The Shape of My Days

life's been treating me really well. Most of all, I've been enjoying the fact that I've been getting up in the morning. It has changed the light and shape of my day - I have much more time to do things, I have things to do, and I'm relaxed doing them. I am taking care of myself in the meanwhile too.

Among the things I'm doing are going back to cycling and the environment - attending lectures and conferences. It is stimulating meeting new people and coming across new ideas. I have met some really interesting people lately and like Joe said sometimes it's just enough to get to know someone stimulating to spark your interest in life again. Also I've been reconnecting with people I knew before. And somehow, the more I do, the more energy I have to do more.

I think it started with just pampering myself one day at the salon. That rolled into going out for a whole variety of activities, and then rewarding myself for them afterwards.

Recently I got a job recording sounds for a textbook at a studio. It involves doing voices - adult and children voices - saying simple things so that young learners can understand. Then it also involves singing, and I have earned a rep for having some musical talent. And so we sing jingles in the mikes too. It's quite fun.

And the other day after work, I went salsa dancing. Besides the beginner's course, I wanted to try the intermediate 1 course. There weren't enough people for that level so the teacher hiked me up to intermediate 2 level and I ended up doing quite well, and dancing well the rest of the night - better than I have in quite a while. So I feel I have 'levelled up' in salsa :) It feels like good progress.

So that's that. All in a day's work.

A Day Well Spent

Today was productive.

In the sense that I got my hair done, went to salon, and worked on an article and some arabic.

And even though hair looks okay, in the sense that it seems like I've brushed it quite a bit, but not like I just came out to party. And and article is not the best effort, and I was late to arabic class, we in Egypt say "alhamdullillah".

Thanks to God! A day well spent is a good day indeed. :)

P.s. and Oh, I finally posted a blog post. :)

Somethin to think about...

Before you can win, you have to believe you are worthy. - Mike Ditka, American coach.

can always count on BrainyQuote to give you something to think about..

I suppose the hard work is as much for ourselves to believe that we are worthy for the win.

Revolutionary Road

I finished reading the book about two days ago, and I watched the movie too. I found the book far superior, if only because it's much richer in its themes and doesn't just have one single narrative understanding of what's going on.

There were two things I liked most about the book - the confession at the very end that this contract between both parties had been a whole pack of lies (The movie doesn't give that impression in as definite a fashion) - that it was a whole thing that snowballed from being nice to a boy at a party into a marriage, three children, 'i love you' and 'you're the most valuable thing, a man.'

The other thing I liked was the link to insanity. That the female lead's closest ally in the whole book was a man in an insane asylum. He had called her "female" and the male lead "male" for deciding to start a whole new life away from the "hopeless emptiness". the fact that these two had confronted it - and found camaraderie in a madman for doing so - and wanted to get away from it, made them both exceptional and like everyone else that thinks that they're stuck in a rut, can't get out, until they think they can if they just run after this crazy exit. Theirs was France.

My France is Creative Writing at the New York University (or some other uni).

What's your France?

Pajamas: Pink t-shirt, and grey bottoms, and a grey cardigan to keep us warm

The Way Back Home

The way back home was three months long. What were the three months in India like? people ask. And I find myself at a lack for a summary that I could provide. They were long, confused, mixed months filled with family and a few friends that I can still find in India (MD and Hansa and Niraj and now Dharini). Then there was my cousin's wedding, which was large and spread out over 4 days, despite its attempts to be otherwise. So, overall, my time was good, in the way that life is good when you look back on it, but can be painful and tedious while you go and grow through it.

Despite friends' complaints that I wasn't my usual gchat self, I was actually regularly tied to email. And the internet was my tether to the Promised Land of Cairo. And while in Goa, I could not help but think of Gouna, and Mumbai was laden with comparisons to Cairo - mainly about how easily I could move from one place to another in Misr.

So it's good to be back. Back to my room, my bed, my laptop (which was also in Cairo), and mostly back to my self. The chill here in Cairo (comparative again to the 30-odd degrees celsius in Mumbai) is pleasant. It makes me take pleasure in the warmth of Indian tea, and even in the cold breath I take in - which tricks me into thinks it's fresh and unpolluted by Cairo traffic. Soon I will complain... As one guy said about Palestine, you can only call a place your own when you complain about it... I'm looking forward to it.

The Road From Jhumritalaiyya to Pani Puri

Jhumritalaiyya is a Place

And not merely fiction. It is in Jharkhand (previously part of Bihar), next to Ranchi.

This I know because the pani puri walla whom I regularly visit is not a Mumbaiyya by birth. He is the first of his family, Ajay said, to come out and see the city quite a distance away.

He arranges his audience clockwise around him, and then serves puris to them, picking each one up with a flourish, filling it with moong/boondis, then tamarind water, and then pani puri water. One plate of pani puri costs Rs. 20 and is good for 6 puris.

At first bite, you crunch into the puri, then the water’s taste fills up your mouth, and the softness of boondis, and coriander finally hit in last, freshening the breath.

After serving the 6 puris, he offers you an extra helping of the water (paani) and an extra puri with boondi-moong, and masala. I get a customized serving of a little bit of tamarind in my final puri. Like me, he knows the tastes of many regular customers. I hear a man behind me introduce a new customer to Ajay, ‘This is actually my brother.’

Ajay regularly arrives at about 11 to the Lokhandwala Chat Center and takes a break around 2, then he starts again about 3 or 4 and goes on to 11 p.m.

I have asked him a bit about himself, and tried his servings, but I wonder how many faces he has seen, and stories he’s sampled sitting just on this one little corner in Lokhandwala.

in pajamas: green top, yellow bottom with flowers
till:2 p.m. roughly :)

Fruit tales in Mumbai

I went grocery shopping the day befores with my mother. We came along tomatoes, potatoes, zucchini, water chestnuts; we passed by pineapples and apples, and I remember we stopped at papayas. They are a rich, sweet fruit.

The price negotiation factor is a real test of character. Bargaining shows the inner you. The seller in this case, without stating the real price put two papayas in the bag, confident that he would get the price. Meanwhile, Mom and I felt that since was so certain that Rs. 60 and then Rs. 55 was the price, that we should actually pay him Rs. 45. When he took his Rs. 50, he raised it to the god Hanuman before pocketing it.

Because of our (unfair) haggling, he refused to deal with us further. I felt awful about the callous manner in which he was speaking to Mom, so I intervened and said, “You talk like this with your customer, and then you put your money to a god,” trying to point to his hypocrisy. That infuriated him and he raised his voice and refused to talk to me.

Meanwhile, Mom had already agreed to a bargain price of Rs. 60 for oranges, which was unbeatable in other places, but because of what I said, he was unwilling to trade.

After about 15 more minutes of shopping, I still could not shake off the feeling that I’d done something wrong, so I went up to him to apologize.

I could not immediately spot him among fruitsellers, even though I was on the lookout for the Hanuman picture near his stall. I found him sitting down with two other neighbour fruitsellers; probably they had discussed his woes.

All I could do was fold my hands in greeting.
He accepted my apology, “I said too much.”
He acquiesced. “No, it’s just that I sold you the papayas even at a loss, and still you wanted a bargain.”
After some kind-talk of me saying “Please don’t hold this at heart,” he let me go with “Babaji ka aashirwaad hai.” (May the lord bless you).

Sounds a lot like “Salam aleikum” (May peace be upon you.)

God I miss Cairo!

In pajamas: green top, yellow bottoms with flower print
Time: 2 p.m. (lovin the stinky afternoon pajama feeling)
Motto: I’m lovin’ it (borrowed from McDonalds)