" if I see it as a void and "no" if I acknowledge the number of books I still want to read, the weight I want to lose, the health I want to gain, the knowledge I want to enhance and the experience I want to live.

Hum of the Day

Actions speak louder than words. They resonate in your being more than any words can. Your "being" will thank you for it - for a someone once said, we regret what we don't do more than what we do. So as Nike profoundly says "Just Do It".

P&G's First Kitchen Date

For a long time now, I noticed that I have friends across various countries in similar personal situations as me - relocation due to marriage and all that comes with it. The most significant thing that comes with it is time. Lots of it. Suddenly the fact that a day has early morning, morning, mid morning, afternoon, mid-afternoon, late afternoon, early evening and "husband home" time, is a new reality! Anyway, what is common across most of my friends and acquaintances thrown into this world is a new found or reignited love for cooking. 

If you read G's post on our history (http://timesunlimited.blogspot.com/2012/08/kitchen-date-with-friend.html), why she would be the one to inspire me becomes obvious. Basically, one afternoon skype and coffee session where I was grumbling about not doing anything constructive I asked her for recipes and she came up with this idea. Trust her and only her to know just what i probably needed to bring sanity to me at that time. 

I already cook - I'm just an amateur cook and tend to experiment around. But this time we set a recipe, a day-range and we both would cook - and blog about it. So as promised to her, this blog is about our first kitchen date :)

We chose to make Short Bread Fingers as per this recipe:  http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/shortbread_1290

I was full of good intentions but Friday is a weekend for us in the middle east and I postponed our date to Saturday.

Come Saturday, I decided to add a Pasta to the menu - so my husband got fed home made cookies and pasta for dinner :)

The recipe seemed simple enough and I've baked cookies earlier -- not sure these were supposed to be cookies though. Anyway, i added the butter and sugar and found its smelling funny so I improvised. I added in some vanilla essence and coffee. Then came the dough which wasn't turning into anything but powder, so i added milk.

With great excitement I had bought all the cookware - orange silicone bake ware  and some shape cutters. 

I used all, and put it into the over. Looked OK enough

I also made a spice indian pasta. Pink Sauce, Green Onions, Capsicum, Brocolli and mushroom. Its one of my "signature" dishes.

The result? The cookies were hard and some of them were a bit too thick - but the taste was great. So my improvisation wasn't bad!

Pasta - well it had a spicy indian flavour but we both loved it.

All in all a fun day - great concept and I see why turmoil, food and cooking go hand in hand.

Hum of the Day

When I found the cookie dough smelling odd, I knew it wasn't the way i wanted it. I knew what to do, I knew that a dash of vanilla and coffee is a good cure all. I wish I could handle life that way. I could be on control and know the quick-fixes. For now, I am happy that in my Kitchen, I am. Baby steps.

 

Gourmets, Foodies and the Journey In-between

I like to eat. And I have ample amplitude to prove it and assumed that I was a foodie.  As per Wikipedia, foodies want to learn everything about food, both the best and the ordinary, and about the science, industry, and personalities surrounding food. Gourmets on the other hand apparently, simply want to eat the best food. I, it appears, am neither. I just like to eat - often the same things, in varied quantities, with similar set tastes.

What got me thinking on these lines was this new series I have started enjoying – My Kitchen Rules.  It is a cooking competition where teams of two compete among themselves for a 3-5 course meal. The meals are judged on various parameters other than taster- presentation, texture of teh food, the way the flavours mix together, and even how the whole menu blends with each course. It sort of opened my eyes to the fact that cooking is a science and that flavours are unique and each flavour has to be uniquely appreciated. If even on flavour is overwhelming, it makes for a bad dish

Being Indian, my palette is evidently too accustomed to spices and a single overwhelming taste of the same mixtures. Anything else is bland. 

My life story is also similar. I am used to action, I am used to activity and I am used to too many things mixing into each other.  So now I am seeking bland – appreciation and small steps towards a comprehensive menu. And, I am also changing the way I cook – which means the masalas are going down, new food is being tried and my poor husband who loves his desi palette is left wondering why I ever watched My Kitchen Rules!

Hum Of The Day

My life recipe always involved work, traffic, transport, haggling, stress, tension and a general fight for time. I assumed that how life works. Then I saw a different life, tasted a new way of living, and somehow, I am appreciating the subtle flavours - the flavour of having time; the flavour of pursuing my own interests; the flavour of learning my interests – and learning that all of this does not have to mesh into one blurred day into the other. I could turn into a lifeie. Or at least try to.

Analysis, Assessment And Choice Paralysis

Is it worth it? Just how often do so many of us ask ourselves this question on a variety of issues. And usually we try to tell ourselves that end of the day, all things considered, what we are assessing is worth it. I am beginning to think that this happens only because we want what we are assessing and are just trying to get our rational mind to give the great “OK”. Its how the trained logical mind buys itself peace.

Life isn’t perfect – in fact far from it. Usually, what we want comes attached with a lot of things we don’t want. Sometimes, it comes attached with insufficient amount of some things we want and extra amounts of what we didn’t ask for. And that’s where the whole worth assessment begins.

You like your job but don’t love it. You like your boss but he is often a pain. The current project is horrendous and you are stuck on it for a year. End of the day is it worth it? This question uncannily props up when an increment, promotion or bonus has not gone your way – or if what you believed was yours went to someone else. 

You love your spouse but marriage is hard work. He takes care of you but not in all the ways you want him to. He can be insensitive, naive and aloof. He can also be thoughtful, considerate and caring in ways you never thought of. Makes you wonder if the package of ups and downs is worth it.

The new job offer you got is great, if only they gave you that little bit more. That higher designation, that higher increment – are all the changes worth it?

Ever wondered how come we never assess if dealing with our family, siblings and friends is worth it? Why exiting from a family business and what’s your “own” is rarely a question that crops up. Those relations also have ups and downs – but why don’t we consider turning those down.  Those are always worth it aren’t they?

Then is it that we assess the worth of things we believe we have options for? Are we starting to give ourselves options for too many things? Maybe anchoring down, taking what comes our way and making the most of it is a better way to be at peace. I'm not saying don’t seek more, but creating choices in situations where there is no need for assessment is a mighty big waste of time. Perhaps taking a deep breath, rubbing your hands for energy and just getting up and dealing with what’s on the plate is what automatically makes things “worth it”. Worth after all is relative – just like beauty. You have to assess the whole package in the context of your whole life.

Hum of the Day

I read somewhere that ours is a generation that has too many choices. Not only do I agree, but I now feel that we assess and reassess when there are no real choices. Something is a choice when you can say no or if something else belongs to you. In all other situations, it’s not a choice and therefore not worth assessing. Accepting is a word we all need to slowly learn. And have faith in ourselves that when the time to really say no comes, we will know and there will be no assessment.