To be or not to be...... proper

 

I occasionally come across this statement on social media sites that goes something like this:

 I have reached that level of awesomeness where I don't give a damn about anything anymore.

I think I have become the epitome of that statement.

A few days ago, I went to the dermatologist to have a sebaceous cyst removed. Since the little ball of fat was inconveniently located in the middle of my chest, all the male doctors turned away their heads, while a junior female one examined the cyst by looking at it through a magnifying glass the size of a dessert plate. She verbally communicated the size, shape and other particulars of the lump to her male seniors, who then proceeded to issue instructions on how to cut, scoop out the fat and then stitch up the wound. The seniors then left me in the room with a bunch of girls who looked like they were barely out of med school. Now, I confess, for a case such as this, I would normally prefer a female doctor to a male one, but since all the female doctors present were those who had to be orally instructed on how to perform the incision, I was beginning to have second thoughts about it.  

 “You know, I am nearly fifty-one years old. I really don’t see genders anymore.” I said to one of the young females, trying to pass a hint that I would be ok if one of the male doctors came back inside.

(What I was originally going to say was that I have always considered doctors to be genderless, but thinking that my statement might be misinterpreted, I changed it to the one mentioned above). 

“It’s better this way.”  Said the female doctor shooing out the male assistant who was preparing the ointments and bandages for the procedure.

To be fair to her, I suppose she was doing it all to save me from an embarrassing situation. Little did she know, there is not much that can embarrass a woman who has undergone a C section surgery, while fully conscious.  When compared with, lying totally exposed waist under in clear view of both male and female OT staff, the  uncovering of a fraction of my boob to a male doctor doesn’t even make it past the preliminary rounds.

The problem wasn’t with the girls who were just being careful. The problem was me. I am the anomaly. Even in my youth, I always had an abundance of “who cares anyway” attitude but now that I have reached a certain age, the attitude has reached its peak. I think ending up as being the oldest person in the room makes a big difference. You can’t be made to feel awkward by people who are younger than you.

Speaking of awkward situations, I am reminded of an incident from a few years ago that took place in the shower room of a club that I used to frequent. For my post swim shower, I always preferred the last room, simply because it was the most spacious one. It did have one drawback. The latch on the door was faulty and didn’t lock the door as securely as a door ought to be locked. But that had never given me a problem, since the latch did work enough to let anyone turning the handle know that the room was occupied. One day as I was taking a shower, I heard two preteen girls approach the other side of my door. I had seen the girls frolicking about in the pool a few minutes earlier. The two girls came giggling down the corridor, the way kids do, till they reached my door and tried to open it. The door offered resistance; the girls pushed harder. The door, unable to take the pressure, gave in and the two girls tumbled into the shower room where yours truly stood in a magnificent soap studded glory.

The girls shrieked in fright and backed out, apologizing profusely. When I went to relock the door, I could hear mortification mingled with horror in the wet patter of their footsteps as they were running away.

There are times when life makes us encounter situations that we are totally unprepared for. This was probably one of those occasions. I doubt if anything could have prepared those poor girls to open a harmless door and come face to face with an overweight Aunty, naked as the day she was born, vigorously shampooing her hair. That is not a sight either of those girls were likely to unsee for a very long time. In fact, I fear they may even be scarred for life.

Now the question is, why after all these years am I reminded of this particular memory. Well, the visit to the dermatology department, along with a somewhat similar incident I recently read in Twinkle Khanna’s Mrs. Funnybones brought it to mind. According to Ms. Khanna, she and her young Sikh cousin were taking a shower after their swim when the cousin slipped and slid under the gap of the cubicle. He emerged three cubicles away next to a Parsi lady who was in a similar state of… ahem……. undress as myself. But unlike me, the Parsi lady failed to see the humor in the situation and created such a hullabaloo that young Khanna and the little sardar jee were banned from the club for a month.

In the end, all I have to say is that eventually everyone grows old.

But not everyone can be Awesome 😉

 

Justice prevailed, even if only in a dream

Last night I dreamt of harboring two women in my car who were fleeing from thugs about to throw acid on them. I then hit and ran over both the goons with my car.

Probably killed or maimed them for life.

.

.

Felt bloody good to wake up this morning.

Living in Zombie Land

 Depressed. Depressed. 

 DEPRESSED ....

My own personal words of wisdom

When you are struggling to make it from one weekend to the next, its time to quit or switch your job. 

And when you start to lose track of what day of the week it is, it is time to get one :-)

"This is what dreams are made of "

 

 A while ago I started following Jim Kwik's program to increase brain power, the one that came free with the purchase of the book “Limitless”. Why? Because I sorely need to improve my brain power. My ability to recall and recollect has become highly decrypt.

People usually envy others for their looks, riches, fortunes etc. I envy those who have strong memories.  A weak memory is by no means my only lost treasure. There are other functions of my brain not working at optimum level and this renders me incapable of doing a lot of stuff which I would love to do otherwise. For example, I love to write, but where other people have periods of inactivity or “writer’s block” in the middle of their creative streaks, I have occasional creative streaks spread sporadically in the middle of a perpetual writer’s block (especially when I am writing Urdu). The fact the I cannot remember most of the stuff only adds to the discomfort and mental agony. 

One of the techniques that Jim advocates for improving brain power is to try and remember one’s dreams. The idea behind it is that some of the most interesting  and intriguing solutions to problems have been revealed to people in their dreams.

 Agreed. 

Occasionally, when I am stuck somewhere in the middle of my writing, a connecting line or a crucial missing paragraph comes to me in my dream proving that the conscious and the subconscious minds are linked, which of course they are.

But I have another problem.

I dream a lot, sometimes several times in the same night but I usually don’t remember my dreams once I wake up.  

According to Jim, the brain has four states. Alpha, Beta, Theta and Delta 

Delta Stage:  Deep sleep phase, where we dream.

Theta Stage:  Relaxed stage above Delta, probably when we are just waking up, half asleep, half-awake stage. That is where we can recall the dreams from Delta stage.

Alpha Stage: Meditation stage, great stage to learn.

Beta Stage: Totally awake stage.

The dreams are most recollect-able in Theta stage. The more one wakes up, the more one is likely to forget what one has dreamt about. The recollection part might be different for different people but that is how it works for me.

Following Jim's advice about capturing my dreams, I got myself a diary, slept with it right next to my bed so that I could pen my dreams down as soon as I wake up but by the time I did wake up enough to be able to write anything, the dream was long gone. Then someone in the “Limitless” Facebook group suggested keeping a recording device close by (like a voice recorder on phone) and to record the dream without opening my eyes and fully waking up. (so much trouble to get hold of a fast slipping dream). 

That method was somewhat successful and I did end up capturing the essence of one whole dream in my diary. That is when I asked myself if I really wanted to record my dreams?

My dreams are mostly complex, weird and often depressing. I seldom have dreams that leave me refreshed or happy. On the plus side I know that I am dreaming. Even when I am having a particularly disturbing dream, I console myself by saying, sometimes in the middle of the dream itself, that it is only a dream and I would forget it all once I wake up.  And that is the best part about it, that I do forget it all once I wake up.

So then why would I want to recall and remember something which clearly disturbs me?

This led me to reflect upon another aspect of my personality. I have a “happy go lucky” kind of nature. I tend to suppress the negatively and troubling aspects of life by not focusing on them and not thinking about them. My daughter has a term for this. She calls it "Repression " 

I repress my negative emotions. They get inserted in some crevice of my mind. But once I fall asleep and my conscious self is taken over by my subconscious one, all those repressed emotions, frustrations and depressions that I do not let my self experience while awake, get liberated and reveal themselves to me through my dreams. This is my take on it, which could be totally and completely wrong.  Correct or incorrect that is the conclusion that I have reached after dwelling upon the matter. 

I don’t know if it is even healthy to suppress my emotions to the point that they hijack my subconscious mind r to reveal themselves, but that is how it prefer it.

So my sincere apologies to Jim Kwik.  I will not be capturing any of my dreams after I have awoken.  If that means having to forgo some creative idea or other, so be it. 

Perhaps some day in the future, I may be ready to tackle this issue in a different way, but for now, I would rather have my waking moments, if not my sleeping ones free of tension and anxiety.

Came across a picture of an acquaintance of mine posing partially submerged from within in an infinity pool. Classy shades covering eyes. Long straight hair falling gracefully down her back. She looked the epitome of poise and beauty. Even her full body swim suit looked like something straight off a designer’s rack. Had seen an equally awesome and equally cool picture of another one of my friends some years back.  Both these gals looked like supermodels out for a photo shoot then casual vacationers enjoying a day at the pool.

Reminds me of the way I look in my swimming gear.

Tight swimming cap literally plastered on to my entire scalp with my ears sticking out on either side (they always stick out, no matter how hard I try to push them under the cap). Huge bulging swimming goggles covering everything between the ridge of my nose and my forehead. Even my full body swim suit looks like a hand me down from someone’s grandmother.

The only model I resemble, so attired, is probably the front side of a Volkswagen.

Life is so not fair 👿

Mystery of the desolate lane

Just on the outskirts of "lidhar" village on Bedian road, a side lane juts out at 90 degrees and leads straight into DHA Phase VI.

The first time I took that road was when I was coming back from Bedian towards my home in Phase V.

As I turned towards the narrow road, it seemed to be all lit up with dazzling lights. Those lights belonged to the massive Pakistan Kidney and Liver Institute and Research Center located at the end of the road adjacent to Phase VI. It is fairly short distance from Bedian to Phase VI which is covered in no more than a minute or so even if the car is advancing at a not so accelerated speed. Before I even knew it, I was inside Phase VI and heading towards my home.

Next time I took that lane, I was moving in the opposite direction: going from Phase VI towards Bedian.  Somehow I ended up on a completely different road than the one I had driven on previously, even though I had followed the exact same route and directions as before.

Unlike the previous road, this particular one looked little more than a narrow lane with deep grown hedges on either side. The absence of any kind of light made it look gloomier and scarier than it probably actually was. I drove along convinced I had taken the wrong turning but drove on nonetheless as there was no U turn to go back. Barely a minute later I came upon the T junction which was non other than Bedain road itself running perpendicular to the lane. Badian, also in the absence of any kind of street light, was equally dark, but being a much busier thoroughfare, was much livelier and hence a less scary road than the one I had just traveled through.

How could this be?  

How was it possible that I had taken the same route both times and yet traveled on two completely different roads each time I had done so. Utterly perplexed I looked back just before turning on to Bedain and that is when reality dawned on me.

One way from Bedian to Phase VI, the massive and well lit structure of the Pakistan Kidney and Liver Center and Research Institute is in full view.  The brightness is so hypnotizing that one does not even notice the dark and gloomy road that one happens to be travelling on at the time.

In the opposite direction, as one travels from Phase VI to Bedian, the Institute building is in the back and with no light to distract one, the dark dreariness of the desolate road hits one with full force.

That is when I realize the importance of the keeping a clear end goal in mind. Those who have a bright and clear destination in their focus barely notice the hardships or isolated dreariness of any part of their journey. Those who have no clear and brightly lit destination to guide them will question their choice of path. Confused and unsure, they will look for U turns to retrieve their steps at multiple points of the journey.

So in a nutshell, if goals are destinations that you need to get to, then choose your goals carefully. Choose goals that beckon you with their brightness and give you the courage to keep moving forward.

In the end the important thing to remember is to not be daunted by depressing and seemingly isolated parts of the journey. Sometimes the sharpest and the most focused goals appear to one on the bleakest and darkest stretches of the road.

We must be raising them right

Back in the summer of 2016, I attended one of the sessions organised by The United States Educational Foundation in Pakistan with my daughter. One of the Foundation's task was to coach and guide promising students on not just how to apply at American Universities but to apply in a way that increased their chances of getting accepted.

For this session they had invited the parents along as well. The session was headed by a fragile and sweet looking Pakistani American (judging by her accent) called Rafia (Amazingly, I still remember her name).

After the customary meet and greet session and a few introductory speeches by the students, it was time for what all Pakistanis look forward to after attending any meeting or gathering.

Refreshments.

The self-service buffet style refreshment table was set in a corner and was laden with variety of typical Pakistani snacks including chicken patties, which is basically a savory puff pastry filled with chicken meat.

The plates as well as the plastic forks were disposable which are notoriously spineless when it comes holding their own. The second I tried to insert my plastic fork into those crackly layers of puff pastry the disposable plate beneath it bent on its side, sending the chicken patties and nachos on my plate flying into the air before landing on the carpet by my feet.

DAMN

I bent down and picked up the fallen puff pastry and bigger pieces of nachos which I placed on the table behind me. There still remained on the carpet some smaller bits of nachos and a few broken pieces of flaky puff pastry that would have to picked up later by a cleaning brush.

 “whoever threw those crisps on the carpet needs to pick them up right now “

Barely two minutes later a booming voice echoed across the room. It was not the sternness of the loud voice that startled me, but rather the fact that it came out of the mouth of the fragile and sweet looking Rafia was what astonished me more.

That “whoever” she was referring to was obviously me.

The first though that went through my head was to ask my daughter, networking on her own somewhere in the crowd, to come and pick it up for me. It wasn’t that I was embarrassed to pick up my mess but it was embarrassing to so do so after Rafia ‘s ultra-stern and ultra-loud command which had echoed across the room. The situation made me feel like a naughty 6-year-old being reprimanded by her nanny more than a forty plus woman.

But that option to ask my daughter for help was discarded almost the moment it entered my head. There is no explanation why it should have entered my head in the first place. There was no way I was going to put my child in an embarrassing and awkward position that was not her fault.

I am not that kind of a mom.

Secondly, there has never been an incident in my life, that I can recall, where I have not owned up to my mistake, or tried to cover it up, no matter how embarrassing it might be.

That is not me either.

Funny enough, the idea of not picking it up never occurred to me. I don’t know if Rafia had seen me either drop or pick up or if she just issued a general directive upon seeing the mess. It was not really important anyway. What was important was that I knew I did it.

It would have to be me.

I turned to put my plate on the table behind me to free my hands for the task but when I turned back a couple of seconds later I was momentarily frozen into immobility.

 If I had been surprised by the capability of deceptively sweet looking Rafia to issue a directive that loud and stern, I was totally dumbfounded by what I saw before me now.

There were three youngsters already squatting on the carpet clearing up my mess.

Just as I was turning to place the plate on the table earlier, I had vaguely heard a conversation between a couple of teenagers standing a few paces from me.

“Shall we?”

“Sure why not?”

Didn’t realize what they had meant till I turned back.

The overwhelming feeling of gratitude that went through me at that moment is indescribable.

“We will manage. You don’t have to do it.” One of the girls with curly hair said to me as I bent down to help them.

“No I want to”. I insisted.

Together we cleared up the space in about thirty seconds, something which might have taken me at least two minutes to do on my own.

Two whole long minutes during which I would have squatted on the floor alone clearing up while people around me would probably have continued to network. 

But between the four of us, not only was the task completed in one fourth of the time, it also was impossible to tell which one of us, if any one of us, was responsible for that mess. 

Those girls shared my embarrassment in a way that it no longer remained embarrassing.

Never have I been more indebted to a bunch of kids in my life than I was at that point.

How many of us never lift a finger to do something that requires minimal effort from us simply because it had nothing to do with us or because it is not our responsibility to do so?

How many of us do something simply because it is the right thing to do regardless of whoever’s responsibility it was to do it in the first place?

Not a whole lot.

So when someone says to me that kids today are too argumentative, too opinionated, too liberal, too assertive, I agree with them. They are all that, but they are also decent and caring with a very strong sense of what is right and what is wrong.

Whereas, it may be true that not all of them are like that. There will always be exceptions. But for most part when I see youngsters, I see a good future ahead of us.

So my request to those of us who have a decent number of years under their belt is that instead of hastily passing judgment on some action of the younger generation or on some opinions they voice that do not agree with us, let us give them a chance to show us who they truly are first.

I guarantee, quite a few of them will cause us to be pleasantly surprised.

 

 

The Art of Saying “No”

Before I begin, I would like to issue a disclaimer that whatever is written below has no scientific or any other kind of research backing it up. This is solely a product of my personal observations and my own personal opinions (or to be more accurate the prattling of an idle mind triggered by a chance remark or something of the sort). And as always, anyone and everyone can feel free to disagree with them.

Saying “no” can be simple, yet so many people struggle with it, for it is one of those things that appear deceptively simple yet are much more complicated in reality. Sometimes lifelong friendships and even strong relationships are put at risk just by using this two letter tiny word. That is probably why many are wary of using it outright and have different ways of saying it.

From my observation, I have divided people into four different categories based on how they say no or don’t say no to people.

The “walk all over me” category

For this lot, it is so difficult to say no that they end up accepting everything, get pulled into situations they never intended to be in just because they could not put their foot down and refuse outright. These are the ones who are almost always at a disadvantage because others are almost always taking advantage of their inability to deny a request.

The “ready excuse for everything” category

Then there are those that use evasive techniques.

I can’t because of so and so reason, I couldn’t because so and so wouldn’t let me.

All the time trying to extricate themselves from blame by making up pathetic excuses for not doing something or not agreeing to something. These are mostly concerned with maintaining their saintly impression in others’ eyes where as they are anything but.

Then come “the thoughtful decision makers” 

These are the ones who are never hasty in giving an answer. Who like to weigh the pros and cons of their denial or agreement before deciding on what course of action to follow and once having decided would stick to it. This lot, in my opinion, is the most balanced one.  

Last but not Least is the “blunt refusal” category

Like a pro they issue a decisive and definite NO that leaves no room for argument or persuasion. Effective, but can be considered rude at times for their bluntness. They are probably not the kind of people others are comfortable to be around or comfortable asking stuff, but on the plus side they don’t get saddled into doing stuff they never wanted to do in the first place.

Now my final analysis is that it is possible to fluctuate between more than one category especially the one before and one after depending upon circumstances e.g. someone notorious for saying no might not be able to say no to a certain someone. A person usually saying yes to everyone and everything might go for excuse in the hopes of getting himself or herself out of a tricky spot. And so on and so forth.

The important question over here is not at which point on the spectrum does one exit but rather at what point does one want and chose to exit?

And yes, I believe, with a little effort and resolve one’s place on the spectrum, like one’s place in life, can be chosen.

If saying no is an Art, then all Art start with technique. And techniques can be learned, adapted or altered to mould into the shape of one’s desire.

Just needs a bit of effort and resolve to do it. But then again doesn’t everything in life.

So, in the end, it is all a matter of choice.

Limitless

It was totally by chance that I got acquainted with Jim Kwik and his Podcasts but it has had a profound effect on me, which is saying something, since I don't get affected by much.
I was affected enough or should I say impressed enough to buy Jim's new book " Limitless" that has just come out, though I have not read it yet.
Purchase of the book is accompanied by complimentary access to lots of resource material which include zoom sessions, hosted by Jim Kwik, with lots of celebrities and motivational speakers. Most of which I managed to attend, even though they took place at midnight according to my time zone.
Like Jim, a lot of things Jim's invited speakers said also made a lot of sense. 

To quote ( though not verbatim) Tom Bilyeu who appeared in one of Jim Kwik’s “Limitless Together” zoom sessions: 

If you have not reached where you want to reach in life till now, it means that you have not incorporated a sense of urgency in your life. You need a sense of urgency to build momentum.

Momentum is everything. To get beyond the state of inertia you need to build momentum to reach your escape velocity.

Wise words. I call them wise words because they make sense and also because I can relate to it.

Tom Bilyeu

What I sorely lack is a sense of urgency in my life. There are so many things I like to achieve some time in the not too distant future but which I have not even gotten around to start as yet simply because of two words which happen to be the mantra of all procrastinators.

One day!!!

But which day?  That never gets decided.

Admittedly, I am not the only one doing that. There is a whole world of procrastinators out there lulling themselves to sleep each night by repeating the same two magic words. One day!!!

But knowing that you are probably not the only procrastinator in the world doesn't actually improve the situation much. Since you pretty much stay rooted to the same spot where you were in the first place.

When you want to reach a goal in life, give it a specific date and work out the specifics down to the last little detail so that you can work towards achieving it.

Another insightful advice from Tom Bilyeu and again one that makes sense. Best part is that it gives you a road map on how to get to where you want to be.

Lately, like J J Virgin, another one of Jim's zoom speakers, I have also started wearing a rubber band around my wrist. Virgin would snap the rubber band sharply every time she had a negative thought or a self doubt.  Though my purpose of wearing the rubber band is different from Virgin's but the intention is the same, which is to use the pain as a reminder to get your thoughts back on track.

One of my favorite quotes from Jim is:

 If you fight for your limitations you get to keep them.

If you are going to make up excuses for why you are unable to do something, that excuse will become a reality. 

He drills that into you until you finally realize and accept that the only one stopping you from reaching your potential is you. 

He teaches you how to tackle seemingly mammoth tasks that you have been putting off simply because they are too daunting and appear unattainable by taking small bite sized steps.

I have also begun to admire the man for his ability to break down deep set mindsets that we have been living with all our lives.

Though I have yet to receive and read my copy of "Limitless", I have already begun to accept what deep down inside I have always known myself.

And that is, that in the end it’s not about all the pep talk, it’s not about all the techniques you learn, not even about the realization regarding what is lacking. It’s about you taking yourself by the collar, giving yourself a good hard shake and doing whatever needs to be done in order to build up that momentum to reach your escape velocity.

Jim Kwik 

History's Honourable Heroes.

“It Always Seems Impossible Until It’s Done”

Nelson Mandela

One thing I have noticed about great historical figures is that they have a lot of common characteristics. They are all stubborn, ruthless and a bit reckless. 

I guess you have to be to in order to achieve greatness.

Achievements of extraordinary magnitude rarely come to ordinary people.  They are reserved for the slightly mad, slightly eccentric lot, for they require fighting for what one believes in against all odds.

Ordinary individuals, at some point or the other during their struggle will accept the futility of their efforts and will be persuaded by logic and reasoning to back off. It is only those who relentlessly peruse their ambition or dream against all opposition are the ones that emerge victorious.

Whether obstinacy is a mark of brilliance or a sign of idiocy, depends wholly on the outcome. If the result is successful then those behind it are considered to be geniuses of highest degree, visionaries who saw what others could not see and went for it with everything they had.

Or

Complete fools who risked and lost everything on a foolhardy endeavor, who did not know when to back off when the time was ripe.

It is the final result of their efforts that determines how history will view them in times to come. 
But what factors affect the outcome of the efforts? 
Several, but two among them, possibly more so than others.

Grit and luck!

You use your grit to push your luck to its limits. Even the slightest lacking in either of the two could easily turn success into failure.

That is my opinion. Anyone or everyone has my permission to disagree with it.

So from where is all this musing coming from anyway?

It so happens that I just finished watching “Rise of Empires, OTTOMANS” on Netflix.  

Mehmet, the Conqueror has always been this heroic figure in Islamic history who achieved the seemingly unachievable. 

His conquests and his achievements are legendary.

But Mehmet' s character: strong, highly driven and obsessed with what he wishes to achieve, is by no means without flaws.

He is firm in his belief, determined to let nothing stop him from conquering Constantinople, the magnificent City that so many before him had aspired to conquer.

But firm and determined individuals are also at times merciless. In order to fulfil a higher purpose, they sometimes have to forgo the human element and softer side of themselves.

Felt a similarity between Mehmet II and another character that I read about some time ago.

Charlemagne, the first Holy Roman Emperor, who forged an empire from amongst a disunited group of nations and kings.

   Imperial Coronation of Charlemagne, by Friedrich Kaulbach

Both men left countless dead in pursuit of their ambition, and yet that is not what we remember them for.  Because the magnitude of what they achieved, the Dynasties and Empires they forged, overshadowed whatever shortcomings they might have had.
Mehmet II and Charlemagne are by no means the only two such flawed characters. History is full of such men and perhaps a few women as well, who share these traits.

To be honest, it was their flaws that made them great and helped them achieve their destinies.

A more merciful ruler, mindful of the death and destruction his ambition could lead to would not go to this length, would not cross that line which needed to be crossed in order to achieve his purpose.

The truth is that countless aspire to have achievements that would immortalise their name in history or the very least count them as among the “successes” of their own times. But do the countless have what it takes to get there or more importantly, are they willing to be that flawed in order to get what they so desire?

That is where most of us normal, regular human beings fall short.

I would say let greatness be a virtue of great men that God hath created for this purpose and let the rest of us be good and normal human beings that we are meant to be.

Hemidactylus Frenatus .......aka.... the common house lizard

Imagine waking up in the middle of night, walking into the bathroom still half dizzy with sleep and finding two lizards on two separate spot on opposite bathroom walls. Both equally fat, ugly and equally disgusting. That is the stuff nightmares are made of.

Admittedly I had been aware of the presence of one. The presence of the second came as a surprise. Apparently I had been sighting the two of them individually and thinking of them as one and the same until that fateful night when they both decided to reveal themselves to me simultaneously. They both have their own favorite spots and favorite hiding places and scurry into their own dark little corners whenever I enter the bathroom.  They also tend to leave a mess sometimes in the form of droppings and loose debris from the false ceiling above.

One of them has been there for years and follows a regular pattern: hibernates during winter and wakes up in summer. I don’t know if one of the two current ones is the original one that has been there for years or a descendant of it because I have no idea how long lizards live and have no desire to research the matter as I have never been fond of reptiles of any sort.

Not that I come across many reptiles, other than these ordinary house lizards whose ability to stay adhered to walls, defying gravity, is the only interesting thing I find about them. It is very rare that a lizard loses its grip and falls down, but when it does, the human body kind of acts like a magnet for it and it will fall on top of a person rather than on the floor. Almost everyone I know who has seen a lizard fall has had one fall on top of them. It is almost as if they deliberately aim for people when falling.

I have had one fall on top of me too. Although to be fair it was not the lizard’s fault. It was my husband’s.

There I was, one fine day, standing in the corner of my room taking something out of my cupboard, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a big fat lizard high on the wall above me when enters my husband into the room and yells,

“Don’t move”

And I am like  “what ? why?”

Before I can figure anything out, he takes his Peshawari Chappal off from his foot and throws it with full force. The heavy slipper flies over my head and hits the lizard smack in the middle.

The lizard completely taken by surprise loses its grip on the wall and lands right on top of my head from where it bounces off doing a kind of inelegant somersault to fall on my chest next. From there, with the speed of lightening, it slithered down the rest of my body and ran off to God knows where.

I am no dancer but the skipping and hoping dance like moves I performed back then, accompanied by a string of shrieking sounds would have given the most agile of break dancers a run for their money.

My husband for some reason found the whole situation to be hilarious and could not stop laughing.

As for myself, I didn’t find anything the least bit funny about it and was furious with my husband for,

A:            Hitting a lizard while I was standing right below it.

B.            Asking me not to move when what he should have yelled was for me to get out of the way before he hit the damned thing.

His excuse that it was an impulsive act, kind of like a spur of the moment decision didn’t pacify me much.

To cut the long story short. I don’t have a good history with lizards and having to share my bathroom with not just one, but two of them, is not at all pleasant.

Like I said, I am not fond of researching reptiles but these days I find myself searching the internet trying to find ways and methods to get rid of lizards ……… permanently.

My particular area of focus is how to kill them while maintaining a distance of six feet or more.

Be wary of over efficient Doctors

Kotli Falls, Kashmir

The funny thing about being stuck in quarantine is that when you have nothing else to do, long forgotten memories from ages ago come flooding into your mind. Here is one such memory from about 7 years ago.

One fine day my youngest started experiencing sudden stomach ache of such intensity that she caused panic in the entire household. The kids and I had been visiting my sister in law and her family who at that time were stationed in a picturesque Kashmiri town near the Indian border. An immediate trip to the local CMH ensued where I presented my daughter’s medical eligibility card. But to the young doctors sitting in OPD, the fact that I had come as a guest of the Commandant Brigadier had more weightage than the fact that we were the family of a deceased officer. Hence, they were eager to outdo themselves regarding diagnosis and treatment.

Now I have all the respect for doctors. They are practitioners of a noble profession. But there is something about over efficient doctors that makes me wary of them, especially so, after this incident.

The diagnosis was that my daughter was experiencing appendix pain which needed to be operated upon immediately or dire consequences will follow. A bed was instructed to be prepared for her and I was to ready her for the operation that would take place that very day.

But before the operation, I had to bring some urine and stool samples for testing.

Kind of Shell shocked by the news, I collected two empty containers from the dispensary and took my little girl to the toilet area and asked her to provide what was needed.

Now my little one has a very stubborn nature and even at the age of ten she could put her foot down. She flatly refused to provide any such sample for any such purpose.

A doctor scaring me with terrible consequences of negligence concerning the timely removal of an appendix, a totally unexpected upcoming operation in the next couple of hours and a stubborn ten year old refusing to cooperate, was too much, even for me. I guess, I must have looked as haggard and mentally harassed as I felt at that point.

My Brigadier brother in law’s army batman, who had been accompanying me throughout and who till now had kept his mouth firmly shut finally spoke up.

“Baji , bachhi ko ghar le ja kar lal dawai pila dain . Shaam tak pait dard bilkul theek ho jae ga”

Sister, take the kid home and give her some red medicine (a generic medicine given for stomach aches in military hospitals). She will be fine by evening.

He had apparently thought this whole situation to be pointlessly blown out of proportion but had refrained from saying so up till now.

To be honest, I was not hundred percent convinced about the necessity of having an operation but had given in because I felt that a doctor would obviously know better.

At that point, the batman’s suggestion sounded like the second opinion I was dying to hear. Even if this opinion had come from a low educated batman, I decided to follow it.

I took my girl home and gave her some red medicine that I took from the dispensary on my way back.

She was fine by evening.

And has been fine and “stomach ache free” for the past seven years.

Looking back at the diagnosis of that idiot doctor and his hasty preparations for appendectomy, I can’t help but think,

Would I have gone through with that point less operation if that batman had not finally voiced his opinion?

So yes, speaking out your mind is important.
It can make such a big difference in someone’s life.

A dystopic Society

I am not particularly fond of books or movies that portray a dystopic society: a world where the human race is forced to live in unnatural circumstances. I figure that there are enough problems in the world as it is and to read about more made up ones is something that I would personally like to avoid. Books to me are a form of relaxation and enjoyment, I would rather do without the stress of knowing that the world is heading towards a depressing future.

I may not like them, but I have watched a few such movies and read a few such books because in the end I can always reassure myself and say, “it is only fiction, none of that nonsense is actually happening or even likely to happen”

But for the past few days, it is beginning to feel like that dystopia has actually caught up with us. It snuck up on us when we were least expecting it.  The Coronavirus is scary, but how it has made the world react is even scarier. Lock downs, self-isolations, social distancing, separation from loved ones. What has the world come to in a matter of days?

It is distressing to know that I and others of my time are possibly living in circumstances that I do not even like to read about in books.

Every time I turn on the TV, almost every message I receive on my phone and every other source of information that I have access to confirms on daily basis how the situation is escalating from bad to worse.

In the absence of any vaccine, faith is probably the only thing that keeps us going on a day to day basis. And faith in the human race is something that I do have.

Catastrophes like this bring out the best and the worst in people. For every shop owner who has increased the price of basic necessities of life in his store, there are others who are donating the required stuff to the needy free of cost.

For every individual who is panic buying and hoarding stuff, there are others who are delivering it to the doorsteps of those who they think need it.

Focus on the positives. That is the important thing to do right now.

This will pass as other calamities have passed before it.

We humans are nothing if not resilient. All species have the inherent trait for self-preservation but the ability to bounce back and resume the normal routine of life is probably always been best exhibited by none other than humankind.

Till better times, let’s keep our faith in humanity and in God to see us through this chaos.

The age of Corona

It is incredible how a tiny virus has forced half the world to lock itself up in self isolation.

I am wondering how the future generations will see us?  A collective group of proactively cautious people who saved humanity through their safety measures or raving lunatics who created a mountain out of a molehill.

One thing is for sure though, this Covid-19 has thrown everything into mayhem. Events being prepped for months, for years even, are all being cancelled or postponed in the age of Corona Virus.  

This virus has literally taken over everything.

Perhaps this is all to remind us in our time of arrogance that no matter how much we humans plot and prep for something, it will amount to nothing in front of the plan of God.

For indeed Allah is the best of planners after all.

The pandemic of Fear

Corona Virus Covid -19

Disease - Flu like infection

Main Symptoms - Cough, Fever and Difficulty in breathing. 

Mortality rate - About 3 percent so far 

Effects - world wide panic, lock down of entire regions, possible collapse of economies 

What is amazing is that a virus that causes no more than mild to moderate infection in most people and which is completely curable in 97% cases, has managed to scare more than half the world into sheer idiocy.

Be it hoarding necessities like everyday grocery items for either personal use, apparently for the next ten years or with the intent to sell these items off at inflated prices due to shortage in the market (a shortage created by the hoarders themselves), the list is endless. 

Under normal circumstances when society panics, governments take it upon themselves to restore sanity.  But who is to restore sanity when governments start to panic?

Countries are shutting down borders, forcing people into self isolation and even closing businesses and encouraging others to do so as well. 

Report of every new case of Corona virus infection is received like a death case followed by mass scale alarm.
The "blame game" going on is endless, where everyone is trying to pin the blame of the virus's spread on some country, some government or some official's negligence without accepting the fact that it is a contagious virus. It is going to spread, no matter what. 

True, there are measures to reduce its spread and keep it under control and every one is doing their best to ensure those measures are in place. 

I just wish that they all do it in a more sane and less panic stricken way.

The last thing we need is a Pandemic of fear in our lives. 

To kill a Mockingbird

I know what the book is about since I had already seen the movie starring Gregory Peck but for some reason I always thought that I would probably not like the book itself if I ever got to read it.
I am happy to declare that I was completely wrong.

Another book which I have always felt that I would not like is “Uncle Tom’s Cabin”. Again, I have seen movies and dramas based on it so I know what that one is about as well.

Why did i think like that?

Maybe because both books deal with issues specific to American History and not being an American myself, I did not feel connected to them or drawn to them in anyway. But then again reading about cultures and traditions totally unrelated and separate from my own has never posed any problems for me before.

Or maybe it was because I generally do not favour books that are inclined portray the tragic or depressive side of life. Regardless, I have read a few of those as well and also liked some.

So what was it that kept me from reading them all these year? I am not sure I know.

All I know is that having been proven wrong about one, I am willing to be pleasantly proven wrong about the other as well. 

The desecration of a book

The problem with readers like myself is that in our eagerness to share our reading experiences with others we readily lend our books to them. I have learnt through experience, painful ones, I might add, not to lend books to teenagers. They have a tendency to treat them pretty much the same way they treat everything else in life: with extreme carelessness.

If my comment has come across as if I am stereotyping all teenagers, then I apologize for it but refuse to take it back. Like I said I have had some pretty painful experiences in this area. One classic, “Great Expectations” was borrowed by a much younger cousin for his English class in school. That was the last I saw of it. Since it has been nearly fifteen years since the date of borrowing, I can safely say that the chances of it ever being returned are next to nil.   My only consolation is that it was a mere paper back, though I do wish that someone in my cousin’s English class along with discussing the eccentricities of Miss Havisham would also have taught him the difference between “borrowing” and “Keeping”.
Well, I guess that is water under the bridge now.

A more recent “borrowing” was of the Elif Shafaq Novel, “Forty Rules of Love”. Determined not to wait another 15 years to lament the loss of my book, I asked for this one back somewhere within a one year period. After some reluctance the book was handed back to me and I was happy to have it back. It wasn’t until a few days later as I flipped through the pages of the book did I realize what kind of torture it had been put under.

About nearly one third of the book (I am guessing that is about as much as my young reader managed to read in that one year period) was underlined with markers. Apparently the book had been used as an English learning tool by underlining the difficult words.

I am not in the habit of turning the corner of the page when I put a book down. I always remember where I had left off, no matter after however many days I get a chance to go back to whatever I was reading. To someone like me, even turning the corner to mark the page in a book is a sign of disrespect. To have a book of mine violated in such a way nearly made me want to weep. Admittedly this was another paper back but that is no reason to subject it to such brutal treatment.

Though nowhere in the same league as Elif Shafaq’s Forty Rules of Love, I too have developed a couple of my own rules for lending books.

• ·         If possible never lend books to teenagers. if it cannot be avoided out of courtesy then the lending should be accompanied by full set of instructions on how to treat the book. (wouldn’t be a bad idea to give the instructions to anyone who borrows and not just teenagers)
• ·         No book should be lent beyond a two month period. Anyone who has not managed to finish the borrowed material in the aforementioned period is unlikely to do so ever so one might as well ask for it back.

That reminds me.
My assistant borrowed a hard back copy of William Dalrymple’s “The last Moghul Emperor” and his two month period has already expired. Time to get that one back from him.

A Splash of Colour

I occasionally come across a clip on social media showing colour blind people trying on colour correction glasses and seeing their visual world transform from hues of greys into an explosion of brilliant colours. Considering that seeing the world as it truly is, for the first time, their reactions are pretty overwhelming.

But how do we know what the world actually looks like?

What if the actual world is nothing but different shades of grey and it is the defect in our visual abilities that make us see it in all these different colours?

What if the colour blind people are the visually correct people and the rest are the ones with defect?

We have based our assumption on the fact that since MOST of the population can see colour than most of us must be right.

But are we right?

I long ago realized that the visual ability of human beings is very limited. It probably dawned on me during a game I used to play with myself when I was younger, where I would try to think up of a colour that no one had ever seen.

I could never do it.

Whatever shade or hue that I managed to conjure up in my mind would always be a combination of an existing colour that we already know of. That is when I realized that our vision is confined inside the Rainbow nicknamed VIBGYOR (Violet, Indigo, Blue, Green, Yellow, Orange, Red): the optical spectrum visible to the human eye.

The ultra and infra colours that exist beyond this spectrum are invisible to us, yet certain species other than humans can see them.

That would probably mean that certain animals, birds and insects that can see colours beyond the range that we can see them are the ones with correct vision and we, the human race are collectively the colour blind ones?

Somehow, I don’t think that is how it is.

Just because somebody is not able to see things the way the rest see it does not mean that that somebody has a defect in their vision. It just means that they have a different way of seeing things than the rest.

If one is unable to see or even visualize something that is visible to another doesn’t mean that that something is not there or that it does not exit. It just means that either one has not been given the ability to see it or more likely, one is not opening up his or her mind enough to be able to see it.

Needless to say, I am no longer talking about seeing colours only.

It is good to have your own point of view but it is even better to be able to see things from another’s.

Those who cannot do this are the truly blind ones.

Movenpick Petra

I have always been fond of those novels that take place in exotic locations. Novels like Agatha Christie's “Murder in Mesopotemia” and “They came to Baghdad” or M.M.Kaye's whodunits set in equally colorful locations. For me the backdrop is as exciting as the story itself possibly because such surroundings do not exist anymore. How routine and ordinary life sometimes feels when compared to the fantastic world found inside of books.

That is why I loved staying at Movenpick Petra so much. Form the moment I walked into that beautiful hotel I felt like had wandered back in history right into the setting of one of my ever favourite novels. Admittedly the hotel staff was also one of the better trained ones that make you feel welcome from the moment you set your foot inside the building but it was the overall environment that completely won me over.

Making the experience even better, there was the daily chocolate hour at the hotel.

Delicately and beautifully crafted chocolate delights were placed in the main lobby between 4 to 5 pm every day. Any one passing through the lobby could help oneself to however many chocolates as one wished to have. Also in the lobby and unlike the chocolates, not confined to a mere one hour, but present throughout the day was the coffee guy. At least that is what I called him. He had an entire table laden with all sorts of coffee beans from which he prepared his fresh brew for anyone who cared to have it. The coffee was served as shots in tiny paper cups accompanied by dates larger in size then the coffee shot itself. Though not a particular fan of coffee shots myself, I must confess that the combination of the soft moist dates along with coffee was one of the best I have ever had.

The perks and delight offered by the hotel aside, like I said before, it was the overall ambience of the place that got me. For two days I lived inside what I felt like was a place right out of novel in some early twentieth century Arabian setting.