Dune Bashing is so cool really!!!!!

My friend was here in Dubai last week with her son on vacation. They were here for a mere 5 days but the amount of activities we packed into those days left me with no time for anything else. And after she left I needed around 7 days to recover; that’s why no posts for 2 weeks;-P

It was lovely having Chaitra staying with me; though we’ve known eachother for almost 15 yrs there were so many firsts. I have tasted her cooking many times in the past but she never had what I made until now, we spent hours talking and discovered surprising changes in eachother, old times were discussed and reminisced in detail as was marriage and motherhood. And when the children took to each other easily we were overjoyed.

We did the usual sight-seeing and among the experiences was the Desert Safari which stood out; now this is a trip which is a must-do on a tourist’s list to get a feel of Dubai. It is a half day trip where we are taken into the desert and shown what desert-living is all about. Well ok not that ‘real’ but close as they come and they focus on the good bits which makes it bearable. But even then it was summer for goodness sakes.

So when my friend requested me to go along I told her an emphatic NO….for many reasons. For one I like to take my trips in comfort and spending ½ a day in the sweltering heat was not my idea of fun. Secondly there is something called dune-bashing wherein before reaching the camp we are taken into the ‘proper’ desert[where for miles you see only sand and sand-dunes like in the movies] and the 4 wheel drive you are traveling in is made to thrash up & down the sand dunes. The driver deliberately jerks the vehicle up & down and the passengers get a kick out of it.

Now this is what scared me the most. I’m a poor traveller with a motion-sickness problem; infact I’m so sensitive that I get funny feelings in my stomach if I rock too hard on the recliner in the living-room. Yes really;-/. When I was a child the problem was so bad that I always had a plastic-cover tucked away in my school-bag for emergencies. Now I’m like sooooo much better but the fear is still there. The only vehicles I can breathe easily are in the auto and the train, the rest are just tolerated for their uses.

Oh well coming back to the main subject at hand……dune-bashing was precisely the reason why I never wanted to go on a desert-safari in these years. My friend was disappointed ofcourse but understood my fear & didn’t make a fuss & so I call the one person I know in this area of expertise to arrange this trip. In spite of the short notice he agreed to arrange it but was aghast to hear I had never been on one in these 10 years I’ve lived here. And he literally ate my head….he coaxed, cajoled, waxed eloquently on the exhilarating desert-safari experience and made it sound like I would not have lived my life fully if I didn’t go on one. Inspite of my fears I wondered if I was missing out on something all these years. Then suddenly something he said just overpowered all of my doubts and I recklessly agreed. I thought what the heck…..in those 7 hrs of supposedly pure unadulterated fun what’s a mere 20-30 minutes of dune-bashing. Right?????

So armed with a light lunch, anti-motion sickness tablets and plastic covers we boarded the vehicle. My better-half who has a bad back and my younger daughter opted not to come. My elder daughter and my friend’s son were so excited. On the way the vehicle stopped to pick up a Portuguese couple and soon we were on our way. After an hour or so when it didn’t look like we were reaching anywhere soon I gave into my thirst, opened a can of Mirinda & took 2 tiny sips.

Almost immediately we reached a camel farm where we clicked pictures of camels & fed the curious animals with bread and the rest of the Mirinda[yep they love fizzy drinks] after which the dune bashing started immediately. It didn’t take me 3 minutes to come to the conclusion that drinking the Mirinda was one of the idiotic decisions taken in my entire life. I bravely pasted a smile on my face but went a deathly white. While the rest of the group shouted “Whooo-hoooo” and “faster, faster”[show-offs, they were all slying looking at me everytime they were saying it;-/] I was grimly hanging onto the thoughtfully provided handles on the top. The driver, a Syrian had this curious habit of saying “bye-bye” in a sing-song voice everytime he going to plunge down the side of the dune; the car would then slide down the slope almost like as if it would topple over and my stomach would plummet in the same speed making me swallow uncomfortably.

My daughter was laughing delightedly and shouting “Faster, faster” with a half-crazed look on her face. I looked at her wryly wondering how she could be so different from me, then narrowed my eye-brows suspiciously and thought back to the time she was born. After all she did lie in the nursery along with many other kids, was there a possibility my own flesh and blood got switched with this brat. Goodness I really have to discuss this with the better-half….maybe a DNA test…..

And I puked, but not before I fished out the plastic cover and buried my face into it. Just when I was congratulating myself for hitting it right into the cover the vehicle bucked & it spilt. If you are thinking “yecch, ewwwwwww……sick” just imagine me. The vehicle stopped, there was a deathly silence filled with pity, guilt[u know coz they were enjoying & I wasn’t] & a sour Mirinda stink….I was so embarrassed & hopping mad at myself. Everybody scrambled out eager to get away. My daughter loudly criticizes “Mama, you didn’t hold the plastic cover properly, you should be more careful”. Giving her a piercing “wait till I get you alone” look I stumbled out & cleaned up. The rest of them walked around clicking pictures and I breathed deeply drinking in the surprisingly cool breeze in the middle of the beautiful barren land.

They were standing at the edge, contemplating sliding down the dune and ran the idea by us. We vetoed it ofcourse.

The rest of the trip went off fine. We reached the camp, witnessed a glorious sunset, rode on camels, got henna tattoos on our bodies, carried falcons on our wrists, watched a documentary on Sheikh Zayed[the founder of UAE], gorged on Arabic food, watched belly-dancing & other curious forms of entertainment. The belly-dancer was gorgeous and not at all like the thin fair creatures you see on tv; she was a mature, dusky Moroccan woman whose graceful movements mesmerized us from the start. I could see Nikita watching all her moves closely and had to hide a smile when she whispered sadly that she wont be able to do a particular dance-step; well I had to agree coz the belly-dancer was balancing a long stick horizontally on her generously endowed upper torso;-D

When I think about it now I’m so glad I took Nikita along. I almost didn’t coz I didn’t want Naina to feel bad[Naina[6yrs] I knew for sure wouldn’t have enjoyed the dune-bashing, and so when I explained how it was going to be she willingly stayed back with her father]. Nikita threw herself whole-heartedly into having fun and reveled in the whole experience. She even got up to join the belly-dancer along with the others at the end of the performance. And in the middle of everything she found time to make a sand-castle too; I smiled in indulgence at her boundless energy but it was wiped off almost immediately when I realized she was using up all the water in the unattended Aquafina bottles, to make it;-/.

As for me I’m glad I went for it. So many times I say NO without thought and miss out on different experiences. I doubt I’ll ever put myself thru another round of dune-bashing but I don’t for a moment regret the one I experienced and there is this decision I made that I will open my mind to all ideas and experiences and give them a fair chance. Who knows I may even end up enjoying a few like this one. All but for one thing….it will be a long time before I drink Mirinda again.

And as to how the friend finally convinced me to go on this desert safari…..

…

…

He said something like “Just think about it, you can blog about the whole experience when you get back” and believe me when I say, that very minute all my reservations went flying out of the window;-D

oohh meri phooti kismet

I'm in trouble, deep trouble.......the last week has been a nightmare. I'm freaking really!!!!

Sometime last week my friend’s maid got caught by the police and they[the police] inturn called M & husband to the police station. There they were given 2 options: pay up the fine or stay in jail till the case is tried. The maid was working illegally for them u see. Dammit 98% of the maids are working illegally here, everybody knows that & are still using their services.

You may proceed directly to the next para but for people who are interested, some gyaan about how the system works here: There are 2 ways to get maids legally working for you in Dubai or shd I say UAE.
One, we sponser one from our home country or any country but it works out very expensive & not only that we are totally responsible for her[if you hear a few horror stories from employers you’ll never feel like sponsoring one ever].
The other way is to recruit one from a cleaning company and they may send any nationality…….again they charge per hour and are quite expensive compared to the 3rd option which is illegal but the most popular option.

Here we put an ad in the newspaper[all this is illegal mind you but around 90% of the population has done this atleast once in their lifetime] stating our requirement & our location and wait for response. Now, there is large number of women who would have come under a maid’s visa after paying a lot of money to their Arab sponsors. Ideally they should be working for them but they have an understanding with the sponsor where they work independently & make more money this way. These maids work as part time or fulltime help for a nominal amount[compared to the other 2 options]; they are happy with his arrangement and we are also happy but the fact remains what we are doing is illegal but we don’t think too much about it until something like this happens.

Coming back to the topic, now M & husband had no choice. They paid up the fine and were allowed to get back home on the same day. My poor friend sounded shell-shocked when she called me to tell the whole story. The fine was bad enough and on top of it all she saw scenes like people being led into different cells handcuffed, how the policemen were doing their duty and making good amount of money legally, how she who had never been to a police station in all her life felt being treated like a criminal.

The only thing which set them apart from the rest was that they had the money[no cheques, only cash] to pay upfront and get out of here without spending too much time in the suffocating environment.

What does all this have to do with me???? Dont ask, just dont ask I might just start crying in self-pity. All this happened on the better-half's birthday. I was actually planning to get a cake & get the kids to decorate the house when M calls me & tells me all this. I was totally shocked to say the least. Yeah well, all of us know that every now and then the police do an over-all cleaning of the society where they round up all the unsuspecting souls standing at the bus-stop, etc. The ones with valid visa's are let off & the rest are carted off to jail. And there they languish till either their sponsor’s pay the fine and bail them out or they are sent back to their own country. But this is the 1st time I hear that even the people who are employing them have to pay fine.....and that too a hefty sum of dhs.51,000[works out to 6 Lakhs+ in Indian Rupees] is not an amount the common man will have lying around in his house or even in his bank account.

And so there I was sitting in shock thinking about how it could happen to anybody when the better-half walks in & He could make out something was amiss & within half an hour got the whole story out of me. And that was it. If I had any inkling I was going to set off a chain of events I wouldn’t have ever told him this. His reasoning, he doesnt have dhs.51,000 to waste on something which could be avoided….the maid had to go, Period. So here I am in front of u, a tired, haggard looking Nancy with wrinkled fingers[all that washing] sitting and typing a post hurriedly before the kids come back from school... oh pleease overlook all the typos.

I'm so desperate really.....and I see no way out. When I picture myself mopping floors, cleaning bathrooms, washing utensils, changing bedsheets, taking trash out, doing loads of laundry, ironing, watering the plants + what I was already doing and that is cooking, getting kids to study, taking them down to play, squeezing time to write posts inbetween & looking after the family's needs as a whole, my heart squeezes in terror.

Long ago I made peace with myself when realised I'm not one of those people who can multi-task and finish up with work ahead of time. I'm clean, I'm thorough but I'M SLOW. So slow that even if I’m given me a head start the tortoise will end up winning the race[now u know why my rate of posting is so low].

So I hired a maid and never looked back. When I was working she used to work fultime for me & now since I'm at home she comes in for 2 hours & takes quite a bit of weight off my shoulders. Both she and I were heart-broken….it was a typical parting scene in the end with both of us holding each others hands & reluctantly letting go. As the tip of her fingers left the tip of my fingers I realized how much I loved her & how crushed I was to let her go..……honestly she was worth her weight in gold;-(. Years ago I had written about her here.

And do you know what the funniest bit is …….nobody else, simply NOBODY ELSE sacked their help after hearing M’s story, JUST US. The only satisfaction I derive from the whole fiasco is watching the better-half walking on eggshells around me. And oh yeah he finally got around to taking me to get new furniture for the living room and our bedroom. Buttering me up I know, but I'm not going to let him off the hook in a hurry. And M, I'm not going to forgive you for a looong time.....and I absolutely forbid you to confide in me your problems esp the ones which have the potential to create mayhem in my life. And if anybody of you dares to comment how the better-half is right, u better watch it.

And, and I've got guests[remember holleyland] coming to stay over this weekend.........ohhhhhh somebody wake me up from this nightmare!!!!!!

*Title of the post: roughly translated as 'ooh my rotten luck' in English

Every Woman is Special!!!!

Butterfly, Lakshmi and Varsha tagged me to write something for International Womans Day on March 8th. I racked my brains the whole day to write appropriately and went to the main site to check their rules when I saw that the contest was ending the same day. I gratefully grabbed the straw and decided it was not possible to do justice at such short notice.

Contest or no contest the thought refused to go away, I idly googled for information and International Women's Day website said

“International Women's Day (8 March) is a global day celebrating the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future.”

The difficulty was that I personally didn’t know anybody who matched this description and just as suddenly it hit me how blind I was. I was searching far and wide for inspiration when one of my closest friend’s life-story was something which always touched me.

We were a group of eight in college and Chaitra and I were part of this big noisy party. As years passed the numbers dwindled and it became a smaller group of 5. Chaitra and I were the only ones who took English literature and so it was not so strange that we became very firm friends by the end of our college-days.

Immediately after college she found a job in an educational centre and soon found a vacancy for me in the same place and our friendship only became stronger. She was a very good-looking girl, looked years younger & one could always find boys hanging around wherever she went. But she was much more than a pretty face; even in the early days of college she was determined to make something out of her life. But a bit confused, I felt or else why would she have gotten out of one broken relationship to jump straight into another. I didn’t approve at all but stood by her when she had to take the extreme decision to go against her parents’ fierce disapproval and marry the boy. I remember shaking in my boots when she dragged me to her parents’ house after her wedding as she couldn’t face them alone. Her mother broke down and demanded why I as her best friend couldn’t have advised her against the relationship. I felt terribly guilty then as I too felt my friend who had everything going for her could have waited for better things.

Everything which had to go wrong went haywire after marriage. Her father-in-law who was a strong support passed away, her parents refused to forgive her for going against their wishes and she found herself pregnant earlier than she planned. She had a terrible delivery and swore she was never going to put herself thru that ordeal again. All her dreams of climbing the corporate ladder fell thru when she was forced to leave her job after her child was born. Her mother-in-law made her life miserable and to top it she had put on so much weight after the delivery that her self-esteem fell. Imagine almost 80kgs on a 5’2 frame…….she once told me in tears how she hated looking at herself in the mirror. It was a hopeless situation, I remember thinking.

Once the initial shock of being confronted with one bad thing or the other passed, she grimly charted out a stringent plan. She was determined not to let circumstances over-whelm her. Her 1st objective was to lose weight; she joined a gym and under the guidance of a trainer exercised single-mindedly and ate all the right food. She lost all the pregnancy fat and achieved her objective in just 6 months flat and never slipped again. Next she looked for a job and found one after a lot of effort[nobody was keen to hire a new mother you see] and stuck thru it even though it was not what she was looking for as she needed the experience it offered.

Meanwhile the situation at her in-laws place where she stayed with her husband was deteriorating from bad to worse. She received absolutely no support from anybody and her husband had his own constraints. The biggest blow was when they were asked to leave the parents home and told to manage on their own when they didn’t have the means to do so. Her husband who part-managed the family business till then was suddenly out in the cold.

I can only imagine what my friend must have gone thru. She by nature is a private person and did not make friends very easily. She never let me know anything[I’m here in Dubai remember] and filled me in only when I went home for vacation. Not that I would have been of much help but atleast I could have lent her some support.

She was shattered but didn’t break; they moved into a small house near her parents house[by now her parents were on speaking terms with her] and she entrusted her son to her mother for the time she was away at work. Her parents were not very happy about it and shouldered the responsibility reluctantly . Chaitra knew about her parents reservations but couldn’t afford to let her pride talk so she pretended not to notice…..atleast her son was in the hands of somebody she could trust.

The next few years brought many life-defining moments both happy and sad and she took them all in her stride. She worked hard and learnt from her mistakes. Breaking away from the family proved to be a blessing in disguise. Her husband who had a casual attitude towards life woke up to his responsibilities; what’s more, recognized her for the woman she was and provided her with all support.

Now I marvel when I look at her. She is a poised and confident woman; nobody believes it when she says she has a 9yr old son. She stood by her mother when she underwent an open heart surgery and helps her father out financially. She is her parents’ strongest support, an irony really as all their life her parents were pinning all their hopes and aspirations on their son and sidelining her. As of now she is working for Dell as their ‘Regional Sales Manager’ and has 45 employees reporting to her. Need I say anything more???? And oh she won the 'Best employee of the year' 2 times consecutively.

I am so proud of her, my heart sort of swells when I think of her and always remember her when I need motivation. In the end I didn’t have to go far at all to find a woman who inspired me….she was there all the while, just within my little world’s reach.

This world is filled with amazing women like Chaitra who is somebody’s mother, daughter or wife. I am so glad she is my very good friend.

Even the best of Friends must part

I was feeling dizzy & nauseous in class[8th std] one day; the teacher asked for a volunteer to accompany me outside & when Neetu was the only one who put her hand up, I was pathetically gratified.
The next day I had forgotten to bring my lunchbox & Neetu who went home for lunch came back with 4 slices of Masala Bread from Iyengar’s bakery. I decided then & there that I’ll be her friend for life.

Her house was very close to our school. Very soon we were spending all our time in & out of school together. She was the only child to her parents & luckily for us her parents took a liking to me.
I say luckily because there were quite a few instances we got mad at eachother & it was her parents who solved our issues & got us back together.

We were not at all alike Neetu & I……infact when I look back now I cannot imagine how we ever became friends & spent more than 13+ yrs in eachother’s company.

We both loved books; but she preferred gritty hard hitting novels like Jeffrey Archer & Sidney Sheldon whereas I leaned towards the mushier stuff like Danielle Steele & Mills & Boon.
We loved music; she preferred English head banging stuff & was crazy about George Michael & other boy bands; I enjoyed 60’s & 70’s Hindi music.

The only things we unanimously agreed upon was…… our mutual dislike for kids. Our favourite timepass at Christmas & other get togethers was to make grotesque faces at kids, scaring them away & grinning conspiratedly at eachother.

So many memories…..

*She always dragged me along when she was buying clothes. It just happened that whenever we went together she always got exactly what she was looking for.
*We’d order something at a restaurant & my meal always looked & tasted better than hers. She used to be so peeved & cunningly talk me into exchanging plates.
*She had 4 dogs……one of them was named after her cousin Johnnie & cousin Johnnie had a dog named Neetu. U can very well imagine what transpired whenever they met.
Both my dogs Toothie & Cookie were gifted to me by her parents.
*Can never forget our trips to the Mecca library at Commercial street & Cox town where we whiled away a lot of time.
*She was the one who enlightened me that babies can also come out from the passage below[till then I was under the impression that the only option was to cut open the stomach to take the baby out]
*Death by Chocolate at Corner House, Residency Rd was our favourite dessert. It cost a whopping Rs.35 that time. On special occasions, we’d both order 1 each. She would eat hers quickly & then impatiently wait coz she knew I’ll stop halfway & give the remaining to her….infact most of the treats ended the same way.
*She loved the cocoa cakes & appams my mom made.
*If you pulled up the mattress on her bed, you’ll find tiny paper packets of chilli powder & salt underneath……..she always ate it while reading a book.
*On one of her birthdays I gave her a gift wrapped package. She opened the wrapper to find a cardboard box which had Prestige Pressure Cooker written on it. She tried hard to hide her disgust & then was so thrilled when she saw a pair of sports shoes inside.

Around 6 years after we became friends we were nostalgically discussing how highly unlikely our friendship was, if not for that single act of kindness at the beginning & I find out that she volunteered to accompany me out coz she was bored & was looking for a way to get out of class.
Though I threw something at her at that time, I grinned understandingly as the explanation made complete sense.

In college we were in different classes & made other friends but always found time to spend with eachother.

Her mother is a well known gynecologist who had a hectic schedule. To get away from all that stress, every year they went on a 1-2 weeks holiday to some vacation spot. I was always included since Neetu would refuse to go without me. Thanks to them I’ve been to many places in South India like Madras, Kodaikanal, Ooty, Goa and stayed in the best places. Sometimes Aunty would generously tell me to bring my sister along too but Neetu was not too enthusiastic about the idea coz it meant that she had to share me with my sister.

Even today when I see Hersheys chocolates & those huge Danish biscuit tins I think of Neetu. She had several aunts & uncles abroad who would send her delicious chocolates & biscuits. Like a typical only child who didn’t know how to share, she would open the box & pick out the thinnest ones to give me. As an afterthought however she would promise to get me 1 whole tin when she went abroad & got a job.

I loved her……..quirks and all. She was older to me agewise but I was incharge[atleast I thought so]. After college she went away to Chennai to study a complex course in Computer Science but we kept in touch with letters. When she came back after a year, we got together & it was ‘almost’ like before.
I worked somewhere close to her house, so was able to drop in to chat & catch up every opportunity I got.
Her parents were looking for a groom for her long before mine started to but somehow her marriage never happened.

Then I got married & left to Dubai. We wrote mails to each other every once in a while & spoke on birthdays & special occasions but after sometime we sort of stopped communicating.

But every year when I go on vacation I visit her without fail. We are happy to see eachother & catch up on the latest with each other but somewhere something’s missing. We are no longer able to just carry on where we left off. Conversation dries up within 20-30 mins after meeting. Then its just about the weather & other general stuff. My kids don’t interest her at all…..I smile resignedly….she still hasn’t changed in that respect.

I felt like the smallest thing on earth, when once in a moment of weakness she told me how hounded & pressurized she & her parents felt because of her unmarried status and that she deliberately looked for a job outside the country so that she could escape from it all.
So when she asks me the standard question “So how’s married life???”, I act quite bored, pretend the grass is greener on her side & that she’s lucky to have escaped the noose.

I see the sadness in her parents’ eyes when they see me with my kids. I feel guilty somewhere inside me for leading a normal life in contrast to their daughter. Just for a moment I feel like as if I’ve deserted their daughter after being by her side for more than a decade.

She is somewhere in Singapore now & our vacations to India don’t happen at the same time so I haven’t seen her in recent years. But there are so many things which remind me of her almost everyday….
...My firstborn is named Nikita because Neetu & I loved the name.
...My wedding anniversary falls on her birthday
...Archie Comics & Mad Magazines always remind me of her.
...'Sacrifice', 'Final Coundown', 'Careless whispers' & 'Last Christmas' teleport me straight into her messy room.
...When I bake a cocoa cake I wish there was a way I could send some of it to her.

I've written quite a few mails asking her how she’s been, reminiscing our days together but haven’t received a single reply back. Once upon a time I could have given you a detailed account of how exactly her mind worked.

My mother tells me that they have shifted their residence to another part of town & for the 1st time I realize I don’t have another contact number other than their old house phone number[I lost my cell phone & in the process lost her contact number].

I know she’s decided to cut loose…….decided that old memories & connections don’t serve any purpose except to remind her of the void in her life.

It hurts that she doesn’t want anything to do with me, that she finds it so easy to just dismiss the times we spent together. Worst of all it haunts me that I never tried hard enough to keep in touch with her.

But even today if I have to talk about her it's always "My best friend Neetu used to........".

I guess, old habits die hard.

Fatty Bombalatty

Narrator : My younger daughter Naina

Audience : Mama

Rhea : Manu's daughter

Chechi : My older daughter Nikita

Manu: My good friend
______________________________

Naina: Mama, mama I want to tell u something.

Mama: Wait Naina, I’m calling somebody up.

Naina: Mama, do u know what Rhea said to chechi* the other day?

Mama[absently]: What?????

Naina: She said “Your mother is very fat”

My fingers stopped dialing the number. I kept the phone down quietly & looked at Naina.

Something in my expression must have alerted my child for she stopped & hesitated.

Mama(quietly): What did Chechi say when she heard this???

Naina: Oh Chechi got mad & told her off. Then do you know what Rhea told her????

Mama: What?????

Naina: Rhea said “It’s ok, don’t get upset, my mother is fatter than yours”

***

I pick up the phone & call Manu[Rhea's mother]

Nancy: Manu I’m very upset!!!!!!

Manu: What happened?????

Nancy: The other day Rhea told Nikita “Your mama’s very fat”!!!!

Manu[shocked]: Oh my God!!!!!!

I don't say a word & let the silence stretch

Manu[so upset]: Oh my God!!!!!!!

I take pity on her...

“And then she said….." pausing dramatically
“It’s ok, don’t get upset, my mother is fatter than yours”

And we laughed & laughed & laughed till tears ran down our cheeks.
I don’t know when I last laughed so hard. Manu also did, though I guess more out of relief.

.........Out of the mouth of babes.


Fatty Bombalatty: A colloqial term we used rather thoughtlessly in school to refer to the healthier versions of our kinds. Ever heard it anywhere????

*chechi: Elder sister in Malayalam

Edited to add: Incase anybody is wondering, I deleted some parts of the post coz I thought it sort of took away the shine from the joke:-)

Nailed

My friend Chaitra from college days has this habit of cutting her nails only on Tuesday. Once when she was in a very mellow mood she let me into the secret “You get money if you cut your nails on Tuesday”.
I laughed at her on the face.
“Try it & then come back & laugh at me” she said loftily.
Ofcourse I didn’t try it.

Ummm....I meant ofcourse I didn’t try it right away.

Well…you have to understand the situation.
Here is a close friend you share 9 hrs in a day for around 4 yrs[3 yrs in college & 1 yr at work(she got me my 1st job)]. Week after week, month after month….year after year she very prayerfully cuts her nails on Tuesdays. I mean…..She seems totally rational in every other matter “well maybe….just maybe, she knows something you don’t. Anyways you have to cut your nails off some day or the other, might as well cut it on a Tuesday, what’s the BIG DEAL…. you don’t lose money….u are supposed to be getting it” & so on…..my left brain battled it out with my right brain.

Ofcourse the crooked brain errr…I mean the left brain won. So one Tuesday I stealthily cut my nails & waited. And what do you know……….an old acquaintance who borrowed 180 rupees, SEARCHED me out & returned it.

Well ok…technically I didn’t get more money; I just got my own money back. But it was “The money” I had given up hope of ever getting back. Now when I think of it I feel, if I had got some money just like that, I may not been convinced so fast. But this was money which I never expected to get. I was sold.

After that day I try to time my version of manicure for Tuesdays. Ofcourse there have been many a tuesday when I forgot to. And ofcourse it was my loss though I never could prove it. And now you wonder whether it still works. And I tell you…. IT WORKS.

And before you ask, yeah I cut my nails yesterday. And before you ask again….if I didn’t, you can bet your last dirham I wouldn’t get my salary within this coming week.

So now how many of you are convinced???????????

p.s – Chaitra also says “Don’t wear new clothes on Saturdays. If you do, you don’t get to wear new clothes for the whole of the next year”

Price of Movie Tickets

I spoke with a woman called Tahira on the phone this morning during the course of my work. She reminded me of another Tahirae who studied with me in college.

Tahirae & I were in the same class for BA ie. 3 yrs of degree. She was pretty, outgoing with a loud voice which everybody recognized in college. When I say everybody……its like 98% of the college knew her either by Name, Sight, or Voice.

By the end of 1st term we both happened to be in the same gang of eight girls. Though we were in the same gang, she & I just interacted in a general way…..actually we had common friends & so landed in the same friends circle.

She was a bit too hyper-active for my temperament…….. a total extrovert, not afraid to draw attention towards herself but having said that much, I have to add that I was very fond of her……..as she was like the joker in our pack, a sort of mascot for our group.

One day, the 2 of us found ourselves in each other’s company as the rest of them were absent for various reasons. We attended 3 hrs of classes & then we had a 2 hrs break before the next class started. We sat together on a bench in the college grounds & for the first 15 minutes covered all the topics possible on College, Friends, Family, the status of World Affairs, etc. The conversation dried up & we realized that we had nothing much in common.

After a pause, she suggested that we go for a movie.

I was like “Good Idea, but I didn’t carry cash today, you pay today & I’ll pay you tomorrow”.
She looked at me surprised “You know I never have much money with me.”
That fact, I & more than half the college was aware of.

She got up decisively & said “Let’s borrow”
I was like “Do we really need to do this?”
Tahirae turned & gave me a surprised look “you mean, you’d rather we sit here & stare at each other’s face?”
The subject was closed.

I trailed behind her amused & unwillingly……….amused coz anybody who gave money to Tahirae once, never gave her again coz she never believed in the concept of repaying her debts.

But not many could directly refuse to give her what she wanted. She would especially target the Juniors.
She would stare directly into their eyes & say “Look, we want to go for a movie. Lend us some money & we’ll pay you tomorrow”.
Many of them said “Have no money, Tahirae”.
“Ok then just gimme 5 bucks” she would demand & put out her hand.

She led from the front while I tried to merge with the surroundings. Once in a while, she turned back to see if I was behind her & I would beam at her supportively.
Curiously, almost everybody she approached gave her whatever small change they could, apologized that they couldnt spare more & told her not to bother returning it.

At the end of 25 minutes we sat & counted our earnings……….a princely sum of 82 rupees….…more than double our movie cost.

We had lunch first – 2 jumbo burgers at Indiana’s for 28 rupees, watched the movie “Dil Ka Kya Kasoor” [starring…Divya Bharati who died & some vague guy] for 40 bucks[balcony tickets at Galaxy], bought popcorn & pepsi during the interval for 12 bucks & generously donated the remaining money to the 1st beggar who approached us.

We had a really good time & 3½ hrs went by, ever so quickly. Our rapport strengthened & multiplied by the end of the day.

One would quite naturally assume that both of us became better friends based on that day’s event but we very matter-of -factly went back to what we were.

Hadn’t thought of her in many years….surprising how just a Name conjures up a host of memories.

Deep Waters

It was my husband’s birthday last month. As usual I went thru the painful process of finding yet another gift for him…..perfumes, shirts, pen. This time I thought…maybe something more niche. One of my friends Jayannan works in a Travel Agency & he offerred to organise a Dhow Cruise for us & I was like ‘Why not?’

I’ve been in Dubai 10 years & haven’t been on a Dhow Cruise yet. Not just me, my husband has been here for the past 29 years & he still hasn’t been on one. Now before u wonder whether I married some ‘Budda’ let me hastily clarify that my husband(no, no he was not my husband then) came to Dubai at the tender age of 8 & did his schooling, etc here itself.

Now Jayannan(see 1st para) is the Creative manager of a Travel Agency. Creative Manager…..hmmmm…whatever that means. The Jaynanan I knew in the past, didn’t have a creative bone in his body.

I met Jayanan when I was teaching at a Multimedia setup in Bangalore(around 11 yrs back). This diminutive, swarthy, locaquious young man of Sri Lankan descent was in Bangalore, just to have some fun & maybe study too. He needed to prove that he was in India for a reason & so joined our establishment for a few courses & took away a certificate from us to show the immigration that he was spending his time in the country fruitfully.

He used to call me Maam then. He explained at the onset itself that he was there just to keep himself occupied and frankly didn’t see what a Multimedia Course could teach him that could set him on a career. He already finished a few courses in computer software and that seemed more relevant to him. To me it didn’t matter whether he was going to use what I was going to teach him or if he made a rocket out of the course completion certificate. I just made sure that he studied what he signed up for.

But he didn’t give me the trouble I anticipated. Once he realized that I was not going to fall for his excuses he quietly knuckled down & practiced what I taught. Once in a while he took off on a trip & didn’t get back for days. I took him to task & didn’t cut any quarter. But he always joked, made me smile & took the edge of the tension away. Whatever I taught never really mattered to him because he knew he was never going to apply it in ‘real life’. But nevertheless he pottered around with it for 2 hours everyday before vanishing.

I still remember this incident where I was teaching him how to make buttons in Photoshop and he laughed on my face “Make Buttons, how jobless can 1 get?” And I replied “Every webpage is navigated with buttons. A Photoshop lesson is never complete without learning how to make button”. He made two of the most unimaginative buttons that day, all the while poking fun at himself and the buttons.

Round about 1-2 months later I resigned from the company coz I was getting married and moving away. That was the last I saw of him.

Two years after moving to Dubai I received a new yrs greeting from him. Pleasantly surprised I replied and asked his well-being. And surprise, surprise he was also working in Dubai. And ofcourse we exchanged phone numbers & he called me.

Within 5 minuted into the conversation we mutually agreed that he could confidently call me by name now. Just as I was about to ask him about work, he began dramatically “You’ll never believe what I ended up choosing as my career”. I ofcourse reacted in kind “What?”. Dramatic announcement continues “I’m a Graphic Designer and Photoshop is the main software I work on”. I laughed till my stomach hurt. He was like “Remember those buttons you made me work on…….now I’m making buttons all the time”. I laughed harder.

After that we used keep in touch quite often. And he talks. Oh how he talks. He doesn’t need any encouragement to keep going. For a Srilankan he knew Malayalam quite well. I just happened to ask him how he knew Malayalam so well & he recounted ……how he stayed in Kerala with Tilakan(yes, the Malayalam Cinema actor Tilakan) as his Guardian. Tilakans son, Biju Menon(another actor), some other actors(he mentioned the names but I forgot) and he stayed together as paying guests and the fun they had could fill an entire book. Another reason his Malayalam was so good was because he had a malayalee girlfriend. He was very devoted to her.

And then one day when I came back from a 6 months vacation from India, his phone was switched off and remained that way for a long time. Then again after 2-3 yrs he contacted me out of the blue. He was back from SriLanka and was based in Sharjah. His mother had been seriously ill & he stayed back in Sri Lanka for 2 yrs to look after her.

When he came back he had to start from scratch. Hunt for a new job. His girlfriend had married somebody else. He really went thru a harrowing time until things settled down.

He got a job as a Creative Manager in Tourism Company. His job was to put his Company on the web. He does a lot of fundoo work for the company which, according to him the company is more than happy with. Whenever he tries out new 'stuff' he sends the webpage to me for my comments. I very well know that he is out of my league(the amount of stuff he knows about multimedia softwares’ now, makes me feel like a kindgartener) but it still makes me feel good that he values my opinion. Occasionally I exercise my rights as his former teacher by suggesting an alternative color or recommending a minor change in the layout which he does consider, very sportingly.

And the surprising part of the whole thing is that we havent met each other in all these 10 years. Its always been on the phone or chat. Every now and then we make plans to meet but it never happens due to some reason or the other.

Now coming back to the Dhow Cruise(remember, 1st para) it was within Jayannan’s means(I think his company has a tie-up with the organizers of Dhow Cruise) to get me a GOOD rate for 6 of us(my parents, 2 kids and us). My husband & I thought it was a great deal and agreed. Jayannan took pains to organize a 5 star treatment for us and a birthday cake to boot. When I grandly announced the plans at home, my mother decided to reveal her deepest fear…………aquaphobia. I always knew she was scared of deep waters but never thought her fear was this extreme. Well, to cut the story short, Dhow Cruise plans were scrapped and alternative plans were made.

And Jayannan the nice guy that he is, was so understanding about the whole issue.

p.s - Anyways, I've decided one thing. Come hell or high water(no pun intended) I’m going Dhow Cruising before the end of this year. Jayannan I'm holding u to it.

Shilpa's day out

I was working for a multimedia training centre as coordinator. My friend Chaitra was also working there as a counsellor. She was friends with a girl next door who like her, was also a Kannadiga. Her name was Shilpa. The 1 time I spoke with her, she was really rude, so I never made an effort after that.

When Chaitra was leaving EDIT she told me a few details about Shilpa & asked me to be a little friendly with her. After that I spoke cordially with her & she also made an effort. It took us some time and we became maybe not the best but good friends. My other friends wondered what I saw in her. How do I explain to them that she was …….was a good friend. She valued my friendship.

Shilpa’s family owned the building in which our institute was running. They had pots of money, but not very educated. Shilpa herself discontinued her studies after school. Her father was an alcoholic & had another family tucked away. Her mother was more interested in the welfare of her sons & didn’t have her daughters interests at heart. Yes, Shilpa had money but she also had this neglected look about her.

Once we decided we were going to be friends, we had a lot of fun together. I worked from 7am-3pm. So if we planned a movie together I would act like there was some major emergency in my life & take permission to get away an hour early so that we could catch the 2.30 show. She would leave her house 10 minutes earlier than me & wait for me at the corner of the road. I would leave at 2pm, rush to where she was waiting & we would race to the theatre on my bike (a hero puch). All this would be done in such stealth & secrecy coz if we got caught, both of us would be in trouble. Oh those days…..what idiots’ we were, but what fun we had.

Many a time I would find her very depressed about what was happening within her family. Sometimes she would pour out all her woes. Most of what she said never happened with me, I mean I couldn't relate with it at all. Inside, I would be so horrified but I couldn't show it out & make her feel even worse. I would just divert her mind with some mad plan or the other.

One day in December….it was the day before her birthday. She was very sad & just wanted to go somewhere far away, alone. At her house nobody would even remember her birthday. I felt very bad for her & wanted to cheer her up. So I told her we’d go together. After a much delibration we decided to go to Mysore & spend the day there. We planned to leave by train early morning & be back by 6 in the evening. I then called up my boss & fed him some story which he didn’t swallow but short of calling me a liar he couldnt do anything else.

The next morning we reached Cantonment Railway Station by 7am, got tickets for the 8’o’clock train to Mysore. We kept grinning at each other nervously. The train arrived & we found the compartment full. I mean our seats were vacant but it was crowded whereas the next bogey looked invitingly vacant. We got into the next bogey & there was not a soul in there. There were comfortable seats & good facilities. We had our breakfast & lazily watched the scenery flying past. Even after 3-4 stops, nobody got in. Gradually we realized that this was a 1st class compartment & we could be in trouble if we were caught.

Just then the ticket collector arrived. He took 1 look at our guilty expressions & knew. He took a cursory glance at our tickets & asked us to pay Rs.400 as fine. We appealed to his better nature & told him that the other compartment was full of men & so….blah, blah. He told us to get 1st class tickets if we were so particular about not mingling with the riffraff. Looking at our worried expressions, he then relented & told us he won't fine us but we have to get off at the next station & get into the compartment the ticket mentioned. We nodded our heads vigorously, relieved that he was letting us go lightly.

The train reached Mysore at 10.30am. We took an auto straight to Mysore Palace. The Maharaja's Palace is a beautiful three storied stone building of fine gray granite and rich pink marble domes. We spent 2 hrs engrossed & enthralled in the grandeur of yesteryears. The palace was awe-inspiring; the paintings were sheer poetry. We emerged into the bright sunshine & shook our heads in wonder. I had seen it all before but each time it takes my breath away. At least the government was taking care to conserve the pages of the past.

Outside the palace, several hawkers approached us with mementoes to take home. We picked up a few after bargaining with them. Throwing 1 last glance at the imposing Palace we moved forward. Hunger pangs were assuaged at a nearby restaurant before proceeding towards our next destination……the famous Mysore Zoo.

The Zoo, over a century old, was a very well-maintained sprawling 45 acres of land with an excellent collection of animals & birds. It has a picturesque setting with the Chamundi hills as its backdrop and an artificial lake on its premises. All the animals & birds had a well-maintained & healthy look about them. No wonder, it is considered as the best zoo in the country. We couldn’t cover all areas but managed quite a bit before calling it quits as time was running out on us.

We then took an auto & went to the famous Philomena’s church. St. Philomena's Church in Mysore was built by the Wodeyar Maharajas of Mysore. A grand old church, over 200 years old, built in the Gothic style is one of the largest Cathedrals in South Asia, with stained glass windows from France & other architectural relevance. The Church is famous for its 175 feet high spires and also has a catacomb. Soaking in the serenity of the church, we lingered for a while.

We could not put it off any longer. It was time to go. We had plans to go to the market but that was not possible now. Hurrying to the station we clambered into the train just as it was leaving the station. Ideally we should have reached Bangalore by 6-6.30pm. The stupid, stupid train developed some problem & stopped in the middle of nowhere. My heart started a slow rhythm which developed into a heavy thudding as time flew past. And before u ask... mobile phones became popular a good 2 yrs later. We reached Bangalore at 8.45pm. I rushed to a telephone booth & called home. My sister picked up the phone & gave me an earful. After dropping Shilpa off on the way I sped home. All the way my mind was fumbling as to what explanation I would give. Finally I decided to stick to the truth…….well atleast base my story on the truth.

I reached home at 10pm. My father was at the gate waiting for me. My mother gave me such a shelling that my hair still stands on end whenever I think about the incident. I felt so guilty. Hesitantly I told my story…."When I reached the office that morning, boss told me there was a one-day training in Mysore & I had 2 leave immediately. He told me that I would be back before 6 but it got delayed."

I held forward my purchases placatingly. My sister opened it & took out a beautiful wooden painting of Jesus Christ amongst other knick-knacks. All 3 of them loved it & spent the next ½ hr trying to find the best place to hang it. I slunk out of the room, muttering a litany of thanks to God for saving me thru & thru. I mean anything could have happened & they wouldn't have known.

The next morning Shilpa & I compared notes of the reception we received in our respective homes. The poor girl, she had it even worse than me.

She said “Nancy, it was one of my best birthdays ever”.

I grinned in pleasure.

Then she said “We simply have to do it again”.

The grin vanished.