Post # 11 - Missing Routine Life? You're not alone.

How many of us have not complained, over the years, about our boring routine lives? Almost all of us. We’ve lamented over how our lives are like clockwork - that we’re just slaves to the clock and hardly ever get time to ourselves. Almost all of us have wished, at some point or the other to press the pause button on our busy schedule. Be careful what you wish for, I’ll say, for someone has been listening and has pressed the pause button for us. 

I stepped out of the house some days back to buy groceries and the sight was unnerving and disturbing, to say the least. Shops closed, roads deserted, and hardly anyone around. Those who were out and about were shielded behind a mask and maintaining a distance of 3-4 feet. In a city where finding parking is next to impossible there is, now, ample parking space but no cars. We have accepted this new mode of lifestyle, albeit reluctantly, as our current reality and are adapting ourselves accordingly. Where once thermometers were used to check for fever only in the hospitals, they are now being used everywhere, including outside Agha's supermarket. 

Will things ever be the same again? 

This is the one question which is, I’m sure, haunting all humanity. Will things ever be the same again? How will we all emerge from this epidemic? Bruised, yes, but bitter? Or grateful, humble and more tolerant? Only time will tell. And at the moment, we have a lot of time on our hands.

So it goes. 

Reflect. Be kind. Read. Laugh. Smile. Express gratitude. Pray. Whatever you do, don't lose hope. 

Post # 1 - Beginnings

A lot has happened in these first 12 days of the new year. The winter holidays are over and the twins are back to school which means early mornings and it’s kind of super cold in Karachi these days so it’s a miracle I crawl out from under my warm blanket every morning. Hubby dear is back to work with old and new shoots. I started and finished a book and am now on the next one. A story idea which had been bothering me for months has finally started to take some shape. I have decided to try writing personal, non-fiction essays (easier said than done but hey, one has to start somewhere!). I have a new profile picture on Facebook after, like, six years. That alone is huge.

It’s easy to make resolutions or intentions for new year but as we usually enter it with pretty much the same people and the same commitments, it’s easy to feel demotivated and a little overwhelmed. What is important though, is not to lose sight of the big picture. In my case, the major struggle is how to juggle the kids and my writing. Reading I can sneak in for small time intervals during the day but it’s finding a dedicated time for writing which is tough. And by the time I get to it, at around 9pm at night, I’m too tired to think let alone write. 

We usually set goals but don’t think how we are going to go about them. It’s easy to say that we’ll go to the gym everyday or meditate or whatever it is we want to do but really the days in the new year pretty much follow the same routine as the previous one. If we are really serious about seeing our goals through, we need to plan a bit and change our routine. And change is always difficult. I always resist change. 

As far as my writing is concerned, the best solution I’ve come up with is leaving the kids at my mom’s place. This gives me a couple of hours in which I can write without any disturbance. Even if I do this three times a week, that gives me at least 6-7 hours per week of unadulterated writing time which I think is super. Ofcourse, if I have writing to show for that time, it’ll be even more super but let’s not start the new year on a negative or ironic tone, shall we?  

It’s super cloudy in Karachi today and super cold too. My feet feel like ice and I think I’ll just go and wear some socks. I’m a big fan of socks. You’ll find me wearing socks with penguins, avocados, cupcakes, owls and even Sponge Bob. And the latest addition in my socks collection is Van Gogh’s, Starry Night. Why wear boring black and white socks when cute animals and paintings can keep your feet looking good and warm? 

Day 1 -I return to the beanbag & talk about my twins

Day 1 of my return on the beanbag. May it be long-lasting. Amen!

It's not that I don't get little windows now and then during the day to write. It's just that somehow, after managing the twins most of the day along with juggling everything else in life, the brain refuses to get into creative mode. As soon as the twins doze off in the afternoon, my brain, too, goes into sleep mode and avoids any task which requires thinking/pondering/creating. Which is the reason why I've not come back to my writing even after a year and some months have passed since I've had my twins. 

Who are my twins? N & Z. Sister and brother. Two little bundles of energy, curiosity and of course, joy! Though when they sometimes wake me up in the middle of the night, joy is the last emotion I register. Being a parent is an experience unlike any other. It's the one job we don't get any formal training for even though it is the most important one we ever do. Taking care of a tiny being - of a minuscule human life who is completely dependent on you is the stuff of, honestly speaking, nightmares. Yet it somehow comes so naturally - or at least it did for me. I won't deny that it wasn't daunting and at times, frustrating, confusing and very tiring but I never really had to refer to a book for advice after the twins were born. Not that there is any shortage of advice in our society - from the mother-in-law to the maid, everyone is an expert when it comes to babies.

Alas, time is passing by too quickly and my babies are already 14+ months. I'm trying to capture their childhood in a little notebook which I've been keeping since their birth. It's a diary I'm keeping for them of their milestones, special events, achievements etc. I hope to give it to them on their 18th birthday. The problem is that there is the one notebook and both of them will want to keep it (or so I think!). Well, they can get copies made 'cause Mommy Shark gets to keep the original. 

reading nooks are over-rated

If you meet someone who sings praises of his/her 'reading spot/nook', beware! The reading nook is just a marketing gimmick. It may not appear to be so but eventually all roads lead to consumerism and our insatiable appetite to buy. This advocate of the reading nook (or RN) will exclaim in delight how they've managed to read so much more because they now have a dedicated place to read. You need the right vibe around you while reading, they'll lecture, and no ordinary corner of the house will suffice. The chair needs to be right, with a side table of the correct height and width to accommodate both your book and cup of tea. If you show curiosity about the tea they'll go into another tirade of how the whole flavour of the book changes when reading it is accompanied by a steaming cup of tea or coffee, whatever your preference. Besides the chair and table, there has to be a lamp and foot stool for night time reading. They'll also add that you must check out reading nooks on Instagram or Pinterest for inspiration. The whole conversation will end with them showing you the pictures of their nook. 

Of course, when you'll ask them the number of books they managed to read while comfortably ensconced in their nook, they'll probably mumble something incoherently or state a single digit number or tell you they were so busy setting up their nook and putting it up on social media that there was no time to read. 

Don't fall in the nook trap. Read anywhere. In the car, in the toilet, in the bedroom, in the living room, on your balcony (with or without a cup of tea), in hospital waiting rooms, at the  airport (I once read a book while standing in line for an eye scan in Dubai). Read in the park or at the beach. Carry a slim book (or a heavy one depending on the size of your bag) on you or your Kindle and just take it out when and where you get time. 

Books are cool. Read them. 

The belated 2018 post

I have notebooks in which I scribble all the time. I've had notebooks all my life but most of them, fortunately, I destroyed. Those that have survived are of various sizes, shapes and thickness. Why I'm talking about notebooks is because a dear friend of mine is on a decluttering mission these days and her efforts made me think of the various clutters in my life. Which aren't many, mind you, because I constantly give/throw away stuff. Except for notebooks. And here I'm not just talking about the ones which have the secrets of my life inscribed in them. I am referring to the ones which have such mundane entries like travel lists, to-do lists, random doodles made while talking on the phone, minutes of meetings etc - you get the gist but I feel that these notebooks or notepads are also important. Why? I don't know. I'm not someone whose papers people are going to go through diligently after I die. I highly doubt the twins will be interested in them. Unless one of them becomes an anthropologist and wants to know how life for an ordinary woman was in 'those' days.

Being ordinary is not that bad but it's a label I'll like to change sooner or later. More sooner than later. I don't want to become an Instagram sensation, oh no! It's more a lofty goal of contributing to the society in some way. I think the only way I ever did that was when I taught MBA/BBA students but that too is such a distant memory now that it feels like it never happened. 

What else feels like a distant memory is 2017. N and Z are already six months old. Where did the time fly? It seems like only yesterday when I was tossing and turning in the hospital bed after my surgery and thinking to myself, this too shall pass. Well, it passed and is passing mighty quickly. I had a friend get me Matt Haig's new book, How to Stop Time. She, being a non-fiction reader, took the title a little too literally and boy, was she in for a surprise when she sat down with the book on the plane. Time does stop  - it's just that we're in so much of a hurry to reach our next appointment, or get done with some routine task that we will it forward. Always looking at our wrist watches or now, at our mobile phones.

So how to stop time? I find reading a good book is a great way to stop time. Watching a great movie is another way. Reading to your kids also works as a time stopping device. Keeping the mobile phone away from you is a super way of making sure time stops. It is also very detoxing. I've been forced to not keep the phone on me because of N and Z and I find it extremely refreshing. Try it this year. Put some physical distance between you and your phone. Have a no-phone policy during meal times, even if you're eating alone. Above all, please delete the Facebook app. 

I've started this year with no resolutions. Maybe if I have no agenda I might just end up clearing up the clutter that previous unfulfilled resolutions have created.

Back on the beanbag

I'm back. And though not with much of a bang but back, nonetheless. This hiatus in writing was due to two reasons. I gave birth to two beautiful babies in July this year (thus, two reasons!) and they have, as babies do, changed my life and turned it upside down. 

N and Z are lovely babies, especially when asleep. They bring the house down when they're both in a cranky mood together which is, thankfully, very seldom. I won't say that each day is full of surprises and discoveries as all these motherhood magazines and apps claim, but almost every other day I learn something new about them. Has having them changed me? Hell, yes! I can't fit into a lot of my clothes without spandex is the one major change! They have given me a crash course in time management though. It's amazing how seemingly ordinary things like reading, taking a bath, and even watching television are herculean tasks now. 4 plus hours of sleep in one go at night is a super luxury! 

Getting time to write a post here and re-do the blog's look is also a super luxury. So here I am. Back on the beanbag. And from now onwards, I'm not alone here! 

The new look of beanbagtales. Z (top left) and N (top right)

Thirty days to a new-ish me

There was a time when writing here wasn't so difficult. The blog is an online diary of sorts which one mostly writes for oneself but also with a faint hope that someone out there in cyber-space will read it, like it, share it and comment on it! Which, of course, doesn't happen all of the time. Or in my case, MOST of the time. And you know in the initial days of blogging, it really didn't matter. What was important for me was to write everyday. No, that isn't correct. Let me rephrase it. What was important for me was to write what 'I wanted' everyday. Over the last year or two, I've become so affected by what other people will think about me, I've not done any 'honest' writing here. When I do write it's with so many ifs and buts in mind that I usually end up not writing a single word. 

I've been struggling with writing for almost my entire life. And isn't it dumb that I'm always thinking about writing but never end up doing it? Maybe I haven't been true to myself about what I really, really want to write about. Do I want to write epic fantasies or chick-lit novels or maybe, literary fiction (gulp!)? Maybe all three or none of the above? 

While driving the other day I heard one of the RJs on City FM 89 say something like how Ramzan is sort of a break from our everyday, all year round-the-clock routine. It's true. For thirty days we get a chance to unwind a bit and get our shit together. Some of us find this the best time to lose weight while others consider this as a chance to reconnect with God. And I thought that maybe THIS Ramzan I, too, can change. No Ramzan Reading Challenge this month, oh no! What I want is to feel different after these thirty days are over. I'm sure I won't turn into a completely different person and that's not what I'm aiming for also. Maybe someone who is at peace with who she is; mind, body and soul. Yup. A simple goal during the one blessed month we have all year. Besides my birth month, of course!

Of Travel and Destinations - Dubai Part II

I always carry a book on me, even while I'm in Karachi. You never know when you'll need to kill the time and I'd rather read than play Candy Crush, thank you very much! I was carrying the novel, Thud! with me but when hubby dear stepped into the book stall in the departure lounge, I couldn't help wandering over too. Maybe it was nostalgia or the resolve to do new things on this trip that made me buy a copy of the 'Suspense Digest' May issue. 

Hubby dear raised inquisitive eyebrows when he saw my buy but I shrugged nonchalantly, said this is all part of the plan, sat back on the uncomfortable waiting area seat and started reading the first story. The thing that has always attracted me to Urdu digests is the artwork. As a child I used to make stories based on the ink drawings which were usually on the title page of the story. My grandmother was an avid reader of these digests and at any given point in time there were quite a few digest copies in her room. It's a fun exercise actually and some drawings are really done well. This copy of the digest has not excited me very much as far as the artwork or the stories are concerned (yes I've read a few of them and that too after coming back!).

What was exciting, as I tried to maneuver my hand luggage, enormous handbag and myself  through the narrow aisle without brushing against other passengers, was the holiday itself. And more importantly, the quest! We were surrounded on almost all sides by men who seemed to be going to the Middle East for work. What  caught my attention was the phone conversation the fellow sitting behind me was having. Although we humans strive to be different, we are all so similar in so many ways. No matter what social strata we belong to, we all ask/say similar things when travelling abroad for work, leisure or study: pray for me, the blessings of mothers are the best, don't cry that I'm leaving, etc. All those workers on the plane with us had left behind their wives, children, parents, friends, the comforts of home. They were going away so that their loved ones could lead a comfortable life while they lived and worked in average and in some cases, below average conditions. And I kept thinking, why are we letting these people go away? Why can't our country provide livelihood for its people? Why don't we value our labour? What is wrong with us? 

On a lighter note, it was amusing to see all these people being served by a foreign and 'gora' (for want of a better word) crew!

The flight to Dubai takes approximately two hours which is almost the same as Karachi to Islamabad. However, the world turns 180 degrees once you land in Dubai. From the moment you step into the Dubai airport, it seems as if you've entered 'la-la land'. Everything is spotlessly perfect. The perfection continues as you walk out of the airport, into the car and on the road. Perfect roads with perfect sidewalks and perfect cars in perfect lanes perfectly following all rules and regulations to reach their perfect (or in some cases not so perfect) destinations. And the latter is what I'm meaning to discover in my (perfect?) trip.

Read in Travel and Destinations part III: Why our first taxi ride was almost free, my first buy just hours after landing and how the Dubai Mall aquarium has the answer to all problems that plague mankind. 

Of Travels and Destinations - Dubai Part I

"A question, a quest is a starting point that gives any trip a purpose." 

                                                                                                         (Pico Iyer)

Before leaving on holiday with hubby dear last month, I happened to read the above quote. I have, never, set an objective before embarking on a journey. So I asked myself: what do I want to come back with from this trip besides the usual suitcase full of stuff (70% useful and 30% useless shopping) and an SD card with photographs? 

This quote (and the article it was a part of) inspired me to do some serious thinking which excluded the 'things to pack', 'gifts for friends' and 'holiday shopping' list. In all honesty, it wasn't easy to set a question for myself. What kind of quest can I give myself for a trip to Dubai? Besides setting a budget and STICKING to it? Which, I assure you, is quite a challenge. 

After much thinking I decided to set myself two goals. The first one was simple enough, do new things on this trip. The second one was a bit tough. Try and scrape through the glittery surface of Dubai and discover what lies beneath. Is there any personality to this city? 

Armed with these two questions, some Khaadi kurtis (their western pret kurtis are my favourite pieces), a pair of jeans which I succeeded buttoning up after holding my breath for what seemed like an eternity, my funky orange 'Listen Girl' bag, and multi-colored kolapuris, I was ready to discover Dubai like it was nobody's business.

With me usually the whole excitement of discovering new places, doing new things and other holiday jargon-y stuff fizzles out a few days into the vacation. The same happened in the case of this trip also but I managed to stay true to my goals which I will reveal in the next few posts which I will be posting in the next few days.

Read in Travels and Destinations part II: My 'new genre' read for the journey, observations on the plane and the concrete jungle that is Dubai. 

A postmortem of Beginnings

The most difficult part of writing a blog post is the beginning. Even now I'm thinking whether I should re-write the first sentence..is this how I wanted to start? Isn't it rather mundane? And mundane made me think of the word banal which took me down memory lane and once I start walking in this lane, one thought leads to another and I start thinking, now this is what I should blog about next. But I don't. 

Beginnings are generally difficult. Be it a new job, a new city, a new relationship, or a blank page, I always find beginnings daunting. What scares the living daylight out of me these days is the cursor blinking on a blank page, challenging me to write the first word. The first sentence. The first paragraph. To BEGIN the story (or the blog post).

Writing, like everything else in life, suffers if it's not genuine. My writing efforts, recently, are tainted by thoughts like, what will so and so think of this? Is this even good enough to share? Can't I come up with more meaningful stuff? Is this grammatically correct? Questions give birth to doubt and instead of fighting back I shut shop and curl up with a book. My great escape from life!

But escapes are never permanent and I've decided to follow my intention I made a bit earlier this year (read here in detail) of writing without remorse or shame. And to let go when it comes to writing also. Don't say later I didn't warn you. And whoever you are, thanks for reading!

Finding Freedom

How many of us are liberated in the true sense of the word?

I'm not. Not completely. Of course there have been some brief periods in my life when I felt free...but they have been few. Lately I've developed this very bad habit of pondering over everything. What will someone think or say if I wear this? What will that person think if I write on a particular topic? How will I be able to justify to someone my inability to do some xyz task? Is our manner of life correct? Are we not misfits in the family, society, world? Will people be interested in what I have to write? Do I really have a story to tell?

I am plagued with such thoughts almost every single day. Thoughts like these create self-doubt and once that finds roots within you, life becomes hell. When I mull indefinitely over a tweet, a blog post or a story, I eventually end up not tweeting, not blogging and not writing. And thus end up feeding my self-doubt even more. 

It's not easy to liberate oneself. A change of scene is not a solution, as I've experienced because the self-doubt neatly folds itself into your luggage and comes along for the journey. And of course, spoils it. 

So, what to do? After some thought, I've brought it down to these. 

1. Let go. More like.......LET GO!

2. Believe in ME.

3. Always look at the grass on my side of the fence and be grateful for it. 

4. Laugh more. With friends, family, loved ones. 

5. Make no.1 the goal of the year. 

And most importantly,

6. Write. Without shame, without care, without remorse. 

Do You Need to Make Space?

The most important thing about writing (besides the actual physical act) is being true to oneself. Whenever I put on a guard and try and write the perfect sentence or try and come up with the perfect topic, I end up a) either not writing or b) writing the most boring stuff or c) putting up a quote on the blog. And whenever a, b or c happens, I know I'm not writing for myself.

I went over my blog entries from the beginning (Nov 2009) and noticed a gradual change in the posts. What I'd love to write here is that the quality of my posts, both in terms of content and writing style, has improved manifold but the truth is far from that. My posts on the bean bag started off in a voice that was honest and well, mine. But later posts, say in the past two years, are more contrived and boring. I'm trying to make an effort to woo readers and make people like me. And in doing so I've alienated myself from myself. 

Finding a solution to such a dilemma demands willpower and courage. The courage to face the fears and the obstacles within plus the willpower to bring a change. Friends can reach out for support and say words of encouragement. Self help articles or books can raise motivational levels. But real change can only come from within and ONLY if we make time for it. Whether it is writing, or working out, or doing yoga or reading - if we don't make space for it everyday, it just WON'T happen. 

So the moral of the story is simple. So simple that all the above can be narrowed down to two words - make space. 

I have to Make Space for writing. 

What do you need to make space for?

Nostalgia post-Karachi jalsa

The first time I went to a big gathering that featured Imran Khan was in Quetta - 1992. He was the captain of the cricket team and they were on a tour all over Pakistan with the World Cup. The details escape me but we all went to cheer the team. While my brothers and father stood on the road looking out for the truck (containers weren't the mode of travel then) carrying the team and the cup, my mother and I went into a girls college where the team was due to make the first stopover before going to the main gathering area or ground. There was a lot of excitement of course but the logistics were such a nightmare that we all came back home without catching a glimpse of the team. Going there and being in the thick of the action was enough to inspire me to write a poem on IK. I don't have it with me now but I think the first few lines went something like 'Imran Khan is a great Pathan....' and so on. At 12 years of age, rhyming is very important. 

22 years later.....

Yesterday was the third time I went to a big gathering which featured Imran Khan. The urgency and excitement was similar to that of 1992. Then, the 12 year old me had wanted to catch a glimpse of the team and the cup. However, the present me went to show solidarity with a cause. A cause that, we hope, will bring a change. A cause that, I believe, has brought a change. When people of all ages and all social backgrounds can come together in front of the Quaid's mausoleum without any fear, on a humid Karachi day, that IS representative of the change that is seeping into our lives.

I voted for PTI in the last elections because I want a new Pakistan. But I also know that IK doesn't have a magic wand that will change everything. He is the harbinger of change. He can only do this much. It is up to us, through our actions, to bring the real change. For the simple truth is that Naya Pakistan, or something similar, is a dream which we've all had at some point. 

The question is can we play a role, no matter how small, to make the hope and dreams of a better future into a reality?