Post # 9 - On Our Wedding Anniversary...

.....I present to you, some very interesting quotes on marriage, from literature.

‘Marriage is between two people. There is no studio audience.' (An American Marriage - Tayari Jones)

Who needs a studio audience when you have social media? However…..

‘A marriage is a very secret place.’  (The Black Prince - Iris Murdoch)

Instagram doesn’t tell the whole truth, always remember that because…

‘In almost every marriage there is a selfish and an unselfish partner.’ (A Severed Head - Iris Murdoch)

Sad, but true. In which case….

‘It is my advice to any woman getting married to start, not as you mean to go on, but worse, tougher, than you mean to go on.' (A Far Cry from Kensington - Muriel Spark)

It might work, it might not work but don’t fret because..

‘Marriages, my dear, are made to be broken, that’s one of the rules of modern civilisation.’  (A Backward Place - Ruth Prawer Jhabvala)

Wait a second…this post is about a celebration of marriage, not dissolution! Most literary masterpieces are usually around unhappy marriages so I think it wasn’t such a good idea to dip into literary quotes..... 

‘Marriage: a hopeful, generous, infinitely kind gamble taken by two people who don’t know yet who they are or who the other might be, binding themselves to a future they cannot conceive of and have carefully omitted to investigate.’ 

(The Course of Love - Alain de Botton)

Post # 8 - COVID-19 and Us

The world is at a standstill. As I write this, Karachi is also experiencing a partial shutdown. Schools, most offices, public spaces, malls, restaurants, gyms are all closed. Only grocery stores and pharmacies are open. It is surreal, yes, but also scary on many levels. Firstly there is the fear that I’ve met someone recently who had the virus but didn’t show any symptoms. Secondly, when will it end? Thirdly and most importantly, how will it end? Watching the news has now, more than ever, become a nightmare as reports come from all corners of the world of numbers and statistics. Panic buying and hoarding has started across the world including Karachi. On a lighter note, we have run out of hand sanitisers but we still have ample toilet paper!

Our local government has taken some very strong measures and right now, I think, the Sind Chief Minister is probably making the most intelligent decisions regarding preventive measures. A lot of us, too, were in denial. We were convinced that just washing hands, drinking ample fluids and gargling will help us through this while we go about our regular life. I started raising the alarm ten days back about social distancing in my immediate family and friends circle but I wasn’t taken seriously. Thankfully my hue and cry did make them consult family doctors and many events in our immediate and extended family were cancelled/postponed. I’m hardly stepping out of the house but when I do, I carry a spray bottle full of a mixture of water and Dettol. I’m disinfecting everything which comes in the house. It’s a tedious task but it needs to be done. I have two different age extremes in the house - my elderly in-laws and my 2.7 yo twins. I might start permanently smelling of Dettol after all this is over. 

When will all this be over? When will the world heave a sigh of relief and go back to normal life? Will we ever be able to go back to living as we did before this virus hit us and turned our world topsy turvy? I think there will be a paradigm shift as far as our basic lifestyle is concerned. Or will we go back to our lives in the same manner pretending all this was just a bad dream? 

Building a virus free lego city with
friendly dinosaurs!

In an ideal world, people will turn to books in this difficult time and find solace in stories. They will realise that books provide the perfect escape, even momentarily, from the dreariness and morbidity of being in lockdown. They will read to each other and talk about their most or least favourite books. They’ll go through their bookshelves and find hidden gems which they had bought but never read due to lack of time. They will develop an appreciation for the philosophy of bookworms - with a world full of so many incredible books, who needs people all the time? In an ideal world, yes, that might just happen. 

Act responsibly. Wash your hands. Maintain social distance. Stay home and read a  book. Be grateful for your health and that of your loved ones. Say a prayer for the doctors and nurses who are at the frontline and fighting this virus all over the world. Most importantly, don’t forget to wash your hands. 

Post # 6 - Are Mothers supposed to be superheroes? (motherhood series)

When women become mothers, it’s assumed that they will become selfless individuals whose only concern will be the well-being of their child or children. No matter what the situation, as a mother, we need to put the child first. We might be exhausted after a bad night’s sleep or bone tired after a long day with the kids but we are still expected to be calm, patient and not lose it. 

Do women suddenly acquire superpowers after becoming mothers?

None that I know of. At least not yet. In fact, I can only see the powers of reason and sanity slowly seeping away from my grasp. Yet, I fight back and try and behave as if I’m a superwoman. I try and keep it together everyday because that’s what’s expected of me. I try to keep my frustration, my anger and my exhaustion under wraps because unleashing it makes things only worse. With the kids, with the spouse, with others. Especially others because everyone of us is always, always judging everyone else. 

Is there a win-win solution?

Yes and no. Sometimes you find a solution which works but when you decide to reuse it on another day, it completely flops. These days my daughter doesn’t want to leave school. She’ll walk slowly and make many stops on the way from the school gate to the car. All the other children are happily walking with their parents to their respective cars but my little girl wants to do things differently (so much for wanting your child to be ‘different’ from others!). Everyday I have to come up with new and novel ways to make her walk. Some days we pretend that all the trees outside the school have magic buttons which we have to find and press. A big leaf I gave to her yesterday became a tickling device. She ran after me so as to tickle me with the leaf and I played along, leading her successfully to the car. When we reached the car all laughter and happiness, her brother saw the leaf and wanted one also. Unfortunately, we just had that one leaf. 

Can one negotiate with toddlers?

Even play requires negotiations
at times. 

Again, yes and no. I’ve learned two things so far. Firstly, raising my voice yields no results. They scream back, start crying or throw a tantrum. What else can you expect from a 2.6 year old? Yes, my daughter knows that she needs to walk home with me from school to the car but maybe she wants to play first. Maybe she wants me to show her a little extra attention because I’ve been away for three hours. If I start yelling or getting upset with her, she’ll respond in the only way she knows. Crying. That’s the only way she has of expressing her distress, frustration, helplessness, confusion and of course, anger. Secondly, talking to her, I’ve realised, helps me to get control of the situation. Talking in a friendly tone with them makes them trust me. And that’s what I need them to do. Trust me. Implicitly. Always and forever. 

I’m a mother, not a superhero.

As mothers, we do have powers. We have the power to provide the child with an environment in which he/she can not just be happy but also be curious, creative and just be himself/herself. Most importantly, we need to realise that though we have quite a number of powers, we are humans too and need some time off. A cup of coffee in peace, maybe a few uninterrupted minutes of reading or just a power nap keeps our powers intact and makes us happy mothers. And it’s happy mothers who are behind happy babies/toddlers. Not just dry pampers! 

Note: The image in this post is by the author. 

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? 

Post # 25 - Monsoon (Memories II)

When we visited Karachi in the summer holidays, there were three things we really looked forward to: meeting our grandparents, going to the beach, and playing in the rain with cousins. 

Although it rained in Rawalpindi throughout the year, there was something very special about the Karachi monsoon. Probably because of the relief it brought after the stifling heat of June. Or maybe because we were in party mode and needed an excuse to celebrate anything with our cousins and rain was a major cause of celebration. 

Even then as soon as the dark clouds rolled in and thunder rumbled in the sky, the lights went out. This was the pre-generator era (yes, I am that old!) but we kids weren’t bothered with load-shedding. When the first rain drop hit the driveway of my grandparents’ house, all us six cousins were out of the front door, oblivious to everything.

There is a special kind of joy that one derives from the rain and which sort of multiples when you let your defences down and dance with complete abandon in a downpour. 

Even though I haven’t let go of myself and stepped out into the rain in a long while, the twins did yesterday. One moment they were on the porch, stretching out their hands to feel the raindrops. The next instant they were in the driveway, jumping and splashing around. What made it more fun for them, I guess, is that no one (read: me) was stopping them from jumping in dirty puddles or rolling  around on the floor. 

As I’m writing this I feel a little sad. My grandparent’s house is still there but none of us cousins are around to play in the rain. My grandmother isn’t well enough to make aaloo ka paratha or pakoras. Those fading images of merriment and joy are all that I have. And I guess they are enough to out a little smile on my face as the clouds start rolling in and thunder rumbles in the sky. 

Note: I've talked about the monsoon on the beanbag earlier also. You can read those older posts here and here. 

Post # 21 - The point of it all

Seriously, what’s the point of it all?

I ask myself this question now and then. It’s a question which indicates that I’m going through an existential crisis. Which is something a lot of us go through several times in our lifespan (if anyone tells you otherwise they’re either lying or they don’t know that what they’re going through or went through is known as an existential crisis). 

I’ve been re-reading one of my favourite novels by Nick Hornby - Juliet, Naked. The last time I read it was in 2010 and I wasn’t going through any major soul-searching dilemmas at that time so I had forgotten that this novel screamed existential crisis at almost every other page. 

Don’t get me wrong. It’s a great book, probably one of his best novels. I loved re-reading it but what I had missed the first time was a) that this was a coming of age story but of adults which kind of translates as mid-life crisis and b) the protagonist, a woman, was roughly the same age as I am now when she started questioning where the last fifteen years of her life went. Her questioning brought to the surface some tough questions of my own life and doings which eventually culminated into this one observation/question:

What’s the point of it all?

I’m at a strange place in my life. I want to write but am afraid of it. Not of the hard work involved but of exposing my vulnerabilities. It takes a lot of courage to lay yourself bare which is something I realised and took inspiration from when I read the book, It’s Not About the Burqa. This collection of essays from female British Muslim authors was very inspiring. Some of the stories were so, so personal and painful yet the authors penned them down and shared them with the world. Is writing a blog everyday also something like that? No, not really. Especially when everyday you check your site and realise, with a sinking heart, that nobody is interested in your writing. Which brings us back to the original question.

Seriously, what’s the point of it all?

I know this sounds a bit like a very sad cry for help but it isn’t that at all. Okay, maybe just a bit. And in case you feel like sending me a nice email or leaving a sweet comment, please feel free to do it. Now is a good time. NOW is a very good time. 

[This is post no. 3 of my #dailyJuly series on the beanbag].

Post # 20 - Observation is a superpower..almost!

So much of who we are is, besides genes and upbringing, based on observation. A lot of times I’ve found myself doing a certain thing in a certain way because my mother or grandmother did it that way. And I’m not just talking about cooking. Actually that is the one thing I can’t talk at all about with any authority. Unfortunately. Although I’ve observed both my grandmothers (maternal and paternal) cook but somehow, I was never really interested in it. Now, though, I wish they had forced me to learn cooking. It’s one skill everyone must have. With the internet cooking, like everything else, has become so much easier and simpler. But learning from your grandmothers or mother or mother-in-law makes you feel part of a special group…sort of like a secret society. One Youtube video doesn’t make you a chef. It takes a lifetime to develop your own ‘haath ka maza’.

Personality can be greatly shaped by observation and though I haven’t studied psychology, I think observation is not given as much importance as genetics or ego or other forces inside our mind. My own actions, especially after my marriage, reflected a lot that I had observed my mother and grandmother doing and/or not doing. I feel that the power behind shaping your personality using observation is learning what not to do more than what to do. 

It’s funny how things come full circle. My daughter has great observation skills and I’ve often seen her copy certain actions. Usually she copies her twin brother when it comes to physical activities but she also copies her father and me. Tonight, while I was getting her twin brother ready for bed, she put her sneaker on the sofa and tried to tie the laces. She obviously couldn’t tie them but her motions were spot on. And nobody has tried to teach her yet. It was both cute and scary for me to see her do that. Okay, in all honesty? It was mostly scary. This little girl of mine is going to give her mama a real tough time. 

[ This post is the second one in my #dailyJuly series on the beanbag.] 

Post # 19 - Let's have some cake!

July is a hard core birthday month on the beanbag. It starts with a birthday and ends with several birthdays. There are birthdays in the middle including that of my twins. It’s a month sprinkled with many days of guilt-free cake eating. And who doesn’t like to eat cake? Marie Antoinette did and I do too. 

Probably not the most flattering pics of the cake

Speaking of cakes, I have to decide on a good one for my twins birthday. The first birthday cake was all looks and not much taste. I’m not saying it was a bad cake but it wasn’t lip-smacking, I’m-ready-to-die, GIVE ME MORE kind of a cake. As far as looks were concerned, the cakes could give solid competition to Deepika Padukone. Although they resembled her husband’s get-ups a lot more. 

Since the twins don’t have a say YET in the matter of their birthday cake, their mother gets to choose one. I’m oscillating between Reema’s absolutely divine gooey chocolate cake and my new find, @saddyscakeworks. I might just keep Reema’s cake for my birthday but the kind of track record I’ve had as far as my birthday cakes go is pathetic. Once, I kid you not, I cut a carrot cake on my birthday. You can close your mouth now. I know it’s shocking but no need to add more wrinkles to your face just because of me. 

Like all things first, this first post is a bit jittery. All firsts are kind of scary, aren’t they? I went to my first yoga class today after, what…four years I think? It wasn’t scary but I was a bit apprehensive about how it’ll go. I'll write about my yoga journey soon. In the meantime, I leave you with this great cake song by Ethel Merman, If I knew you were coming I’d have Baked a Cake. It's a fun, foot-tapping number. I promise you'll love it and it might take your mind off cake too. 

Note: I wrote this post before midnight on the 1st so it technically still counts as post#1 in the dailyJuly project. 

Post # 18 - Announcement

After a lot of thought and copious amounts of self-doubt, I've decided to undertake a self-created challenge. I'm going to post on the beanbag blog and the beanbag Instagram account every single day.

*deep breath*

Yes, a DAILY post. This isn't going to be easy but it's going to be a lot of fun as I will have to push myself to think out of the box and create something new everyday. Join me, next month, as I try to make good content every day of the week. Keep a lookout for #dailyJuly. 

My writer avatar this month!

Post # 12 - Ramzan, Ramadhan - the debate continues

The very first roza of 2019 was pretty uneventful for me as I was not fasting. Woke up at sehri with the worst possible sore throat. Even swallowing my saliva hurt so I decided to not fast and thus spent the entire day sipping hot water with honey and doing gargles. 

A few years back, maybe six, I woke up on the first day of Ramzan feeling really low. I felt useless. I wasn't working and what was worse, I wasn't writing at all (I hadn't become a part of DWL at that time). Let's just say I felt like shit as I stood in front of the cupboard, trying to decide whether to wear my diamond ring or not.

When I say diamond ring, please don't get carried away with thoughts of opulent diamonds set around a solitaire. Let's just leave it at a small diamond ring and continue with the story. I slipped on the ring and drove out to do some errands starting with a visit to the tailor. 

It was a little early in the day, maybe around 11ish. As I stood talking to my tailor about something, I saw a motorcycle stop in front of the shop and a bulky looking man got off. I didn't think much of it as there was a motor mechanic shop next door and obviously I assumed he was going there. But apparently, that wasn't where he was going. Entering the shop calmly, he showed us a gun and well, asked us for our valuables. 

I hadn't got much cash on me and though he tried to take my wallet, I refused to give it to him. I carried a rather ordinary mobile phone at that time which, of course, he took. My tailor gave him some cash. And then, he asked for my ring. I resisted first. I pretended it wasn't coming off but he waved the gun menacingly and there was nothing I could do. 

I still remember how my tailor and myself stood in shock for a little while. Not just at what had happened but how smoothly it all had happened. Even his workers sitting upstairs  hadn't realized there was drama unfolding downstairs. 

The funny thing is that just before going to my tailor's shop, I was thinking of making a stop over at a grocery store nearby. Had I done that, I'd have missed the mugger. But sometimes it's the little decisions we make that kind of intersect with the path of others and lead to certain consequences. 

Coincidentally, I went to the same tailor at the same shop yesterday, first of Ramzan. And yes, I haven't changed my tailor. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find a good tailor in this day and age? You find one - you stick with him! Anyways, I mentioned the incident to him and he said, 'Even I was thinking about it today when I opened the shop.' 

Isn't it weird and funny how we share some moments of our life with people who aren't even very close to us? That was the first time both of us had got mugged and it's a memory we'll have forever. Not that my tailor gave me any discounts after sharing the trauma of being mugged. 

Do you have some sort of memory/incident associated with first of Ramzan? Or Ramadhan? Or whatever and however you refer to this month of fasting, feasting and everything else in between. Happy fasting! 

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)

What is your favourite building?

It’s a strange question, isn’t it? One that we never really think about or actually ask people. Do you have one? Think about it. In Karachi? Or in the places you’ve visited over the past few years?

A lot of people might say Burj Khalifa because it’s the tallest building in the world and an engineering marvel. I don’t like it very much. It’s kind of scary. Whenever you look at it don't you wonder how it’s standing up? Aren't you afraid it might come crashing down on the dancing fountain? I do. 

Can the favourite buildings of a friend also become dear to you? I remember seeing the Chrysler building through the eyes of my dearest friend, Samiya. It was through the pictures of her first trip to NYC (maybe in 2002?) that I was introduced to the skyline and architecture of the city in-depth. It didn’t mean much to me then but all I thought of was her when I finally saw the Chrysler building two years back. Or the house of Frank Lloyd Wright, her favourite architect, in Arizona. 

What about buildings in other cities? Maybe the National Art Gallery? It was one of my favourite haunts in London. I loved going there again and again. Whenever I approached it I felt comfortable, as if I’ve come to a familiar place. There was this one time when I rounded the corner and came across it, completely unaware, and it brought a smile to my face. In many ways, that building was the focal point of my everyday exploration of London. 

After giving it some thought I’ll probably say one of my favourite buildings in Karachi is the Hindu Gymkhana which is now NAPA. That is where I hung out with my husband during our courtship period and it was such an important part of my life in the initial years of our marriage. 

I think Atif was right when he said that buildings by themselves don’t carry any meaning. It is only your experiences with that particular building which makes it important for you. We all admire buildings, or are disgusted by them, or just give them a passing glance as we walk or drive by them everyday. But if they are the place where we spent time with a lover, or where we saw our first Van Gogh and Monet - then they acquire a special place in our lives and I guess, become favourites. 

Note: This blogpost was inspired by a conversation with my friend Atif who told me that this is a question in the IELTS speaking test. 

The Power of BFFs

I'm one of those people who sort of shut down during Ramzan. I call it 'the hibernation mode'. It's the one time of the year when I go nocturnal; all my reading and some writing happens after iftar. Because let's face it, I can't think one creative thing on an empty stomach. My friends will tell you that I become a gorilla when I'm hungry and to save the world from yet another calamity, I tend to spend most of the waking hours of fasting, sleeping. 

So what has fasting and my sleep habits have to do with my BFFs? These past five rozas, I did not just abstain from food and water, I also kind of lay low and didn't talk to any of my friends. Well, most of them are not even in Pakistan and by the time I can figure out the various timezones, it's not the 'decent' hour to make any calls. And five days of not gossiping with my girls turned me into a freak who was talking to herself while brushing her teeth at night!

There was a time, some many years back, when I spoke to my friends everyday for at least an hour. And this was after I had spent most of the day with them in school and later, college. And the next day, we started off from where we left our previous conversation, which was usually a couple of hours old only! 

Owing to marriage, work and in some cases a combination of the two, most of us are now in different timezones. We are 'connected' through the good old WhatsApp group, but exchanging occasional messages and pictures isn't the same as having a good, long, fulfilling talk (which can range from how the kids are doing in school to the husband's frustrating habits and end at how everyone feels about Kim Kardashian's contouring).

Friends, both old and new, are so important in our lives. As a woman I cherish the friends I have whom I can still call and tell stuff that's bothering me, after we've gone over the preliminary conversation about kids (theirs) and weather of course! I'm lucky that I have girlfriends, both old and new, who are willing to listen and share 'stuff' without passing judgement. Just like in the good old days, when we were young and all we had to worry about was grades and nail colour shades and whether any one of us will ever see Sampras play at Wimbledon!  Most of us are scattered in various timezones now but when we get the chance to be together, we continue from exactly where we left off, even if it was a couple of years back.

As far as my freaky behaviour of the night before is concerned, all it required was a powerful dose of BFFs - even if all three of them were in three different time zones!

Note: Yes, I'm sort of binge watching SATC these days. 

Image: Google

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!

The Anatomy of a performance

Crazy plans, usually, are made in the most calm moments. 

It was on a nice, pre-summer evening, somewhere in early April. It is that time of the year when the weather in Karachi is not monstrous and one can enjoy a smoke and chit chat in the great outdoors (read: terrace) with friends. While conversation flowed between hubby dear, Z and myself, one of us (I forget who) asked rather innocently if we could put up a new narrative performance this year?

The other two nodded nonchalantly at first but with each passing minute the desire to create something overcame all rational thoughts and a performance started materializing. Books were taken off the shelf, dim lights were replaced by reading lamps and the music was turned low. Discussions followed over the merits and demerits of various pieces. Plans were made and the night ended on a high note. 

Days turned into weeks and months and finally the seed that was planted in April took on a serious form in July and by early August the narrative performance was all set to happen. Dates were locked, essays selected and all was well with the world.

Or so it seemed. 

The first task is to choose the right actor for a piece. Matching the actors with the essays sounds like a pretty dangerous task and it is. In our case, thankfully, it isn't. Both our actors usually want the 'other' one to have the better piece. Unbelievable, right? It is such a relief that we usually perform with two actors only otherwise this 'Lucknavi style' of you, no you would just go on forever. 

Rehearsals are not fun when you have the job of deciding the venue, time, arrangements, menu (actors require nourishment), and then also take into account unforeseen events like strike by oil tankers = petrol pumps closed = no petrol = actors can't reach rehearsal. And then also keep your cool! Who said life was fair?

While the rehearsals are going on the rest of the team has to ensure everything else is in place and it doesn't help if it's only a one man team. So while rehearsals happened, it was my job to promote the event and ensure people turn up. There is no surety that people will come and it certainly doesn't help when every night hubby dear wonders out loud if anyone will even come to see the performance. If there is one surety it is the onslaught of nightmares which will continue till the performance. 

The day of the performance is madness, to say the least. Getting everything in order is no easy task. Costumes, props, lights, music etc. Of course one person in the group usually ends up taking most of the stress and that, in our case, is yours truly. 

Post performance is a time for both celebration and a bit of performance appraisal. The former usually happens on the final day and mostly it is more of a collective sigh of relief than anything else. At least until the next time one can bask in the glory of a successful performance (and not check Facebook to see how many likes have come on the pictures/videos every two hours!).

[That one question which started the entire exercise culminated into two nights of great performances by our theatre group, Qissah Farosh. For details, pics and video, click here]. 

A Far Cry from Kensington - Book #1

[I finished the first book and the reason there is no post to show for it is because I'm taking too much time on writing it. I always find writing the review of a Spark novel rather daunting so while I am working on that, I thought I'd share some gems from the novel.]

It being Ramzan I thought it'll be a good idea to share some dieting tips followed by the protagonist, Mrs. Hawkins, to lose weight and trust me when I say she had a LOT of it to lose. Here is how she describes herself in the opening chapter:

"I was massive in size, strong-muscles, huge bosomed, with wide hips, hefty long legs, a bulging belly and fat backside; I carried an ample weight with my five-foot-six of height, and was healthy with it."

She continues, "As an aside, I can tell you that if there's nothing wrong with you except fat it is easy to get thin. You eat and drink the same as always, only half. If you are handed a plate of food, leave half; if you have to help yourself, take half". 

How about we all follow this golden rule and so not fill ourselves senseless with fried food and carbonated drinks this Ramzan?

15/15/30 Revisited - The Booklist this Year

Here it is. The reading material for the 15/15/30 Revisited project. It's not actually 15 books yet...still looking for two other reads. Any of your favourites here?

15/15/30 Revisited

Last year, round about the same time, I decided to undertake a reading challenge. I called it 15/15/30 which stood for 15 books, 15 blogs, 30 days. Ambitious? Hell, yes! Not because of lack of time but probably lack of motivation. Once I stacked the books and posted the picture the reality of the challenge hit me. After two books my reading karma fizzled out and the books went back to their respective shelves (to mostly gather dust). 

This year I've decided to have a go at this challenge...again! Unlike last time, I put some thought into this. Actually it was one thought only, select a book which is under or at 200 pages. Anything that is 250 or above is not a good idea. And yea, include re-reads.

So far, I've made a list of 13 books which I shall unveil tomorrow. Another thing I will unveil is my big summer book giveaway. 

First of Ramazan promises to be very exciting! 

Of Travels and Destinations - Dubai (Wrap-up Post)

Conversations with taxi drivers in the Dubai trip provided the much needed insight about the place beyond its glitter. There was one taxi driver who told me how this job had helped his family back home and enabled him to build his house, marry off his sister and send his children to school. Then there was the one who explained, with great detail, how various nationalities behaved towards drivers - with foreigners (read: goras) being the most polite and leaving substantial tips and Arabs being the worst. Pakistanis and Indians were mostly rude, especially the affluent ones who considered taxi drivers as some alien species and not humans.

I like Dubai. Mostly because of my family and friends who live there and who made this trip such a memorable one. And yes, I admit, I like the shopping too. But there are various sides to Dubai and not all of them are glamorous. As tourists we don't get to see the apartment buildings where people share tiny flats and don't have central air-conditioning. Take a ride on the metro and you'll see tired, expressionless faces and glazed eyes as the metro takes them by shiny malls and hotels. They are, however, assured of one thing. No one will stop them on their way home and snatch their belongings at gun point.

Sometimes for peace of mind, you have to pay a price. 

Down and Out in Karachi

You know that feeling in your throat when it seems all dry and itchy and a little voice in your head whispers that you might be coming down with something and your cook is off on his weekly holiday and you want soup but there isn't anyone to make it and your mom doesn't pick up the phone and the restaurant you go to serves all kinds of fancy soups but not chicken corn soup and you end up having too many throat lozenges and then you remember the homeopathic medicine your grandfather told you about and luckily, you have it in your medicine box and you chug it down hoping that all will be well the next day.

Unless.......