Abi:original - If you aren't original, what are you?

Had to share. http://radianceandmist.tumblr.com/post/48790931935 “After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, Please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she Did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, Sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used— She stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get the...

How I wonder what you are? A young boy named Mohammed once told me, “Didi, (sister) can you give your phone number?” Though we had spent the whole day together, I must admit I was very reluctant to share my phone number with my new friend. “Why do you want it, Mohammed?” I asked, hesitatingly. “Because when I am in trouble at least I can call you. didi. The police, beat us every time and they ask for money when we have none so I sometimes don’t know whom to call.” Mohammed was a street child. Even using that term to address him seems awkward to me now, so many years later. He was attending a social service event called ‘Project Care’ that we used to host for children from organisations all over Bombay, around Christmas time. 100 children were offered a hearty meal and a visit to a zoo or park to ring in the spirit of giving. As a young college goer at the time, meeting boys like Mohammed on Bombay’s streets was not new to me. I still see a lot of children begging for money ...

You know you've taken too long to post when the last piece on your blog was up six months ago. Apologies to those who follow my blog with any amount of dedication. The cynic in me refuses to believe that someone would actually take the time to digest my often empty rants, but my gullible side always wins... I look forward to an upcoming holiday. Perhaps that is the reason for sudden glee. I am hoping a short trip, even to a somewhat familiar place, will recharge my rusty batteries.  In the meanwhile I've been trying all sorts of interesting things. MANDU workouts for one. Never mind that the instructor, Toni Klein has abs that can put apna Sallu Bhai to shame. He was equally thrilled to be interviewed and took more pictures with me and my dictaphone than I could handle. I'm just delighted to have not one, but two trainers who encourage me to keep at the exercise. Never mind also that I treated one to a homemade chocolate chip muffin.  Will miss the duo of trainers whe...

I don't know if I'm coming or going these days. The hours seem to zip past one another like the trucks on the Doha highway. Whenever I make a momentary glance at the clock, there is always shock and awe... 'Wait a minute, is it already noon' or 'Hey, is it bed time already?' When they talk about daylight saving time, do they also mean they are saving it for another day? Perhaps that's only if you're 007.   I guess I shouldn't complain. I should be grateful that I don't have to spend my time on a bankrupt airline or mind numbing scam debates. At least I can make the time to do the things I like to do,  some of the time. I found myself at a wonderfully luxurious spa this afternoon. I opted for a de-stress massage. Call it hallucination, but the massage seemed to have my name on it. It was almost beckoning me to come and unwind. Five minutes in to the massage and my massuese informed me that my neck and shoulder muscles are too tense. Duh! S...

“You have been blessed,” is all the doctor said to me Six years ago. I never knew what she meant, but now I do, and it such a joy to see, From the moment that our eyes first met, I was hooked, And still you have me mesmerised, One glance was all it took, You made a mother out of me. You’ve captured our hearts with your sweet imagination, Your unceasing questions and shy reservation, There are innumerable times I can advice you with just gentle persuasion Of course Mama can be a bit harsh on occasion.   Most people can’t believe you are so young, They say you are more mature while other kids are so high strung, I tell them it baffles me as well sometimes, I wonder what I did to deserve such a wonderful child. So continue to stand tall my little Daniel, You are six today and soon 12, Keep winning hearts, they are far more important than grades, And remember you are worth more than gold or silver can trade.

It is becoming increasingly clear that my old photographs are going to haunt me for some time. Who is that girl beaming from ear to ear with a smaller waistline? Somehow I don't recognize her anymore. Thanks to social networking there is always that secret fear that someone somewhere is going to upload a picture of your not-so-glamorous self. A long forgotten class picture or perhaps a wedding you were forced to attend. The pictures are not the problem, but their longevity is. They are uploaded forever. For the whole wide web to see. It is amazing that you may have never felt particularly perky when said pictures were taken. But in hindsight, everything seems so much better. The trees seem greener. The people happier. There is almost a merry tune playing in the background. It is so much easier to gloss over the images. There are those who post pictures with such regular frequency that it makes one wonder if they do little else. Its as if their lives are one big album wi...

Speaking only for my gender I know one thing for sure. You aren’t born a mother. You grow into one, gradually. Not just by virtue of having the tools. And certainly not the second your offspring makes its entry into the world. So don’t let those super moms fool you. It is a very tough job and most if not everyone works at it every single day.  As someone once eager to complete a Ph. D in English Literature, I stopped short after my Masters. That was not because I wanted to have children. It was just because I decided to dive head on in to the working world. While I did juggle job and post graduate school for a few years until then, I felt it was time to give a career my all. The dream to complete my Doctorate soon got lost in the haze of things to do. Before I knew it the poems of Philip Larkin didn’t hold as much value as the timely visits to my children’s paediatrician. Five years on with more than half a decade of full time mother hood under my belt, I’m wondering what ...