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Tuesday, 21 December 2021

Haircut for Christmas

 Had a hair cut for Christmas. It's short and I am the only one who likes it in the family . What style ? No style , just short! 

Walked in. Told him to cut my hair. He did his job - that was followed by the customary showing me the back of my head in a mirror. 

Often wonder why they do that and with such aplomb too. 

I nodded,  he looked satisfied as I paid him and walked out a few grams lighter. 

I am a no fuss person where haircuts are concerned. 

Now with 2 daughters out of the house and only the wife with me, there are less jokes to contend with , and none that I can't parry with ease.

But it's the 'look' to which I am yet to find a suitable answer to. 

When I returned from a hair cut today I got 'the look' . No comment - just a look or a glance and then she looked away. 

I think I saw a smirk but then again I had just come in from the sun. 

Years ago I stopped asking the usual question' How does my hair look' because there would be a flurry of responses which all meant the same thing - ' it looks aweful ' 

Anyway , I think I look awesome!

Saturday, 11 December 2021

Tricky toothpicks

 A small mishap occurred while shifting house and home today  - very small.

It's 6 am. I am a nervous traveller and probably an equally nervous shifter . Just realized this today. 

I woke at 4.45  am and while making my tea I decided to multi task . I realized that multi tasking at work is something I do so well , and with extreme  regularity, but trying that at home, with the weight of the shift playing on my mind, was a very different experience. 

I saw one of those small containers which have about a few hundred toothpicks in them and decided to put   it into a plastic bag.

I know you're wondering as to why that caught my attention. Now I am wondering the same thing .

Needless to add the tea water came to a boil at exactly the same time.

Being extremely particular about my tea , there was a momentary lapse of concentration  and the wretched toothpicks spilled on to the counter top. 

Not wanting the wife to give me a morning lecture as she would be apt to do if she saw the mess , I attempted to put the toothpicks back into the container as quickly as possible. Easier said than done and this  is the point of this mini story.

There were definitely a few hundred tooth picks that fell out,  but only half could fit back in. My rather thick fingers and thumb didn't help ease the struggle . 

How the Dickens they pack them so tightly  beats me. Surely it is an art or maybe a science for all you know. 

Anyway,  after quite a struggle, I managed to put half the amount back and binned the rest .

My tea was cold by then and the packers would soon be  ringing the doorbell. 

My wife was none the wiser .

Here ends my story.

Wednesday, 27 October 2021

Have the courage ....

 

Have the courage

To do the right thing

To stand up and say ‘No I don’t agree’

To speak up for the oppressed and the wronged

And hold firm to your belief.

 

Have the courage

To voice your opinion

When your heart tells you, you’re right

‘Group think’ if you know what it is

Can be a destructive force.

 

Have the courage

And quality of mind and spirit

To defy conventional beliefs

That have stood the test of time

Just because no one asked

That all pertinent ‘WHY’

 

Have the courage

To question those in authority

Who attempt to play God

 And punish others

When no punishment is due

 

Have the courage my friend

To be virtuous and upright.

It will not be easy

But if you’re just and fair

It will give you peace of mind

in the end

Saturday, 21 August 2021

Our family

 When we stop being defined by Religion, Nationality , Caste and Creed we will be better human beings. 

I am a half Parsi and half Anglo Indian married to a Goan. So there are tons of Goans in the family . My wife's sister married a North Indian Hindu while her brother married a German. My daughter is married to a Malayalee boy while two nephews married Filipino girls. One of my nieces is married to a boy with Portuguese nationality while we also have East Indians, Anglo Indians, Canadians, British Germans,  Chinese and Parsees in the  family as well . 

A very  large and happy mix indeed and still growing. Dozens of Muslim friends too !

Stop caring about the history of your birth and think more about your present and future life and how you're living it. 

Let not caste , creed, Religion and nationality divide you .

Monday, 19 July 2021

Scary toys anyone ......

 

Let me come to the point straight away. We had a doll in the house and eerie things began happening after we planned to get rid of it, and that’s what this is about.

So, let’s get to the beginning. Jerry was a vinyl, ‘boy doll’, and quite good looking! He was about a foot long, the size of a small baby, dressed in blue, and all cute and cuddly, with deep blue eyes, and a lovely expression on his face. The doll was a gift for my elder daughter on her third birthday, and she loved it. In fact, it was her first gift that year, and hence extra special. She spent hours playing and talking to it, as all young girls do. As young parents, we attended doll tea parties and doll birthdays, and it was fun and cute. The children’s’ friends came over with their dolls too and the kids spent many an enjoyable holiday in their make-believe world.

Then we had our second baby girl, a few years later, and the doll was passed on. In fact, both played with it for years. As and when necessary, it was washed in soap and water, dried in the sun, and dressed in a fresh set of baby clothes.

After being with us for about 8 years or so, Jerry was worn out, and was soon relegated to being ‘an old toy’, as both girls took to ‘Barbies’ in a big way. Jerry was never played with, began looking dusty, neglected, and dirty. However, whenever we went to throw it out, or give it away, we never did, due to sentimental reasons. The girls refused to part with it.

This is where this story takes an unmistakeably sinister turn.

One morning we found “Jerry boy” as he was affectionately called, with his neck off! Now mark you - we had no dog or cat in the house and the doll had been relegated to the corner of a  top shelf in a large wooden cupboard. Rather than keep it like that, my wife picked up a needle and thread, stitched the neck firmly back on and put the doll back in the cupboard. We forgot about the incident for a few months.   Lo and behold, when we decided to dispose of the cupboard and get a replacement, everything was taken out of the cupboard and put on the bed. Amidst all the clothes, we spotted Jerry- with his neck about to fall off once again. Something just did not seem right. This transpired on two more occasions – the last time it did, the clothes were all torn, and the face scratched. It could have been my imagination, but I felt that the lips seemed darker than normal, and the eyebrows slightly raised and pulled together. That was the icing on the cake. I immediately had the doll put in a large plastic bag and without telling the two girls, I threw it in the bin outside. Luckily, the garbage van was there at the very moment, and we never saw or heard of ‘Jerry boy’ again.

We then shifted to another house, and all was well for a few months. Then, surprise of surprises, we came home from school one afternoon & saw a doll in the house. It was a blond haired, light eyed, porcelain doll, had on a pink lace dress, and looked new.  We had a house maid, and when we asked her where it had come from, she was as confused as us. My elder daughter said that she had taken it out from a box in the   toy cupboard. However far- out the explanation, we had no reason to disbelieve her, and presumed that one of their friends had probably left it at our place after the last sleep over and would collect it on her next visit.

 It looked adorable.

As it was never claimed, we were left with no other alternative but to keep it, it assuming that it could   have been a birthday gift, that we had somehow overlooked. The girls played with it now and then and all was honky dory. It sat with the large collection of barbies on a low shelf and somehow fitted in, despite being the odd one out.   

Then we went for the summer vacation and by the time we returned, the doll seemed to have taken on a life of its own. Now first and foremost it was one of those old-fashioned talking dolls. The doll's talking mechanism was activated by a small button on its back. Pressing the button turned a grooved disc inside the doll's body, and a metal needle produced sound from the disc by traveling through the grooves. What was odd was the fact that although the doll spoke English, it was with a strange accent. There were two prerecorded sentences. the first was ‘Hello, my name is Mia’. The second was, “I want to play with you.” Those were followed by the doll laughing! If you ask me, the laughter was hideous and quite repulsive, but the girls laughed along and seemed to enjoy it so who was I to complain!

The first time this happened we woke with a start. It was well past midnight when the doll, which was lying at the corner of the bed, occupied by the kids, started talking and laughing! It spoke the same two sentences repeatedly - and as for the laugh itself- it scared me.

I have always imagined myself as some sort of a detective, so I worked it out, much to the chagrin of my wife, that one of the kids had woken from her sleep, played with the doll, activated the talk button, and then dozed off. Nevertheless, we did not put too much thought into the incident and dozed off again. We woke with a start at about five am with the doll on the ground and yes, it was talking again and oh that sinister laughter!

I managed to convince my wife using the same logic once again, that it was just a bizarre coincidence, that had happened twice in one night.

I am not going to draw this out, but this doll often began talking at abnormal times - at night, in the afternoon, when it was in the cupboard and even when we placed it in the showcase! At times we only heard the awful laughter. I would then jump and switch it off.

Our younger daughter found this quite amusing while the elder one felt that our fears were unfounded, although unable to come up with any fathomable or plausible explanation herself.   

As there was no sentimental attachment to this doll, and we were leaving for Dubai in a week, we left it in the house along with a few other toys, rather than throw it away.

The next tenant probably found it. Not sure if it is still talking and laughing or whether that show was only for our benefit.

Would love to know.

Wednesday, 7 July 2021

I have the WhatsApp blues

 

  

Yippee – I have been added to the 27th, 30th or 34th WhatsApp group!

My popularity is soaring, and I am over the Moon or Mars or Neptune for that matter! Truly, my joy knows no bounds, and my cup runneth over.

On a more serious note, I am overwhelmed & at times feel swamped, as WhatsApp and WhatsApp groups are playing ducks and drakes with the world, often stressing me and probably others out, and taking up valuable time. I am positive  I am not alone in this harrowing quagmire.

Do I reply?  Must I reply? What if I don’t? What will they think? Will they be annoyed?

These questions vex me.

There is a belief that when WhatsApp entered the world, our lives changed forever, and things will only get more irksome. This is now a self-evident truth

When WhatsApp first started, I enjoyed it. Now I am beginning to loathe it. I think I know what you will advise – “Delete WhatsApp and be done with it”. However, that is easier said than done, for innumerable reasons.

Was checking my WhatsApp messages at 5 am today, and I that is insane – I have been added to innumerable groups and I get and send far too many WhatsApp messages every day. I have joined some groups willingly. I enjoy them and the light-hearted banter they provide- some for work related purposes -  as for others, the less said the better.

  Surprisingly, I have lost track of the number of groups I am part of - extended family, immediate family, various work related, hometown/ country, school and college, residential society, musical pals, and new friend’s groups. Old pupils, old friends, vague acquaintances, classmates, poetry lovers, story writers, cat lovers, baking aficionados, just for fun, animal lovers and collector groups. You go to a wedding, party, picnic, or barbecue and someone or the other makes and adds you to a new group to either plan the next event or just keep in touch.

 Thankfully, this has not happened after a funeral yet, but you never know. Someone may think of ‘funeral buddies’ or ‘pall bearers! God forbid if that happens!

Many of these groups have their parts and subgroups too. Numerous people I know are on common groups, and that’s even worse. Almost all have been started by people I know, so that’s the awkward part!

 I am the administrator of no group, as I believe that I lack those essential leadership skills.

However, I am literally up to the gills, after being inundated with good jokes, lame jokes, photographs, videos, good morning, good night, & have a nice day messages, unnecessary videos, irritating poems, blessings, memes, tips and tricks, official messages, and the like - daily. Then there are those appallingly, grisly chain messages, informing me that if I do not forward to ten people within five minutes, I will fall ill, or my nose will fall off or something to that effect. Some promise rewards from above!

 This morning I counted over 75 WhatsApp messages, and then stopped counting, as my head began spinning, my nose itching & my eyes crossing.

At midnight, India time, my phone routinely goes ‘ping’. On the few occasions I have been awake, and that is rare, I have scrolled down to see ‘Good Morning’ messages beginning to fill my inbox.  For goodness’s sake have mercy, ‘GET TO BED’ and let me have a peaceful night’s sleep! I am no nyctophile. There are still a few hours for morning to break.  

Occasionally, there will be a group message during the witching hours, when the owls are out hunting, and within a few minutes everyone else is commenting, advising, suggesting, congratulating, counseling, thanking, condoling or whatever. Don’t people have a life? I can understand if there is an emergency, but making it a habit, is nauseating, irritating and oh so very exasperating.

I was once on a plane to Pune, and about to doze off, when some people got talking and I got drawn into the conversation because I opened my big mouth and said that Pune was home!

 Yes, you guessed it right – one over enthusiastic gentleman was so delighted with his newfound friends, which included me, that he immediately took everyone’s number; there were seven of us; took a group selfie at past one in the morning, immediately formed a WhatsApp group, without so much as a by your leave, named it ‘Happy Pune travellers’ and sent us the photograph while we were still at passport control. Everyone looked dishevelled, disoriented, uninterested and groggy.  By the time I got into the taxi, I had received jokes, snaps of his family and pet dogs, a few holidays snaps of him in Dubai, and an invitation to dinner at his place to catch up.  He requested all of us to reply with similar pictures, so that we could get to know each other better. I never did, I never went, and I ensured that I promptly exited the group the same day!

Now please do not get me wrong – some of the groups I am part of are useful, and save time, which otherwise would be spent in sending emails but there must be a limit. Others are relaxing, amusing, help us keep in touch and I enjoy them.  

At times if you are part of a large group and everyone comments on a particular post, you feel compelled to do the same, lest you be termed anti-social, uninterested, or uninvolved, and we all know how quick society is to become judge, jury, and executioner!

I was once part of a group and tried to exit quietly and politely after not actively participating for over a month. Within the hour I got umpteen messages asking me why I was angry, did I have more exciting things to do, had I joined a rival group, calling me boring, and one or two which bordered on uncivil, and insulting! Leaving a WhatsApp group is like leaving the dinner table and saying, ‘I am fed up with you bores, hence I am off home’!

 I will admit that I have, over the years, joined this bandwagon of busybodies and at times forward unnecessary stuff too. It is so easy to pick up dirty habits. I plan to cease doing so, as I feel it is not sensible or practical – that is my summer resolution!

So, if you don’t get a reply to a message you know why!

Remember the hit song Hotel California?

"Relax, " said the night man,
"We are programmed to receive.
You can check-out any time you like,
But you can never leave! "

Sums up Social media, doesn’t it?

 

 

(I do not mean to hurt or insult anyone – family, friends, colleagues, and ex pupils, as WhatsApp does have its plus points but this is becoming a case of ‘too much for an old man to handle).

 

Monday, 5 July 2021

Stop this witless madness please

 

Which wooden headed, bird brained, dingbats have concluded that everything should reopen, no masks need be worn, and social distancing is a thing of the past?

Declaring ‘Independence’ from Covid is certainly premature I should say.  

Here in the UAE, we are still so very careful, and masks, social distancing and safety rules are being followed conscientiously. We are learning to live with Covid, and that is intelligent, because Covid has not gone away, by any stretch of imagination.  

However, the newspapers this morning carried bizarre stories, of how governments, in some parts of the world had made such doltish decisions, and it filled me with a sense of angst, as cases are still rising!

Let’s put things in the correct perspective please.

Now I am no medical, or to put in more precisely, No Vaccine expert , but I have a certain amount of common sense, or at least I think I do, and hence I beg to be enlightened.

The Delta variant is hovering around the world menacingly, threatening to strike any and everywhere on a large scale, and run rampant. If intelligent reports are to be believed, this will be the third, and even more treacherous wave, so we need to be prepared and take the necessary precautions.  Medical professionals and other experts in the field have commented upon and debated this topic over the last three weeks or more, so it is not just a prediction of Nostradamus. It is the truth.

 Although agencies and governments are working around the clock, vaccines are still in awfully   short supply in many countries. About 15 % of the world’s population are fully vaccinated and 25 % of the world’s population have received just one dose- both woefully low figures- and I am not blaming anyone.  We are trying and it is difficult – point noted. Recovery rates are improving in some parts of the world, and that is a good sign.

So, pray, what is the hurry to proclaim ‘VICTORY’ and throw caution to the wind? It is this very impatience which caused the horrifying second wave. Have our brains gone so foggy, that we have forgotten the suffering and the deaths of just a few months ago? Do we want a repeat performance?

  The Delta variant was declared a “variant of concern” by the World Health Organization in mid- May. The designation is used when there is increased evidence that a variant is more transmissible, causes more severe illness or reduces the effectiveness of vaccines or treatments.

Put on the television and you will see milling, joyous crowds, in celebratory modes, without masks, in many countries, shopping, holidaying, partying and at various games. This must be the height of insanity.  Covid is a ‘world pandemic’ and we have seen how easily it breaches boundaries. This is no rocket science. What further proof of impending danger are we waiting for?

Yes, we all want economies to recover, and we all want to get back to normal as soon as possible but this witless madness should cease and we MUST BE CAREFUL and ALERT.

For goodness’s sake – ‘Wake up and smell the roses’, or are you waiting for the roses on your grave?

 

 Remember, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread’’

UNSOLICITED ADVICE on a SUMMER AFTERNOON


 

If you stroll in the desert

Be prepared for sand between your toes

If you sail on choppy seas

You may end up – where the wind blows

 

If you saunter with thieves

You could, to the gallows go

If you work on a farm

Be prepared to reap and sow

 

If it’s a flashy life you fancy

If you’re that snazzy, swanky type

There could be pitfalls you encounter

If you just believe the hype

 

Friendships could be deceptive

Close companionship even so

Be conscious of the world around you

And live to regret no more.

Friday, 2 July 2021

Appearances are often so misleading

 

This post is for GENTS only – LADIES please ignore as it will NOT interest you.

 

Well, I have written about haircuts before, but this is slightly different. First and foremost, my hair and nails grow very fast, and I am not sure if that is good or bad. Not Googling it either, because one never knows what Google will throw up!

 Last evening my hair was irritating me – it happens when my hair reaches a particular length. Hence, I decided to go and have my haircut. I have found a nice, clean saloon, quite close to my house. No, it is not 5 star or anything, but the last few times the guy there gave me a nice haircut, so I went back again.

It was already a little past 8.45 pm and hence quite uncharacteristic of me, as I am usually an ‘early morning hair cut person’. Anyway, let me get on with my story. I have this horrible habit of digressing at times.

 Now, whenever I visit this saloon, I am always greeted warmly by the manager and his assistant, a smart young man, who always cuts my hair and does a brilliant job – very much to my satisfaction.  I am offered tea and biscuits and they always enquire about the family. Both are very genial, always smiling, and eager to please.  

Yesterday, when I walked into the saloon, something was a trifle different. The shop seemed to have been rearranged and I was greeted by a stranger who himself looked like an actor in a crime thriller. When I enquired about the manager and the man who usually cuts my hair, I was told that they were out and would return soon. This stranger offered to cut my hair, but I told him that I would prefer to wait. Something about him was shifty. Did I see him grimace when I refused his offer?

Anyway, he grudgingly agreed, and went about his business, pottering about the shop, rearranging items meticulously on the counter& counting the notes and coins in the safe box- all which seemed rather unnecessary.  Meanwhile, I picked up a magazine and feigned browsing through it, while keeping a close eye on him. His whole manner and unnecessary fiddling about with the items on the counter was weird. This man was beginning to worry me, and I thought of walking out. My usual calm disposition and self-assurance seemed to have dropped a notch or two for no concrete reason.

Was my heart beating faster? Was I getting a panic attack? Was I overreacting?

Let me tell you what he looked like, and leave you to judge, as to whether I was being unnecessarily distrustful & paranoid.  His was stocky, and one could tell that he worked out for sure. His black shirt and jeans had seen better days. His eyes were blood shot, and he had a moustache which was badly in need a trim. He needed a shave as well.  There was something ruthless about his whole persona that I could not fathom. He wore a flashy gold watch to match the two gold chains around his neck. He had two mobile phones and made and received calls on both in a span of fifteen minutes. He was a busy man indeed. And oh yes, lest I forget to mention it – there was a stud in his ear – it looked like a diamond. Cover the bottom half of his face with a large black mask and what have you?

Meanwhile my mind went into overdrive. Could this chap have done away with the owner, threatened the other workers, made them leave and then taken over the shop by force? Could this have happened that evening itself and was I the first customer after the coup, so to say? Was he a barber in the first place? Did he know how to cut hair? Was mine going to be the ‘first haircut he gave in his new avatar? There were so many unanswered questions.

Suddenly, I was awoken from my reverie, by him telling me that the manager and his assistant would not be back for an hour or so, and hence he would be cutting my hair. I don’t know whether he was a hypnotist or not, but I got up, sat down on the proffered chair without protesting any further, and prepared myself to be sacrificed! So, this was how they did it. I had read so many stories in the past and they all seemed to be finally catching up with me.

I was tense and ready to jump and bolt in case he made any sudden moves or tried to strangulate me.

For some strange reason, he began by putting a new blade into the razor! I pretended not to notice and instead, stared blankly at the programme on the television set, which I was sure he had switched on to distract me. It seemed to be some sort of a murder mystery on Netflix, and that did nothing to calm my jarring nerves. However, my heart skipped a beat or two when I saw him place the razor on the table near at hand. The razor was only needed at the end, wasn’t it?

My fertile imagination immediately went into overdrive and the whole scene flashed before my eyes in a matter of seconds.

So, this was it – the door had undoubtedly been locked from within. He had obviously done this craftily, while I was reading the magazine. How did I miss it?  He was not a barber by any length of imagination. The lights would soon be switched off. I would be threatened with the razor blade. My mobile and purse would then be snatched. I would be tied up.  He would then walk out nonchalantly after threatening me not to report the matter, or else face dire consequences for my indiscretion. This was not his shop &he would never be seen in the area again.

There was a new protagonist for sure………

He then began cutting my hair. Within the first few minutes I felt foolish for my scepticism and presumptuous suspicions. His scissors flew over my head in experienced hands while he engaged me in an interesting conversation on cricket and football. Over the span of the next fifteen or twenty minutes, he washed my hair, blow dried it, used scissors, clippers, shears and a variety of razors and combs. He then used the blow drier again and followed it up an amazing head massage. He then brought out two different mirrors to show me the back of my head. All this while he told me about his family his school going children back in Delhi and how he had landed in Dubai a few hours ago and had come straight to the shop.

 I felt like a new man.   A slightly foolish new man, to be more precise, but a man in control of his life once again.

While I was making the payment, the door opened, and two familiar faces walked in- the manager and the one who usually cuts my hair.

They then apologised for being away & officially introduced me to the ‘Owner of the business’ the one who had just given me a terrific haircut.  

Appearances are often so misleading.

 God bless you Suresh Bhai and thank you!

Wednesday, 30 June 2021

The summer of 2021

 

Recently, someone asked me what I planned to do, to beat the ‘Summer Blues’.

Summer blues? What summer blues said I. Am just waiting for my vacation to begin.  

 Now I have said this umpteen time - I am not travelling for obvious reasons. No intention of getting stuck amidst the hot springs, whale watchers or active volcanoes in Reykjavik in Iceland.

Then, Seychelles, which was on top of my agenda, has now been shelved once and for all - snorkeling and diving are not exactly my cup of tea. Just imagining myself under water, wearing goggles, a mask, a body suit, a snorkel and fins makes me exceedingly claustrophobic. In fact, I can only swim to a point. In reality, only the breath of a medium sized pool is what I manage, that too in shallow water, and even then, I come up gasping for air, much to the amusement of friends and relatives. And then, there are the ‘active honeymooners’ to contend with, so it’s an emphatic NO.

 Pune was my next ‘go to’ place, but the Delta variant in Maharashtra has put paid to those elaborate plans too. To compound the issue, the authorities have now termed it as ‘Delta plus’- probably something like a cyclone gathering in intensity and turning into a hurricane, I guess. Pray it blows over.

So here is my tentative plan. Not foolproof, etched in stone or in any particular order of importance, but I have given it quite a lot of thought.

I must catch up on some reading – nothing too heavy though. I asked a friendly bibliophile for help, and without blinking an eye, she excitedly recommended, ‘Marienbad my Love’, by Mark Leach. It has 17.8 million words on 10,710 pages she said. The Blah story by Nigel Tom was her next recommendation - that has 11 million words on 7312 pages. She seemed to know her facts.  I have a gut feeling she was joking, because when I did a little more research, they are two of the longest books ever written! So, I have disregarded her recommendation. Thank you, Miss, but no thanks.  

Instead I plan to read a book I studied in school- ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ by Harper Lee – I loved it then and would not mind reading it again. Tom Robinson’s story resonates with me, especially in this present day and age, when racism has reared its ugly head- then there was the unforgettable Boo Radley!   There is also "The Great Gatsby" by F. Scott Fitzgerald – a book I hear is good. Have a few more lined up too.

Also intend to ‘do some music’ – have got in touch with a musician friend and hopefully, I will be able to record some songs. If they are not too bad, may also upload them – who knows!

That reminds me of something funny. I started out playing the drums in a band with three other friends. We were all teens and self-taught musicians.  We played all over Allahabad, were quite good and very popular as a group known as the ‘Revivals’. We played a lot of Rock ‘N Roll and Country music and earned good money as well.  However, drummers are usually seated at the back of the others, so playing drums and singing my heart out, while everyone else hogged center stage upfront, did not exactly appeal to me. It did not take me long to stop playing drums and go back to my first love – the guitar. Playing rhythm and singing was something I then enjoyed for years, and still do- so let’s see how the recordings go. Probably I was a bit vain back then!

Who doesn’t want to lose weight!  I certainly do. I believe there is a skinny man within me, wanting to come out.  Now it won’t be a diet. No Paleo, Vegan, Atkins or Dukan plans for me. I believe they are fads and extremely difficult to sustain for any length of time. Dieting seems to make people sad – when I look at their faces, i feel like feeding them a cup cake filled with chocolate and cream.

Brings to mind a relative who is into fitness and diets. One day she will pop in and say, “I have stopped eating sweets” or, “No more rice for me’’. A week or two later the self- proclaimed promise is forgotten, and she is back to square one! To give her credit she exercises regularly.  However, on my part, I do intend to eat sparingly, eat healthy & cut the carbs as far as possible. Reminds me of the Mrs. at home – she weighs herself and whatever the reading, she convinces herself and attempts to convince me, that she was a few hundred grams more than that, the previous time, and hence has definitely reduced. It’s the reverse with me – I weigh myself, and if the scale shows eighty, she is determined that I was seventy-eight the last time, and have gone up two kg! And then the fight begins!

By the way – I must get new batteries for the weighing scale before the holidays begin. The amount of times we bang on it, to get it to work, will surely ruin it someday.

Exercise – oh yes exercise. I will fit this in somewhere- I ought to. Now don’t get me wrong – you must not expect to see photos of me doing chin ups, dead lifts, suspended pushups or bench pressing – will leave that for the pros. However, I will fit in some light to moderate exercise into my schedule. And just to clarify- after the vacation there will not be selfies of me showing my biceps, triceps, or a six pack for that matter. I have them all, but am not a show off! I know some of you will be scoffing when reading this, but that’s your prerogative isn’t it?!!

Now family, friends and colleagues will know (some may not), that I like to cook and that I can rustle up some fairly tasty vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. (Gordon James Ramsay, I hope you are listening). If you look back, I used the world ‘like & rustle up’. I don’t love cooking per se, but, when in the mood (read that as once a fortnight or so), I can produce a yummy meal while leaving the kitchen spotless. I also bake- cakes being my sort of specialty – Christmas cakes to be more precise. By the way, I hope my wife does not read this, as she believes, that as she is responsible for getting all the ingredients cleaned, chopped and ready, and doing the other miscellaneous jobs prior to the actual process, she, in reality, has done the major part of ‘baking the cake’. We disagree on the nomenclature every time, and this is often the start of ‘the argument’.

Whenever guests or relatives taste the cake, enjoy it, and ask, ‘who made the cakes’, I make it a point to smile & say ‘we baked the cakes together’, in an attempt to earn brownie points, so very vital, especially during the festive season. I do get a sarcastic look or two, but after one has been married for over thirty-five years, like we have, it does not matter.

After the guests depart, I often hear statements like ‘why did you have to smile and say it’ or ‘you know you hardly did anything don’t you’ or the best one, ‘next time you can do everything yourself’ . That makes me burst out laughing – and then the fight begins!

I will continue to put words down on the computer. I love sharing stories, anecdotes and memories on social media. Though it does take up quite a bit of time, I usually write early in the morning and on weekends & it is something I thoroughly enjoy. I find it rather therapeutic and it also helps me keep in touch with so many people.

Decluttering is on the list of ‘to do items’ during this vacation. Must get rid of old clothes and miscellaneous paraphernalia. I have no clue why we have so many cables, wires, plugs, chargers, tools and the like. I have no idea about repairing electrical or mechanical items, have never fixed a fuse and can just about change a light bulb – so those items must definitely be discarded as junk. Another topic for an animated discussion at home is, ‘who has collected the most junk’.

I am proud to say that one ‘not so good habit of mine’ has been dispensed with. Actually, it dispensed with itself – I was quite a shopaholic and bought so much stuff that I actually did not need. Since the pandemic, the desire to buy clothes, shoes, ties, watches, socks etc. has waned. Sweat pants and sneakers are oh so comfortable!

Newspapers and the television will fill in the gaps !

Lastly – we have any number of relatives in the UAE and some good friends as well – hopefully we will catch up and spend some quality time together.

Summer will not be wasted for sure!     

 “Be the reason someone smiles today… Or the reason someone drinks. Whatever works.”

Monday, 28 June 2021

And then the fight began

 

It’s always a happy sight – young energetic parents engaging their kids in exercise and games. It’s so important to get them out in the fresh air and away from those mobile phones and the television.

 So last Friday I was out on the balcony, having a cup of tea and looking down on the large parking lot below. There was a sprinkling of cars parked and hence plenty of open space to play. It was also early in the morning – around 7.00 am, hence no traffic and relatively safe.

A young couple – probably in their late thirties or early forties came down with their two kids to engage them in exercise. There was a boy and girl aged about fourteen and ten   respectively. They had with them a lovely new cycle – all red and shining, and a cricket set. There seemed to be an air of excitement as son and dad got down to setting up the wickets, discussing rules and marking out the pitch. Mum and daughter were in animated discussion while looking at the bike which was on its stand.

I couldn’t help but smile at the love radiating from the family and admire the fact that parents were actually making ‘family bonding time’. Wish more parents did this, but everyone is always so busy. The father was strong looking, vigorous and healthy while the mother was tall and a bit on the plump side.

Dad had probably played some level of cricket in his life, because I saw him going through the motions with the bat in hand. He demonstrated the forward defence, the cover drive, the pull and the classic straight drive. I got the impression that the son looked a trifle bored and was eager to get on with the game. Dad decided to give the boy a lesson in batting and hence decided to bat first. They were using a tennis ball so pads and gloves were not being used. I saw the dad loosening up ,bending and stretching   and it made me think of doing some exercise myself. I have been neglecting this aspect lately. But more on that some other time.

From the way the young lad tossed the ball up and caught it deftly, I felt he knew a little more about the game than his father surmised. He then came speeding in, the dad went forward in defence and the stumps went crashing behind him. It all happened in a blur and I couldn’t help but smile.  Believe it or not, this happened four times in quick succession during the over. On the other two occasions the ball hit the father on the chest and face, sending his spectacles flying. Dad didn’t seem too pleased with the proceedings, made some vague comments while pointing at the sun and decided to bowl. In his defence, the sun was shining on to his face.

The young gun then took a stand and tapped the bat on the ground in eager anticipation. Dad came in and bowled. The first two balls were rather nightmarishly wide and the wife and daughter who were the only two spectators obliged, by fielding and giving the ball back to the bowler. I saw the wife giggling but thankfully the husband did not. It would not have gone down well for sure.

 The son threw up his hands in exasperation and looked disgusted at not being able to even touch the ball with his outstretched bat. I could see him remonstrating vehemently. The third ball was far better & the boy offered a straight bat in defence. This chap was coming across as a little pro. The father seemed to have regained his composure & confidence and came charging in, in quite an athletic fashion. The young boy took two steps forward, danced out and smashed the ball on to the terrace of the building beside the parking lot. It was a magnificent piece of batting, but as all terraces are locked, the game, for all intents and purposes was over. It ended with dad and son arguing, the boy throwing the bat on the ground in a temper tantrum and walking away in apparent disgust.

It did not need expertise in  rocket science to deduct, that father and son would not be playing cricket together for a very long time.

Match over, dad sat down on the ground to lick his wounds while wiping the sweat off his brow while mum decided to teach her daughter how to ride a bicycle. At first, she tried the ‘you sit and I push’ method. It didn’t work as the girl seemed extremely nervous and instead of cycling and trying to balance, she was looking back at her mother and falling down each time. This approach had definitely failed and both of them knew it. It was time for a change in strategy.

  Mum then decided to take things into her own hands, literally. She got her daughter off the bike and got on herself. I wouldn’t have done that if I was her, as she was a trifle heavy and the cycle rather small, hence her legs were resting on the ground. However, she was determined to teach her daughter how to ride a cycle that day.  

Now I am not too sure when she had last cycled, whether she had ever cycled before or if she was just calamitously unlucky. I can also state with a great amount of confidence that her husband had never seen her cycling during their years of marriage as his eyes were transfixed on her. Then without so much as a by your leave, she pedaled off. I could be wrong, but I think she had a bit of an uncertain, wobbly start, but kept going.

A few things then happened in quick succession.

 She sped off, peddling at full pelt, took too sharp a turn, while simultaneously calling out to her daughter to observe and learn, the bike slipped and before you could say Jack, she was on the ground with half the bike over her.  The daughter screamed, the husband jumped up, and they both ran to her assistance. There may have been a few tears as they both stood looking at her while she extracted herself from the cycle. She seemed to have hurt her foot as she was limping. It did not seem too serious. However, her ego and confidence seemed to have taken a bit of a beating & the new cycle was badly damaged and immovable.

All three stared at it for a while and then the father picked it up over his shoulder and they proceeded home, a bit downcast but infinitely wiser for the experience. The morning which started with such promise had  ended as a lost cause.

It was probably then that the fight began.