I am because we are

In the beginning of the lockdown, following the declaration of the Corona pandemic; one of my friends who is an ex colleague, the same age as me said-"Well, we don't remember the wars, do we?This will be something we can talk about to our grandkids!"

Of course my dear friend is very evolved and enlivens the Advait (non dual) Hindu philosophy that the world is an illusion, which is to be enjoyed without attachment and involvement. Shakespeare too said- All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts...

Many spiritual teachers and even mindfulness exercises encourage us to become witnesses or observers enjoying the play being enacted in our waking lives. The problem is that our bodies, emotions and thoughts make us suffer because spirituality in turn also makes us empathetic towards all.

So then how and why did we land in this situation? For many years now we have been debating and discussing global wealth inequalities, ethical issues regarding our food consumption giving rise to veganism, the menace of plastic in our oceans, the melting glaciers, the callous expansion of metropolises,  the rich getting richer, consumerism (alcoholism in recent times in India) dictating policymakers....yet like the teen environmentalist Greta Thunberg rued-its all talk, no action whatsoever. Is it really true that nature the all knowing healer realised we weren't very good at getting our act together and decided to intervene?

Well no scientist can really explain all the phenomenon in our bodies and in the environment. We haven't been able to create a robot to counter the most violent species on the planet- the humans.  If we were asked to run the world phenomena for one day, namely the human physiology, the weather and geothermal systems, the flora, the fauna, the migratory birds, the salmon searching bears, the singing dolphins, the insect eating plants, the beach hatching sea turtles... the world would come to a grinding halt. We would be left begging for nature to carry on, yet we have trouble accepting that there is a superior intelligence at work running  our ecosystems and more importantly we have trouble respecting it to ensure we have water, sun and other survival kit items for ourselves and for the future generations.

Should we pin our hope on Governments who sell poison (alcohol) to pay salaries to people, work for corporations (since ages as described in William Dalrymple's Anarchy) to stay on their thrones, sacrifice precious lives in wars and in pandemics for their own vested interests.

Farmers in India have been made to spend on fertilisers and pesticides which has destroyed the land and left no profit margins in an already weather jeopardised occupation of agriculture causing the mass exodus of migrants to the slums in the metro cities. Today they are longing for their villages where they could grow and consume their food and not depend on a heartless urban populace for empathy, food, health and dignity in a time like this.

I hope people realise the African indigenous Philosophy of Ubuntu- I am because we are. Most religions and humanist philosophies encourage us to think of ourselves as a part of the whole, incomplete without everyone else. We cannot lock ourselves in buildings, compounds, posh neighbourhoods while ghettos, overcrowded slums, unsafe housing exists in the vicinity because when virus strikes it doesn't see the manmade boundaries, when lockdown happens we realise how interdependent we are. But hardest hit are the disadvantaged, the people who believed they had nothing to lose.

We cannot build indiscriminately, produce to kill competition and fish all life out of the seas with massive nets and then not expect the wildlife to appear on our lawn and the wild viruses on our table. We cannot let alcohol be cheaper than water, have recreational drugs available outside the school, allow porn to be available freely, make a multimillion dollar business out of shooting games and then expect our children to be able to be in touch with their divinity within, have meaningful relationships, not need antidepressants, not commit crimes and save the world.

Political will is needed for a lot of these things but why hasn't all the public school and Ivy league education got us out of this mess? In fact they have been responsible for it. 0.8% population control 48% of world wealth. Will school strikes finally see some action?

Milan, a city in Italy which saw the worst of the pandemic is building cycle tracks, rebuilding with a different aspiration. May be things will change. Hope is something each of us can have, irrespective of our circumstances.

Eight below!

Three of my husband's batchmates from Medical College (basically people who have known him longer than I have) and their wives, eight of us in total, decided to go on holiday together. Even though I was quite keen on the idea since I knew all of them for a large part of my living memory, two weeks seemed really long and New Zealand seemed really far! I soon discovered I wasn't wrong about the distance. I had never imagined the flight time from Singapore to Auckland would be ten hours!!!

I feel less guilty about my carbon footprint after Corona decided to press the pause button on the world- shutting airlines, flights and cruises. I hope some glaciers have decided to melt next week as a result and some smogs in cities have cleared. Apparently the canals of Venice have cleared and are housing fishes again.

Ours was a package holiday with a fixed itinerary. However the eight of us were picked up and shown around in a 10-12 seater van with an Indian driver in every city, which was great! Being able to interact with local young Indians was a big plus for us, uncles and aunties. 

One of them used to receive a lot of calls on his phone which used to be on speaker in the van. Once a friend of his wanted to know (in Punjabi naturally) the name of the tablets he had given him so that the he could inform his GP. Our driver was suddenly in a spot, knowing seven of us in the van were doctors listening intently to what he was going to say. He quickly shut his friend up telling him in no uncertain terms that he is not to tell his doctor anything about the tablets he gave him. We reassured him later that the antihistaminic tablets he generously gave his friend suffering from a cold are available over the counter. 

We were soon witness to another call where clearly a solicitor or someone as important was talking about drawing up papers. Poor guy had no privacy. We were all very happy for him though when he said he was in the process of buying a home! All of us with young adult progeny, ready to dive out into the world, were blessing him and his family for what seemed like an important milestone to achieve in a foreign land.
Another of our younger drivers made a gesture of "pairi pona" or touching our feet when I tried to give him a farewell hug! Guess it serves me right...I could have just shook hands, we had no idea Corona was already raising its hood ready to strike.

New Zealand has the area of the United Kingdom with less than a tenth of the population, a third of which reside in Auckland. The people are very friendly, very accepting. Ordinary people went out of the way to wave at us, talk to us about Virat Kohli and photobomb our selfies! They have had their share of debates historically like America, Canada, Australia but most of the history of native Maori people and European settlers has been peaceful with treaties to ensure Maori gained business contracts and their culture has seen revival since the 1960s. The language, culture, handicrafts and most importantly their way of life where they took from the land only what they needed. They apologised to the forest when they cut a tree!

Auckland is nice but the rest of New Zealand is beautiful with mountains, lakes, glaciers, beaches, volcanos and hot springs. The major industry though is agriculture hence driving around we saw lots and lots of sheep, cows and occasional packs of deer (New Zealand lamb and venison are renowned) grazing or resting in these large sized livestock or dairy farms. Manuka Honey a local product which seemed an essential souvenier to take home, advertised as a medicinal solution to all problems is the honey made from a single flower's nectar and causes quite a dent on your pocket when you start looking to buy.

New Zealand wants to preserve its unique flora and fauna to ensure the nature's bounty is not exploited. There is a long list of things you cannot carry into the country lest you introduce something which may change things. Surprisingly New Zealand till date has no snakes! You are not even allowed to feed ducks most places or are asked to buy duck food. There are notices everywhere making you aware of the Tiaki Promise which is a commitment instilled from a young age to help protect New Zealand-the land, sea and culture, now and in future. It has an impact I believe since even the crowded touristy places seemed to respect the promise.

We started out in the North Island from Auckland driving through to Lake Taupo and Rotorua from where we took the flight to South Island to the prettiest city, very aptly named in my feminist view, Queenstown. We then went to Mount Cook and finished in Christchurch to take our flight back. 

Contrary to my expectations the whole holiday was irrepressibly wonderful. Knowing people for a quarter of century ensures conversation never stalls, there is never any dearth of inside jokes, pulling each other's legs is easy and generally lot of energy is saved when there are no grumpy young adults or squabbling ones to contend with. (No thats not true, I did miss my children hoping they would one day marvel at the glow worms while boating in the dark on underground rivers in silence, the cathedral like limestone caves, the geysers and the glaciers like I did and also wondered whether they too would have enjoyed the jet boat ride as much as I did) 

There were adjustments to be made though. I never seemed to believe it was worth my time to look around shops while others had to be dragged out of them if we were short of time. There were some of us who were amongst the oldest but suffered from the teenage affliction of FOMO- fear of missing out. They were willing to climb to the bottom of the earth and the top of the mountain, remain awake through four hour car journeys and look for onions in a resort village, just in case... just in case they were to miss out on experiences which definitely are in my view more precious than belongings. 

Then there was food. Some of us wanted to taste everything which google said we should try while others mostly vegetarians were happier with Indian food. I know there are  those who believe if you are killing, it doesn't matter which animal you kill to satisfy your gastric juices but some in the group were the chicken lamb fish variety, others who additionally had no problems with pork and bacon and then there was me- the piscetarian, then the vegetarians who ate egg and then there was a Jain menu person too in the group! Ice creams saved the day as they were a favourite with all! The most famous one Hokey Pokey is made of honey comb toffee and vanilla apparently . Thank God for all the activity, the carbs were used up very well. 

We had some nice get togethers in our hotel rooms with Indian snacks, ready to eat Indian meals, takeaways, New Zealand wines and of course you can't imagine middle aged male Indian doctors without whisky can you? We did have teetotallers who were asked strictly not to refuse the 10 millilitres of wine which is offered on the winery tours, to make us all believe we were being given entry into the elite class of people who would not feel out of place in the drawing rooms of the classy people swirling their glasses. Having said that after three wineries and a mix of red, white, oaked and fermented......I was happily passing mine on to those eager not to let the free dose go waste. 

Another welcome and interesting observation on this holiday was how much control the women enjoy past the age of fifty! Marriage is a unique phenomenon where the sooner you realise that you cannot be happy if your wife isn't, the better it is for the marriage.  The wives, let me clarify have done their bit of trying to please all and sundry and are now the Queens! Obviously some of our friends have been married for thirty years. Watching them maintain the balance and equilibrium while each spouse with years of experience rocked the boat occasionally, knowingly or unwittingly or just for fun knowing exactly when to stop, safe in the knowledge that the boat rather ship would not change course easily; was fun.

I wish we could go on more holidays like these though I do think we are more likely to meet at weddings and one on ones rather than all eight of us in a van taking a road trip!

Kolkata Durga Puja

My husband's hometown is Jabalpur  and as a result I have experienced festivals which I had never heard of before. Naag panchami where snake charmers play music from the gourd bugle and deftly handle their snakes, for a few rupees.Holika where the idols are displayed all around town the day before Holi. Holika being a villain in Hindu mythology, is liberally dressed in a bikini, with shades and a hat, in jeans, may be selling vegetables dressed in a tribal sari while sitting on a wood trolley/thela or other such creatively imaginative postures and costumes.

My husband appreciates, creates art and as a young person growing up in Jabalpur, he actively participated in all festivals by creating Ganpati, Durga Puja pandals and decorating the Tajia on Muharram. Hence he was very interested in seeing the Kolkata Durga Puja. I had heard about the crowds one encounters during Pandal hopping, hence I contacted my brother's friend and classmate who is a Senior Police Officer posted in Kolkata. I sure am glad I did.

We reached 4am early morning on Shashti but the streets were already lit up, Devi ma was adorning the pandals, young people on foot or bikes were roaming the streets; roadside eateries were serving food. I was told that instead of being a 4 day festival it had become a ten day one. Apparently there is also a Puja carnival which has been happening for past 2 years (I am guessing since right wing politics seemed to become popular) where the best Durga idols are floated past the dignitaries sitting on suitable temporary structure on roadside making sure they are seen on television, flagging them past. Politics and business/industry have to work synergistically to keep everyone happy. The commercial value of the ten day festival is clearly visible. Every few hundred metres there is a Puja Pandal, complete with beautiful lights and decorations, patrons, advertisements, stalls selling food, jewellery, toys and the expenditure incurred for the temporary structures which are on show for a short period of time is as spectacular as the Pujo itself.

We were asked to come to Tolly club that evening at 5.30 pm, from where we were supposed to go pandal hopping with the top cop. We reached the meeting place to realise there was a stage at the end of the room from where an official was laying out routes of Durga Puja pandals which were going to be assessed by "judges," esteemed men and women from all walks of life including diplomats, dancers, theatre personalities, journalists etc who had been divided into groups to be able to cover the vast city with the innumerable Pujo Pandals. We were going to gate crash the group headed by Mr Vivek Sahay, ADG Traffic. There seemed to be few actual named judges but a substantial tail of tag alongs like us who made up a convoy of 7-8 cars which were instructed to dedicatedly tail each other to ensure we did not lose time getting lost in traffic. We were following the  ADG's car which had an easily identifiable sign near the licence plate- 3 stars! This was promising to be an interesting evening. We were soon feeling like celebrities as our convoy was given way by traffic policemen  on busy roads and closer to our destinations, by the organisers of the Pujo being judged. As we got out of the cars looking like busy teachers needing to finish our assignment of assessing the Pujo, the crowds were barricaded at the entrance and held until we went inside and had our five minutes of looking around, experiencing the amalgamation of art, music, tradition, religion and intellectual expression in an empty pandal. One of the organisers would explain the theme to us while others would show the judges practical things like fire escapes, water source, municipal permission etc. Then we would request them to let the public in and would leave mostly quite overwhelmed by the themes, decorations and Ma Durga. Apparently Art students conceive the ideas for each project and build it from scratch to see their ideas conceptualise and come alive. Its a tremendous effort and herculean task but the honesty of the dedication comes through.

One of the Pandals was shaped like a ship, had the sound of crashing waves as one walked in while the Titanic music played on the inside for Ma Durga. Next one we went to had a respect for all religions as the theme and hence had Ma Durga in a Buddha pose (we saw another pagoda shaped pandal replete with Buddha, the revolving drums and dragons) with all the walls covered artistically in cut out symbols of the three main religions the Aum, the Cross and the Crescent Moon. It also had a sculpture of three babies tied together with a national flag lying in front of the Devi Ma. There was one with a war and world without borders theme which had a make believe aeroplane and paratroopers on the outside, walls full of photographs from the partition/1971 war. They had displays of all passports and other symbolic messages coming alive through their creativity all in presence of Ma Durga. I read later that one Puja Pandal, a replica of Harminder Sahib a sikh Gurudwara was termed blasphemous. I saw so many beautiful replica's of palaces, temples etc even I wondered if some day someone would take the liberty of making the Taj Mahal for instance and whether that would be considered blasphemous. Another pandal had a traditional Ma Durga in the centre but had pictures of iconic women on the sides which would change for instance every few seconds from looking like Mother Teresa to Ma Durga. It was very clever, tastefully done and beautiful.

The intellectual level of the Bengali Bhadralok creating the themes and pandals was making us awestruck even as we saw the thousands of ordinary people walking patiently, thronging the numerous pandals without any pushing, jostling, groping, pickpocketing. Kolkata has always held a special place in my heart and it  raises the bar every time I visit it. Jai Ma Durga.

There were incredible displays of lights on gateways to the Puja Pandals. There were sculptures covered in lights some of them actually robotically moving ducks and Warring Gods or vertical cutouts outlining  birds, animals, people which were live in their displays. We wondered if they were made in China but were told they came from Burdwan!

Pandals as high as multistoried buildings, covered on outside with jute cots or having a live robotic electrically operated model made of colourful threads artistically displayed, or having the replica of Sanchi Stupa gateway as halo to the Goddess, a pandal looking like a giant metal vessel with beautiful engravings, threads with bells at the end around the walls, rising smoke, visual depiction in 3D art of a poem about Radha Krishna, meditative music accompanying a light display which takes you deeper into the pandal, Devi ma in different avatars...there was no dearth of creative ideas. One pandal had an underwater theme with fishes, jelly fishes, shells etc and most importantly had Ma Durga looking like she was diving with her sari and hair tousled in one direction. That Devi ma so real, so modern yet so beautiful and awe inspiring, she was my favourite.

We went to the one where there were CCTV cameras and police presence due to the real gold jewellery that Ma Durga was wearing but to me the love of art and intellectual expression mattered more than whether the jewellery was real or not. I am a complete bore where such things are concerned. I don't see or remember jewellery, cannot tell real and designer from fake and street brand. Everything expensive is wasted on me as was a lot of the art which my husband was devouring like a hungry student.

Then we went to Belur Math. There I realised where the idea of having all religion motifs in a building came from. Belur Math the monastery founded by the young Swami Vivekananda, which is the headquarters  of the Ramakrishna Mission an organisation who believes in serving all people irrespective of caste, religion or race has Christian, Buddhist, Muslim and Hindu motifs in its architecture. It also has a huge painting outside of Sri Ramakrishna Paramhans saying- However many views, as many paths in English, Bangla and Hindi. Joto mot, toto poth.

Belur Math's Durga Puja is an antithesis to the light sound action, art glamour beauty of Kolkata. Ma Durga was modestly decorated, the puja with the Sanskrit mantras was on the public address system, people were asked to open their shoes, switch off mobiles and separate spaces were organised for men and women to sit and feel the peace in the atmosphere. I wish I could go back there again.

I managed to perform the Pushpanjali (flower offering to the Goddess) on Ashtami like we used to when we were children and my parents were around; in the Avni society's Barir Pujo. Apparently the smaller scale housing societies and home Pujos too have a competition within Barir Pujo or Home Pujo. It was great to be able to see and feel the presence of Ma Durga around me in the magnificently converted parking area. Initially I did not realise that the red bricks, the bay windows were not real and part of the Puja Pandal. Of course I had my ever discerning hubby by my side. We had luchi aloo too.

Final stop before we took the train from Kolkata was Bhog (food offered to the Gods) at our host's friend's place. It was a big mansion housing a big joint business family, with a beautiful Ma Durga whose idol was smaller in size but made up in beauty and sophistication. Though I must say I found two kids, cousin brothers dressed in black kurtas and Bengal Handloom dhotis looking  the most dapper. The actual Bhog was delicious and special like all food served at religious ceremonies and out of temples and Gurudwaras. But that was followed by Bengali vegetarian and non vegetarian food including the traditional fish preparation served to us in a sit down lunch exclusively catered by the famous chain specialising in Bengali food, founded in 2003; 6, Ballygunge Place. I still savour the taste. Last time I experienced this lovingly served sequential fare while sitting down in rows in batches was when I was in high school in Asansol and attended weddings. I hope in times to come we will be able to capture videos of the flavours and aromas.

For now it the whole experience is locked in my soul and this is a small effort to share my pleasure.

When we are all fifty!

We recently had a reunion of fifteen of our batchmates in Goa. I have been in touch on social media with a lot of people from the schools and colleges I have attended and met a sizable chunk of our batch at the 25 years medical college reunion. However, I just did not expect these two nights in Goa with friends and batchmates to be as magical and stuff from the movies as it turned out to be.

We were staying in a beach resort. We had been allotted double rooms in separate double storied cottages walking distance from the beach. So it was a bit like old times where we had friends as roommates and got together for meals, games and outings. Yes, we seemed to pack a lot into the two days thanks to our super organised leader. She is apparently a Professor of microbiology. I must say I am tempted to leak pictures of her in her beach wear and trendy dresses to her students. But I am sure they already think she is pretty cool.

There was a time just a few years out of college, when if we met old batchmates the discussion revolved around people's careers and who was doing what and where. At that time traces of the rivalry and competition of the classroom remained in our interactions. Then after many years during  the run up to the 25 year reunion we all connected on the very active social media. While we were all interested in where everyone was, their families or lack of it, everything seemed to matter less. Best part of the reunion for most of us was the girl's night out when we all stayed together without our respective families in a hotel in Gurgaon, where  we danced, drank, chatted and generally gave up on any serious catch up!

Goa however, was a prolonged girls night out! Everybody had come to have fun. We each had been through challenges which life had thrown at us and while some were perceived to be bigger than others we had mutual respect for each other because no two journeys were the same and after all we had made it to Goa and that's all that mattered. But the smaller group and longer time together allowed for fun times as well as heart to heart chats which surfaced at odd times while trying to get to sleep, while waiting for the third friend or at breakfast.

The size of the group also allowed fifteen of us to pile into one room to chill, play games or dance! Booze helped some to let their hair down while some were high without it. Bikinis, skirts, shorts, dresses, legs, cleavages, halter necks nothing seemed to cause any raised eyebrows amongst us and anyway who cared about the rest. Well not completely true, we did camouflage vodka/rum in innocent looking water bottles which we carried around to cater to the pious image of Indian women which people have.

We were there for two days and we wanted to make the most of it. We had an off road drive in a truck to the shack near the beach for dinner one night and we dined & danced while we cruised in a private yacht on the River Mandovi on another night!

The drive from our hotel to reach the river for the cruise, though was one of the most memorable for me. As we got into the bus which had been pre arranged they told us we are late and we are going to catch the worst traffic. True to the prediction we reached the point when our google maps spelt out the doom gloom situation of bumper to bumper traffic which was most likely going to mean the cruise would be delayed. A call to the cruise coordinator confirmed that we would still be able to cruise even if it would be late.

Once we realised we were stuck, we decided to forget about our destination and enjoy the journey. We started singing songs then played antakshari to wake up the backbenchers and then we changed the rules of the game. It was words and themes rather than letters which were going to be the cue for the next song. We had a whale of a time competing with each other, making fun of each other and intermittently actually enjoying someone's song, when they knew it and sang it well.

When we reached, we realised we had been on the bus for four hours! The horror of it struck home when one of us questioned- "Can you imagine what that would have been like if you had been with your family?"

Everyone agreed things would have been pretty much the same for all of us with the husbands blaming us for taking too long to get dressed and kids moaning like it was our fault there was a traffic jam!

We are now getting over from the hangover from Goa while planning the next getaway! Big girls know how to have fun!

Stereotypes

Facebook has enormous advantages. A friend who I have never met in person but who hails from my hometown, the coal capital and who comes across on facebook as a leftist, (pseudo)secular, cynical, forgetful blogger; when she decided to recommend the movie, Kapoor and sons, I took the plunge. For the first time, I went and watched a movie in the theatre all alone.

Since then I haven't stopped praising the film and have watched it again on two occasions in an attempt to make some of my family watch it.

So when somebody suggested I watch some of the Pakistani TV dramas that Fawad Khan had starred in, I bit the bait and spent many hours watching episode after episode till 5 am one morning and many hours while on call on another day. They are a pleasant watch with subtle expressions, developing relationships, designer sets and beautiful people. Even the saas bahu saga was played out to a different level of smiling deceit unlike our loud Ekta Kapoor brand of quarrelling, slapping, manipulating daily soaps.

Finally having thoroughly enjoyed these two TV shows which had the ever so handsome Fawad Khan being nice and romantic with his beautiful heroines while mouthing dialogues in the distinguished, soft and poetic language, Urdu (I now cringe when I say I speak Urdu to patients in the hospital)...I decided tentatively to start watching another of these TV dramas recommended by a dear friend.

I got bored quickly as there was no Fawad Khan but also what struck me was that all the Pakistani TV serials have plots which feature a rich good looking young man who gets in and out of swanky cars, plush houses and clubs; while the woman comes from a lower middle class hardworking background. Most of these serials also favour stereotypes like rich working women with "liberal" lifestyles don't make good wives and mothers while the conservative and religious women are a blessing to the family.

However, the very western Mills and Boons romances which we were brought up on, in school and college too invariably had a rich successful guy who falls head over heels with the working class girl who manages to look beautiful in dresses which she buys in sales. I am sure there were umpteen stereotypes being reinforced in those Duke- Governess, Comte- companion type romances, we read. Infact there used to be a series of Doctor Nurse romances- I wonder if there were any women physicians falling in love with male nurses, practitioners and the like.

Indian Bollywood masala films on the other hand often featured a rich spoilt daughter of a business tycoon falling for the roadside romeo.

The pairings are dependant on the audience, The Mills and Boon romances as well as the TV dramas have many more women readers and viewers while Bollywood films are more likely to be watched again and again in theatre by the young male population. At least that seems to me to be the reason for these typical story lines.

Women when they become successful apparently stop being feminine. Women in senior management, want to look feminine and hence less bossy. Therefore in a  disproportionate trend, these women prefer to be blonde, according to a study I recently read. It seems to me everybody loves a Trumping successful man but not a go getter ambitious brunette, either in the office or at home. But gradually the world and thus India too is changing, as the Olympic champions from the state with the worst male female ratios have shown us.

Bollywood thankfully has a lot of directors of different ages and genders, who have successfully shown the masala hero heroine villain and tree brand of filmmaking, the door. They will hopefully make more movies which challenge stereotypes and which feature more successful women who don't know how to cook and can't be bothered to clean yet who have hearts which unfortunately do not follow any rules about who to start beating faster for.

Looking forward to more from Zoya, Shakun, Nitya and the like...

Honeymooning Indian couples

Why are we such cynics? Why try to find sense in a honeymooning couple's chatter, why grudge them their little games with long noodles? After all we know better than them that it is a magical time in people's lives which, like magic doesn't last that long... And even in today's age Indian couples have probably not had the legitimate sanction to do what they want whether in public or otherwise before they were joined in holy matrimony.

But more importantly it spells hope for humanity reeling under negative news from all continents...Some things like the handholding and touching coochicooing of honeymooning couples in India doesn't change and the everyday reality of that should be reassuring rather than vexing.

But of course we have the married men fed on infinite whatsapp jokes on marriage from morning until bed time, who just cannot see the innocent romance of early matrimony.

They are dying to take the man away and break the news to him. They want to look into his eyes and in a sombre voice, trying not to break down...tell him what the future holds for him and how the heady passion filled days are going to give way to a nagging, jaded partner who can read your mind to the extent that if you try to bring the romance back by doing or saying something nice, it is treated with suspicion and the nagging partner then turns into a FBI agent investigating a crime.

Needless to say married men soon settle for beer and whatsapp or whisky and television or golf and pub...the options are many!

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Local versus international

"You had an arranged marriage? How could you go to bed with someone you had barely met?"
That was in England, back in India it would be- "People use toilet paper? You mean they don't wash  after they...chhhiii chhhiii..."

Different cultures react to different things in different ways.

In England in late 90s, when I told my co workers  I had just met my husband a few times before we got married, they were aghast and after the first set of exclamations did not show signs of calming down, one of the midwives calmly said- "Well at least she knew she was married to him, not something one can say about the women who go in for one night stands after a few drinks at the pub"

 Now with more and more knowledge of other cultures, more connectivity and most importantly dating apps which do precisely the same thing as the parents of  yester years did i.e. matching people's education, profession, hobbies etc. to come up with hopefuls to check out on, people don't exclaim as incredulously as they would have done nearly two decades ago.

Of all people my nineteen year old daughter's take on arranged marriage was quite jaded- "Most people arrange their marriages at some point" Well, do they? Yes there comes a time when the desire to settle down takes over other desires, I guess and you settle....for more or less. But it is still an intriguing aspect of my life for most "Westerners".

Apparently that is an official term used in some forms here in the UAE- Are you a Westerner, followed up by- Are you really a Westerner? I guess that would be for people like me who have difficulty deciding which side of the hemisphere they can call themselves from.

Coming to toilet paper, I must admit that finding a water bidet spray in every toilet here in UAE is heaven. I think that gives my Indianness away! No matter how long I survived in UK, how much I loved the countryside, the weather, the people and the local radio....there was always a mug in the toilet as is the case with most NRIs.

It has its downside. I had a bucket of water in the toilet for my in laws when they arrived in wet and windy Durham. My mother in law decided as a matter of habit to wash her feet on the floor of the toilet which was carpet less but had no outlet for water. The crumbling hospital accommodation leaked through the boards really fast and we had a job mopping it all up and explaining to my in laws that every time they wanted to wash their feet they would have to climb into the bath!

A lot is speculated similarly about the lives women lead in Islamic countries. When I was about to move to UAE I heard a spectrum of reactions. People who thought being in a sunny rich country would be great and others who had multiple reservations about what life would be like.

There were people who felt they would not be able to live here because they would not be able to hold hands in public and others who were concerned about how much they would need to cover up. I now meet Americans who raise their eyebrows at the length of shorts and skirts sported by foreigners in Dubai.

But I see young giggling school girls as well as grown women, young and old in ordinary, lacy, embroidered and now increasingly designed abayas and hijabs. Foot wear however depends on age and occupation. Sports shoes if they are younger or working in a hospital(!), stylish heels, which have decorations on the visible bits if they are older and comfortable matronly sandals if they are no longer looking for a husband.

Talking of husbands, we recently had a series of staff meetings leading up to the Joint Commission International inspection where we were split into teams and we play acted scenarios to familiarise us to the emergency procedures, in case we were questioned about them.

One of the scenarios was a "missing child". One of our female staff from the administration side, who usually gives us the lecture on Emirati cultures and traditions during the orientation week became the mother who could not find her child. AB is unmarried and is  always dressed in an abaya and hijab and she had told us during the orientation that if we saw her in a shopping mall, her face would be covered, even though she would greet us and talk to us.

AB got the prize for best actress! She screamed and shouted and lamented about how the child was right here a minute ago and where could he have gone and what is going to happen now etc etc. We were all enjoying her shrieking and running helter skelter but what got her the prize and the most laughs was when she whipped out her phone and said- "Where is the stupid husband?"

That had us all in splits and reconfirmed to all of us how wearing an abaya doesn't change a thing, the equation with the other half, for instance. I wonder when humans started wearing clothes. Just like we wouldn't be seen without our clothes on, similarly different cultures have different limits on how much exposure they find comfortable. I remember walking into the ward in UK for the first time and wondering why the women needed to be so exposed until I realised they were very comfortable in their skin and it was just not something they were thinking about, even though I was....but not for longer than the first few minutes.

More recently, I had an eighty eight year old patient from Oman, whose main concern when going in for surgery was the fact that she would be exposed. All the family rallied around her, son and daughter in law staying to look after her, grand daughter coming in everyday at prescribed times for dressing changes and nephew shuttling up and down talking to insurance etc. He even joked with his grand aunt that they would find a new man for her after the operation. The cohesiveness of families, the children running around, the food and the fragrance...these are the essentials of the local culture one is witness to all the time.

Teenage pregnancies happen everywhere but here they are in the context of marriage. This 88 year old mamma was probably a teenage mum too. I am not sure which teenage mums end up feeling more empowered.