Transportation

 Transportation is essential for movement, connecting people to places. From prams to luxury vehicles, each mode reflects our needs, desires, and the times we live in.

For me, like many of you, it all began with me in a pram, probably wailing at the top of my lungs while being pushed around. It must have been fun after all; I had no responsibilities. For others, it was likely a convenient way to keep me out of the way and above all, to keep me out of trouble, or at least to avoid hearing me wail.

 Then came a red tricycle, which I feel I remember. I could be wrong, but I like to think I zipped through rooms on it, maybe over people's toes—perhaps even getting scolded for it. 

Next up was school, which at first had me traveling by cycle rickshaw driven by a trusted man who lived nearby. It was a slow journey - leisurely and quite enjoyable.  Then came my trusted ladies' bike. Supposedly, my mum had ridden it as a girl, making it ancient by the time it reached me. After some dusting off, a coat of paint, and a hundred rupees later, I was zipping around town. Who cared if it was a lady’s bike? I was finally mobile. It took me, friends, and a girl or two on a few adventures—I won’t name names for obvious reasons. School, church and the market were now a breeze. 

Soon after came the big upgrade—a gents' bike bought second-hand for another hundred rupees. It was in  immaculate condition, and I spent hours on weekends cleaning it to perfection.

 Fast forward to married life, and my excitement reached new heights with the purchase of a shiny greyish new Bajaj Super scooter. My wife, two kids, and I braved the heat, cold, and rain, zipping around town with a sense of freedom. This was life, and I was thrilled to bits. It was always well maintained and my pride and joy.

Then, life took me to Dubai, where we were forced to move around by taxi till I got a driving license.  I was then given a company-owned Nissan Sunny to use. It had seen better days, but hey, it was a car. A year later, I was cruising around in a new one. 

When I became Principal, the school handed me a maroon Mazda 6. What a car to drive - smooth, sleek and low-slung.  But I was just getting started. I then bought my own Pajero, traded it in after four years for an even better one.

Now, I drive a  pearl-white Land Cruiser. Its glossy finish shines in the Dubai sun, exuding sophistication and power. Inside, it blends luxury with utility—leather seats, a few high-tech features, and a spacious cabin. The Land Cruiser handles the chaotic roads with ease, offering smooth rides and reliable safety features. Whether it's the heat or rain, it’s built for anything, providing both comfort and confidence on every journey.

And who knows? Maybe I'm tempted for an upgrade. But for now, this Land Cruiser takes me from point A to point B . Age, budget, and a touch of personal flair all come together, making the ride unforgettable.

My mother

 Miss my mum even more so, at this time of the year.

What remain are beautifully nostalgic memories and a few keepsakes—a set of her old house keys, a faded passport, a weathered bank passbook, a gas regulator tucked away somewhere, and a handful of other little knick-knacks that hold so much meaning. Mothers are truly special, and mine was exceptional in every way.

Her unconditional love and countless sacrifices, most of which I only came to recognize and appreciate much later—were the bedrock of my childhood. She had an incredible memory and unmatched culinary skills, always creating magic in the kitchen. There were some dishes that only she could make! She was a remarkable woman, balancing her role as a part-time beautician and hairdresser, a job she pursued with passion, with being an exquisite dancer. Her graceful waltz, lively cha-cha-cha, and elegant tango were unforgettable. She was strikingly beautiful, poised, and ever so elegant.

She also had some special shops in Civil Lines, Allahabad, that she often visited as a young lady along with me, and later too—Ladies Corner, Kohinoor Chemist, Box Man, Fitwell and Chopra Shoes. There was a famous pastry shop that sold exquisite patties, chicken sandwiches, and pastries she loved (though I can’t quite recall the name). And of course, there was Penny's Beauty Parlour—run by her niece and my cousin—where she would go for her haircuts. Bushy the baker was a must-visit during Christmas time, to bake the traditional Christmas cakes. It wasn’t just about the cakes, though; it was also about catching up on the latest Allahabad news. The talkative baker always seemed to know everything—who baked what and how many! She traveled everywhere in a cycle rickshaw, often keeping the rickshaw driver waiting far too long, and ending up paying more than she should have.

She adored my wife, her daughter-in-law, and her two grandchildren with all her heart. Allahabad was her true home, especially her beloved house in the Thornhill Club, filled with countless friends and cherished memories. Even when she visited us in Pune or Dubai, her heart always longed to return to her home. It may not have been as comfortable as ours, but it was where she felt happiest.

She had a wonderful way of making even the ordinary seem extraordinary—feeding the stray dog that, in truth, may have adopted her; haggling with door-to-door vendors for the best deal; shouting at naughty boys playing football near her door, or sparring affectionately with the servant girl who often tested her patience. Her Sundays were incomplete without church, and even in her 80s, she carried herself with dignity, always looking fresh and tidy.

This Christmas, as every Christmas, I miss her deeply. Her absence is felt at every moment, but it’s during this season that the ache is strongest.

 Mum, you are missed every day, but especially now, when the warmth of your presence, your laughter, and your love would have lit up our celebrations.

Valentine Massey Penny's Beauty Parlour Annette D'SylvaAlisha GuzderPylee VargheseLorraine GomesHerman GomesStanley FrancisBrigitte FrancisEleanor Sybil DcruzMarushka Martins

Reflection Gratitude and Love ...

 Reflection, gratitude and love ................

We are coming to the end of 2024 - As the season of retrospection, gratitude, giving & love envelopes us, and Christmas lights twinkle brighter than my willpower around a box of chocolates, or a delicious ice cream, I find myself reflecting   on all there is to be thankful for- and there is so much. 

This year, like so many others, has been a beautifully intricate tapestry woven with highs and lows, moments of pure joy and quiet introspection, victories to celebrate, and challenges that tested my resilience. 

Through it all, I have been deeply grateful to the people who surround me—family who offer unconditional love and steadfast support, friends who bring laughter and perspective, and colleagues whose dedication and camaraderie inspire me daily- and a special mention of two granddaughters who I dote on!

Each of these relationships, in their own unique way, has added depth, meaning, and richness to my journey. They have turned even the most difficult moments into opportunities for growth and reflection, making every step of this year profoundly worthwhile.

A special mention about my former pupils will not be out of place - your continued respect, accomplishments, and heartfelt connections serve as a constant reminder of why I chose this remarkable profession. 

Reflecting on my journey, I recall with fondness my very first teaching assignment at The Boys’ High School in Allahabad, my beloved hometown, where I stepped into the world of education as a Grade 5 teacher. Those early days were filled with both challenges and triumphs, as I learned the ropes of a career that would come to define my life.

The Bishop’s School in Pune became my second home and a place of immense growth, both personally and professionally. Spanning 20 incredible years, my time there saw me evolve from a classroom teacher to headmaster, with various roles in between. It was here that I truly discovered the transformative power of education and the unshakable bond between teacher and student—a bond that continues to resonate deeply with me.

In Dubai, my journey brought me to the Modern High School, where I had the privilege of serving as Headmaster and being part of a vibrant, dynamic school community. And then to The Millennium School, where I spent 13 extraordinary years as Principal, helping to shape a school that would inspire both pupils and staff alike.

Teaching is such an incredible profession. It’s not just about imparting knowledge; it’s about nurturing character, fostering dreams, and creating a legacy that lives on through the achievements of others. To all my former pupils—from Allahabad to Pune and Dubai, your teenage antics may now be the stuff of humorous legend, but your respect, resilience, and triumphs are what truly define you. You remind me every day why I do what I do and why the role of an educator is one of life’s greatest privileges.

Living in the UAE, one of the safest and most progressive countries in the world, is a blessing we sometimes overlook. Immaculate streets, world-class healthcare, smooth roads (that can’t be blamed for being late), and a truly outstanding education system, it’s all here. Where else can you enjoy this level of efficiency with such diversity and harmony? And yes, let's not forget the freedom to worship, which is a gift not all parts of the world can claim.

As the year draws to a close, I pray for peace in a world that is too often shaken by war, suffering, and loss. Let us cherish what we have, be it health, friendship, or just another day. Here's to looking back with gratitude and ahead with hope. And if all else fails, there’s always another slice of Christmas cake waiting!

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Getting ready for Christmas

 So it’s the 16th December 2022.

Nine days to go for Christmas and there is excitement in the air. 

Thanks to Facebook , Messenger, WhatsApp and the like , many of us have been receiving our FIRST CHRISTMAS CARD , OUR FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE , OUR FIRST SANTA , OUR FIRST SNOWMAN over and over again from the 1st December onwards  . Not to mention being HIT by the FIRST VIRTUAL SNOW BALL .

 Nice – thank you - but a bit too much and over the top at times . 

Cakes and cookies, wine and chocolates  are being made  , Turkeys ordered and then there is that wild clamour to purchase gifts  in the malls . More often than not there are the usual end of year  sales where everyone ends up buying stuff they do not need in the first place . 

Christmas Trees went up during the first week of December and those who could not find last year’s decorations, as they had been put away safely and now can’t be found , went out and bought new ones – only to find the old ones in perfectly good condition a few days later !

Then there are the curtains and the cushions- the new crockery and the crystal glasses kept for those special occasions .  

Not to forget  the urgent requirement for  new clothes and shoes which suddenly become a necessity despite the cupboard already being stocked with recent purchases   .

 If you are a lady , then this is a time consuming operation . Many shops are visited and bored, tired looking  salesmen can be seen putting back dozens of pairs of shoes , folding meters of  material and putting clothes back on hangers – obviously someone looked and walked on to the next shop where the same exercise was repeated .

 Most gentlemen are adept at quick shopping and are less fussy than their female counterparts  . They know what they want – go in and  get it and the job is over and done with before you can say Ho Ho Ho ! 

 Remember I said MOST . I know of many fusspots who spend ages and are somehow never satisfied with the goods on offer . 

These are the bespoke guys who take pride in giving measurements and going for umpteen trials- good for you .  

Schools are closed now and the children are suddenly in everyone’s way – wanting to eat meals at odd times  , itching to go out , asking for gifts ,  begging to be taken to the park . 

All in all it’s a season of fun – friends to catch up with , time to travel if you so desire ,  great weather , plenty  to eat and not to forget – WEIGHT TO GAIN !

And by the way for those Christians like me – let’s not forget to keep the CHRIST in Christmas.

Be kind to one another !

Spectacles

 While many believe that Benjamin Franklin invented spectacles, actually it was Salvino D'Armati, a 13th century Italian from Florence. In reality, I do not care who invented them, as I am not very fond of them in the first place. 

 Some believe that shades or dark glasses were worn even earlier than that to protect the eyes from the bright sun.

I started wearing spectacles in my 40’s and dark glasses about ten years before that.

This morning I woke at about five am, as I always do to read the newspapers and then spent around twenty minutes searching for my glasses. You can put this down to old age, amnesia, and the onset of dementia or whatever. You can call me careless, sleepy head or a forgetful old man- I DO NOT CARE!

I finally found them – they had slipped between the end of the sofa and the cushion.  Thrilled, I opened the door, picked up the newspapers and sat down to read them. Only then did I realize that these were my “distance glasses”. The “reading” glasses had been near my pillow throughout. 

Now I know you are sniggering at me having different spectacles for reading and distance but that is me. 

I did try the progressive ones a few years ago for a few days- three to be precise- got splitting migraines,  felt nauseous and put them aside for good.

So now, I carry two pairs around and that is the problem. Am usually wearing one and have the other in my pocket. Most of my shirts do not have pockets and if I am not wearing a coat, the second pair is usually deep in the trouser pocket.

This causes them to go out of shape and often become lopsided soon. I am quite careless with spectacles as well and often leave them lying around – on  office tables , on peg tables at home , beside me on the sofa , on the seat of the car , in the receptacle between the car seats etc  . When reading, the second pair is often on my lap and the obvious happens- I get up in a hurry and the glasses are on the floor. I have stamped them, kicked them and once smashed them as well. 

I am constantly being advised on how to look after them – get lanyards, use a case, treat them with respect, don’t let them lie around- this advice goes in from one year and out of the other . 

No, I am not proud of the way I treat my spectacles but I am so fed up with the two pairs. 

As a young boy I remember hearing conversations of people having used their spectacles for years – they never broke, were damaged or lost!  How they managed with the same pair for years beats me.

In addition, I have not yet mentioned something else. Last week I suddenly put on my glasses (in the morning) and was definite I was losing my vision. Everything was a blur in the right eye. Thoughts of cataract and glaucoma raced through my mind as I rushed to the washroom and washed my eye and the glasses too. 

Only then did I realize that the lens were badly scratched and my eyes were fine. Thankful for small mercies!

Therefore, off I went to the optician to have the lens changed. He recognized me and seemed rather pleased – do not think any of his customers go through four pairs of glasses in a year.

While I sit at my computer, keying in this article, I am wearing my old spectacles. I used the old distance ones while driving this morning. Once I get the newer pairs back, I will give these in for a similar lens change – you guessed it right – both these pairs are scratched as well.

Long weekends in the UAE

 Just let it be a ‘long weekend’ (a few days holiday added to the weekend) —and the UAE transforms into a frenzied blur of hyperactivity. Except for old sloth bears like me, everyone else is suddenly ‘charged up and ready to go anywhere’ like there is no tomorrow. 

Cars are fueled up and tire pressures checked.  Essentials like tents, sleeping bags, weather-appropriate clothing, barbecue sets, sturdy boots, stoves, cookware, non-perishable food, water bottles, navigation tools, first aid kits, flashlights and emergency items, and hygiene basics like toothbrushes, soap etc.  are all packed and secured. No time to be wasted at all. 

Social media explodes with updates of people camping under the stars, driving over dunes, vehicles getting stuck in the sand, or families and friends barbecuing with such zeal you'd think they were auditioning for a steak commercial. There's jet-skiing in the morning, mountain climbing by noon, and hopping between parks, resorts, and shopping malls by evening. Some even manage to squeeze in a full-body workout on the beach while simultaneously planning a pub crawl. Impressive and invigorating? Sure. Exhausting? Definitely!!

And then there’s me, an unapologetic member of the Non-Extreme Weekend Society. While others are out conquering ‘wadis’, waves and mountains, I’m conquering the weeds in my garden—though they seem to win most of the time. My grandkids? Adorable little bundles of joy turn into tiny tyrants the moment I suggest a nap. “Play, Grandpa!” they demand, and by play, they mean testing how many ways they can climb me, force my eyes open, pull my toes and scream in my ear – you get the drift! And then there is the house cat and the stray to care of too ! 

When the family chaos subsides, I retreat to the couch, remote in hand, to watch what some might call the "idiot box." But hey, a little mindless TV never hurt anyone, especially when it’s paired with some nice wine and snacks I don’t have to share. I might even dabble in writing, reading, music, or engage in my favorite pastime: wondering why everyone else voluntarily exhausts themselves.

People say, “Get a life!” But I beg to differ. I have a calm, unhurried, beautifully boring life. While others spend their weekends recovering from their adventures, I start my week well-rested, with just a hint of smugness.

That’s just the way I like it !

Probably gyms are not my cup of tea

 Probably gyms are not my cup of tea

 

My daughters have been relentless. “Dad- You need to get fit!” they said on my birthday. At my age, I believe wisdom grows as muscles shrink, but they weren’t buying it. So, with a heavy heart (and an even heavier body), I decided, on the weekend , to check out a well-known gym close to our place, to see if I could summon the courage to join. In fact, on the way there, I began convincing myself that I would, and in my silly stupor, I saw myself working out regularly and beefing up in a short span of time. I was inspired and I was ready – this was going to be life changing. 

The moment I stepped inside, my eagerness began evaporating and I was overwhelmed to say the very least. The place wasn’t a gym- oh no! It was a high-octane, sweat-soaked coliseum of fitness, alive with the clanging of weights, the rhythmic pounding of treadmills, and the relentless drive of bodies in motion." Music blared at an earsplitting decibel, presumably to drown out the collective grunting. Towering bodybuilders stomped about like modern-day gladiators, their muscles glistening with a sheen of perspiration that had to be seen, to be believed. Meanwhile, lean women with taut bodies sprinted furiously on treadmills, as if auditioning for an action movie.

As I ventured further into this fortress of fitness, I couldn’t help but marvel at the people who seemed to embody the very essence of health and vitality.

The men were an imposing sight. Most were tall, broad-shouldered, and bursting with muscle in places I didn’t even know existed. Their tank tops clung to their physiques, barely containing their bulging biceps and rippling torsos. Veins snaked down their arms, pulsing with every curl of an oversized dumbbell. They moved purposefully, some striding across the gym with the confidence of lions surveying their domain. Their faces were intense, jaws clenched in determination, and every so often, a loud grunt or roar escaped as they pushed their limits. The air around them seemed charged, like they were warriors preparing for battle. A man near me pushed about six strips of gum into his mouth, and began chewing with a vengeance, like there was no tomorrow, before moving towards a rowing machine. 

Then there were the women. They were no less impressive, each picture of elegance wrapped in sheer power, some very pretty. Their outfits were sleek, vibrant, and as form-fitting as a second skin, revealing beautifully sculpted arms, toned and tanned legs, and abs so well defined, they could double as washboards. Some were on the treadmill, running at speeds that would leave me gasping after a few minutes. Others gracefully moved through strength exercises, lifting weights that looked impossibly heavy, with a calm, unbothered expression. Their hair, whether tied in tight, high ponytails, or wrapped in colorful headbands, seemed to defy the humidity of the gym. Many of these men and women looked like models -Impossibly fit, with sculpted perfection, radiating confidence and making people like me question, not only our life choices, but our very existence "

I stood there, wide-eyed and rooted to the spot, while people around me lifted weights that looked much heavier than me. Others were rowing so fiercely; I half expected their machines to crack under the strain.  Dumbbells clanged, fancy machines whirred, and everywhere I looked, there were headphones of every size and shape, creating an eerie symphony of panting and muffled beats. They all seemed to be from a totally different planet, and no one I had ever visited

One gentleman caught my eye as soon as he entered, and I watched him with a tinge of envy and dismay. He had certainly arrived prepared for a lengthy fitness expedition. Out of his enormous sky-blue bag there emerged two large bottles of water, a bottle of protein shake (which he guzzled with gusto), two pairs of trainers , a pair of slippers two large towels, a headband, wristbands, black headphones, and—wait for it—a bunch of bananas. He spread his belongings out like a picnic setup, while eyeing his domain and waving to fellow gym buffs- he was a regular, as everyone seemed to know him. He then began a vigorous warm up session – stretching and jumping, punctuated by guttural grunts that could give a bear in distress, a run for its money.

Warm ups complete, he wolfed down two or three bananas and then   lunged forward with a barbell balanced across his shoulders, his face a mix of focus and grit. Moving to the bench press, he powered through heavy reps, his muscles straining with every lift. Nearby, he transitioned to pull-ups, his body rising and falling like a machine in perfect rhythm. Finally, with dumbbells in hand, he attacked bicep curls, sweat glistening as determination radiated from every movement. Ironically, his T – shirt had the word MIKE printed on it! 

I must admit - the overall dedication was palpable. Couples worked out together, encouraging each other with subtle nods or high fives, exuding a sense of camaraderie I hadn’t expected. I saw one duo sharing a laugh, as they swapped a set of kettlebells, only to immediately transform into focus machines the moment they started lifting.

Amidst it all were the quiet outliers, the loners in their corner, small earbuds firmly in place, tuning out the world, as they performed their simple routines with military precision.

We were then shown the innumerable saunas, steam rooms, cryotherapy chambers, infra-red tables, ice bathrooms and whatever else they had available.  These spaces provide holistic wellness beyond just workouts, appealing to fitness enthusiasts and those seeking rejuvenation alike. They appealed to me! There was also a small café which looked inviting . 

Beyond the chaos of the spacious gym floor, a 50-meter pool glistened under the sun, where swimmers glided like graceful dolphins. Their energy, vitality, and stamina were awe-inspiring. I, however, felt deflated just watching. I can hardly swim to save my life.

 Beside the pool, people lounged on deck chairs, sipping hot coffee or fresh juice or whatever. Everyone looked chilled and relaxed except me. I couldn’t wait to get out.  

 My visit was awe-inspiring, yet utterly intimidating. These men and women were living proof of what the human body could achieve. I, however, felt more like an out-of-place observer in their temple of transformation.

As I shuffled back to my car, I decided this gym wasn’t for me. I’d get fit...somewhere less terrifying. Maybe yoga? Or perhaps just walking briskly round the lake, like I often do. Maybe I will also start meditating! 

Probably gyms are not my cup of tea.