A ten day vacation was all that i needed after the tumultuous weeks i had at work, these past few weeks. I didn’t have the faintest idea that this vacation that i had planned months ago would actually happen at the most opportune moment. I have had day long layovers at the Dubai airport en route to the US, but this is my first taste of the city. As we stepped out of the airport and took a taxi to the hotel the sprawling freeways reminded me of US. The wide six lane roads and disciplined lane traffic are a welcome break from the traffic and get-my-car-through road rage of India. First pit stop was the monorail and palm jumeirah, the blue of the sea as blue as the sky. The Dubai skyline is a vision. The Burj Khalifa stands tall proud of the phenomenal infrastructure growth that the country has witnessed over the past decade. It is no doubt an architectural marvel. Life here speaks volumes of the millions of dollars that has flown through the city and contributes to the magnificent skyline. It also talks about the thousands of labourers who have toiled in the blazing sun and built this city brick by brick. Thankfully our vacation was timed at the best time possible with regards to the weather. Cool days and cold nights didn’t really give us the feel of a desert except the sand spread across acres, till your sight could travel. The desert safari was a memorable experience. Our friends had told us not to miss it and that was so true. The sand is the finest and felt so pure. The lower temperatures had cooled the sand and your feet felt cold with the sand beneath them. I wish i could have walked on sand for some more time. The beaches we have been to are no comparison to the feel of desert sand. The buffet dinner on traditional low height tables, seated on cushions, with belly dancers to entertain you is an experience in itself. This was the first time i entered a mosque. After adorning the abhaya, the traditional black attire that Muslim women wear, i entered the huge sheikh zayed mosque. It was a vision in white marble. As i tread into the mosque the cold marble kisses your feet and sends a wave of divinity to your mind. Asia’s largest carpet lays there at sheikh zayeds final testing place, the pioneer of uae. The chandeliers fill up the ceiling and add granduer to the mausoleum. it was a great photo opportunity as the sun set behind the mosque adding to the feeling of divine intervention. At certain temples and churches i have this strange feeling of being blessed and this mosque was one of those places. This is my fifth day at Dubai and this has been a relaxing vacation. would i return? May be yes, may be not. I would love to come back to sheikh zayed mosque one day. But living in this city.. i may just pass that, despite the luxury and comfort this place oozes money everywhere, in contrast to Trivandrum, my most favourite place. Trivandrum has never failed to embrace me with warmth, right from the first time i walked in and each time i return to the city.
It goes on – now available on barnes and noble.com
-Maya
Folks!
I have had this awakening on and off, but I should admit that most times I have taken my folks for granted and expected them to be on the receiving end to all my tantrums in life. Few years ago, I bought my father the latest camera on the market, shelling out a few thousands of dollars. It was a proud moment, because eons ago I had seen him sell his favourite camera to pay my fees. It felt good to see him holding the camera and his delighted face, like that of a kid, who gets a new toy. This was when the switching of roles started and more distinctly about a year ago, when I spent some quality time with them, without any of my own responsibilities. The incident is similar to the girl’s article on Facebook where she had to take care of her ailing father. I did not have to make any sacrifices, but for a few weeks I was my father’s parent ensuring he used his eye drops accurately and taking him for his doctor visits.
The awakening cemented itself with my pitching in financially for the construction of our dream home. Our own house, is a dream that my family has cherished in the corner of our heart for ages. Taunting remarks from relatives has left us sore many a times, “oh you don’t have your own house yet?”.. “still renting eh?”. Why does it matter to them, I have never understood. Nevertheless, these statements took its toll on us, sometimes. Now with the construction underway, I see the dream turning into reality in the eyes of my family. The day by day talks of the minute details of the house, feels like we are virtually putting the pieces together of a puzzle. It is during these few months, that I have assumed complete (well almost) responsibility of driving a home project at such a grand scale. And as the days pass by, I realize its nothing about the money (well it is, when it comes to paying the contractor), but the happiness and the gleam in their eyes makes it all worthwhile.
Giving back to your parents and making their life comfortable is a human thing. Some people attribute it to the East and Western culture, but I tend to disagree. It is not East or West or defined by culture, but a natural feeling everyone is born with. It is just that people from different origins show it in varying degrees.
I am firm believer of enjoy it while you have it. You never know what is in store for you tomorrow, for that matter, even the next moment. So while you have your parents, wherever you are geographically located, provide for them, not the materials, but the feeling that you care. That you have made an attempt to understand all the sacrifices they have made to bring you up from an eight or nine ounce baby to a five plus foot tall human being, with emotions, a mind to think freely and make decisions to brace the world and life. Doesn’t matter if you are a girl or boy or belong to a culture where boys are providers and girls are receivers (something that I totally detest), make an attempt to understand them and be a part of their every days. You may be living away from them, take five minutes out of your day, to call them and ask about their day. They may not be doing anything exciting, but the feeling that you care about their day, makes a difference. It is recently that I started calling my parents everyday, and I know what difference it makes to them. And for me, its like my daily system boot, more relaxing than music.
I am finally ‘awakened’ and I realize fully well, that I owe myself and everything I am to my folks back home.
PS – Also read this on Maya Patikkal
Agony of the leaves
From Gandhi, with prayers…
My dear countrymen,
I traveled my country from North to South and East to West, from Kashmir to Kanyakumari and from Gujarat to Assam. For sure, I cannot walk the entire breadth and length of this country today, as most roads do not have a footpath. So a common man like me will have to encroach into the rupturing roads, with the blaze of horns screeching in my ears. I saw that the import licenses has helped my country boom and make it classy with BMWs, Mercedes and all the big names in the car industry. But the smoke the government buses produce blinds my eye and blocks my breathing. Can’t we have good air filters in all the government owned vehicles, my friends? Some roads were tarred, some mud roads, and yet other places, no roads at all. Is it so difficult to lay out tarred roads and help ease the commute of our dear countrymen? I see people throwing litter, spitting on the roads, and treating public way like trash bins. Would you do this at home, may I ask?
As I walked past Bombay, you call it Mumbai now, I saw some very tall buildings. A real tall one, someone showed me was Mukesh Ambanis house. I thought he must be having a big family. But no, there are only four people in his house. Wow! He must have a lot of money I thought. I walked some more and reached the shack centre or slums of Mumbai. And I wondered how much of a dent would it make in Mukesh Ambani’s purse, if he and the many others like him, build strong and lasting houses for these people. When he doesn’t do that then how can he claim his love for the country?
I was passing by a village when thirst beat the energy out of me. I stopped at a hut and asked for water. The lady handed me a glass of muddy water which she had drawn from a well located kilometers away from her house. It pained me deeply to see people, children, did not have access to clean drinking water, the most basic thing a country can provide to its people. Her children never went to school, and on the other hand my country boasts about IITs and IIMs. Basic education is the biggest gift we can give to our children, propagators of the current generation.
I picked up the newspaper and read about Anna Hazare fasting to end corruption. What has become of the people who have the authority to make India the best country in the world. People hungry for money, people hungry for power, ignoring the basic needs of the human population of the country. These people fail to realize that power is in the growth and well-being of the common man. Power is felt when you have provided drinking water, food, shelter, education and security to every citizen of India. That is the ultimate power. I see that the rich are becoming richer, the poor are becoming poorer. It is so difficult in this demanding environment for the poor man to rise up one level so that he can provide three square meals, education, shelter and safety to his family.
Sixty six years since the British left us, and hundreds of people had the power to do anything in this country, build it, govern it, and make it the best country in the world. We left behind a clean canvas to paint with vivid colors and make it bright and beautiful. But now, I see a torn canvas, bruised with rust at the edges, The shades are grey with intermittent peaks of brightness. India has grown, but in what directions? It is never too late to start a revolution. A silent promise that I will make this a better place. A silent oath to transform India from the grey shades to brightness.
With Prayers,
Gandhi.
The mind…
Now that I have some time to spare, free from the daily chores of life, here is something that I have been pondering on for a few days.
How do you understand yourself? This is the just the first question. Here come the rest.. How do you know who you really are… what you want out of life… what are your highs and lows… the list goes on…
There are some people who have this sixth sense power of deep diving into oneself and construct a perfect frame of the person they are. It works like a input-process-output diagram that we normally use in the project management world. Given a situation, they can precisely say how they will react, what the outcome will be. Such people usually have a strong mind.
Now the other category of people, who have no idea who they are, what they want, what they value… rather the ‘confused’ strata. They act on impulse and on the spur of the moment. They let people around them shape their everydays. No two actions may be alike. Today they may react in one way to a situation and tomorrow another. Fickle-minded is another apt word. They may have reasons for their actions, but acting on impulse may overshadow their honest intention.
The mind – the umbilical cord between the body and life. The central control tower, which directs every thought, action, word. A stable mind is the key to a good life. Strong for the former category of people and weakest for the latter. A ripple in the still waters of the mind causes emotions – all of them – the smile, the frown and everything in between, above and beyond.
indupatikkal 