“I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.”
– Oscar Wilde
Jerk Chicken, Suya African Grill, Oakland
I’ve Got Sweaty Boots, Not Sexy Boots
I still haven’t typically mastered to ‘dress for the weather’. Today I wore my brown combat boots, leggings and a flannel shirt with a pashmina scarf thinking it would be perfect for a chilly evening. I didn’t leave the house before this so my knowledge on the current meteorology was exactly nada. I stepped out of my house and three minutes later, as I was walking down the street I realized I was dressed wrong. It was warm and people were wearing flip flops and tank tops. My feet were sweating in my boots and I couldn’t walk back home because I was almost at the bus stop. I felt like I would never master this art. Its stupid, if you ask me. In Madras I never had to ‘dress for the weather’. I’d just wear what I liked and would inevitably end up sweating in it. I don’t understand winter, spring and all that jazz. I only know summer. And summer is hot. And summer is sweaty.
I was thinking about this on the bus when one girl got on. I noticed she was wearing a T-shirt and white patialas. That’s what I wear to sleep but this girl made it work. Then I saw she was wearing a fluffy winter hat and I felt better about my boots. If people think wearing a scarf on the head is hot (like sweaty hot, not ooh thats hot!, hot) then wearing a woolen hat is worse. So she passed me to go sit at the back and I noticed that her white patialas were transparent, as most white patialas and pants are, and she was wearing a HOT PINK CHADDI. I wanted to yell at her, “WE CAN ALL SEE YOUR CHADDI!”, but I had to get off.
I may still be sweating inside my boots, but thank God my pants are not see through.
Six
Happy six years blog!
You have grown from a tiny little nobody to a medium sized somebody and I couldn’t be more prouder!
Love,
Z
I Talk to Myself
“What shall we have for breakfast?”
“You want dosa?”
“Mmm.. don’t feel like dosa.”
“Here have a banana.”
“No. I want something else.”
“There is nothing else. Don’t have breakfast.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Just eat something and stop annoying me.”
“I feel like French toast. There’s some old white bread.”
“No white bread. You should stop eating, you fatso!”
“So French toast with some butter and powdered sugar will be good.”
“Fatty!”
“But I haven’t had buttered toast in forever!”
“Its okay. No breakfast.”
“French toast!”
“No!”
“Butter!”
“Fatty!”
“Sugar!”
“No!”
“French toast!”
“NO!”
“French toast!”
“NO!”
“FRENCH TOAST!!!”
“Okay.”
***
I had French toast for breakfast.
A Reminder to Myself
The past week I met two women who have inspired me. They didn’t let age, society or gender define them. They did what they wanted and pursued their passion. That’s the kind of person I want to be. I don’t want to be held back my the limitations I put on myself or by what society dictates I should do. I want to shield myself from the judgements of other people and protect myself form negative energy. What my second cousin twice removed’s maami’s husbands says about me or what my neighbors paati thinks I ought to do right now is of no importance.
Being true to myself should help me sleep better at a night.
Part 3
***
Ruhi woke up from her afternoon siesta. The sun was blazing at the beach today and her pinstriped umbrella was her only savior. Sand stuck to her sweaty palms and her legs were a warm brown color, a little darker than the tan she wanted but it would do. Ruhi sat up and looked around. The water was sparkling, children were building castles in the sand while the parents soaked up the sun. There were a group of rowdy boys nearby playing volleyball and a gaggle of girls gossiping and tanning.
Ruhi was alone. The only company she had was a book and a half eaten sandwich. She did not mind being alone. In fact, she enjoyed her company. She lied to get herself out of a brunch. Today she didn’t need to be around people. Today she just needed to be with herself.
This new life she was having, she appreciated it more than her last. Her past life was filled with emotions, drama and situations she really didn’t want to be in. This time around she was going to free, take it light, take it slow. No more being obligated to people and no more feeling she owed someone all the time.
Her mind drifted to Farhan. He was so perfect. And kind. And loving. The worst thing was he expected her to be the same – Perfect, Kind, Loving. She was a time bomb, exploding at the worst times. He didn’t love her inspite of that. He wanted to change her in to his version of Ruhi, the one that resided in his head.
The moment she felt his presence nudging her in directions she didn’t want to go, Ruhi backed off. She wanted an education, a grand job, “and travel! And adventure!”. All the things Farhan thought were obsolete. So the moment she got her dream job as a travel writer she jumped at the opportunity. Farhan pleaded with her not to leave. “We’ve had so many wonderful times together, Ruhi, please stay. Stay for me. We’ll even get married one day and I will keep you happy.”
All she heard from that conversation was “Stay for me”.
Stay for me.
Stay for me.
Stay for me.
That meant giving him a part of herself. Ruhi did not want that. She did not want to wake up six years from now regretting marrying the man who slept next her. She did not want to look out the bedroom window and sigh thinking about all the missed opportunities and adventures she never had. Marrying him would mean the end of Ruhi and the beginning of Mrs. Farhan. She did want to get married one day but not half heartedly.
So she left Farhan and that awful city for the sun and the sand. Here, the water seemed endless, just like opportunities. And that’s the kind of life she wanted to lead, free from regrets. She stuck to her guns and look at where that got her!
“There will be time for relationships”, she thought, “There will be time for love. But now is all about me.”
Ruhi sipped on her tall blue drink with a rainbow colored umbrella. Everything was just as she imagined it would be. She snuggled back in to her beach towel.
“Everything was just perfect.”
Faith and Freedom
Yesterday I was talking to my friend S, who is from South Korea about the differences in our countries and our families. “I had an arranged marriage”, I told her.
“So you and your husband are same religion?”, she asked.
“Yes.”
“Oh, we are not. My husband is Christian and I am Buddhist but I’ve never been to a temple. In my country we have no religion. I go to church every Sunday because it makes my husband happy. But I do not understand when the priest talks. I think, how can they believe in God. But I hope that my son believes in God when he grows up, maybe it will help him when something happens to him.”
Then she proceeded to tell me about another girl she met who was on an R (refugee) visa as she had to flee from Iran because of religious persecution.
On one end was this woman who did not have a trace of any religion yet, wanted the opposite for her child. At the other end of the spectrum was a woman who had to leave her country to hold on to her beliefs.
I realize how lucky I am to have grown up where I did – India, where the streets are dirty and cows wander by. India, where I could practise my religion freely. I went to school with Hindus, Muslims and Christians. We made Pongal on Pongal day and exchanged biriyani and cakes on respective occasions. My neighbors were Hindus and my bestest friends are Christians. I respect their belief, and they mine. I did not have to think twice about talking about prayers or wearing a headscarf. I studied in a convent where the values they taught me were the same as what my parents did. I had freedom all along and never really realized how bad it is for others who don’t.
I also understand that this may not be true for everyone who lives in India. But I thank God that the South is peaceful, that the people may not be hip and modern but they are tolerant and loving.
Honestly speaking, ever since I moved to the US I’ve been afraid of my headscarf instigating others, thanks to the countless stories I hear. But, thankfully, that all these fears were only in my mind. I have never felt awkward or threatened here. I did have my fears while riding the bus every day. There are a lot of crazy people in America and by crazy I mean for real crazy, like people mumbling stuff, screaming expletives, reciting poetry randomly, etc. I know its uncalled for but I was always worried one of them might say something to me. The only things that I had thrown at me were nice things – “You look really good in that”, and by that they meant my scarf. This made me happy. And now I finally feel like I belong.
It took me 24 years to realize how important it is to have the freedom to stick to your beliefs. But what if you have all the freedom in the world and still do not believe? Like the case of my friend S. Maybe she does not have religion because she does not feel the need for it in her life. That’s a freedom too. But what if she just never had the opportunity to experience the other side? Maybe her parents were not religious at all, and that’s a missed opportunity right there. Her country did not believe in any religion, that’s another one. But now she has a husband whom she accompanies to church every Sunday. I really hope that she gets to fill that void of God and the what, why, who’s with a little faith.
Sugar? Sugar.
How is my sugar-less February going? Okay, firstly I decided I’m not entirely off sugar. I do add half a teaspoon or so in my tea. I planned to give up chocolates, cookies, muffins, cakes, dessert, you know all the good stuff. On Saturday though I did indulge in a blueberry muffin. They are my new favorites now – blueberry muffins. And I did eat an entire Cliff bar because there won’t anything else and I was hungry.
This week I will try to stick to the half a teaspoon sugar and cut out the energy bar. I have an unopened box of coconut cookies calling out my name but I plan to resist the urge. Fruits have been such a savior though. Natural sugars are so much more sweeter than artificial sugars! I had the most sweets apple the other day for dessert and a huge bunch of grapes yesterday. I love grapes. They make me so happy.
I hope the fruits keep me on the right track!
Maybe In Madras 