delicious, yummy, delectable.
Aishwarya didn't have to act in the scene where she sees him practice his sword fight.
she only had to react. slurp, slurp!
still wondering whom i'm talking about?
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
workplace woes
i keep asking myself why what i earn doesn't determine how or who i am at work.
i have an ego, attitude and contentment totally disproportionate to what i earn...
because i am all about vibes, no amount of money will keep me in a place that gives my soul stress.
my first job in Qatar was at a place where the vibes were not so great... but i worked hours that didn't coincide with the mirth-less ones. i had access to the internet, so could chat away the whole morning. the money wasn't great, neither was the work... in terms of quantity. but i did learn new tricks of the trade.
but no sooner did the atmosphere change, and the general state of unhappiness started interfering with my aura... i scooted.
i can't explain this any better, by myself.
i can take the help of one Ms Rowling though.
the place was like Azkaban. The keepers were the dementors. As soon as they smell a whiff of joie de vivre or sense a smile, they come down hard and give you a kiss... their very presence sucks the joy out of the place.
they thrived on seeing people unhappy... and frankly, if i think too long about that place, i can almost hear the strangled cry of my happiness.
i am away from that atmosphere, thank goodness!
unfortunately, there are people i care for who are still there...
where i am now is like Hogwarts, till Book 5. There is no room for dementors...
that may change; but then, when it does, i won't be around to suffer it. Inshallah!
i have an ego, attitude and contentment totally disproportionate to what i earn...
because i am all about vibes, no amount of money will keep me in a place that gives my soul stress.
my first job in Qatar was at a place where the vibes were not so great... but i worked hours that didn't coincide with the mirth-less ones. i had access to the internet, so could chat away the whole morning. the money wasn't great, neither was the work... in terms of quantity. but i did learn new tricks of the trade.
but no sooner did the atmosphere change, and the general state of unhappiness started interfering with my aura... i scooted.
i can't explain this any better, by myself.
i can take the help of one Ms Rowling though.
the place was like Azkaban. The keepers were the dementors. As soon as they smell a whiff of joie de vivre or sense a smile, they come down hard and give you a kiss... their very presence sucks the joy out of the place.
they thrived on seeing people unhappy... and frankly, if i think too long about that place, i can almost hear the strangled cry of my happiness.
i am away from that atmosphere, thank goodness!
unfortunately, there are people i care for who are still there...
where i am now is like Hogwarts, till Book 5. There is no room for dementors...
that may change; but then, when it does, i won't be around to suffer it. Inshallah!
Monday, March 17, 2008
living the good life, without the goods
just about sums up our life here. the common impression of the gulf indian is that they are rich because they live a poor life. but we are the healthy anti thesis. we are poor because we live the rich life.
spa treatments, gourmet dinners, boutique shopping...by we i mean me, mine and our friends who sport similar feathers. we flock together for a reason! we really do live the good life, and are broke by the first week of the month; fortunately there is no wet blanket in the guise of common sense telling us 'be smart, you are here to save, not to have fun (and probably end up in debt)'.
our dinner table conversation every weekend is about the amount of money people around us have... especially that man who just passed by, staring disbelievingly at us, the bunch of indians, sitting in a restaurant that easily costs $50 a head for a light meal. he is driving his landcruiser prado (the dream machine of every gulf indian), wearing his peter england shirt and bata shoes bought during his last trip home.
we are also talking about ms money bags who looked shocked that we were walking out of whistles with shopping bags. you know she has money in her bags because 10 kilos of gold weigh her down; really worn chappals prop her up; fragged bra strap slip off her shoulder and peep out under the transparent sleeve of the jazzy kameez bought at Lulu Hypermarket. and she is wondering where our husbands work (and how out of control the men were) to let us shop at whistles, and wear shoes from Nine West or Milano... snooty indians, they are too good for lulu and parthas, or what?and 'snooty indians' look at her with equal disdain... enough gold on her to write off the debt of an impoverished african country, but still does a mental conversion while spending money on 'chappals'. as we grudge her all the ready cash (definitely not the prehistoric bra), she grudges us the tons of money she assumes we have...
in my assessment there is a very fine line that separates the two types... we both place way too much emphasis on money: one by hoarding, another by burning it.
ps1: appraisals around the corner, and i am not really so bothered by the hike; because i know for sure, for me, earning more is not equal to having more. it only means spending more.
ps2: just as i complete ps1, i hear oprah on tv, say this: "nobody is living the life you think they are, behind closed doors." righto lady!
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Why you should read In the country of men by Hisham Mattar
Grief loves the hollow; all it wants is to hear its own echo.
Concern. I think that was what I craved. A warm and steady and unchangeable concern. In a time of blood and tears, in a Libya full of bruise-checkered and urine-stained men, urgent with want and longing for relief, i was the ridiculous child craving concern.
Concern. I think that was what I craved. A warm and steady and unchangeable concern. In a time of blood and tears, in a Libya full of bruise-checkered and urine-stained men, urgent with want and longing for relief, i was the ridiculous child craving concern.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Charity, thy name is Selfishness
there is nothing more selfish than being charitable. because the kick you get out of being so, is often far greater than the effect of your intent.
we are not talking about buffet and gates or writing off the african debt.
we are talking about indulging a beggar, feeding the poor etc...
i am a great believer in this selfishness... in fact i am so used to giving away part of any extras, that if i don't i believe ill luck will befall me.
so it's no longer about the extra cash could be put to better use... but the freebee i got needs to be distributed before i get 'too lucky'.
and of course the feeling of being in the company of pals like warren, bill and oprah is ever so gratifying.
and so, ever so regularly i donate... i give to charity. money i can ill afford to give away. you just have to peek into my credit card bills and mortgages to know the truth.
but if some unexpected money comes my way, i am so superstitious that it will bring me bad luck if i don't share it, i look for a recipient right away.
when i am walking out of the supermarket with a trolley full of useless stuff, i assuage that nagging feeling by buying a ticket off the red crescent guy.
this could be linked to my susceptibility to guilt... in my worst moment, i have even blamed myself for hillary clinton's horrible dress sense (are my vibes affecting her taste?)
all this i understand and have come to accept.
here is something that i don't understand. how some (many?) people are so oblivious and immune to 'charity from guilt'... they would sooner fold away the rotting 1 riyal note, than to put it in the box for physically disabled, or children of war in afghanistan.
i admire them -- their ability to be so comfortable with themselves, that they don't resort to charity to make themselves feel good.
that putting away every last coin and note into the wallet is what gives them a good night's sleep; that the effects of the ills that plague the world, never touch their psyche or bank balance.
it's a long way to that state of mind, and meanwhile, i would be borrowing from my credit card to keep up with the jolies of the world.
we are not talking about buffet and gates or writing off the african debt.
we are talking about indulging a beggar, feeding the poor etc...
i am a great believer in this selfishness... in fact i am so used to giving away part of any extras, that if i don't i believe ill luck will befall me.
so it's no longer about the extra cash could be put to better use... but the freebee i got needs to be distributed before i get 'too lucky'.
and of course the feeling of being in the company of pals like warren, bill and oprah is ever so gratifying.
and so, ever so regularly i donate... i give to charity. money i can ill afford to give away. you just have to peek into my credit card bills and mortgages to know the truth.
but if some unexpected money comes my way, i am so superstitious that it will bring me bad luck if i don't share it, i look for a recipient right away.
when i am walking out of the supermarket with a trolley full of useless stuff, i assuage that nagging feeling by buying a ticket off the red crescent guy.
this could be linked to my susceptibility to guilt... in my worst moment, i have even blamed myself for hillary clinton's horrible dress sense (are my vibes affecting her taste?)
all this i understand and have come to accept.
here is something that i don't understand. how some (many?) people are so oblivious and immune to 'charity from guilt'... they would sooner fold away the rotting 1 riyal note, than to put it in the box for physically disabled, or children of war in afghanistan.
i admire them -- their ability to be so comfortable with themselves, that they don't resort to charity to make themselves feel good.
that putting away every last coin and note into the wallet is what gives them a good night's sleep; that the effects of the ills that plague the world, never touch their psyche or bank balance.
it's a long way to that state of mind, and meanwhile, i would be borrowing from my credit card to keep up with the jolies of the world.
Monday, March 10, 2008
adult ADHD?
165 channels, and not one that holds my attention for more than a minute.
tonnes of work to be done, none near completion.
mails and friends to catch up with, hours online, and the backlog only grows.
Adult ADHD?
tonnes of work to be done, none near completion.
mails and friends to catch up with, hours online, and the backlog only grows.
Adult ADHD?
Sunday, March 09, 2008
life, again.
to tempt fate, plan
to call your bluff on discipline, have children
when on a roll, a boulder will surface
when MLTR is in town, you are down with adult measles
finally on a diet, and a friend comes along with your favourite cake.
life!
to call your bluff on discipline, have children
when on a roll, a boulder will surface
when MLTR is in town, you are down with adult measles
finally on a diet, and a friend comes along with your favourite cake.
life!
Friday, March 07, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
which is worse
you have so many secrets that you husband knows none of your passwords...
or
you have no secrets and your husband has free access to all your mails!
not sure which is worse, but do know which is sadder.
or
you have no secrets and your husband has free access to all your mails!
not sure which is worse, but do know which is sadder.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
no remote
when u have a child, your dinner comes with free entertainment.
unfortunately, if it is not to your taste you can neither change the channel nor walk out...
unfortunately, if it is not to your taste you can neither change the channel nor walk out...
Saturday, March 01, 2008
blank
third day in a row i open the page, and stare blankly.
where is that idea that sprung to mind at the Tadamond roundabout signal?
where is that thought that crept in, during the long wait outside the pool?
where is that really funny comment i made to myself, while enduring a phenomenally boring conversation with that self-obsessed little pr***!
why do all the words flee when i decide to put it down.
it is at times like this, when my memory is a blank that i really get scared... is this the beginning of something... that obsession of mine all over again.
would i one day, like Elhanan in Elie Wiesel's Forgotten, just cease to remember mid-sentence?
ps: btw, found the book to be a tad boring. well, more than a tad actually! do think the Nobel committee has a bunch of very depressed and unhappy men.
where is that idea that sprung to mind at the Tadamond roundabout signal?
where is that thought that crept in, during the long wait outside the pool?
where is that really funny comment i made to myself, while enduring a phenomenally boring conversation with that self-obsessed little pr***!
why do all the words flee when i decide to put it down.
it is at times like this, when my memory is a blank that i really get scared... is this the beginning of something... that obsession of mine all over again.
would i one day, like Elhanan in Elie Wiesel's Forgotten, just cease to remember mid-sentence?
ps: btw, found the book to be a tad boring. well, more than a tad actually! do think the Nobel committee has a bunch of very depressed and unhappy men.
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