duniya saji tere liye, khud ko zara pehchaan tu.
i dont understand sometimes this indefinite need for pple to define you. when you are in school you are asked when will you finish school, when you are in college when will you finish college, when you finish college, when will you get married, when you get married - when will you have kids. only after this, have you have done what you are supposed to do in this word called life.
it doesnt end there, the cycle repeats for your kids.
and god forbid if you didnt finish high school, if you flunked out of college, or if you got divorced, or if you had a miscarriage.
its like these goals are the law and if you dont achieve or like above break these goals, they will pester you until u succumb or if you never achieve them you will be pitied no matter how miserable one ownself may be after having achieved all of the goals. and if you do achieve them , everyone will release a huge sigh of relief like it was the biggest bhoj that THEY were under. and finally, this burden has been lifted of their shoulders. it should be noted they dont even know you. and if you were to suddenly disappear, they would not even realize.
its like sometimes you cannot and are not supposed to have any personal goals then the above. so wat if you didnt go to university? so what if you arent married ? so what if your well into your 7th year of marriage and dont have a kid? nobody wants to know what you do at work, nobody cares. nobody wants to really know how your lifes been, nobody wants to know whether youve joined a musical band, or are travelling three months in a year and seeing more than the world youve seen in your life, or youve become a licesenced diver. or your child said their first words yesterday. or youve published your first paper. or you made your first pilgrimage. no one gives a shit.
im not trivializing the "golden" goals, but each individual is different and noone has the right to say which goal is important than the other and no one should be forced to live life other than the way he/she deems it.
Monday, December 24, 2007
phook de
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Monday, December 17, 2007
so once upon a time in a small village of india, a chota chota larka (ok itna bhi chota nahin, but i need to add that for dramatic effects) had these barei barei sapnei. sapnei of going to dubai and opening his own typing center. yei typing center bhi kamaal ki cheez hai. it is a business that can perhaps only survive in the gulf countries and in the subcontinent i suppose. basically the typing center is the medium by which you can tadi par the red tape of the government. typically owned by some desi, grew up in india, came to dubai worked as an errand boy, now speaks arabic as his second language much more than hindi and in his typing center he provides and fills out visa application forms/birth certificate etc all in fluent arabic. he knows how to get a visa, how to get a trade license. he knows exactly what paperwork one needs, what one doesnt need. he knows the loopholes and he knows how to circumvent them.
so anyway, this larka comes to dubai decides to open his own typing center. but he requires a local sponsor, as does any business in a non free zone area in the UAE, a contract is prepared the sponsor is chosen and for an annual fee of 8,000 AED (1 USD - 3.67 AED) the local agrees to give his "name" to the business. the local does not participate in the running of the business, provides no capital, it serves as a kind of yearly tax, regardless of how much loss or profit the larka makes, the local does not profit from it or does not bail him out in times of loss. and he pockets his fee regardless.
khair, accepting that this is how one does business here, the larka opens a typing center. it starts of slow and then gradually business picks up and he locks in 20,000 AED a month. everything is going well, he is able to send home money, at home he becomes the son of pride. busines has few hiccups. only the occasional negotiations with the local sponsor to increase the annual fee from 8 - 10K. one fine day, the father of the nation, HRH beloved Shaikh Zayed dies, the city goes into mourning for 21 days. at this time, larka decides chalo business is slow, government offices are closed might as well go back to india for a holiday. he informs the sponsor, and leaves.
after a long happy vacation he returns to the city (ie dubai) , hands over the passport to immigration officer for the visa stamp. the immigration officer scans his passport and becomes irritated/befuddled when he reads the description on the screen, he calls over his senior, the police is informed and the larka is jailed for a month. while the larka was on leave, the local took over the business and sold all the printers and photocopying machines, which were bought by loans. the local then cancelled the larkas visa and put a 6 month ban from the UAE on his visa. with no one to listen to his woes, the larka spends a month in jail and is deported back to india. he returns to his village penniless.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
jaaniyei....jaaniyei...jaan..nahi..yei...jaan..hi..naye..hai
Saturday, December 08, 2007
chalo, dubayy, chalo!
so again, i complete my yearly/half yearly yatra to dubai. my favouritest city in the whole wide world no matter how expensive, how much i complain, how racist, how unfair, how laughable it gets. i will always love dubai. but i do ahve to say (part of the "complaining" love), emirates airline is getting worse day by day. the spaces are getting crampier (or maybe we are just getting fatter, watever lets just blame it on the aeroplane), food isnt exactly excellent, the toilets are becoming rundown (that again is a passenger issue and not so much a plane issue, but watever) and the air hostesses with the mostesses are becoming more snobbier and the wait time for a glass of water has extended from 5 mins to half an hour to now, just before one lands on a 12 hour flight.
anyway as my kismet would have it, there were 7 kids sitting in my vicinity. 7. and i was feeling really good about myself for having chosen my aisle seat online well in advance. (it could have been worse, i could have been in the middle). well anyway, these kids start crying and i can understand the less than 2 year olds, the teeny kids - i get it, their ears hurt or theyre scared or they are hungry and they cant but cry to communicate their exasperation. but i dont understand/get 6 year olds yelling that their food hasnt come or that they cant sit near the window or just simply yelling. i just dont get that. I was soo sooo sooo mad. and i didnt know whether to laugh or cry at their helpless mom who was calmly patting him "beta, shaant hojao", which kinda egged him on to yell even more loudly. everyone in that area was so weary and hardly got any sleep. i had half a mind to have a time out situation with one of the kids. but then u never know if the kid has a fit and starts hitting me. from being the heroine who saves the day, I would be the wannabee heroine who got beaten up by a kid. so i stayed put and endured it.
the pple near me didnt talk one bit to me or to each other even. im always quite shocked on how easily one can sit in a plane or even in the subway for ages on and not have a single conversation with someone they sit a few cm away from. and i dont mean that you ahve to continously talk throughout the whole flight and ruin the appreciated silence for passengers near you. but this way it seems like no one else exists on the plane, but you and the pilot, i suppose. it seems so mechanical. i am tempted to always introduce myself - at least to the person i sit next to, but then when i see their terse responses to a. the weather, b. the stalling time in the plane c. the noise level in the plane, i then shutup.
anyway glad to be back to my beloved city dubai, and even more glad to be away from work, stress, and the cold cold weather in nyc.
have a great week everyone!
Sunday, December 02, 2007
mein bechara awara...samjahao kis kis ko..dil me merai hai dard e disco..dard e disco.