Beyonce....

I was reading about how Beyonce took the MTV Europe Music Awards by storm and won the Best Female singer, Best song and Best video award. Going by what I read her performance in Berlin was too good to be true and I would not have believed it had I not watched Beyonce in action last Thursday. The Etihad Airways Abu Dhabi Grand Prix took place on the 31st of October at the new Yas Marina Circuit at the Yas Island, Abu Dhabi. There were concerts by Beyonce, Jamiroquai, Kings of Leon and Aerosmith to mark the occasion. Since my radio station was the official station for the Grand Prix I was lucky enough to get passes to some of the concerts.

I have always enjoyed Beyonce's music ever since she was with Destiny's Child. I went to the concert not knowing what to expect and came out a total fan of hers. Beyonce is a superb performer - she sings beautifully, her moves are sexy, the number of costume changes she manages in a concert are the most I have seen ever, her band is an all-woman one and all in all what they put together is memorable and worth every penny spent on the fast selling tickets. She is an excellent entertainer and knows how to engage the audience. Everyone, including me, was in a frenzy and the one and a half hour concert seemed to get over all too soon. She sang Crazy in love, Naughty Girl, Single Ladies and ended the concert with Halo. She also paid tribute to Micheal Jackson while she was singing Halo and touched a chord there. She ended the concert on a promise - that she will always give her 100% to entertaining and said that it is a tradition of hers to sing Happy Birthday to anyone in the audience who happens to celebrate his/her birthday that day. Of course, all hands went up when she asked if it was anyone's birthday :)


It was a priviledge to watch Beyonce perform and I hope we have many years of good music from her to look forward to.

Two things that stayed in mind

In the midst of a lot of work in office and the busiest quarter of the year was Diwali. My in-laws spent a week with us here and thankfully, because of their enthusiasm, Diwali felt like Diwali this time.
My husband and I were waiting at the airport to receive them and I noticed two things that stayed in mind. I love airports...I love the anticipation of travel, I love watching the people around and when I am at the airport time seems to fly faster than it would any place else. The flight from Kolkata to Dubai had just landed. I first noticed an elderly woman, on a wheel-chair, waiting for somebody to come to fetch her. The guy who was pushing her wheel-chair waited about five minutes and then started getting impatient. He was from Bangladesh and spoke to her in Bengali and asked her if she had the number of her relatives in Dubai. He then gave her his mobile phone and waited while she made her call. My heart went out to her when I watched her. The way she looked so lost, searched her big purse for the small notepad that had the telephone number in it, and her concentration while listening to the voice on the mobile phone. Reminded me of my grandmother..... Eventually her son (I'm assuming) came to get her and I heaved a sigh of relief. He may have had valid reasons for being late but can anything be more important than being on time when an old parent has come visiting?
The second incident was even more touching. Another lady standing close to me asked me if I was waiting for someone on the flight from Kolkata. She said that she was waiting for her son who should have been out by now. She then went on to say that he was a slow learner which was why she was worried about him. I asked her if he was very small to which she said that he was 26 years old and would surely respond if he heard his name announced on the speakers. While my husband went to the Emirates customer service to ask if an announcement could be made she told me that her son was coming home to Dubai for Diwali. About three months ago she admitted him into what she called a 'rehabilitation centre' ( My understanding is that it is a learning centre) in Kolkata. He was in a centre in Mumbai before that but she found that place to be very commercial in their approach. He seemed to be happy in Kolkata and this was his first ever flight alone. It was a busy night at the Dubai airport last Thursday and we were advised to wait another thirty minutes before making an announcement for him. About twenty minutes later her son came out and there was sheer relief, both, on his face as well as hers. The way they greeted each other is something I will remember for a long time to come.
In just about an hour at the airport that night I felt I had witnessed different aspects of being a mother and these two things will stay in mind....

Julie and Julia

I just got back from the premiere of Julie and Julia and loved every bit it. Meryl Streep is excellent, as usual, and Amy Adams (this is the first movie of hers that I watched) is very endearing. After stepping out of the cinema hall, having watched this movie, one is tempted to either go into the kitchen and cook something exotic or sit at the computer and update one's blog. I chose the latter :)
I could associate with every step of Julie Powell's journey into the blogging world - from selecting the template, to naming the blog and to the excitement on getting a comment. I also loved the tagline of the movie - Passion. Ambition. Butter. Do you have what it takes?
It reminded me of the days when I used to work on the Priya Tendulkar Talk Show that was telecast on Star Plus, this is way back in 1997. I used to put in long hours at Priya's place, which was also my office and would feast on the food cooked by her cook-cum Man Friday - Bahadur. He used to put a lot of oil in his food and I soon started feeling the inches around my waist. On complaining he used to say "Memsaheb....khaane mein tel jitna jyada utna khaana swadisht hota hain!" Julie annd Julia seem to follow the same philosophy - the more the merrier (butter)
The movie also reminded me, yet again, of what a stress buster cooking can be. I am now motivated and hope to start trying out the recipes in the Kashmiri Kitchen (a book on Kashmiri cooking a very dear friend gifted me last year)
Julie and Julia is a must-watch. Do not watch this movie on an empty stomach.

Online friends

There was a phase, not too long ago, when my husband was hooked on to some chatrooms and had made some new 'online friends'. They discussed books, movies and politics and he seemed to enjoy his interaction with them but I always wondered - Are online friends real friends?
Curious to know what the experience is like I entered an Indian chatroom on Meebo and got talking to a young medical student from Ahmedabad. We exchanged names and some generic details and soon this guy asked me what kind of a chat I wanted. Nervous about what to answer I said a general one. I must admit that my chat with him was extremely boring but what was unnerving was his level of dependance on his chat-mates. No sooner had I chatted him than he gave me his personal email ID and asked for mine. Not too comfortable with sharing my details I politely refused. Soon he got down to begging for it and scared the living daylights out of me. I have not visited Meebo since :)
Some of my husband's colleagues spend their spare moments in office chatting with their online friends. Some have fictitious chat names and a separate account for chatting purposes. I personally get very uncomfortable when I hear of something like this. I guess I am old fashioned in many more ways than I'd like to admit. But I cannot help but wonder - are online friends real friends?

My new car

Since my blog and the one and a half people who follow it have witnessed my transition from a nervous trying-to-learn-to-drive person to one who finally got her license in Dubai it seems only fitting that I post the pictures of my car on it. It's a Peugeot 207. It's my first big purchase ever but what makes it special is that it is a symbol of my success in overcoming a deep rooted fear. Now that I have been driving to and fro work for more than a fortnight, that too on a busy road like Sheikh Zayed road, I can confidently say that the only way to overcome fear is to attack it - persistently and to give yourself loads of positive reinforcement.

For my nephew who grew up in one day

Ever since I can remember, my cousin’s children Akshay and Avanti have been the apples of my eye and all through the years of my struggle in the media in Mumbai, they have been my reason for living. They are aged 25 and 21 respectively, but I always seem to think of them as kids, eager to take them out for a movie and some ice cream and fattening junk food thereafter. My nephew is studying Audio Engineering at SAE Byron Bay (Australia). After I heard about the controversial attacks on Indian students in Melbourne, I enquired after Akshay’s well-being and when I read the email he sent in response I realized that he’s no longer the little toddler I used to carry around what seems like just a few years ago. I guess I was so caught up in my own world that I didn’t realize that Akshay is now an adult and someone who thinks independently and expresses himself beautifully. As I read his mail I thought to myself " He sounds so grown up. Where was I when he was growing up?" I felt like I was reading an email from a friend or a colleague and I suddenly saw my nephew for what he is - another individual capable of taking care of himself and not someone I need to mollycoddle anymore.
I’m pasting part of his email –
“There is a bit of a media hype about the whole racism violence and I'm pretty sure that the attacks are more opportunistic than racist. However, I cannot deny the fact that Indians are easy targets because it is our nature to shut up and tolerate rather than defend ourselves with twice the power that we're attacked with. But all said and done, if you roam about in any part of this planet at unearthly hours all alone, you're bound to get robbed or beaten up!

Byron Bay is absolute paradise though. There is absolutely no hint of racism here and Indians are really respected for their modesty, simplicity and humility. Quite a lot of people have been to India and are in absolute awe of the place, and they love our culture. In fact people here respect and treat me a lot better than most Indians do!!!!”

Time flies and while we think we are in touch with the people around us, we may not in reality be as connected as we think we are. It takes something simple like this to drive the point home that time and tide wait for no one. Incidentally I am writing this on the last day of the month of June. I cannot believe that half the year has gone by already and the second half starts tomorrow!

Driving license and more.....

I finally passed my driving test last Monday, in my third attempt, and am now the proud owner of a Dubai driving license. It is the talking point of my life these days - how I drove beautifully in those seven minutes of my test and how polite and patient the examiner was etc. It is all a matter of luck, I guess. The biggest challenge is to actually drive on a day to day basis and to gain confidence on the roads. Somehow my brains seem to go on a walk when I drive and I manage to get honked at even when there are only two cars on the road out of which I am one.

As I write this I am reminded of what my younger sister had said to me a couple of years ago. I don't remember what we were talking about - probably about learning swimming or some such thing and she said "Everything needs practice, except failure"

I hope to write another post soon on how much I am enjoying driving in Dubai. The traffic laws are strict and hence there is much more discipline on the roads here than I have witnessed back home in Mumbai or Pune. So this is probably the best time and place for me to perfect my driving skills.

So beware the roads/people of Dubai.....here I come!

A divine folly

The biggest challenge about learning Arabic is to practice it in day to day life. I hardly get the opportunity to do that, but I make sure that I don’t miss the chance, if I get one.
There’s a popular Lebanese bakery close to my house – Al Reef bakery. It has the world’s best Falafel sandwich, shorma’s, grilled chicken etc. Another incentive for going there is the eye candy that place offers. Most of the chaps working there are great looking and that makes a trip to Al Reef something to look forward to :)
We buy Arabic bread from there often and I asked my Arabic teacher what I could say while asking for two packets of bread or ‘khubs’, as said in Arabic. The next day I went to Al Reef wearing my most confident smile and asked for two packets of Khubs in Arabic. The good looking man on the other side of the counter was speechless for a minute and I felt my confidence melt away faster than ice cream. I quickly repeated my order in English, picked up the bread and went home wondering what I had said wrong.

We had a good laugh in my Arabic class the next day when my teacher told me that I had asked for ‘Two Gods of bread’ instead of two packets of bread. The word I used was Rabbatain while I should have said Rabbtatain instead.
Needless to say I make sure that I am nowhere close to Al Reef bakery these days :)

A blast from the past

I heard from an ex-colleague from Zee TV today and the call brought back memories of the wonderful years I spent there, from year 2000 to 2004. One of my best memories is of the time when I was the Executive Producer of a series known as 'Chausath Panne' which was a series of 64 episodic short stories. We launched the series with a successful story - Dil Naa Jaane Kyon, starring Kirron Kher, Ritu Chowdhury and Vikas Sethi.
Since I was working long hours on that project I developed a great rapport with the show producers Rupali and Pintoo Guha. They had submitted the proposal of this show to the Zee TV team a couple of months earlier and it came to my attention when I was in the Ideation team of Zee, then headed by Vinta Nanda. Eventually they bagged the contract and the show went on air.
It is amazing how people remember the tiny things you do for them. Rupali used to always tell me how much it meant to her to have a show on air. She and her husband went on to produce many more shows for the channel. I'm not in touch with them too often now, but I'm sure they're doing well for themselves.
Sometime in 2005, when I was with Zoom TV, I got a call from Rupali saying that I had to watch the episode of their second show on Zee - Tumhari Disha. Apparently in that night's episode they were introducing a key character - that of a lady police inspector and they had decided to name the character 'Kanchan Koppikar', as their way of showing me how much they appreciated what I had done for them! I was quite embarassed about the whole thing but it was too late to do anything about it - the episode was due to go on air in just a couple of hours.
As luck would have it I missed the episode that night, but my parents and sisters watched it and they said they were almost rolling on the floor with laughter when the show ended with the actress, playing the inspector, look straight into the camera and say "Mera naam hain Inspector Koppikar...Kanchan Koppikar" followed by three cuts of her close-up and highly dramatic background music. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me when I heard that.
Many months later when I met my future husband, he said that in an idle moment he ran up a search on my name on Google and didn't know what to make of the results that read 'Kanchan Koppikar is an Inspector........'

Change

While we all know that change is the only constant in life I wonder how many of us stop and make note of the changes that happen in our life/routine/appearance/relationships in a very subtle manner but on an almost day-to-day basis.
The last few months have been hectic, to say the least, and the weekends are packed with household chores and social obligations. We attended two birthday parties (of two toddlers) over the last couple of months and realized that even the kind of social do’s we attend now are different from the kind of social commitments we had earlier. The demands on my time these days, due to the Arabic classes I attend after work, means that there is no time for exercise and I can feel the inches I am gaining, as much as I hate to admit it publicly.
I arrived in Dubai on May 16th last year and was totally lost in this city and was wondering if I would ever be comfortable here. But one year down the line this place feels like home.
We are expecting a new recruit to join our department today. She was made redundant, four months ago, from her earlier place of work and has been fortunate enough to get this job and today is a new beginning for her.
The point I’m trying to make is that circumstances change and the best thing to do is to go with the flow. Good things happen and then there are bad phases followed again by good times.
The last few evenings have been pleasant for this time of the year and I was telling my husband that I would give anything to have this weather stay and he said so casually that it must change, it is normal for the weather to change and that’s what got me thinking about how much changes around us constantly and we do not even realize it.

Of chakki fresh atta, theplas, helpful neighbours and Kitchen Table Wisdom

Since I am born a Mangalorean I am a complete rice eater. At my parents house 'rotis' are not made at all. We used to make them earlier, for Doogie, our dog. After Doogie's demise last year my Mom stopped making them altogether. Given this background it is not surprising that I hardly make good rotis. I have been working on my roti making skills lately, but the biggest hurdle in my path was getting the right kind of 'aata' in Dubai. The search for the 'right aata' has been a matter of great discussion with almost everyone and anyone who seemed inclined to help, but alas nothing worked. For some reason Pilsbury too has not done the trick for me.

One weekend, sometime last November, my husband and I bumped into a young couple who had moved into our building, infact on our floor, that very evening. They too were from Pune - our city, and so there was an instant connect with them. Over the last five months the connect has grown stronger and now we are in touch with each other on a daily basis. We get together for impromptu dinners or breakfast and if any of us has cooked anything special we make sure it is sent across to the other. A couple of days ago, my new friend Rasika told me that she had found the best place to get 'aata' from in Dubai. It was from a flour mill which offers home delivery services promptly and at a very reasonable rate. She offered to place an order on my behalf since I am on a hectic schedule these days. Last night my seach for the 'perfect aata' ended and I now have two kilos of chakki fresh aata in my kitchen, all thanks to Rasika.

Incidentally, less than a week ago, I happened to catch my friend Meena online and asked her for her Mom's recipe for Theplas. I love Gujarati cuisine and Meena's mother makes the world's best theplas. Could there be a better start to my perfect aata? I made theplas for dinner tonight, under the watchful eyes of Rasika and they turned out really nice. I am sure they'll get better everytime I make them.

I'm reading an interesting book titled Kitchen Table Wisdom by Rachel Naomi Remen. This book is about the moments of everyday life which help us connect with the deeper meaning of our lives. One of the points Rachel makes in her foreword is about how a sense of loneliness, alienation and isolation is prevalent in our culture because of the breakdown of the social networks that used to give us a sense of connection and community. And this loneliness is the real epidemic in our culture. I was thinking about this point Rachel made and realized that it is so true. I guess I am lucky to be discovering the joy of having helpful neighbours, whom you know you can count on at all times. Simultaneously, I am lucky to be exposed to the simple and undiluted joy of chakki fresh aata and of a tried and tested recipe.

Rachel also mentions that in the earlier days the kitchen table was the place where life stories and wisdom was shared with everyone. Well..the kitchen table may not be the place now, but I could not help but equate my blog and the blogs I follow to the Kitchen Table where one's experiences and stories are shared and a connect is made.

Musings at 2 a.m.

I was thinking of updating my blog earlier today and was wondering what to write about. Could think of nothing interesting. It occurred to me that I wasn't sure of whether I drive my blog or whether my blog drives me. As in - do I try to do interesting things so that I can write about them or do I write about interesting things because I do them anyway? Still don't know the answer.

The last few days have been uneventful, the only saving grace being my Arabic classes that started about a week ago. I had forgotten how interesting and challenging it is to learn a new language. It's fun being a student again, to get new books and instruction sheets and a roll number. My classes happen thrice a week from 8 p.m. to 9 p.m. and I rush from office to make it to my lecture on time. I'm amazed at our capacity to fill more things into our day when we put our mind to it. A couple of months ago I would have probably shuddered at the thought of doing something after work, but now I seem to be able to put in a long day at work, attend my classes after that and return home to other domestic chores and it all feels quite effortless (till now atleast). It's feels nice to have a full day and it makes the next free evening even more special.

Will end the idle musings of my mind on that happy note. It's almost 2.30 a.m. and will have to be up in a couple of hours to meet the challenges of another new day...

Bhutan

Warning - Long Post

The best thing I have done so far this year or in the last decade or so is taking the break I just did and going to Bhutan. The Kingdom of Bhutan – the last Shangri-La and the jewel of the Himalayas is a must-see for any nature lover. What I had read about Bhutan before actually going there - About the size of Madhya Pradesh, perched high up on the snow-capped mountains of the eastern Himalayas nature and religion are the two things that stand out in this little kingdom. Its 8 lakh population with a colourful culture, tradition, unique architecture, peace and tranquility live in this unpolluted habitat, which makes Bhutan a unique destination. Bhutan is also the last bastion of Mahayana Buddhism. It is not merely the religion but the way the people live their daily lives. Its rich and diverse flora and fauna earned the world's recognition as one of the Top 10 Global Hot Spots. Bhutan opened to the outside world only in the 1960s. Planned development was initiated with Gross National Happiness as its development vision. Television and Internet found their way to the country only in 1999!

My experiences -
Bhutan turned out to be a delightful place, full of surprises and extremely peaceful and serene. A tip to anyone who wants to go there – please keep your camera handy at all times. Every sight makes a pretty picture. Our flight to Paro International airport was delayed due to bad visibility at Kathmandu. On days of good visibility one is blessed with the experince of flying above the snow-capped mountains of the Himalayan range between Kathmandu and Paro. It is a sight to remember. One of my friends took this picture on our return journey.

Paro airport is a small one, between two mountains and as soon as I took in the cool, crisp air of Bhutan I knew my vacation had just begun.


We were met by Raj, our guide for the trip. It is said that Bhutan encourages only a limited set of tourists each year to make sure that the number of tourists do not exceed the infrastructure of the country. Hence you need to book yourself through an agent and make sure that you have a guide for your entire stay. You cannot enter a monastery or a Dzong or museum without a guide. Since I had gone through Women on wanderlust all the arrangements were taken care of by Sumitra Senapaty – the founder of WOW. She is probably the first in India to start a venture that arranges tours only for women. I hope to go on many more trips with WOW.

Thimpu -
We first drove to Thimpu, the capital of Bhutan. The drive from Paro to Thimpu takes about 90 minutes and is a very picturesque one. Thimpu is a very small city. The city centre square is surrounded by shops selling handicrafts popular in Bhutan such as thankas, statues of Lord Buddha, prayer bells, incense sticks and more. Bhutan is not thickly populated and the country has ensured that it has preserved it’s traditions and customs.


The national costume is widely used and is very nice. Women wear the Kira while men are dressed in the Gho. In Thimpu one does see some youngsters in jeans and trousers. We did the usual things in Thimpu like a visit to the Memorial Chorten, which is a memorial of the third king built by his mother, and then a visit to the School of arts and crafts. School education is free for boys and girls and since handicrafts is a major source of income in Bhutan every child is encouraged to study painting, mask making, weaving etc. We also went to the paper factory. Bhutan is an environment conscious nation. They do not use palstic and encourage the use of handmade paper. The paper factory in Thimpu is worth seeing, and the process is easy to understand. The biggest challenge for us was the visit to the Cheri monastery.


Most of the monasteries are located out of the main city and are generally up in the hills. They say that the energy in the mountains is very pure and doing your meditation there is a very peaceful experience. Raj had told us that the Cheri monastery would involve a half hour trek but it took us almost an hour to get there. I realised that day how out of exercise I was. My legs were shaking and I could hear my heart beat and it was a scary experience. So when I did reach the monastery my prayers were fervent and heart felt. Cheri monastery is a beautiful and simple one. One of the monks there asked me where I was from and when I said that I was from Dubai, he did not know where that was. That’s how cut off they are from the rest of the world.

Punakha –
Punakha is picturesque valley and the erstwhile capital of Bhutan. The drive from Thimpu to Punakha is a three hour one and over the Drochula pass which is at 3000 mts. The hills are green and the prettiest sight is that of the magnolia and rhododendrons, all in full bloom making the drive a very colourful one. On the way to Punakha there is a halt at the Chimi Lhakang which is a memorial built by the people of Bhutan in memory of the people of Bhutan who lost their lives in the war against the Assamese Bodos in December 2003.


This memorial has 108 stupas and inside each stupa is buried the weapons used in that war. It seems that people came from all over the country to help out with the building of this structure. No wonder I read somewhere on the internet that Bhutan is a country where life is respected in all it’s incarnations. Close to the memorial, a little uphill, is a fairly new monastery. I went up there as an after thought and am really glad I saw it. It is the prettiest place ever, with an impressive statue of Lord Buddha.
We went to the Punakha dzong the next day, where I went completely overboard with the photographs. A dzong is a place of worship and every city has it’s dzong so there is a Punakha dzong, a Paro dzong and so on. It is different from the monastery in that a Dzong is located in the heart of the city and is also a place where district administrative tasks happen where as a monastery is strictly a place of worship and is on the outskirts of a city. The Punakha dzong is located at the confuence of two rivers. The male river, known as the Pho Chho and the female river – the Ma Chho. Ma Chho is darker in colour (the one on the left) and gets it colour from the minerals of the rocks it flows on while Pho Cho is a lighter coloured river and is a snow-fed one.


Punakha Dzong was built in 1637 and it’s courtyard is impressive. The huge peepal tree was gifted to the dzong by Indira Gandhi who had visited the dzong with Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru. She is the first woman to have spent a night at the dzong.


One cannot take pictures of the altar of the Dzong. It is a beautiful, calm and lovely place and no words will be able to potray the beauty and uniqueness of sacred altar of the Punakha dzong.


From the Punakha dzong we went to the Souvenir making centre supported by the Youth Development Fund. This place has some unique handicrafts and gift items and is an excellent place to do your gift shopping from. The rates are high in Bhutan but if you can bargain well you can walk away paying half the price quoted initially. The fertility temple is another popular tourist destination in Punakha. One has to walk through some pretty paddy fields for about 30 minutes to get to the temple.

There are monks there who can predict whether you will have a child or not. I had a long drawn process I’m a little wary of writing about though (let it be the little secret between me and my companions) before I finally got an answer based on the dice I rolled. It seems that I will have a daughter and I am supposed to name her Chhimi Dewa.

Phobjikha -


Phobjikha is a valley and is a two and a half hour drive from Punakha. Phobjikha means ‘Cup shaped valley’ and the place is the home of the highly endangered black necked crane which visits Bhutan from Tibet during the months of November to February. Since we went in March we could not really see the black necked cranes but were lucky to sight one crane. Locals told us that only two cranes were still in Phobjikha – one adult crane who could not fly back due to an injured wing and another baby crane, too young to fly back. I think we spotted the adult one thanks to Raj’s binoculars. It was very cold in Phojikha and it had snowed the previous night.


The valley has no electricity and our hotel runs on generators. We were told that there would be no electricity in our rooms after 9 p.m. and the only way to keep warm was with the bukharaas in each room. It was quite an experience. I’m not sure if it makes sense to go to Phojikha during months other than November to February. The place is pretty but it is too cold to go for long walks and exlore the surroundings on foot. Also the drive to Phobjikha is exhausting. However this is purely my personal opinion, we met a couple who stayed in Phobjikha two nights because they liked the place so much.

Paro –
We had a long, six hour drive to Paro the next day. One gets to see the changing landscape of this country as one drives through the towns of Bhutan. I liked Paro the most amongst all the our halts in Bhutan.


The National Museum in Paro is worth a visit to. The museum building is a erstwhile watch-tower and you get a fantastic view of the entire city from there. The building also has lovely and hidden staircases and passages which form the various levels of the museum. The collection here is vast and gives great insights into the history, culture and lifestyle of Bhutan. There is one section that gets a little spooky – the section where weapons and arms are displayed in an actual prison cell of the watch-tower. The room is cold, with high stone walls and no ventilation. Prisoners imprisoned there many years ago must have done some horrible things to be sentenced to imprisonment in those two rooms.

Another place worth going to is the Paro playground. If you are lucky to be in Paro on a weekend you must go to the playground to watch the archery competitions taking place. Archery is Bhutan’s national sport and the archers strike from a distance of 145 metres! As soon as a hit is made all the people on both ends of the game get together and dance a small dance. It’s nice to watch the game.



What I liked best about my stay in Bhutan and what I am going to cherish for a long time to come is the visit to the Taktsang or the Tiger’s Nest temple, the most revered temple amongst the Buddhists. This magical temple clings to a vertical granite cliff 800 mts above the valley. Legend has it that in the 18th century, Guru Rimpochey,(also known as Guru Padmasambhava) a Tantric master, flew here on the back of a tigress and meditated in a cave around which the temple is built. Most of our group decided to take the mules up the cliff, but three of us decided to walk up and I am so happy I did that. I had Sumitra for company and we made our way up in good spirits and at our own pace.


We took ample stops in between and caught our breath and finally reached the Tiger’s Nest after a three hour trek. The mules take one to the steps that leads to the temple. There are around 750 steps in all, some of them are steep, but they are not difficult to climb provided you do not run on them. By the time Sumitra and I reached the monastery most of the tourists were already on their way down. We therefore were the only two people in the monastery. The chants in the altar were reaching a peak and the atmosphere was magical and overwhelming. I cannot explain what it was to sit in silence, so high up in the mountains, with the lovely Buddhist chants the only sound around you. It was divine and that was the closest I have been to feeling God with me.


A visit to the Tiger’s Nest is a must for anyone wanting to go to Bhutan. I was chatting with a group of American tourists all above 60, trekking up to the temple. One of them asked me if I was a sporty Indian girl since she hadn’t seen too many climb up and I told her that trekking up was something I wanted to do for myself especially after my disastrous trek to Cheri monastery. She said that it is good to challenge oneself once in a while and I couldn’t agree more!
Paro is a shoppers’s delight and there are plenty of shops in the main market to buy all your gifts from. That evening we had a cultural programme arranged for us at our hotel. A lovely group of youngsters presented some of their cultural dances – some dances that are to appease the spirits of the land, some are performed during harvest times and some are based on the black necked crane. The movements of the dancers was graceful and all of them sang so well! The people of Bhutan are a very artistic and creative.

We had our flight back to Delhi the next morning and all of us left with a heavy heart. I loved Bhutan and I think the place deserves a second visit because there are so many other towns yet to see. The Bhutanese are simple, peace loving and hard working people. There is absolutely no begging in Bhutan. The people really do look happy and content with what they have. Some may insist on seeing the photo you have clicked of theirs, they get really happy when you show it to them. More often than not they are happy to stop and pose for the camera.


Traditions –
There are so many traditions but one that stuck in my mind is that of placing the Chahows. When one dies and is cremated a little ash is collected and mixed with clay to form these small triangular structures known as Chachows. The Chachaows are then kept in a place, generally on a mountain or in a cave, so that it will not get destroyed by the rain. It is kept in memory of the departed soul.


Prayer flags – These seem to be really important. You can buy a prayer flag based on the year you are born in. I am born in the year of the ox so I am meant to buy a brown coloured prayer flag.

Before going to Bhutan I was under the impression that since it is so close to India there will be a lot of overlap with Indian architecture. I was pleasantly surprised to see that Bhutan is a country with an extremely strong sense of individuality. All new constructions follow the style, design and colour they have always had. Not many people know Hindi but you do come across some people who speak Hindi fluently. The Bhutanese currency the Ngultrum is at the same value as the Indian rupee. So if you are Indian you can easily manage with Indian rupees but make sure that you do not carry 500 or 1000 rupee notes since small shops generally do not accept large notes. We, as Indians, are lucky to have such a lovely country as our neighbour and the fact that we do not need a visa to get there makes it so easy to plan a trip to Bhutan. I think the ideal period of stay in Bhutan should be 10 days or so. It makes sense to go with like minded people since this place might disapppoint someone who is keen on man made or urban attractions.
Last but not the least, I must say that I was completely floored by the company I had. We were ten women in all – from Singapore, Coimbatore, Delhi, Bangalore and Chennai. All of them independent, passionate about travel and some about photography too. Each one unique in her own way and I ended up sharing things about myself with them which I wouldn’t easily share with anyone else. I think the average age of our group was about 30 – 32. They are all women I hope to be in touch with for many years to come. When I got back to work last week my colleagues couldn’t stop remarking on how relaxed I look. I sent the pictures to my boss and now she knows why I looked the way I did. I hope the calm and serenity lasts for some time.

Replacing the why’s with the why not’s

Last evening, while on my way home with my colleague Sunil, I got a call from the institute where I have enrolled for Arabic classes. It is the basic course and my classes start Sunday evening onwards. It is something I have looked forward to and was surprised when Sunil asked me why I’m learning Arabic.
I’ve just come back from Bhutan, where I was vacationing, and before going lots of people asked me ‘Why Bhutan?’.
I’ve been thinking about the question ‘Why?’ and realized that it is asked when one does something out of the ordinary and off the beaten track. So when asked why I want to learn Arabic I think Sunil’s ‘Why’ meant why not German or French or Spanish or any other popular foreign language. Similarly when asked why I am going to Bhutan one meant to ask why an uncommon tourist destination such as Bhutan and why not a more popular destination like maybe Egypt or Italy or Singapore.
I think it is something to do with our herd mentality and with seeking solace and comfort in numbers. Why not replace the Why’s with the Why not’s? Why not learn Arabic, why not go to Bhutan, why not do the things we’ve only read about other people doing but never done ourself?
While on the subject of funny questions I just remembered this incident – In September 2005 I had a serious attack of dengue fever and was in hospital for a week. I joined work a whole month later. A colleague asked me how I got dengue. I thought it is/was common knowledge that dengue is transmitted by the bite of a mosquito infected with any one of the four dengue viruses and since I didn’t have or know of any other exciting and creative method of catching that deadly fever I was wondering what kind of an answer to give her. The number of times I was asked how I got dengue was really not funny. Here again, I think, people meant to ask why and how dengue and why not the regular flu.
Must be really difficult for some to accept the uncommon.

The Airport Development Fee

I have been travelling quite a bit the last fortnight and in the course of my travels I have paid the airport development fee (ADF) twice at Delhi’s Indira Gandhi International airport. An amount of Rs. 1300/- each time I left the country.
I was at the airport yesterday to catch my flight to Dubai and was waiting in the queue to pay the ADF so as to get my boarding pass. Soon I heard raised voices and found out that a person in the queue next to mine did not have the money to pay the ADF. He was a middle-aged man, definitely not well-to-do and was looking very worried and helpless. He pleaded with the man at the counter but to no avail. He was sent to the airport manager’s desk to figure things out. His boarding pass was not given to him.
My heart went out to that man. Flights to Dubai are filled with people going there to work as construction workers. Theirs is a hard life, but I guess they take up the job so as to send some money back home to their families.
I had some Indian rupees to spare so I followed the man thinking that I could lend him the amount he was short of. Unfortunately just as I was getting close to where he was, my name was called out at the counter I was at. After I got my boarding pass I went looking for him again but he was nowhere to be seen.
While awaiting the boarding call I kept looking out for him, wondering what happened to him. Fortunately he made it to the flight. As I was entering the aircraft I overheard the girl in front of me tell her companion that she was short of money because she had to spend for the ADF and said that the airport authorities told her that the newspapers had published news of the ADF and so travellers should be aware of it. There were no boards put up anywhere in the airport informing passengers of the ADF.
My cousin had dropped me to the airport yesterday and as we approached it we saw the construction in progress for the new airport. It is massive and I’m sure it is going to be impressive. But after what I witnessed yesterday I wondered whether the man I saw or the girl I heard would ever enjoy or be proud of it. I wonder if they will shop in the duty free shops or drink coffee in the plush cafeteria of the new airport.
Incidentally, after I reached home last night, I looked at the receipt I got from the airport. It was a receipt of payment for excess baggage, with the words ADF written in hand in an almost illegible scrawl.
Why is it that when we dream of something big the execution of it is so small, unplanned and insensitive?

Happy Holi?

It is Holi today, it is a beautiful full moon night and the radio stations are playing Holi songs, but other than that there are no visible signs of Holi in Dubai. I don't mind that. For the last decade or so Holi and the days approaching it used to fill me with a dread that increased with every passing year. It started one year when some women in the ladies compartment of a local train I was in were hit by a balloon. The trains in Mumbai are so crowded that a balloon hurled at you unexpectedly can easily make one lose one's balance or grip on the handles. The consequences could be fatal. Surely this is something everyone understands? People used to target the ladies compartment and I often wondered what is so amusing about watching women try to duck the balloon when they are barely able to stand comfortably in an overcrowded train.
I was once hit by a balloon that was filled with violet coloured water. It was two days before Holi and I was in a rickshaw on my way to attend an interview. My clothes were stained and I could not bring myself to say Bura naa maano...Holi hain!

Over lunch today I was speaking to Shaheen, my colleague, about my experiences of the past. Shaheen, like me, is from Mumbai. She was once hit by balloons, thrown at her, from the top of a building. She had her two young sons with her then - one asleep on her shoulder and the other was holding her hand. Both kids below four years of age. It made me wonder why anyone would want to target someone like Shaheen to throw a balloon at. Not one to get pinned down or give up easily Shaheen went to confront the children who threw the balloon at her but they hid when they saw her approach. She then went to the local police station and made sure that the constable on duty gave them a sound warning. They weren't children really...most of them were teenagers.

Where has all the fun gone out of Holi? When I was growing up Holi was all about plenty of water, colour, laughter, food and great fun. They were innocent games that lacked the aggression that seems to be so dominant these days and when we threw a balloon at anyone, we didn't need to scurry for cover later. I'd rather have those memories of Holi than the more recent one's.

For me these days it is Bura maano...Holi Hain. It is a scary, painful and aggressive Holi :(

A medley - death, me, holiday, husband...

About ten days ago while on my way to work I got my first panic attack. It was a beautiful day, very pleasant and cool, I was going to office to a job that I love and was reading a light novel by one of my favourite authors - Sophie Kinsella. Everyone was going about their business and there was nothing out of the ordinary that prompted the attack. I don't know what, in the midst of my reading, made me suddenly think of death and the more I thought about it the more uncomfortable I became. So much so that my heart beat accelerated, my palms got sweaty and I lost all desire to go to work.
I have thought about death a lot and I find the subject scary, daunting and terribly mysterious. For all my study and practice of pranic healing and for all my understanding of the concept of the soul and it's evolution that day the thought of death scared the living daylights out of me. I felt despair, felt that life was futile - why do anything at all if I am going to die one day? All I could visualise was a dark, black void and me alone in it.

Eventually work got me busy and drove all other thoughts out of my mind but by the end of the day I came to realise two things -
1. It was not the idea of death as much as the idea of being alone that really scares me.
2. The thought of me being my own companion gives little solace, which is not an encouraging thought at all.
I love my 'me time' but at the same time I am terribly dependent on some people - the pillars of my life - my husband, family and some select friends. I cannot imagine life without them and just incase a day comes when I have to live without them I am not geared up for it at all.

While I can work on being less dependent on them I need to work more on enjoying my own company. The first step towards that has been taken - I'm going on a vacation alone. Actually I'm not really alone, there will be 9 other women with me. I don't know any of them, but the point is that I am going without any of my pillars. I'm going to Bhutan for a whole week and I know that I'm going to miss my pillars terribly but I'm going ahead anyway. It is my treat for myself and the idea is to enjoy my company.
So Bhutan, here I come...

P.S. - Must also admit that Bhutan is happening because I was tired of waiting for my workaholic husband to confirm our vacation plans, so I simply made my own without him.

Found this on the internet -

For anyone who didn't see David Letterman's take on this: (And it's a true story...)

On a recent weekend in Atlantic City , a woman won a bucketful of quarters at a slot machine. She took a break from the slots for dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room. But first she wanted to stash the quarters in her room. 'I'll be right back and we'll go to eat,' she told her husband and carried the coin-laden bucket to the elevator.

As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men already aboard. Both were black. One of them was tall... very tall ...an intimidating figure. The woman froze.. Her first thought was: 'These two are going to rob me.' Her next thought was: 'Don't be a bigot; they look like perfectly nice gentlemen.' But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear immobilized her. She stood and stared at the two men. She felt anxious, flustered and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind but gosh, they had to know what she was thinking!!!

Her hesitation about joining them in the elevator was all too obvious now. Her face was flushed. She couldn't just stand there, so with a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator. Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator doors as they closed. A second passed, and then another second, and then another. Her fear increased! The elevator didn't move. Panic consumed her. 'My God,' she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed! 'Her heart plummeted. Perspiration poured from every pore.

Then one of the men said, 'Hit the floor.' Instinct told her to do what they told her. The bucket of quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the elevator floor. A shower of coins rained down on her. Take my money and spare me, she prayed. More seconds passed. She heard one of the men say politely, 'Ma'am, if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the button.' The one who said it had a little trouble getting the words out. He was trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh. The woman lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They reached down to help her up. Confused, she struggled to her feet. 'When I told my friend here
to hit the floor,' said the average sized one, 'I meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor. I didn't mean for you to hit the floor, ma'am.' He spoke genially. He bit his lip. It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing. The woman thought: 'My God, what a spectacle I've made of myself.' She was too humiliated to speak. She wanted to blurt out an apology, but words failed! her. How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable gentlemen for behaving
as though they were going to rob you? She didn't know what to say. The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her bucket.

When the elevator arrived at her floor they then insisted on walking her to her room. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet, and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor. At her door they bid her a good evening. As she slipped into her room she could hear
them roaring with laughter as they walked back to the elevator. The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went downstairs for dinner with her husband.

The next morning flowers were delivered to her room - a dozen roses.
Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill.

The card said: 'Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years.'

It was signed;
Eddie Murphy
Michael Jordan

I would if I could...

Another two weeks to go for me to be back home in India after more than six months, the longest I've stayed away from home ever. I was making a list of things I want to bring back with me and thought of the many other things I would carry back if I could. Like -

• Rickshaws and the (mostly) friendly rickshaw-wallas, especially those outside Andheri station. I know now what prompted Himesh-bhai to include them in that scene of Aap Kaa Suroor shot in Germany.
• The sound of the local train announcer at Andheri station - such a familiar and comforting one.
• The smell of the Raat Rani which instantly reminds me of Pune and lazy, long summer vacations spent reading, playing and drinking nimbu-paani.
• Wada-pav
• Twinkling stars I see shining above my parents house in Pune. I have not seen a single one in Dubai ever.
• Electricity cuts and the swearing thereafter, followed by the sounds of the hunt for a candle which later graduated to the hum of the inverter.
• Unexpected visitors dropping by to say hello. I used to hate it when it happened but now I don't even know my neighbours.
• Long and friendly chats with Suman - my erstwhile cook and Amlu - my domestic help with whom I have shared many a cup of coffee.
• The women in the ladies compartment of my favourite 9.46 to Churchgate. All those who asked me my age, marital status, family background, religion, caste and mother tongue in our first and only encounter.
• Stray dogs and the occasional lick or wag of tail.
• The racket the 12-odd cats at my mother's house make the moment Amma is out in the garden.
• A nice, hot cup of tea made by Amma
• Good friends and long therapeutic chats with them.
• Sunday as part of the weekend.
• That part of me which I've left behind in Mumbai which is probably roaming aimlessly between Andheri and Lower Parel.

The list is long and unending, but these are some of the things I would carry back with me if I could...

The Dubai pet show

This weekend was a wonderfully dog-filled one for me. On friday morning I volunteered for a garage sale organized by K9 friends, a non-profit dog rescue organization. The sale was held in a villa and my job was to be of help to the people who came there and to help with clearing up after the sale. This was my first garage sale ever and I was amazed at the things people donate and the things people buy. There was almost everything imaginable on sale and most of them got sold too. The rates were affordable and people went away with cartons full of stuff. We raised over two thousand dirhams that day and didn't go back home empty handed either. I bought two cassettes on 'how to learn arabic' and a book I've been wanting to read since long - Mark Haddon's - The curious incident of the dog in the night-time.

The next day I volunteered with the Pet show organized by K9 in association with Pedigree. I was supposed to help out at the judges ring but since a lot of volunteers did not turn up I was given duties at the entrance where I had to sell the entry passes. Luckily my friend Divya was also with me and we had a blast. The pet show was a great success with more than twenty thousand people attending and about 500 dogs participating in their various competitions and shows. There were dogs of all shapes, sizes and colour there. Since we were at the gate we missed most of the shows but managed to catch a few minutes of the Dubai police dog show and Abu Dhabi police dog show, both of which were very impressive. I was particularly taken in by the fancy dress competition and could not stop taking pictures of the poodle dressed up as a stewardess of the Emirates Airlines. There were other dogs dressed as angels, pirates, superman and one as slumdog :)

Divya and I realised that it takes a lot to volunteer. We were at the gates from 8.30 in the morning till 4 in the evening. People were coming in almost every minute and the bright sun wasn't making things any easier. There were moments when the temptation to forget the volunteering and enjoy the show as spectators was great, but then we thought that this was a choice we made and it is these things that make the difference so then why not? That kept us going and no regrets since. The perfect end to the day for me was to find out that Coco (one of the dogs I sponsor) has found a home now. What more could I have asked for?

Happy Thursday!

Happy Thursday! – These are the words that greeted me, as I walked in my office today. Claire, our receptionist greets every person in our building with these words every Thursday and we all marvel at her enthusiasm and cheer. I like to catch up with Claire when time permits and that girl does not fail to amaze me.
Claire is not an employee of my company. She is recruited by an agency, at a salary that really could be better than what it is now. She stays in Deira and takes the public bus to work, which means that she has a one hour commute to work one way, and on days of bad traffic (which is very often) she is stuck on the roads for more than two hours one way. She is required to put in twelve hours of work daily. So she is up at 5, at work by 7, leaves office at 7- a whole twelve hours later and gets home only by 9. She says that the only thing she manages to do after getting home is eat and iron her clothes for the next day. And yet, every morning she is at her desk, juggling between phone calls, visitors, courier guys and all of us and smiling through it all.
Friday and Saturday is the weekend in Dubai, so Thursdays are special days for Claire and us, so she makes sure she spreads the cheer of Thursday around. She amazed me yet again recently when I out that she works six days a week and is at work every Saturday. If I were her I am sure that would have diluted the pleasure of ‘Happy Thursday’ for me but then, if I were her I don’t think there would have been greetings of ‘Happy Thursday’.
So here’s to Happy Thursdays and to Claire and to how she finds pleasure in the simplest of things. And also to how that pleasure seems to only increase with every passing week.
Happy Thursday all!

The Williams sisters

The Barclay's Dubai World Tennis Championship is on these days and I got the opportunity to go for the player's party (women) today. It was a quiet affair and I was lucky to get pictures of Venus and Serena Williams. I was hoping to get to photograph Anna Ivanovic and Sania Mirza too but they had not come in till I left.
I am not much of a fan of the Williams sisters. Somehow I miss the grace that Steffi Graf brought to the game, something which I think Anna Ivanovic does now. Just an hour or so before the party Serena won a thrilling match against Italy's Sara Errani.
Although I did not recognize most of them, it was nice to see the players chill, get some henna applied and enjoy the belly dancing. Serena Williams left the venue at the same time as I did and I saw her dance to the music as she walked, a light-hearted side of her we don't get to watch too often.

My driving...the saga continues....

…so I am still struggling with my driving lessons. The latest is that I am waiting for my new instructor. I have asked for a male instructor now only because all the lady instructors seemed to get really nervous when I drove (I think I’m infamous in the driving school and can feel all eyes on me when I enter the yard and hunt for car no. 79). My last instructor resorted to chanting prayers loudly, with me sitting right next to her, especially after I bumped into the dustbin (which was very embarrassing because I was driving at a speed of 40, in the yard of the driving school, with no incoming traffic). I am hoping that my new instructor is the calm sort who keeps his cool in all manners of adversity. And I’m not being sexist or anti-feminist; I’m just following my instincts and feel that a male instructor might finally be able to do the trick.
Asking for a male instructor was quite a task in itself. I first needed a no-objection letter from my sponsor (my office in this case). Then my office came up with the assumption that no wannabe lady driver can get a male instructor even if she wants one. So then I had to tell them that I had checked with the driving school and all I needed was a no-objection letter, so surely they cannot object to my having a no-objection letter? Then they told me that since they do not issue letters of this kind often, they wanted me to write out the contents of the same. So then I wrote the letter and managed to get it from them on a letter head. Phew!
I went to the driving school all armed with the no-objection letter and was told that I needed another no-objection letter saying that I do not object to myself having a male instructor. Thinking that I imagined the conversation I clarified again whether I really needed to give that letter considering that I myself had asked for a male instructor for myself. But apparently you have to have something like that on record, especially for the road transport authorities, so I promptly wrote out that letter too. It’s been three weeks since the surreal experience of writing a no-objection letter for myself, and I’ve been told that I’ll be assigned a new instructor soon.
I’m hoping that he will be all that I hope and pray for! My husband, in the tender moments of our new marriage, after he sat in the car while I drove, told me that I drive like a brainless twit :)I wonder what kind of a reaction I will get from my new instructor.
On a more serious note I wish people would take me seriously when I say that I cannot move more than two body parts at the same time. I’ve known this all along, and using my eyes, hands, legs and brains while driving is too much for me to handle. I also believe that I was born to be driven around, but my husband just ignores me when I say that.
So, I am still struggling with my driving lessons…………….

The Dragon Boat Festival

I hadn’t even so much as heard of dragon boat racing all these years and in the last three months I’ve participated in a dragon boat race twice already. The most recent one was on Friday at the Dragon boat festival and it was only because of my office that I got to take part in a fun festival such as this. Dragon boat racing is a serious passion for many in this part of the world, and not everyone thinks of it as a fun sport. There are teams that are extremely dedicated and serious about it. They are also a delight to watch, an epitome of team work and co-ordination and one look at them made it clear to us that we were going to come last, which we did :)
Since we all work different hours we could not go for any training session and it is a miracle we managed to keep the boat afloat. However we did manage to stand out as a team all due to the mad streak in my colleagues. The motto of our team was Mission Sabotage; we wore pirate hats and went on the boat with huge supplies of water guns and water balloons :) and in true pirate-style we growled at other teams passing by, hoping to intimidate them.
On my way back home from the event I was thinking about how lucky I am to be with people who are so fun loving and young. Not only my colleagues, but also the other team members who simply laughed when we threw balloons at them or attacked them with our water guns. I thought we’d probably get beaten up for our behaviour but it was all taken in a sporting manner. Though secretly I would have loved for us to win I feel that we were the jesters who added the fun and lightness to a highly competitive sport, and I quite liked being on that side of the fence :)

The Chinese connection :))

My colleagues and I ordered lunch from a chinese restaurant today. I placed the order on phone. Look what they've done to my name :-)