The Big Fat Indian Wedding

I'm so fashionably late in blogging that I'm positively ashamed of myself. I have absolutely no excuses other than that I was very very lazy. You can also partly blame it on my brother in law who refused to give me any photos of the wedding. How can I write about a wedding without colorful pics ? Anyway I have a lot of pics and stories to share with you about my brother in law's big fat Indian wedding. Have you attended an Indian wedding? No? Then you are really missing something in life. If you have ever wondered whether there is an experience in life that is happy, stressful, maddening and a total emotional roller coaster, all at once- let me enlighten you that there is one- an Indian wedding. From meddlesome relatives to medley of songs; from mouth-watering food to mammoth guest lists; from tears of joy to fears galore an Indian wedding has it all. Add to it a house teeming of relatives, friends and little devils and the wedding is complete.

My brother in law, Shiyaz got married to a lovely girl Hina from Chennai.



Yes it's a cross-state wedding but none of the hullaballooo that the book 2 states has familiarized you with. That's because my husband belongs to the Kutchi community and they marry within the community- irrespective of whether they are settled in Chennai or China.

A Kutchi wedding in the olden days used to last a whole month. Yes! What did they do for a month? I don't know, really. The current 3-4 days of wedding itself drives me insane. Can't imagine doing it for a month.

So a few days before the wedding, people start visiting the house to enquire about your well being. Its more like an excuse to come and see the dress and gold we have bought for the bride (yes in Kutchi weddings, the guy buys the wedding dress and gold for the girl). So you have close to 50 people visiting you every day. And if that wasn't enough, about 2-3 days before the wedding, relatives from across India and the globe, come and stay at your place. Now you understand why I said a house teeming with people? But, I do admit that it's a lot of fun. That's when the true wedding spirit comes alive. There are loads of people around the dining table every meal.



The rooms smell full of mehendi as all the girls in the family decorate their hands.



Bright lights adorn the house and is recognizable from very far away as the wedding home.



The first function of a Kutchi wedding is peeti. It's a special powder that's mixed with rose water, perfume oil, Badam paste, and a load of other things. Once the peeti function is over, the bride or groom has to spend the rest of the days until the wedding sitting in the corner of a room, reapplying this paste all over their body 3 times a day. They are not allowed to have a bath, come out of the room or even breathe. Ok, I was kidding about the last bit. The concept is that by doing this, you smell of peeti for the wedding. Trust me it's an absolutely lovely smell and it makes your skin really soft and glowing. In the olden days, the bride and groom used to do it for 2-3 weeks. But Shiyu and Hina did it for just 3 days.

Then comes the mehendi or henna function. Basically the groom's side goes to the girl, makes her wear a duppatta of a dress we take, make her wear bangles, put some henna on a tissue that she is holding on her hands to protect the actual beautiful henna she has on her hands and feed her some sweets.


And then every person in the room does the same. What's the point? Then point is that you get good food- ahhhh you should have seen the hot Jalebis they were making at the mehendi function. YUMMMMMM!!!! And oh once the girl's mehndi was over, Shiyu's friends made sure he also went through the same rituals.



Why should only one person suffer, they asked

And then finally comes the wedding. Most people are by this time just fed up and want the groom to run away with the bride and save them the rest of the energy. But that rarely happens. On the day of the wedding, the groom sends a bag called Peda to the girl. In it is every single thing the girl needs for that day- wedding dress, gold, perfume, towels, handkerchiefs and even safety pins.


It's taken by the oldest people in the family who go and ask the girl personally if she is happy with the wedding. Assuming she says yes, the wedding then takes place. Shiyu's was in the evening. My darling sister-in-law (who was my Rock of Gibralter throughout the wedding) and I helped each other dress up and then spent the rest of the time chasing Mehreen who by the way hated that the house was full of people. I will not go into the details of pulling almost 100 people out of the house, stuffing them into a bus and getting to the hall. It took a lot of patience But we made it in time for the nikah.


After the nikah we took the girl on to the stage to sit next to Shiyu for the rest of the rituals.




Uh-huh but not so quickly. On the stage Shiyu was surrounded by Hina's cousins who said they wouldn't move until they were paid 25,000 rupees. Then it was bargain, bargain and some more bargain. Arfaz ended up paying 3000 rupees. Yep he is a bargain expert.

Then comes the moo-dikhayi or in simple words looking at the face. The bride has all this while covered her face. Now the guy will remove the face covering and look at her face before everyone else sees her.


He then puts a ring on her. After this is the sending the girl off ritual where her family gives her a Quran and sends her off to her husband's house. Quite an emotional ceremony that invariably ends in tears.



But the real fun hasn't yet begun. After all the rituals, we got home. Now shiyu has this thick group if friends.


Many of them had flown in from abroad just for the wedding. they wouldn't do that for no reason, would they? When we got home, all of them sat on the stairs and refused to let the bride and groom go to their room unless they were paid 10 thousand bucks. After almost an hour of bargaining they settled for 7500. Hefty sum to pay just for being able to go into your own room in your own house, eh? I said to them "with friends like you guys, who needs enemies?" So finally at about 3 am we were all able to go to bed.

The next day was the valima or wedding reception. After a 3am sleep, it was hard to get up at 9 but we managed it.

Thus in 4 days, the most important ceremony in the lives of two people are over. Needless to say, the one person who enjoyed the wedding the most was the superstar of the family Mehreen. She enjoyed all the attention she got



And the late night bike rides with her Chachu.



The limelight was on her even though it was his wedding




I had to deal with a lot of post-wedding tantrum syndrome because of the fact that a house full of people pampered her. But I managed to pull through all of it with my sanity intact, thank God. But I was so pooped out that it took me almost a month to recover. Now I can't even begun to comprehend the task of my sister in law's wedding whenever that happens. I think I may just run away :-)

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Location:Cochin, Kerala

Shopping spree

I love shopping. Especially for weddings. And becoz I don't have any brothers or sisters, I have never been involved in any major wedding shopping sprees apart from my own ( at the time of which I was more concerned about my exams and schedules than shopping). So imagine my glee now that I have to go wedding shopping for my one and only brother in law (who is getting married to a lovely girl on October 1st). I must admit that going shopping with an enthusiastic but clueless would-be groom can be a bit trying.
"Bhabhi, shall I buy this cream?" "Shyu haven't u bought 15 bottles of cream already?"
"Bhabhi, does this deo smell good?" "But you don't use deo spray" "well I could use it, couldn't I?"

You see what I mean? But hey, I will stop pretending that I'm annoyed. I actually do secretly enjoy my position of power as the eldest daughter-in-law of a closely-knit family. And also, I love both Arfaz's brother and sister to pieces. Partly because I don't have any of my own and partly because they both are so loveable. So for the shopping spree I took Arfaz and my brother-in-law Shiyaz (see the rhyming) to Naif Souq- colloquially called Oot market. Do you know why it's called so? Because several years ago, food for camels- which is Oont in Hindi- was sold in this Souq. This place has been my shopping haven for as long as I can remember. Clothes, shoes, bags, toys, whatever you want, you get it here- at reasonable prices. And then of course there is the haggling. Haggling is a refined skill that you sharpen over years of shopping. My dad and Arfaz are pros at it. I’m just average. My mom’s hopeless. So I usually like to go with Arfaz because he just manages to squeeze out the best deals.

On this shopping expedition first we headed off to buy some clothes. Vibrant colors, distinctive textures, variety of styles and different cuts. Had so much of choice




Then perfumes. Attar, oud, CK, Gucci- name it and they have it. A few weeks ago, I interviewed perfume expert Charlotte Mathesen from Lush. She told me that every person should have a fragrance suited to their personality. So people should try on a perfume, walk around with it, sleep on it and see if they like it. The smell apparently changes every minute after wearing it. So you should really see if this is the smell you would like to live with and then go and buy it. Never rush into it. But ofcourse we couldn’t be bothered with all that hassle




Then of course how could anyone go home without buying some toys for the queen bee of the house????





And then the mandatory tea and shawarma from the roadside joint. Just look at the table fan, the drum...everything about it is soooo cool. And I must admit, the shawarma tasted better than anything I have eaten from anywhere else in the UAE






At the end of the trip, we had to wait for an hour just to get out of our parking lot. I was so frustrated that I couldn’t be bothered to take pics. But then hey, kuch paane ke liye, kuch khona padtha hai (to win some, you gotta lose some)

Chao until next time…



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Location:Naif Souq

When Eid comes...

Eid Mubarak everybody. 



Eid is one of the most special occasions in our family. And one of my favorite things about it is the uncertainty. Will it be the 29th or will it be the 30th? That's the question from Day 1. One of my colleagues asked me "how do you deal with it? You can't really make any plans until the last minute. That would never happen in the Western world. Everything would be spelt out and holidays would be decided well in advance." and I said to him "really? Don't you like uncertainty? You are here now. Can you tell me for sure where you will be the next few hours? Will you be able to guarantee me that you will stay healthy the next few days? You can't because that's life. So we deal with uncertainty on a daily basis. And anyway eid is not a matter of life and death. It's just the ending of one month and beginning of another. I can deal with it thank you very much. In fact I even like it."



Everyone has their own favorite Eid moment. Mine is getting up early in the morning, after barely 3 hours of sleep, bathing in the cold water and shivering while getting dressed in brand new clothes. And then rushing to the Eidgah (the special ground where Eid prayers are held) to get there in time for the prayers. We stand to pray on a thin mat through which the coolness of the sand seeps through our feet. Afterwards when the sermon is going on, tiny droplets of water from the tip of my freshly bathed hair falls on to the nape of my neck, making me sneeze continuously.  And as we sit there, the sun slowly creeps out from behind the clouds and shines on our black abayas, warming our bodies as well as our hearts. There are young children running around, basking in the rare chance of being in an open ground filled with sand. After the sermon, there are duas, asking Allah to accept our fasts, forgive our sins, praying for peace for our brothers and sisters in Palestine, Libya, etc. Afterwards, a sea of people troop out. The men wear crisp, new shirts. The women have fresh, dark henna on their hands. Many will be on the phones trying to call their loved ones back home. Several of them will be hugging each other wishing Eid Mubarak. And amid all the mayhem, there will be two groups of people who try to maintain some order- the policemen and cleaners . The policemen patiently wait outside the venue, without praying, keeping vigil to ensure that everything is smooth. Afterwards as everyone piles into their cars, chatting and laughing, they will try to direct the traffic with as little hiccups as possible. The cleaners quietly sweep the road to clear out all the carelessly discarded waste. And as they do, cars honk at them and people beckon them. When they go, the men will lean out, shake hands with them and wish them Eid Mubarak. And when they withdraw their hands, there will be a tiny note of 5, 10 or even 100 quietly crumbled in their fist. Once the cars are gone, all the cleaners will get together and compare their earnings. They will then probably head out to send that extra bit of cash back home. 



And then there are some Eids that are memorable. My dad always tells me about one of his. It was about 30 years ago, back when he was a bachelor living with his friends. During ramadan  he and his roomies would chat with each other for a long time at night. On weekends these chatting sessions would extend till early next morning when they would pray Fajr and go to sleep. After one such Thursday night, on the 29th day of Ramadan, they were getting out of morning prayers to go sleep when the muezzin announced that it was Eid. That year Ramadan lasted only 28 days!!! Needless to say, the guys went around like zombies the whole day...



Have a safe holiday everyone. 

Saturday Centus

Was quite kicked about the prompt. The story below is partially true. I told my husband with a letter that read somewhat like this.

It had been 3 days. She was acting quite strange. ‘Is it an affair?” he wondered. Why else would she be smiling, giggling and talking to herself?

The house was still when he walked in. And then he saw the letter. “She’s left,” he thought, picking it up with trembling hands, preparing himself for the worst. It read

Ted, howdy mate? Just wanted to let you know its dark and cozy here. Am really liking it. But don’t worry, I’ll be with you shortly. Love, your 5-week old baby.

She jumped out saying “Surprise, I am pregnant.”

School reunion

So its been exactly 28 days since my last post. Procrastination is my middle name. And this post was due two weeks ago. But better late than never, right?





I am not a particularly great organizer. My cupboard is never neat, my drawers are always messy, I can't seem to keep anything straight. So imagine my horror when I realized that I had to organize a party for 270 people. My first thought was "why don't I leave the country for 2 months and come back when everyone forgets about it?"



"So then how did you get yourself into this?" My colleagues asked me. Let me explain. Farah (aka Fud) has been my friend for more than 11 years now. From school, through college, to now. So Fud kept sitting on my head and saying "Let's have an iftar re-union before school shifts to the new campus." You see our 43 year old school was shifting from its campus to a new one (by the way my school is older than this country itself). I loved my school and really wanted to see it one last time but more than that I wanted to keep Fud happy (read: I wanted Fud to stop pestering me). So I created an event on Facebook and invited all my friends and batch mates. People started signing up, commenting, blah, blah. And then Fud comes up with a brainwave. Why don't we try and organize the iftar at school itself and invite every possible Our Ownian we could? I'm not too excited but I agree. You see I want to keep Fud happy. And then began email exchanges with the school principal. I sent an email, he replied. I sent another email, he replied again. And this went on until I had an appointment with him to discuss the re-union. Please note, up until this point Fud has done no actual work other than come up with brainwaves. So I met the Principal Mr. Aziz Akhtar in his office. For me this meeting was more emotional than the reunion itself (you see at the reunion my emotions had evaporated in the heat). This was the campus where I had spent a good deal of my life. And to drive into that campus in my own car as an adult, it made me very nostalgic. And then to walk into the principal's office- which was obviously out of bounds for us in our school days- and announce that I had an appointment to meet him just made me feel more grown up than I wanted to admit. Mr. Akhtar was to the point, helpful and totally amazing. He agreed to help us out in whatever ways he could.



At night I was filling Fud in about my meeting and we were discussing food options. I said we could get iftar kits from a few restaurants that I know. "But you know Nas, I think we should do a school theme," says Fud. "Let's get puffs, pizzas and areej- the stuff that school used to give." At this point I no longer wanted to keep Fud happy. I wanted to punch her in the face. I said "Fud, don't ask me to do that. Will you please do it?" Why did I say please? This was something she wanted. But I did and she agreed. "Let's give the job of arranging other stuff to Rash and Sand," Fud said, referring to two other friends- Rashmi and Sandhya- and not a skin disorder or the desert.



And thus began a series of arranging. At this point 50 people were attending the iftar. We ordered 65 packs. Water and areej had to be bought separately. Then dates, garbage bags, tissues, etc. Three days before the event, 70 people were attending. More phonecalls. Increase the number of iftar packs and water. Two days before, 150 people attending. The day before 220. "Nas, all I wanted to do was just go to school, have a small iftar, meet friends, take pictures and come back. NOT worrying about organizing iftar for 200 plus people," Fud sighed on the phone the night before the event.



D-day dawned nice and bright. I was so nervous that I had butterflies in my stomach all day. My mom said I was just hungry but I refused to buy that explanation. "Nas my horoscope today says that I will be lynched by 200 hungry people," Fud messaged me. "Then I will just escape by the back door," I messaged back. "I love you too," Fud wrote. At 5 sharp we were there at the school gate. To put it mildly it was a day from hell. Hot, humid and sweaty. Within 5 minutes of stepping into the school, we were all drenched . We ran around delegating jobs to everyone, making sure things were getting done, etc. By 6 30, I was so severely dehydrated that I thought I'd have to break my fast (the azaan is at 7). I started to feel dizzy, my hands and legs felt weak, etc. I just sat in the only AC room looking into thin air. Then on it was Fud, Rashmi and Sandhya who held fort. Welcoming people, collecting money, making sure everything was ok, etc. It was only after I had broken my fast and had some chocolate cake that I finally had enough energy to stand up. The rest of the evening passed quickly. Some old faces, some new; some who I hadn't seen since graduating and some I had met many many times. But one thing was common- not a single one of them left without thanking both of us for giving them the opportunity to come back to school and relive their memories. By the end of the evening, the four of us were sweaty, tired and had lost a good amount of money. But it was all worth it.





However I must add that there were other ramifications of the event. "I'm not organizing another event till Mehreen's marriage," I declared to my husband that night (Mehreen is my 15 month old daughter, by the way). And a few days later when he met Fud, my hubby said "oh hi reunion organizer" and Fud put her hands over her ears and screamed :-)

Saturday Centus

This week’s Saturday Centus reminded me of a story my mom told me just a few years ago. It was a story of when she was a young, nervous Indian bride living with her husband in Dubai, away from her family. Read on…it’s a true story.


She carefully broke the egg into the pan. Oh no! The yolk had broken again. She slapped her forehead. Her husband of one month was particular about his eggs. “If the yolk’s broken, the egg aint any good,” he says. She quickly dumped it in the bin and had the next one in the pan. Chssszzzzz- it fried quite nicely. She proudly looked at the sunny side up. “Is it ready honey,” he peeped into the kitchen. “Just bringing it,” she smiled sweetly. And as she took it out of the pan- plop- the yellow liquid oozed out

Bomb Blasts et al.

Bomb blasts in Mumbai: 17 dead 131 injured, 23 serious.

I was at a parlor when the story broke. And my beautician was a Mumbaikar. She went pale when I told her what had happened. She immediately tried to call her husband, daughters and siblings living in Mumbai. But obviously phone lines were jammed. When I left the parlor about an hour later, she still hadn't been able to talk to her family.

The next day it was crazy in our office. We were trying to get witness accounts, get our facts right, update our information as new facts and figures came out. Total mayhem. The TV was blaring away in the newsroom. One reporter was standing in front of the hospital and interviewing victims' relatives. As I watched them, I realized that whenever an accident takes place or a disaster happens, we always identify it in numbers- 17 killed and 131 injured. No one really talks about 50 people who may have lost their livelihood because of the 17 people killed. No one really talks about those who are among the 131 injured, who will never be able to be the same again. These individual stories are what makes a tragedy so tragic.

One of the interviewed relatives had lost his brother who runs a shop in Zaveri Bazaar. He had just stepped out for a walk. What will happen to the shop? What will happen to the people who work in the shop? How long will it take for the shop to recover from its damages? No one knows.

Another person had lost his son who had been married only for two months. What will happen to his wife? Will she ever remarry or will she stay a widow in honor of the husband whom she hadn’t even known properly? What if she is pregnant by now? The child will never experience the warmth of a father’s love

I remember an Indian movie which told the story of a guy who earned a meager income but dreamed of sending his daughter to medical school. He worked hard to manage the fees of the good school his daughter went to. And then he gets injured. The girl quits her studies and starts working in a factory near her house. The man spends the whole day in bed, unable to do any work and being extremely frustrated at his inability. The girl then gets an offer from the factory’s owner, to go work in his factory abroad where she can earn better. Her family agrees and off she goes. From there she sends a wheelchair for her father and some money for the family. Its all hunky dory until the end of the movie when we get to know that she is actually working as a sex worker. Such a tragic yet realistic story. So many women are tricked like this by scheming people who understand their dire circumstances.

Nothing has been achieved by this bombing. Nothing has ever been achieved by any acts of terror. Yet they continue- in the name of religion, in the name of clans, in the name of countries, and in whatever possible names one can think of. When will they stop?

Childhood Innocence

This weekend, I went away for a much-needed break to Fujairah. We stayed at the Hilton resort and got a good dose of sun, sand and beach. Mehreen was absolutely thrilled.

We checked in on Friday afternoon, roamed around for a bit and just relaxed. On Saturday morning, after Arfaz and Mehreen had spent a long time in the pool, I was taking her out to dry, when a Nepali lifeguard came and said “Hi Mehreen, did you enjoy your swim?” She gave him her usual grin- showing all her 6 and a half teeth. When we went down for breakfast, she was driving me insane. So I gave her a spoon to play with. 5 minutes later, the Filipino waitress walked to her and said “Hello Mehreen, here is a smaller spoon for you to play with.” I couldn’t help smiling. After breakfast, as we sat in the lobby playing with her, the Russian receptionist came up to us and said “Hi Mehreen, did you have a good night’s sleep?” I was starting to feel like I was with a celebrity now. Later, when we were just lazing about on the bed in our room with her somersaulting all over us, there was a knock. It was the Indian housekeeping lady. “I just came to say hi to Mehreen,” she said.

I found it so amusing that all the people who had asked her name, actually remembered it and even said hi to her. My child is not very people-friendly. She doesn’t let anyone carry her. Yet, so many people meet and remember her- regardless of the gender, nationality, age, etc. In a world where everyone struggles to highlight their differences, where wars are fought to seperate country from country, people from people and gender from gender, this comes as a welcome change to me. Everyone inherently loves children and their innocence. Everyone loves their naughty giggles. Everyone loves the fleeting moment of happiness that they bring to our lives.

This is not the first time I have felt this. When I went to Turkey, we met people from all over the world- from Russia, Azerbaijan, Latvia, Britain, etc. They all spoke to Mehreen in their own languages, cooed and fussed over her and she being the total diva just enjoyed it.

But of course, just because children are so cute, nothing will change. Wars will still be fought. People will still kill each other over their minor differences. But the world does seem a tad bit nicer knowing that there are still people who love an appreciate children and their innocence. This post is especially dedicated to all those little ones without whom our lives would be so bland. would like to quote Rabindranath Tagore “Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of humanity”

Blooming Bloomsbury's

I know its been so long since I blogged. But with a hyperactive daughter and some really hectic work schedules, I was finding it difficult to keep up. So yesterday I went to Bloomsbury’s- the coffee shop that my friend Shafeena started recently. I had seen pictures so I was prepared for its beauty. But I wasn’t really prepared for the kind of service I was about to get.

Unexpectedly, I meet Shafeena there. And the gracious host she is, she sits me down and orders tea and cupcakes for me. With its black walls, intricate designs, big chairs with arm rests and wooden flooring, I felt like I had walked into an old, beautiful English Victorian home. Every table had a bit of intimacy. It’s the perfect place to snuggle up on a chair, crunch your toes, sip a piping hot cup of tea or coffee, gorge on delicious freshly made cupcakes and read a book. On the side of each table were open glass walls through which you could see people walk around the mall. “I wanted it to be open, but at the same time intimate,” Shafeena said. If I had heard her say this before I saw the shop, I might have laughed and asked her “And how exactly do you plan to do this?”

I order a Jing jasmine tea but cant make up mind about the cupcakes. They all looked so amazing (and three of them are named after her nephews- how cute is that?) that I kept going back and forth. Shafeena is telling me about how she ate 96 cupcakes on the tasting day- I cannot even begin to imagine the sugar rush. She then finalized on 30 of her favorite ones to put in the shop.

And as I stood there, a lady walked in and asked for red velvet cupcakes. When the staff showed the cake, she frowned. “Its not red,” she said. “It is,” the staff insisted. And when I looked closely, I saw that they were just a shade of red, and not the dark red ones that you get in other shops. “People just don’t understand,” Shafeena said, sounding exasperated. “The red is just the color. The darker cakes just mean more color. I try to give people the healthy option- making fresh cakes everyday, adding as little color as possible, bringing in the best quality tea and coffee from around the world, but people just don’t understand.”

That’s when my tea makes the grand entrance. Silver tray, white teapot, white cup and saucer, a tea card and tea timer.

“Please don’t drink the tea until the tea timer runs out,” my server instructs. “Tea becomes proper only if it brews for three minutes.” The tea card, that explains a bit about Jing tea, has a beautiful quote by C.S. Lewis- “You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me” Meanwhile, the cupcakes that Shafeena chose (ya, I just couldn’t make up mind) also arrived- Diabetic and red velvet. I wasn’t sure of the diabetic. “Go on,” she urged me. Hesitantly I bit into it and I must say I was totally impressed. It tasted really sweet (it’s a natural sugar syrup, she explains) and it had lots of nuts in it. Yummmmm. By then my tea-timer runs out. The smell of jasmine is so overpowering that I actually didn’t want to drink my tea. I just wanted to sit and smell it. I’m generally not a big fan of herbal tea but this one was actually good

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And we sit and chat some more. About family, our kids, life, etc. “So how did you come up with the name?” I ask her. And that’s when she tells me about Bea. Shafeena did her masters from London and while she was there, she used to love going to Bea’s cake shop. “Bea makes the best cupcakes in the world,” she gushes. And so when she decided to start her own place, she obviously roped Bea in to make the great cupcakes here. And as an ode to their friendship, they named the shop Bloomsbury’s- the place where they first met. Now isn’t that cute?

And then its time for me to leave. Shafeena promises me a box of cupcakes to take back home- which i duly went and picked up. All i remember is bringing that box home. Next instant, it was all gone :-)

UAE and the underage driving problem

Another day, another underage driver, another accident and two lives lost in vain. I hate to be critical but such stories really drive me insane. Why was a 16 year old boy, without a driving license, driving a car with his 12 and 13 year old sisters in it at 3:30 am?

The UAE just needs to sit up and crack the whip on youngsters. A UAE university study done earlier this year reveals that 60% of Emirati and Arab drivers have driven before the legal age of 18…yes, 60 percent. 25% of the Emiratis regularly speed. 2.6% almost always jump the red signal. And how do all these people get away with it?

Now I am beginning to kind of agree with road safety campaigner Adam Kechil that the legal driving age should probably be dropped. I mean the kids are doing it any way so you might as well train them to drive rather than them getting into ridiculous accidents like these.

And while I criticize the systems and the attitudes, my heart goes out to the parents who have lost two of their kids in the blink of an eye. A third one is in hospital after being seriously injured. May you have the strength to get through this grief.

Saturday centus- The End

Its a really really busy time for me- KPI's to meet, hyperactive baby, etc. So blogging has taken a backseat. But I just couldn't resist Jenny's prompt. It was way too challenging to miss...so here I go:

‘The End’

The movie was over

“Do you wanna go home?”

“It’ll be empty”

“She’s enjoying at university”

*sniff*

And they sat for another show

My Daddy Strongest

Ok blog time again now. I have told you about Mehreen, Arfaz and my mom. But I have not really told you about my dad. So I thought today for Mama Kat’s writing prompt, I will tell you ten things I love about my dad

1. Where there is a will, there is a way: I think this saying was created after they saw my dad. His will power is so unbelievably strong that I cant even describe it. He was once upon a time a very hot tempered person. And one fine day, he decided “That’s it, I am not going to get angry any more.” Now I don’t know of anyone who stopped getting angry after a decision. But he did. He started practicing yoga (at 6am, if I may add) and did not avoid it even for a single day- not during weekends, not during vacations, never. And now he is as cool as cucumber.

2. Knowledge: My dad can talk about anything under the sun. And I mean it. Even though he comes from a corner of India which was once considered a really under developed place, he just knows so much about so many things. The other day I came home and said “Oh, you know that great golfer who died?” “Seve Ballesteros?” “How do you know Seve Ballesteros?” “He was champion from the mid 70-s to the 90-s when you were in school. Why wouldn’t I know him? And why are you calling him Seve on your news? He is Severiano Ballesteros”

3. Care- He is probably one of the most caring persons I have ever met. From the stray cat in the parking lot to my mom, he cares about every single thing in the world. If I am sick, he will make coffee, prepare the steam, not let me eat anything even at room temperature, etc.

4. Meticulousness: I don’t think dad has had even a single bill that was overdue. We have never had any reminders about electricity, water, house rent and phone bills. Every month on the 2^nd, my dad would give me the money to pay my fees (you see in those days, the salary was paid on the 1^st). Even today, he gets my car serviced, passed and insured two weeks before the due date and makes sure that everything is up to date.

5. Advice- Dad has a way of giving advice in the most subtle way but hitting it right in the eye. He tells a story or quotes a verse from the Quran but after years of experience I know that he means it as an advice to us, maybe to kick a habit or get over some bad experience or encourage us to be more forgiving. It always works.

6. Memory: Age has weathered it a bit but my dad has photographic memory. When I was young, we never used to have a phone book in the house because my dad knew every single phone number, house number and even the car number plates of everyone!

7. Professionalism: In my 24 years of life, my dad has not taken more than 10 days of sick leave. And all those days, he was so sick that he could barely move. He is also one of the most loyal persons I have seen- you know the kind who wont even make a local call on the office phone. He is so dedicated to the company that I think to myself, if I had 10 such people in a business I begin some day, I could conquer the world.

8. Careful Spending: If I looked for it, I think I will find the spending record of my dad from the day I was born. Every single penny he spends is written down, tabulated and calculated at the end of the month.

9. Value: I will always remember the values dad taught. Once I said to him “Dad I am first in class in the final exam results.” And he just hugged me. The next month I went and told him about how my friend had asked me to cheat on an exam so that I could get full marks but I refused. He congratulated me. In the evening, he brought me a huge box of 76 color pencils which I had been wanting for a really long but which was a bit of luxury back then. “Never cheat,” dad said, “it will never ever get you anywhere”

10. Different roles: He is so good at every single role in his life- he is an amazing son, he is an amazing husband, he is the most amazing dad and he is such an amazing grandfather.

This one is for my superhero dad!!!

My Colleagues desk

So I promised to introduce you to my colleagues’ desks and show you how it reflects their character. Didn’t do it last week so I am doing two at a time

Malak, Feyaza and I make up the reporting team. People joke that we are Peter’s Angles (like Charlie’s Angels). Peter? Peter is our news head. So let me introduce you to Malak and Feyaza.

Malak is the young, independent, fearless reporter who fought to go to Libya when the unrest kicked off. But of course our bosses had more sense than that- you see Malak has a knack. If trouble doesn’t come to her, she will go looking for trouble. She is an artist and paints amazingly well. The 500 million pictures on her desk, shows how she likes to visualize everything. An yes she is a bit of a show off as well- she has got pictures of her with Usher, John Legend and Shaggy right there on the left. She loves her coffee and that’s the mug in which she drinks her bitter, black coffee- something that would have me puking for a week. All those tiny figures on top are souvenirs she brought back from her trips abroad- half of them for pleasure and half for charity. Last year she went to Uganda to help orphans- yes this girl has a heart of gold J (Malak Harb you better buy me a big fat treat for all this)

P.S.- And oh!!! I will let you into a secret- its not out in the open but once I opened Malak’s drawer to get something and found loads of stuff including a spoon I had lent her about a year ago. We in the news team firmly believe that there is an inhabitable ecosystem in there

Feyaza- who actually mentored me into radio- is a bit of a nutty person. Doesn’t really know what she wants. So she pins up the ‘randomest’ things on her desk. There is an invite to the launch of Steve Madden in Dubai. Then there is a leaflet about Mongolian circus (like seriously??). Then there is a scan report of my baby when I was pregnant with her and above that is her pic when she was born. Then she has a poem about England. She is actually South African but she lived in Liverpool for bit so she thinks of it as home. She is also a Liverpool lunatic and generally goes insane before a major game. And then you can see the Rolling Stone lips- she even has its mouse pad. On the right are the pics of the most important people in her life- reflects how close she is to her family.

Saturday Centus

People have taken such different tangents to Jenny's prompt this week. So here I go

"What would you like to do in life?" Mum would ask me when I was a girl. "I'd like to teach the world to sing," I'd say. And she would nod- without laughing, without teasing but with an air of plain understanding. How could she take me so seriously? But her conviction inspired me

Years later as a music teacher, I received a lot of media attention when I won an award. My mom smiled with satisfaction as she looked at the papers. I peered over her shoulder at the headline “Mute girl teaches the world to sing.”

Alphabe Thursday- C is for Cat

One of the best things about being a parent is watching your baby grow into a young individual. Mehreen has a toy cat which she is very scared of. It can sing, it can dance and it has green eyes that light up. I think that's what scares her the most.

So for months we have been trying to get rid of her fear but she refused to go anywhere near the offender. We had almost given up hope and the poor fella retired to a corner of her toy box. Two days ago Arfaz took it out and Mehreen wasnt scared.

She hovered around for about an hour before finally touching it fleetingly. We all clapped in delight. But my camera wasn't quick enough to catch it...

Mother's Day

So my friend Shafeena is having a blog giveaway. It has just given me a reason to finally pen down this ode to my dear mother which was long overdue. It means a lot to me simply because I have tried and included as many memories as I could of the different things my mom has done for me as I grew up. So here we go

How can I ever thank you enough
For the countless nights you sat awake when I was a baby
To pacify me and get me to sleep
In the searing May heat during Ramadan
While still sore from the birthing wounds


How can I ever thank you enough
For the time you gave up a promising career when I was a child
To be with me as I grew up
Picking me up when I fell, holding my hand when I struggled
And cheering me on when I succeeded


How can I ever thank you enough
For the number of times you lost sleep when I started school
Sewing a last-minute fancy dress costume
Completing a difficult project
Or just sitting with me as I studied


How can I ever thank you enough
For the times you filled the gap in my life when I was pre-teen
As I grew up an only child
Doubling up as my friend, sister, confidante
And counseling me through life


How can I ever thank you enough
For dealing with my tantrums when I was a teenager
And rebellions
As I fought with you
Not realizing you were practicing tough love

How can I ever thank you enough
For encouraging when I was going to university
To follow my dream of becoming a journalist
As everyone criticized
And said I was making a mistake

How can I ever thank you enough
For supporting me when I was getting married
Putting your heart and soul into the wedding preparation
And making sure
That it was a dream wedding


How can I ever thank you enough
For fulfilling all my cravings when I was pregnant
Going to great lengths to get me traditional medicinal herbs
Massaging my legs
And staying up with me when I couldn’t sleep

How can I ever thank you enough
For standing by me when I was giving birth
Holding my hand, giving me strength
And not even leaving my side to catch the first glimpse of your granddaughter
Because you knew I needed you the most

How can I ever thank you enough
For taking care of me when I was a mother
And looking after my daughter
Just like you had looked after me
Soothing me to sleep while you stayed awake


How can I ever thank you enough
For calming me when I was juggling work and motherhood
Looking after my baby while I was at work
Making sure that I had enough rest
And running the household smoothly


No, I can never thank you enough
For being my strength, comfort and serenity
But this ode to you, my mother
Is to just tell you
I bow to you in respect, humility and sincerity to say

You are the Best Mother In The World
Happy Mother’s Day

Saturday Centus- First Anniversary

Although the traditional gift for a first anniversary is paper I had something better in mind-a culinary treat.

"But do you even know where the kitchen is?" My worried friends asked.

"I'll manage"



"What's this?" Asked brother in law

"Grilled chicken"

"Looks more like charred to death chicken"

"And what's this," asked sister.

"Cheesecake" I was beaming.

"Are you sure you didn’t use chalk powder?" she questioned. "What's that smell?"

And suddenly there was a knock on the door.



Last I heard my b-i-l had broken into his pension savings to rebuild their burnt kitchen

Happy Birthday to my baby

I still remember my exact movements last year at this time. I was propped up in a hospital bed with my doctors injecting gel after gel into me to get the little living thing out of me.

It was at 10 38 it finally made a grand entrance. I almost gasped when she came out. Partly becoz I couldn't believe that it was all over so fast (alhmadulillah) and partly becoz nothing I had read or heard could actually prepare me for that moment when they actually put the gooey, slimey her on me.

Up until the minute before I gave birth my husband and I were convinced that we were having a boy. When she was born and they said it was a girl, my first thought was "cheeky monkey, took us all for a ride". And I was right. Cheeky monkey she is.

The first four months of her life were hard. At that time I thought this must be what it feels like if you are a convict and you are in jail- sleep deprivation, not even being able to go to the loo when u want to, sore body- first from the delivery and then from non-stop feeding, etc. I had had the most amazing pregnancy that anyone could wish for. No morning sickness, no body pain, nothing. Only plain cravings- for Ghee roast- a south Indian dish. And I think it was the bargain God gave for some sleepless nights afterwards J

She was slow but steady in her developments. Until about 7 months, all she did was roll over. From month 8 she started sitting up, standing up and even sprouted teeth. Now she has started walking unaided and insists on showing off at any chance she gets.

Mehreen is probably one of the luckiest kids (alhamdulillah). She is our first born and she is the first grandchild from both her mum's and dad's side. And to top it all she is the first girl we have from my mom's side in 19 years. My aunts and uncles cannot shower her with enough. Neither can her grandparents or her parents.

Every time I try on a new dress or a frock; every time I put a pretty hair clip on her; every time I see a tiny pair of earrings, I thank God for my little girl. Yes, I was expecting a boy but I would have missed so much.

Every day with her is a pleasure. Each day she teaches us something new. Each day she makes us count our blessings. Each day she makes us smile. Life has become unthinkable without her. I know that time will pass with the blink of an eye. Soon she will go to school, then become a rebellious teenager and go on to get married and have her own children. But till then we want to enjoy and savor every second of her childhood. And some day when she is old enough to read a blog, I want her to know that she means the world and everything in it to us.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DEAR LITTLE MEHREEN

P.S.- One of the highlights of her first year was getting third prize at a healthy baby contest. I would like to sincerely thank Heidi Murkoff (http://www.whattoexpect.com/) for her lovely books without which I would have been unable to answer the 100 million questions the doctors asked me- and without which she wouldn’t have won the prize.

Alphabe Thursday- B is for Boy

When I was pregnant I had a mother's instinct- it was a boy. I just knew it. And the child would kick like there was a football match. So we looked for boy's names. Arfaz said "We should just keep a girl's name prepared" "No I'm convinced it’s a boy. It’s Mother's Instinct ". When I gave birth I didn't even ask - I knew and I had seen the dangling. Arfaz came in. And the nurse said "It’s a girl.” My jaw dropped. "But the dangly?" "The umblical cord?" Arfaz couldn't resist grinning "Hun, what were u saying about mother's instinct?"

The Royal Wedding

We in the newsroom werent sure how to approach the Royal Wedding for our weekend bulletins (yes, Friday is a weekend in this part of the world)- taking into consideration that we have over 100 nationalities. But then we thought hey, its probably the most talked-about event of all times. So we decided to get in to the royal spirit full on. So here’s Christine turning in to the totally royal Brit. She is attending the Royal Wedding garden party tomorrow and to get in the mood, she has been walking around wearing this tiara (which by the way she borrowed from my 1 year old daughter who won it at a healthy baby contest). She has been addressing us as her subjects, granting us an audience, responding only if called Her Majesty or Queen Mother and is even booked in to do her royal nails this afternoon. Yay to royalty!!!

Office Desk et al.

Ok so starting today, I am doing a little feature in my blog. Every week I will introduce you to the desk of my 8-member news team. I believe that the office desk reveals a lot about the personality of the person. So here we go

Lets start with Christine or Xine as we call her. She is the mother hen of the group and is a total Brit tea lover- you can see her kettle, two mugs, a box of tea bags and a bottle of milk to the left. Her desk is always full of organized clutter and that’s because she has got everything you need. From cash to ketchup bottle, she is the person to go to if you need something but don’t have it. She is a sworn enemy of technology and her biggest achievement is learning how to put hot keys on and turn on the Telly. That’s why the two remote controls. But of late, she has started to try and organize her paperwork a bit. That’s why the organizer.

Jenny Matlock's Writing Prompt

Its Easter. The first one without her. Tom looked at his shabby self in the mirror. Life was so much easier when she was around. He went down to fix breakfast and the kids were already there. His heart broke for them- they looked so pale, so terrified . He needed to make this Easter good for them. Reassure them that life was beautiful.

Some time later the kids heard a bang and opened the front door. There he was in that silly blue suit. "I have buried eggs all over the garden" he announced. Two hours later, they were all covered in mud, collected plenty of eggs and had laughed so hard that their tummies ached. Life was beautiful.

Introduction

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http://gulfnews.com/radio1/radio-news-team

Movie Magic

so much for my last blog entry about the ample amount of time that i have…I havent posted anything in a long looooong time. Well so, what do i blog about now? Have done a considerable amount in the past few weeks. Have organized a party, met a few friends, etc., etc. but being in the media field, i am tempted to write about something related to the media. Over the past few days I have seen a few good Malayalam movies and I felt like I had to write about them simply because I’m impressed by the changing trend in movie making and storylines. The first movie is Traffic. I must say there were many moments that made me sniff a bit and there were many scenes where I openly cried. Innovative style of story telling and some great editing really added to the value of the movie. Hats off to Bobby and Sanjay for giving the malayalam movie and TV industry some great scripts. The other movie is Kadha Thudarunnu. It released some time ago. A very realistic story which does not have the tried and tested ‘happy ending’. I hope more such films are made and that the Malayalam industry grows out of its superstar rut.