There was nothing in Doha in the 80s - really ?

While blog-hopping some time back , I came across Creative lock II, a photo blog . I liked the pictures posted and left a comment. The blogger replied back

This is the comment exchange

bilbo said...

hi,
came here through om's blog. loved the pics you've taken. Was in Doha from 85-88. Am sure its changed a lot since then . Would love it if you could some pics of it. Especially of the corniche around sheraton. :)


Arroclint said...

bilbo: hello..
what were you doin here in the 80s? there was nothing here in the 80s. im doin a project on images for doha sometime in the next couple of months, ill put up the pics. but trust me its changed over the last 20 years...

While, I was happy that he'll be putting up some pics, what caught my attention was the remark about there being nothing in Doha in the 80s.

Yes, Clint, there was nothing in Doha in the 80s. There were no big amusement parks. There were no big malls. The Centre , Family Food centre and Salam Plaza were the only ones around at that time. But , there was our big house with a garden in the front, an almost jungle on one side and a backyard with gravel in it and shell remnants. We often pitched a tent in the garden and played away many a summer evening. There was the Ramada with its club and its swimming pool.

Doha was my first experience of a south Indian accent. At least the first time I noticed a difference. Doha was also my first exposure to arabic. I got 3 out of 100 in the first exam . 13, the next exam and then 98. I had picked it up. Realised I could do it. Did it again later , back in india, with sanskrit , and am now trying with nihongo.

I wrote my first poem in Doha. Also , got my first, first prize for both poetry and essay writing competition. Doha was a lot of speeches made in front of the assembly. I realised I loved doing it. That I loved word play . Doha then had Young Gulfers and Young Times.

I took my first pic in Doha. In the pic , could be seen a whole lot of carpet and the head of my youngest bro. He was the only one short enough . The rest had gotten beheaded by yours truely. I guess one learns about composition from mistakes such as these.

Doha did not have a gazillion TV chanels then. There was one hindi movie at 9:30 PM, every thursday. We could never stay awake for it. But we made up for it with tom and jerry .

And at that time we could only go to the Al khor garden. Still remember the kites we picked up there and fly only there. We did bring it home and tried to fly it in our garden. We never could. My brothers and I still don't know how to fly a kite.

Doha, at that point of time , did have the world's best zoological garden. Loved going there. Loved all the beaches and to this day , remember the 4WDs that would come and rescue our car. No matter what car we took, which group we went in, one car would definitely get stuck and then had to be helped out.

Doha was the corniche and then walks we took there after dinner every night. I remember our last night there. It was a full moon night and we could see something huge , right above the sheraton. One of us said, it was the water tank, the other said it was a weather balloon. Don't remember what other guesses we made. All three of us were wrong though. Finally mom smiled and said, "notice the water around your feet. What you are looking at , is the moon. It is this close and thats why looks big enough, and thats why the water on the walkway."

So, yes , there was nothing or nothing much in Doha in the 80s. But sometimes, nothing is all that you want, and all that you need.

A wkend trip down the memory lane

Is it just me, or does every one go through the experience of reminiscing about things past even while creating new memories. I, sometimes, feel like being in a time warp. A feeling of being stuck, even while moving.

Anyways, before I started spouting philosophy, let me start with what I did this wkend and why I began my post this way.

Saturday day was spent in the lab, as are almost all my Saturdays. Shu, my diehard party animal lab mate wasn’t done with it, it seems. While I was leaving lab, he goes, “I am planning to go party tonight, will call you before I leave.” I told him to call but also very honestly told him that I might not come.

That's that, or so I thought. Walked around Shibuya and Ginza and got home around 6 PM. Was online talking to Apy when he said something about receiving a call from Shu (they’d both met during the sakura charity bazaar). Apy asked me if I was coming or not. I told him about being in two minds about it. Since my mind was not made up, he made it for me. Turns out, I was going.

So, we met up at roppongi station around 10:30 and our hunt was on. First stop HIDEOUT. Nice place, not too crowded. And I guess I was on a roll, effortlessly walking a line between the past and the present. When I went out pubbing with friends at NYC, we always started with whiskey sour. It was my poison of choice here too. The drinks were made really well. Our night was on to a good start. While shu and apy danced to the hip-hop playing, I nursed my drink and looked around. While I could see the people around me, in my mind I could see people around me from 3 yrs back. I could see myself with them, getting drinks, getting drunk and dancing. I could see our school toast and I could see the final sammich dance we did. All of this made me smile and led my friends to the conclusion that I was getting high. I was, high on the drink, the memories it brought and the fact that our waitress Victoria moved like my friend M. I made it a point to tell her that when we were leaving.

Next stop MOTOWN. This place was slightly crowded. The party had already begun here. We got some more drinks and we were again witness to why I like Japan so much. Apy was handing me my change but since I was drunk, I dropped the coin. The bartender looked for it and when he could not find it, he brought out flash light. He finally got the coin and handed it to us. Apy and I had an only in Japan look on our faces. We thought of moving a little inwards and that's probably when I dropped the sweater I was carrying. Again the same waiter handed it over. When we went out clubbing in NYC, M used to forget her jacket and some or the other friend used to find it and bring it over. M’s jacket was known among us as the little animal (it was a huge thing in faux fur). The running joke was that M’s little animal followed her home. On Saturday my own little animal followed me.

Am a little fuzzy on what followed next, but I guess one whiskey sour and two scotches would do that to a 5-zip gal. I was dancing. And continued to do so for quite a while. It was fun to dance to all the old numbers from ABBA. Brought back memories of dancing in NYC and off course dancing in hostel nights in JNU. More fun to catch sight of Shu every once in a while, steadfastedly continuing on his hunt but drawing blanks. Time for a trip to the restroom, and rendezvous with an Australian couple. The guy was drunker than a skunk. He pointed to his gal and asked me if she was gorgeous. I answered in the affirmative. He went on in a pseudo menacing tone, "Don’t touch her. "This, was followed by an eye roll from the gal in question. And only a drunk Bilbo can come up with, “she is gorgeous but I don't swing that way. “

Any drinking session of mine is ended with a cognac. I spill some of it and a friend finishes the rest. That's how the one on Saturday ended too. We did check out other places but I guess the drinking and dancing was done. The rest was walking around, talking, joking and just having a good time. It is April, but Tokyo weather has yet to make up its mind. Hot and cold it blows. Saturday was a cold night and we tried keeping indoor for the most part. Even spending sometime in the starbucks getting a coffee. Hung around on the road between a manned rotisserie truck and an unmanned stool with a few tubes of toothpaste on it. A random gal got tired of waiting for the guy to turn up and made away with a tube. That was hilarious. The stuff that happens on a night spent drinking. From your dropped coin being returned to you to some one committing a petty theft. It was, all good.

Icarus and my reality

" Sometimes people talk to us but they don't really talk to us. They talk around whatever their reality is . Sometimes they talk just so they don't have to tell us what their reality is. They don't tell us they are hurting- not until it's too late"

I read a lot, and by lot, I mean a- novel- a day lot. And then I keep coming back to some novels again and again. Revisited Icarus, a Russell Andrews thriller and came across these lines. Now I know why I have it on my shelf.

I felt like Patience McCoy was talking about me. Except I am not talking around my reality. I am still looking for my reality. Can catch a glimpse of it sometimes before it disppears on a curve again. It brings its own surprises each time I meet it.

Here's to hoping I make a better acquaintence with it some time soon.

lunch today or who'da thunk

For some time now , I've been joining my lab mates for lunch at the cafeteria. This time round, its been good. So far, no mixing of all the meats, making me pick out the tiny pork bits and no more allergic reactions. I am keeping my fingers crossed.
Today we had something I'd never thought of having. We had ochazuke. Its a combination of rice , toppings and green tea. I mean seriously, who'da thunk!! Hmm this tea looks nice. wait a min, lemmme pour it over my rice. Had I done something like that at my family dining table, I'd have been sent up to my room without dinner. It looked quite interesting and was not too bad, if I do say so to myself. The strong tea taste of green tea was missing, all though the aroma was definitely there.
Just when you think that you've seen it all, the cuisine here throws you a new curve.

Rain and the thoughts in its wake

Its been raining today since morning and surprisingly, I am not grey or blue. I did have some serious thoughts in the morning while on my commute. I use the monorail for part of my commute. It has big picture windows to take in the view . Since, today the view was blocked because of the rains, I could focus more on the droplets. It was interesting to note the different route all the droplets took to eventually get to the bottom of the window. Some just trickled straight down, some blazed past. Some flashed across the window like a meteor and some snaked their way across. Some were fast, while some meandered and took the long and scenic ( for me ) route. Some dithered for a while, taking a few hesitant steps forward, before gaining momentum. Some carved their own path, while some took the easy way out and followed the droplet before them. They all eventually made it to the bottom of the window, but each made much of this short journey, making my commute interesting. I did not have a camera on me and sometimes, I think its a blessing. I focus more on the view than fretting about getting it all. I did look for pics though, and these capture the emotion very well.

Sakura

I’ve had a fascination with the cherry blossom, or sakura or yamazakura as its referred to honorably in Japan ever since mom and dad moved to Tokyo and mom started waxing eloquent about this beatific bloom that could be seen everywhere, come April. Mom insisted I plan a visit around that time. Being at school in NYC, I could only visit in May and by then the sakura had given way to the hydrangea. Next year, when mom started talking about these blossoms again, I gave into the temptation and visited Washington DC for the cherry blossom parade. I barely caught the blooms. We spent the entire day Saturday walking around the mall and admiring the flowers. When we drove past the area on Sunday, we were in for a disappointing sight. It had rained in the night and the water droplets had taken the flowers with them in their plunge to the earth. I was left wanting for more.
I moved to Japan towards the end of April and then started the wait for the next April, for the cherry to bloom again. I wanted to witness the blossom in its glory again and I did get the opportunity.
And I got it again this year. Although, it lasted for a much shorter time than last year, I enjoyed it much more this year. The ladies of Rachna club organize a Sakura charity bazaar, every year. The club is formed by wives of the senior members of the Indian Embassy in Tokyo and the wives of other Indians in Tokyo. Though I am guessing, being a wife is not a mandatory requirement for membership. :P
In the Previous years, almost all the food sold at the bazaar was made by the ladies themselves. Last year, they introduced a few restaurants and this year, the food was entirely by the restaurants. The members, however, manned the various stalls and their family members pitched in. The bonhomie and the sense of belonging was so tangible, one could almost touch it. And, as a friend put it, he felt at home, in India while he was at the embassy. Don’t take my word for it, just read about it.

I took these picures at the Yasukuni war memorial shrine on the 18th of march. This particular tree is from Kyoto and it was blooming then.

These pics are from yasukuni shrine again, just different trees. The leaves are already visible. Another day or two, and the flowers will fall off and the leaves will take over. The Pics were taken on April 1st and the blooms already on its way to getting over.

And now, to a different kind of bloom. Its still the sakura, it just hangs. I think it is also referred to as the weeping cherry. I could be wrong about it though. These were taken on the 2nd of April, at the end of the lab hanami picnic.

We did not have as nice a picnic as last year , as, it was windy and sand got into mostly everything. I've witnessed worse sandstorms here as compared to the ones in the mid east. so we sat on our blue tarp for a little while, tried to eat and drink and make merry, but after a few beer spills and a hell lot of mopping, we finally gave up and headed towards the lab. We did make takoyaki ( octopus ) though. It seems to be a hanami tradition. This year though, there were too many fake takoyaki floating around. From the ones filled with apples bananas and pineapples to my own desi take on it. I took bondas for the lab picnic :D

And now for the grand finale. Apy took a great effort for it and was generous enough to share

Of six degrees of seperation and the Kumbh quotient

Six degrees of separation is the theory that anyone on earth can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than four intermediaries.

Kumb quotient is something, I'd like to believe, I came up with. However in this connected world, I am sure many people have felt that they were twins seperated at birth, based on the number of things or nuances or quirks they have in common. Kumbh mela is a huge fair held at Prayag in India, every 12 yrs. Most bollywood movies in the 60s and 70s had twins or siblings seperate in the kumbh mela and re unite yrs later owing to some common tattoo or piece of jewelry. So the higher the number of common factors between two unrelated individuals , the higher is the kumbh quotient or KQ.

I have come across the six degree phenomenon way too many times. I thought it was restricted to just my line of work , when, one day I realised otherwise. I 'd been talking to an online blogger buddy and just asked him his name. His name was similar to another guy I had talked to once upon a time. I told my blogger buddy that and he goes , "yeah, I have a classmate with that name. He is now faculty in the U.S." Turns out, we were both talking about the same guy. It sure is a small world and getting smaller.

I first came across the KQ phenomenon when I started talking to another blogger buddy. We interacted online for a while first and then took it off line and on the phone. Man did we have things in common. From the coffee we drank to favourite songs to the laptops we owned and even the books we were then reading. One of us had to say something and the other went me too. It was freaky. I started pulling his leg asking him to ask his mom if she had found him somewhere. We are more or less the same age so the whole kumbh idea seemed more and more likely then.

Thankfully, after that, I havent come across ppl with that high a KQ. Yes, we have things in common but not that many and not to that extent. Phew. It is very nice to come across people who have somethings in common with you. Whats nicer though or the icing on this cake is when you share ideas and ideologies and principles. It could be something as simple as respecting the other person's space or minding one's manners and maintaining a decorum in the interaction, but it sure is nice to meet people like these.

I started blogging a year back, and have been online for quiet a while now. And in all this time, I've made a lot of friends. These are people I can share my thoughts with. These are people I am comfortable with. And though, I haven't met all these people, I am beginning to meet some and will hopefully meet them all one day. At least, I'd like to do so.

I started talking to wbix on the yahoo messenger sometime back and in a lot of respects, we think so much alike. Its a pleasure to talk to her and since she hinted that we might meet some day, I am keeping my fingers crossed.

Another blogger, I met just this sunday , is Apy. When I like a blog, I read all the posts on it, digging into the archives and then I go to the comments on the latest posts. Thats what I did to the posts on wbix's blog and came across Apy. Read his blogs and since he just started blogging, there aren't a lot of posts.

I liked his posts. They are candid and refreshing and bursting with an exuberant sense of humor. I looked at his profile and was pleasantly surprised to see that he is based in Japan. His yahoo ID was also on the profile, so I thought, "what the heck," and IMed him. I am glad I did. Even in our first conversation, we got along like a house on fire and I thoroughly enjoyed talking to him . Within a few days of talking to each other, it was decided, that he was coming over. Much leg pulling ensued over who was cooking and many change of plans were threatened. Finally sun(D)day arrived and so did Apy. We had a really good time , and drum roll please. Apy did cook. He made chapati and then he was brave enough to make aloo paratha. I hope the gals out there are reading this. I can vouch for most of his seven tag. He does say all those things again and again. Another thing, I'd like to add, is that this guy listens and not just zone out what one says. Proof are the tulips you see in the pic . He claims to know nothing about flowers and yet could pick these out. I'd mentioned on friday that I was hoping to buy yellow flowers. And Santa Apy had been listening.

And, has been listening. The tulips were just buds when he gave them to me , but have been opening up bit by bit. I've been updating him on the progress, and, by now, I am sure, he is wishing I'd shut up about them.

Hoping to meeting all the people on my blogger circle and enjoying these two phenomena even more.

White Day in Japan

Today, on 14th march, We in Japan, are celebrating White Day. This to me, is something new. Having mostly been single on Valentine's Day ( Feb 14) , I've never celebrated this festival the traditional way. Yes, the diehard free spirit that I am , I've always celebrated it. with friends. First in India, I celebrated it with a friend from College. Her B'day was around the day so we took this opportunity to combine the two days and generally pig out. Not that we needed a reason to do so , but this was twice the fun.
So, coming back to white day. On feb 14, the gals in Japan , buy chocolates for the guys and then the guys return the favor a month later. So, for me , it was twice the fun. The techinician gals in the lab brought in chocolates for the entire lab. I did not trust myself to remember bringing them something a month later. Add to that, I am not really a guy to do so :P . So the next day , I brought in flowers for the gals. My good deed of the day done. And, today , our Korean Post doc brought in chocolates for all us gals. Yay. I got chocolates on both days.

Things that need to be said

Thanks, sorry and I miss you. In no particular order, to not one person. Different people that have come into my life when I've needed them. They've done their part and moved on. And I am left with these words.
No matter how eloquent my poems sound, how forceful my debates become, when it comes to real life, my vocabulary is inadequate and my speech incoherent.

Project Blank noise

At work today, every free moment I got, I spent reading the blogs participating in the Blank Noise blogathon. By the end of the day, I was physically sick. I had a pounding headache. I was nauseous and all I wanted to do, was to come home and puke my guts out. I could identify with most of what these bloggers had gone through and there’s nothing, I can say that has not been said before. I guess, I am still posting my blog to stand in solidarity with these people who spoke up. I am hoping that any one reading these posts, feels, the angst of those who have spoken up and the helplessness of those that continue to suffer in silence. I also hope that we can take steps towards a better tomorrow and a safer environment.

You can take a gal out of Delhi, but you can never take Delhi out of her. Delhi stays with her, in her mind, in her heart and in her psyche.

She remembers Jan path and the black oxidized jewelry. She remembers Aga Khan Hall and the silver filigree ear studs she had picked up. She remembers Dilli Haat and the momos she consumed there with so much relish, with her friends. How does she forget the lucknavi dupatta she picked up at Dilli haat at bargain price. That dupatta that still surrounds her with the warm memories of a cold night spent at Parthasarthy Rock, waiting for the sun to come up.

She also remembers the hand that grabbed her chest when she was barely 12. She hadn’t realized by then, that, she had breasts and those could be grabbed and pinched and stuff like that happens with an alarming regularity. Quite an eye opener for a young gal. She was suddenly in a strange new world. A world, where, uncles weren’t nice anymore. Where she never knew what would rub against her when and where. Older bhaiyyas couldn’t be trusted anymore. She could no longer walk anywhere and anytime. From passes made by rickshwallahs to weird noises, from groping and fingering to lewd gestures. All part and parcel of daily life in Delhi. Yes, one learns to dress to cover up, to walk without looking like an invitation (what is that supposed to mean anyways). Yet, in spite of how one dresses or how one acts, one cannot escape. The filth is not on a female body; it’s in the mind. If you are a female, you are a maal. And there will be comments. “Dekh, aisa lag raha hai, jaise nangi chali aa rahi hai.” (Look, it seems like she is walking naked) This comment loud enough to be heard, on an outfit that consisted of a salwar suit in peach, with the kurta buttoned to the neck, a sweator in almond color and a peach shawl wrapped on top of all this. In other words, dressed for a women’s convention in Saudi Arabia and yet a piece of naked flesh to those psychos on the road. Did she react? No. Although, if looks could kill, most of the Delhi men would be dead. Did she care? Yes. Because she still remembers after 7-8 yrs as she sits and types this out.

Take this Delhi gal out of Delhi,and, put her in streets of New York City. She still dresses conservatively. The scowl she picked up on Delhi streets is still in place and remains there. She does not know the people yet. She walks alone but does not smile. It takes a tall African American guy walking towards her to lean in and say, “smile for me, will ya?” In spite of herself, she smiles and has been smiling. This gal has walked alone in the night in Manhattan for 22 blocks before her friend could come and pick her up. She was not teased once. Yes, a gentleman offered her his cell phone to use. She did not fear being touched or cat called at that night. Yes, she feared being mugged.

Lets follow this Delhi Gal to Tokyo. You can see her on the roads, with her tiny earplugs. You can see her; She might see you, or she might not. She is lost in her own world, in her music and her thoughts. She is smiling to herself and humming some tune, occasionally breaking out in a song at full volume. So, If you ever hear piya teri bawari se raha jaye na on a Tokyo road, Smile at this Delhi gal. She is happy. She is safe. She no longer frowns and no longer carries sharpened pencils in her pockets. She is not in Delhi anymore. Of course, she still dresses conservatively. You can’t really take Delhi out of her.

I’ve mainly written about Delhi, as that's where I attended undergrad and masters and commuted and therefore suffered the most eve teasing. There have been incidents earlier and that brings one to the issue of sex Ed and protecting kids who are just too young to understand what’s happening to them. The very first incident I can think of happened when we were at Doha and I was around 11-12. This UNCLE who visited often enough did this funny thing every time he could get me alone. Then it felt funny, but still by the second time, it had become clear to me that something was not right and I simply should not be alone with him. Only much later did I realize that he was trying to feel me up.

And then the breast-grabbing incident in Delhi happened. At that time it was a one off thing, as I did not commute much.
Zoom forward to a few years later. We were at Abu Dhabi then. Mom, an aunt and I were in the souk. Mom and aunt were busy looking at something and I was just looking around when I caught site of this tall Arab guy. He had raised his gown and he had his member in his hand. That gave me nightmares for years to come.

And then we were back in Delhi. College came with its paraphernalia of commuting and guys high on hormones and not enough sense. Though, why just blame the hormone guys, it felt like every one was doing it. Every day was a different nightmare on the same theme.

That's why the contrast with New York and Tokyo. These places aren’t without their harrasment problems. But it isn’t as rampant as in Delhi. I am sure, things happen here too. Just that I have not experienced anything unsavory, except for one Japanese gentleman taking me for something else and asking if he could have a good time with me. He ambled away once I replied in the negative. This, despite the Tokyo subway, having the reputation of being the grope capital.

Makes me wonder about the cultural differences between different places and what one can do to make a positive difference.

blog-a-thon 2006

Come take a walk with me

I moved to my current residence around mid december, and I thought, I'll take pics of the area and post them . Its taken me this long to actually do it . Lends more credence to the urdu/hindi idiom that translates to "everything in its own time". I finally got around to it today. I guess something one expects to happen, does happen once everything comes together nicely. I was home, weather was nice , pleasant to walk in and for once the camera had batteries that were not about to die anytime soon.

This is shiokaze koen . It starts right after I get out of my complex, and, I am guessing , once the spring/summer rolls around, I could take some more walks around here.

Since I particularly wanted to take pics of the sunset, I started around 4:30 in the evening. The sun was still out then and I got to take pics of two kind. The sunset kind when I took the pic on my left side and a sunny day pic when I turned to the right . What fun. Here's one to the left.

And here's one to my right. This couple was flying a kite which can be seen a little above them . Unfortunately they lost the kite as it dipped in the water. The last I saw them , they were trying to fish it out. The kite was the plastic kind , so I am hoping they were able to do so. I did not hang around to see if they actually did.

The Shiokaze park leads to the Odiaba maritime park and as I entered it, some bushes caught my attention. This is the picture of a hydrangea bush. These are flowers that bloom all over Tokyo, during the rainy season. The flowers die on the bush , drying away into wispy thin fragments. This particular bunch has dried away to twigs. And somehow, its beautiful even when bare.

As I walked away a little further, I came across this bush. Another hydrangea bush . Spring is beginning to touch it while winter is still trying to maintain its cold hold on it. As a result you see the bunch that had bloomed last summer and the leaves that herald the bloom of another summer. Past and present locked in a continuum.

And some more left right shots. The setting sun, seemingly setting the water on fire to my left, and

The rainbow bridge on my right.

And then I arrived to my own little joke. Any one who has asked me, If I miss Newyork, I ask , whatever for? I have my own statue of liberty. :) Those phallic projections are anchors that lie on the beach here.

As does this one. Only, it has found a proper resting place. This is the first time, I've seen this anchor though. It was low tide when I was taking my walk and that could have something to do with it.

And, at the end of my walk, another shot of the sunset. I guess, if I want the quintessential sun setting into the water kind of sunset on the beach shot, I am going to have to look for better vantage points. Hope you'll walk me with me then too.

Watch this space

Harrasment.
We've all come across it at some or the place. We've all reacted against it in some or the other way. It goes away then.
Not all the time, though. Sometimes , it stays. Stays till it kills us, or our spirit or till we decide to say NO to it.
Sexual harrasment is just one such harrasment. We have to speak out against it.
I'll be doing my part on the 7th . Will you, too. ?

Matrubhoomi - some thoughts

Watched Matrubhoomi a couple of months back. Needless to say, it still haunts me. A movie that starts with a father anxiously waiting the arrival of its child and then drowning that same child in a huge pot of milk, and ends with another child being born, completes a vicious cycle. Both children are girls. One's fate, we are made aware of and the other's is left unknown. We can hope for a good future but do we dare to?
This study has been in the news for a while and is being refuted by the concerned authorities. I guess the authorities can go blue in their collective faces but with reports of men from bihar and haryana paying huge amounts of dowry in order to get married provides its own support to the study.
What matrubhoomi did for me , was hit one fact home , real hard. Women are still considered things. Things to be sold, to be bought. to be used , to be abused and then to be discarded. And till that fact changes, studies like this will be around. Because women will be treated bad , if not killed outright at birth. Makes me wonder if that's the kindest cut of all. It saves them from the later misery.
Won't say more about the movie. It has to be watched.

A midsummer night's dream

Japan is a beautiful country. It's a place that can awe you, intrigue you, and make you go wide-eyed in wonder and yell in frustration. Like any fraternity, it has its own rites of initiation and till you make it in, you can peep in. See, observe, but not understand and therefore remain the quintessential outsider.
And then sometimes, you happen to pass by something, watch, appreciate and before you know you are a part of it. No initiation, or maybe the same rules don't apply. Or the basic human connection is stronger than the artificial barriers of language and race. There are occasions, when my being a gaikokujin (outsider) is not such a bad thing.
Let me tell you about one such occasion, when this outsider, was invited in even if it was for a little while, It felt good to belong.
Mid September last year, I was still at Azabu Juban. When I get off at the subway and start walking home, midway I come across a courtyard kind of thing. I could perhaps describe it better had I been an architect or a better wordsmith. It's a triangular area at the intersection of three roads and it is used as a common meeting ground. Fetes are held here and flea markets are organized here every wkend. Little kids play here in the midafternoon when the sun is out and I've sat here sometimes talking to a friend when both of us have had our drinks and dinner but are yet to be all talked out.So this midsummer evening, I was coming back home and came across this tableau that can only be described as a dream. String of paper lanterns aglow, some elderly men sitting in a tent like structure and talking and outside, elderly ladies dressed in their summer kimonos dancing. A simple rhythm that can easily lull you into a feeling of calm. I had to cross over to the courtyard and watch.
I do have my camera on me when I go out on wkends and I had it with me on this particular day too. When I felt that taking pictures wouldn’t be too intrusive or rude, I started clicking. This lady noticed and paused mid step for a short while so that I could get a better picture. I do need better practise at being a shutter bug

Anyways, sometimes it’s not the quality of the picture but the quality of the experience. And this was a sight that only the lucky like chance upon. So slow simple steps and these ladies going around in a circle. Mesmerizing to watch and I was doing it spell bound till an elderly gentleman said to me, “ You should join. “ That is the stuff my nightmares are made off. I believe I was born with two left feet and all toes. So I just smiled and tried to wriggle out of that one. The gentleman insisted though, “c’mon. It’s easy. “
Time to smile some more, a little in his direction, a little in the direction of the ladies and I was off. This time, really towards home, before I could be hauled off forcibly to dance with these ladies. I’d have done their ego some good!

I still don't know what they were celebrating. Why they were there. What else do they do to celebrate it? That cultural insight is missing. The only consolation is, or so I like to think is that knowledge or lack there off may not necessarily take away from the enjoyment of something beautiful.

Amino Acid Arangetram

Was googling for some info when I came across this.
I've always been in awe of Hindu as a newspaper. I have one more reason now. :)

A picnic

A couple of wks back , we went on a picnic to the area around Mt fuji. Now this was a very iffy affair. We did not know till the previous night , whether or not we were going at all. So , In order to not built up my hopes and then see them dashed, I'd refrained from asking my parents about the specifics of this picnic. I will expound later on why that idea has its merits. Now since I had not asked , I was not told and thus specific details like names of places would be missing. However If you do stick around you'll find my version of a travelogue and get a glimpse into how I view this world of mine.
For this picnic we had to again get up at the unearthly hour of 5:30 AM . Why do all picnics begin so darned early. We were at the embassy at 6:30 AM. Some people wisely arrived at IST (Indian stretchable time) , but we were off by 7:30 AM . GRRRRRR
Our first stop was at Shizuka. Really have no idea why we stopped here, as we had b'fast in the bus. I think we made pitstops for the oldies of the "gotta go" generation. And then we started again and stopped not till we reached the end of the road.... or so . I'd love to think. Our next stop was after we crossed into the fuji city, past hakone and all and finally got to the feet of Mt fuji. The fall colors are changing. The weather forecast said it would be rainy. I wished, they'd get it wrong for once. They did not . but what do u know. It rained only while we were in the bus. And it stopped raining each time we needed to step out. That I must say was terrific.

Notice the awesome variation in shades. We hung around
here for a while and I went justifiably nuts with my camera. There was everything a shutterbug like me could hope for and more. There were changing fall colors . There were the clouds that had descended to kiss the tree tops and then the awesome shades of blue. I've never seen the sky in Tokyo so full of color. I was in heaven and the best thing about is that I did not even have to die for it!!!

The crazy, in my own world gal, that I am , I just wondered by myself clicking away to glory. But all good things must
come to an end and so did this Pit-stop!! It went downhill from here. Dont worry, I don't mean that the day took a turn for worse , rather that this was the highest point altitude wise. We climbed down from this point onwards.
Lunch was at a restaurant-cum-bbq place. It was a potluck kind of arrangement, as we had all taken something or the other. I could have taken pics of the food, but you know how it is at Indian do's with any food involved. The food goes so fast that you can take pics of other people eating it if you wanna forego it. :)
So after lunch, while every one danced, I wandered around and took pics. This horse chestnut
and the wildflowers particularly caught my attention. They are in the wilderness and the flowers especially brought back memories of J.N.U where things just bloom. No siree. No fancy landscaping, just natural beauty in its wild abundance.
I am going to take a break from the pics and tell a funny story. My dad's assistant's daughter is a few months old. An amazingly quite child, I've not seen her cry. I've seen her only on two occasions and this picnic was the second one. Both times, I've noticed, that any body and everybody can hold her and she stays quiet. This is good for her parents cus on occasions like these they can let their hair down and really enjoy without worrying abt the little one. Some body or the other is holding her and they know she is safe. So on this day, Adi as she is called, was dressed in a gazillion layers of clothes. It was past lunchtime , and by the time , I got a turn to hold her, she looked positively miserable. So I asked a lady standing near me, If it would be ok to take some of her clothes off. She agreed and actually took her jacket off. So when I gave Adi back to her mom, I had to tell her, who had the jacket too. Adi's mom removed a few layers then but I noticed after a bit the layers were back on . Some more time later, Adi'd mom was looking for another piece of clothing. Apparently some one removed it off Adi and forgot to tell the mom.
Okie , back on track. So after lunch and when every one had their fill of the mandatory bhangra, we started again. Since my sense of direction is missing , I will not hazard a guess to where we were going. We did seem to be going down but we did take a longer time than we had taken going up so we did meander. This is when I had the opportunity to take pics of Mt Fuji. These pics were taken while we were in the bus. It was frustrating as I did not even have the window seat, and I felt like I was imposing on my neighbour. On top of that , each time I felt I could get a shot, something like a tree or
a building came in between before the actual shot could be taken. And by the time I got a clear shot again, the camera would switch off . ARRRGGHH . They say that , in a year, there are barely 15-20 days when Fuji San is clearly visible. I guess, I am going to have to make some more attempts in order to get the cliched picture of a bullet train with the FujiSan in the background.
Oh well , we were heading towards our next destination. This was a vineyard and we were going wine tasting. Yay Hic Yay. We could have gone grape picking but some thing got lost in translation. Am hoping we can do it some other time. Before we got to the actual wine tasting though, we were given a tour of the winery. We were taken through the intricacies of wine making and little known trivia of whats done with the grapes once the wine is out. Did you know the grape skin and seed remnants are dried and powdered and used as fertilizer. The whole place reeked and the elderly ladies made faces that were a sight. I still wish to live or else I'd taken the pics and posted those too :) These barrels that you see in the pics are french. Our tour guide assured us that allthough the barrels were of french origin, the wines were indeed being made on those very premises. Could not help sneaking my camera in through the fence and taking pics of the grapes. Must say this was the best I could do .
Some cosmos were growing on the premises. These are wildflowers too but currently in season and look really pretty.
And now to my story on why one must not ask too much in order to avoid disappointment. Now another embassy member had not taken that suggestion and had told his preschooler that we'd be climbing a mountain. Then this gentleman sat with us on the bus. He was really patient. I am sure he was used to it but my family was really caught unawares. So this kid who had been really quiet in the morning, asked his dad, when they'd climb the mountain. In a while. Now this kid aint dumb, he can make out that we are going down. He can see the mountains approach and recede. He knows we are not about to climb any, but man was he tenacious. From the time we finished lunch to the time we reached the embassy, this kid did not let up. It was one question again and again with varied responses from his dad. A birthcontrol commecial swimming in mah head to the fury that I am sure was brewing in my dad's head (Am I glad no one in my family reads mah blogs), am sure we covered the entire gamut of emotions. Thus ended another day of my interesting stay in Japan.

A fruity trip down the memory lane

I mentioned being in Islamabad yesterday. Most people know of Pakistan being a nation hostile to India and off course about their cricket rivalry. But, am sure most expat Indians would vouch for having a pleasant experience on meeting expat Pakistanis. I can do so again and again. I’ve met Pakistanis abroad too many times and am always reminded of a common history and a common culture, but never the rivalry. I guess its true that citizens of a country don't hold the same issues close to their hearts as their politicians.
Am not a political person, so, will not discuss that any more. And this blog is anyways about memories, pleasant memories of places I’ve been to.
Of course, I don't remember a lot of our stay at Pakistan, as I happened to be 3 yrs old when we went there. What I do remember however , are all the different plants or trees we had in our garden, or, ppl around us, had, in theirs. Islamabad happens to be a very fertile place and you don't have to be a green thumb for things to take root and yield their bounty. My parents took full advantage of this fact and planted seasonal vegetables in the rows around the garden. In one corner was the Papaya tree. To this day, I don't like papaya, but have fond memories of climbing up on the boundary wall and shaking down a papaya each time any one wanted one. Off course, the day my parents had planted the papayas, something interesting had happened. My bro, whom, some people also know as smartass, had just heard about the money plant. He had then seen mom and dad, put papaya plants in the soil. He put 2 and 2 together and came up with 5. So when mom and dad took a nap, bro dear put his plan in action. Out come the papaya saplings and in go the rupee notes. When mom and dad woke up, he rushed to tell em of his brilliant strategy for getting rich. Dad off course dug the notes out and replaced em with newer saplings. To this day , one of the notes survives in his file. Mom says that that's the shagun my bro’s future wife is getting. That, I must say, is a kickass introduction to the insanity that runs in my family.
So, back to the flora. One of our neighbors had a loquat tree in their garden. Man am I glad mom was friends with that lady. Most afternoons after school found us in her garden, me jumping around like a monkey, trying to get at the fruits, which were at that time green and tangy. I’ve always had a taste for sour things and I just loved the green loquats. Off course the ripe fruits are better and those are the ones that are commonly seen. I am saying commonly seen, but outside of Islamabad, Japan is the second place I’ve seen them growing like I remember from Islamabad. Japan happens to be the biggest producer of loquat, or Biwa, as they are known here.
While I was at New York, I saw loquats, once, at a hole in the wall store owned by an elderly Chinese gentleman. The moment he saw me make a beeline for loquats, I think we connected on some level. He could see I had just renewed contacts with a childhood acquaintance.
If I am writing about a fruit, can a recipe for it, be far behind? This time, however, the recipe isn’t mine, nor is the preparation. Lemme introduce you to Obachan. She is an amazing lady, I’ve met on the WWW and she makes these amazing things in her kitchen. Here are her experiments with loquats from her parents’ orchard. Do you see what I mean by memories here?
We have a loquat tree growing in campus here and I’ve taken pictures of it. It does not do justice to the picture I have in my mind of that loquat tree in a corner of a garden in Islamabad, but then, no picture does that.
When loquats were in season, here in Japan, I hogged those, as I am well aware, that once I leave this country, I may not see these again. What I also did is something out of my trust for nature. I am not a green thumb, but I took the loquat seeds and put them in the soil in a pot. Thankfully they took root and I now have three saplings. We would soon be leaving this accommodation. So mom and I took those saplings out of the pot and have put them in the soil in the backyard. I am hoping that a few yrs down the line some Indian kid can have the memories I have and cherish them for years. If some yrs down the line, I come across a blog like mine, I’ll know, my loquat tree is doing fine. Or is that too much of leap into the future?

A little bit of time travel

I got out of the house today morning and had just turned the corner when I saw this young lady get on her bike and on her way. Still smiling to myself and selecting the music for the day, on my ipod, I was walking along in my own world when I saw in the distance, a little gal on her bike, looking very distressed. She was calling for the young lady , who was soon going to be just a dot on the yonder horizon. As I approached the gal , I could make out the lil tears that would soon start on their way. I asked the lil gal if she was alright. "No," was the answer. "Do you need help?"
"Yes," said the lil gal. I helped her get back on the bike, made sure she could reach the pedals and asked her if she was alright then. Was relieved when she replied in the affirmative and soon we were both on our respective ways.
That got me thinking, had it been my mom, she would have not been on a bike in the first place and would not have raced ahead of me in the second place. But then, back when I was the little gal's age, there's no way in heck , I'd have talked to a stranger and accepted help. Really can't say who was better, my mom then or the young lady today. I did not dwell too long on that question as I was reminded of another incident when I was that small. This was in Islamabad. School was some distance away from our place and despite the fact that we had walked the distance on a few occasions, a school bus ferried us back and forth everyday. This particular day, however, I'd woken up late ( never been a morning person) and missed the bus. Dad could have dropped me to school but then , he has never been in favor of doing so. So what does Ms Baggins decide? She decided , she'll walk......and walk she did. I got to school , but not in time. The assembly had started and was about to get over. Walked over to my teacher and told her how I'd missed the bus and then walked to school. What do you know! She wasn't angry , as I was expecting her to be. Instead she was pleased I was brave enough to walk the distance on my own. This fact was announced in the assembly and the kids were asked to clap for Ms baggins.
A little about why my teacher could have thought me to be brave. I guess, It is not expected of 5 yr olds to be venturing too much away from their homes on their own. And in the minds of the Indian expat community in Islamabad, it was not exactly an idyllic situation. All though it was not a full out hostile scenario as it is today, there were isolated incidents that kept one fearful at worst and careful at best.
So, a day that started on a nice note with a little bit of meandering down memory lanes, thrown in . Ms baggins can only ask for it to end well too.

nirvana

a few questions

Fate, destiny, karma.

how much of it is written in the stars,

and how much in our own hands?

Is it hindsight, that compels us to believe,

in what the stars foretell?

Or is it okay to ignore all the cassandras ,

and to plod ahead in my own path?