Friday, November 21, 2014

The making of a home

I was at Pushpita's sweet home yesterday and it delighted me to see how beautifully the space has come together over the past year. So I took some pictures of this twinkling house which glimmers with so much love it fills my heart with sheer happiness.

My little babies in their little corner playing, fighting, screaming, squealing and generally driving their mothers nutty. In all fairness they sat and did their colouring for almost an hour like good little angels. Corners are so important in a space. So much depends on how well you do them. Pushpita totally gets it right I must say.

Ahana and Sohana at their little table. Paper and pastel colours equal joy for the babies and a sigh of relief for the mummies.

I love the little chair and the cute Hippo from the Africa pavilion in Global Village. Little knick knacks so tastefully put together are beautiful. And perfect lighting to go with it all.

Ankita relaxes to the music. That's another thing I love about Pushpita's home- there's always good music. Red paper hearts subtly accentuate the dining space. And I love the glittering lights around the window giving the home a forever festive look. I still remember when we walked into this empty studio apartment. Just look at what she's done with it. Pushpita you beauty, I'm a fan of your sense of aesthetics and love you to bits!

And this is how we look when we wake up. Very happy and very messy.

She doesn't like walking on grass. Yeah she's weird like her mother.

Monday, November 17, 2014

The player

So I got up at 6:30 in the morning today which is insanely early for me. After a yummy idli breakfast I got ready for work even though I really felt like staying in and watching birds all day. I took Ninna down for her walk and saw a man walk out with a coffee mug from a building in the distance. He seemed familiar but I didn't pay much attention and proceeded to collect flowers for my little vase. As I plucked some beautiful magenta shaded blooms the man suddenly appeared out of the bushes and said,"Are those for me?" I jumped out of my skin and said,"No!" rather abruptly. By then Ninna lay down at his feet completely shamelessly with her paws in the air. He gave her a belly rub and said,"Ninna! It's been a long time." And then I remembered it was the same Moroccan man I'd met a few months ago February to be exact. I recorded that meeting too and you can read it here. Anyway I couldn't very well get away as he sat down on the grass and Ninna was in doggy heaven with all the belly rubbing. I had to have a conversation with him. He's a soccer player and at the moment out of a job trying to get a driving license so he can get a job with RTA. He reminded me of that good looking, 'cool' dude with a perfect physique in school who is a star at sports, sucks at academics, the girls love and guys envy. As he kept smiling his perfect teeth at me I thought of this woman for some reason, a very good friend of my mother who had a son at sixteen. And I thought if I had a son at sixteen he would be as old as this boy. So I asked him how old he was and of course he said,"I'm twenty four." I thought to myself,"You could be my son." But instead I smiled my best maternal smile and said,"I'm forty." And then I told him I needed to get to work. I had to drag Ninna with all my might to get her away from him.

I got to work and realised the only parking available needed me to parallel park. I tried. I really tried and failed. One butt cheek of my car was left slightly outside the line. The parking attendant wanted me to park properly. I told him repeatedly that I couldn't. Still he tried to help me by giving me directions and I still failed miserably. I apologised profusely. Finally he let me go with an indulgent smile.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Friday happiness

Friday mornings are perfect for a walk in the sun with Ninna. There are very few people about and one can wander around in peace. Just wanted to share a little beauty that surrounds my home. Found these lovely purple flowers basking in the light. So beautiful.

All those who wander are not lost. No some of them are sniffing fresh dog poop and peeing on it religiously.

I met this little girl gliding on her roller blades. We had a little chat and she told me my English is very good. I told her I would fall flat on my bum if I even tried to roller blade so she showed me a little demo. Well thank you Sara, you're so beautiful.

I collected some flowers and put them in this little vase. They looked so cheerful it made me smile. If you live in Dubai you'd know that flowers here cost an arm and a leg but when I look at these little blooms I realise they're just as beautiful and make me just as happy as orchids would.

Truly best friends forever. Going to Arte with Ankita has become a ritual I look forward to all month. There we are all goofy grins. She will return to New York next year and I admit I will be heartbroken but I won't think about that now.

I met Bhawna with her lovely candles. Her friend Anjali was wearing this gorgeous red dress and totally rocking it. It's wonderful to see people with a great sense of style. So we took a picture. Anjali moves to Canada next month and is already dreading the cold. That's the thing with Dubai, you meet people and before you know it they move away. It's so transient but then isn't everything in life...

I just fell in love with this doll. I wish I was five years old so I wouldn't feel so silly about falling in love with dolls at forty.

I got this beautiful heart which throws lovely shadows. Thank you Ankita for convincing me to pick it up. So totally worth it.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Some pictures

I'd been wanting to take this picture for a while. Something about it reminds me of another picture I took many years ago at NID. Anyway today as I was sitting outside the office this courier guy stood in perfect silhouette and I got it.

I saw this bunch of merry flowers on my walk with Ninna. I'd been passing them by with a smile for a while and then I finally stopped one day to lock up their beauty on my phone. I stole a couple of blooms from this tree, the bougainvillea bushes and another flower whose name I don't know. I get very intimidated by people who know the names of each flower and bush and tree. I just recognise the prettiness of it all and try to record it as best as possible.

Yours truly being a goofball. Nothing new. Reminds me of one of the many names Anshuman has given me over the years - Little Baby Tweetiana.

And that's me. Three years old. Almost smiling but not quite. They dressed me up as Krishna for some reason complete with a flute and Peacock feather. 

Friday, November 07, 2014

Dear November

The winter is in the air and I take the dog on three walks a day just to say hello to November. There are flowers everywhere and I just have to stop sometimes and close my eyes to feel the breeze on my face. The Neem trees sway with delight and I smile at them through my window every morning. I see people smiling more often as they pass you by. The children squeal with joy as they skate around in the courtyard. The bald motorcycle man has brought out his Aprilia again. And I feel nothing but gratitude for these small mercies of nature and so many things that life has bestowed upon me. So let me thank the universe for a cozy and comfortable home. A dog with the infinite ability to lick without judgement and sleep like an angel in the sun. A new job with amazing and exciting possibilities that make my heart flutter. A family that loves me unconditionally. A sister who finds the funniest memes on the internet and has hilarious dreams in which I clean the toilet with her new makeup brush assuring her she can always wash it and use it as she watches helplessly. Friendships that have lasted the test of time. A husband who regularly murders my favourite songs with his made up lyrics and when I throw a stern look his way, looks back at me with the eyes of a four year old which makes me burst out laughing. So thank you November. I love you.

Monday, November 03, 2014

Small treasures

I found my six year old self in a box while rearranging all the junk and the not junk in my numerous boxes. There are very few pictures of me as a child so all my memories are mostly borrowed from my mother and some from my father. I cut this one out from my 1st grade class picture. I can remember only two other pictures of me when I was five taken in a studio and I'm not smiling in either of them however there's a picture of me as a six month old in which you can see a mostly toothless baby grin. I studied in this school called St. Thomas for three years- Nursery, KG and 1st grade. It was an English medium school and I remember struggling with spellings and mostly failing at everything. My mother who studied in Hindi medium throughout would help me with a Hindi to English dictionary. I still have a clear memory of her holding my little hand and making me do cursive writing. She helped me with my homework with the dictionary and my books spread all over the razai in the cold winter months. The principal was a huge bearded man with a christian name. He would twist and pull my ear every time I got a spelling wrong during dictation and I would cry without making a sound. My mother also recalls that I would cry with big tears without making a sound in particular the three times my head was shaved and I saw the hair fall away in the barber's mirror. My mother thought I didn't have enough hair on my head as a child so she would have it shaved off and then massage it with an egg. Imagine being bald and smelly, no wonder I cried silent tears. Even today I'm very good at crying without making a sound. Just a little sniff here and there.

As I said I remember my first report card and I had an F in everything. They promoted me anyway because I was 'such a beautiful child' or so my mother tells me. My clearest memory is each afternoon we would stand and say a prayer and be out of the door before we could say 'Amen'. One afternoon something happened to the principal of the school. He started banging his foot on the ground and it seemed he was having some kind of seizure. I'm not sure what it was, all I remember is being relieved and happy that we were all going to be packed off on rickshaws and sent home.

I'll share one last memory which is again borrowed from my mother. One day I didn't come home and my mother was frantic. The police were informed and a rickshaw with a loudspeaker was dispatched which announced my name and description. I had decided to take my friend's rickshaw and gone to play at her place without realising how miserable my mother would be for those hours she didn't know where I was. The thing is this friend said she had a blackboard in her house and I went with her to draw on it. It was such a novelty to have a blackboard in one's house. Anyway I was finally found enjoying every minute of doodling on a blackboard and all was well again in my mother's world. I don't remember her scolding me. May be she couldn't bear the thought of silent baby tears or may be she was just relieved to have me back in her arms.