Eclectic

On monday night we went to a restaurant which was on a hill near Vagator and since the Goa season is somewhat coming to an end, it was also pretty scary to reach the place as the whole road was unlit. Our spirits lifted when we stepped into the place
The restaurant called "Sri" was highly recommended by our neighbour who is an irishman. Greg, and his friends have proclaimed themselves as the Goa Tourism Board.
There is a very close knit expat community in Goa who live here for the greater part of the year. They only go back to their respective countries for visa renewal and to visit friends & family. They live life fully.
Having fulfilled their life's responsibilities , they are here to live life for themselves. Not for anybody else. There is no sense of being a martyr, nor are they stuck in a job they dont like. They do yoga, swim, read books, sun bathe, drink, smoke, eat and chill.
They embody the true spirit of Goa !! No wonder they have conferred that title upon themselves.

Well, coming back to Sri, it was an experience quite different, unique in a way. A large Shiva & Buddha statue was the first to be seen at the entrance and this set the mood for what one could expect inside. As we prodded on we were greeted with a mix of a large wall painted with another Shiva with flowing wild hair, a calm Buddha on the opposite, sprinkled with tiffany lamps in the middle and kitsch curtains bellowing in the wind. The music was French lounge and the walls were adorned with art ranging from Gandhi to Scream masks to Goblins to Flower power. A large Royal Enfield dominated the centre of the restaurant.
It was nothing like i had ever seen before; and then,  i met the owner. The story revealed as soon as i saw him. The gentleman had exhibited all that he liked or believed in. Walking into his restaurant was like walking into a collage show of his life. It was colourful, eclectic, thought provoking and exciting.
I often see homes of close friends and find them either a straight lift from an interior magazine or i feel like i have walked into the Home section of a Lifestyle Mall. There is no identity apart from some photo frames which give away the owner.
I like homes which stay in the mind long after you have left them. A mirror to the owners personality and not merely governed by what the latest copy of Femina says.
Your house is your sanctum. its a place where you just be... well  you!! And when you invite someone to your house, you make him privy to your life, your thoughts, things you appreciate through art, movies, books or posters. Its a reflection of you and your guests learn much more about you other than your social behaviour.
Its amazing how one can do a complete personality assessment by just observing the way a person lives. Is he organized, is he well read, does comfort supercede everything , is he influenced by other people's opinions, is he careless, is he environment conscious, is he religious and on and on and on.
Take a leaf out of this and reflect.
Does your house speak of you?

punctuality; a rare virtue

What is with us indians and time?  Really , is being on time considered to be an ego buster, will your importance grow with every minute you delay for an appointment. I especially find this phenomena with Doctors. Unless there is a long queue in front of the clinic its fruitless for the doctor to arrive in his office. I sometimes get scared when there are only 1-2 patients waiting. I half expect the doctor to call and ask us to go home. Forget an apology for being late or even a half hearted attempt at some lame excuse, the natural pysche of a patient is that he forgets all the anger and frustration and instead feels he is in company of a greater being. Bow thee !!

I analysed this trend a few years ago when i was expecting. I used to be the only single women in the waiting room as i would go straight after work. If you have ever seen a waiting room of a Gynaecologist you would understand where I am coming from. I mean all , and I mean ALL women were accompanied by either their mum-in-law/ mom/husband/sister/ aunt/ niece . Or in some cases the whole jing bang. And when I used to enter, eyes usually followed me and saw behind me; they expected someone to follow, some escort. And then they looked at me again with questioning eyes in the beginning , then understanding eyes and then eyes which said “I am sorry for you, you single/divorced pregnant woman”

But I was neither and yes it was strange for me initially, I wouldn’t look at anybody else, I would carry a book and immerse myself in it till my name was called out and pretend to talk on the phone on my way out. As my pregnancy was complicated I had to make several rounds of the clinic. So over a period of time everyone, right from the ward boy to the nurses to the receptionist and the Doc’s secretary, all knew me by name. I didn’t know whether to be proud or feel sorry for myself. But this familiarity helped me in a way, as other patients thought I must be the hospital owner’s or the doctor’s relative to be known by everybody around. It definitely eased off some of the awkwardness and I felt much more comfortable going for my appointments. 

But i still had to wait.

I guess it comes with the package of a good doctor. The better the doctor, the more you wait. Only then do you feel you have earned the right to meet him. Is it?

I wish a certain degree of professionalism also got induced in this aspect of medicine. I would be the first to applaud !!

Restless..

Days come and go, months, years…… and with each passing moment this utter sense of not attaining your full potential grows inside you. Were you meant to do better things in life, is this not your destiny,, wherever you are this moment, home, work, travelling, resting, writing, reading.. are you what you are supposed to be; a photographer, an executive, an entrepreneur, a social worker, an artist, a sailor, a writer…. Is this really your true calling. Does this give you joy.

Our lives have so many facets. A woman is a daughter, mother, sister, bhabhi, daughter in law, all at the same time. For her kids she is the cook, chauffeur, primary care giver, play mate, teacher, friend, guide all rolled into one. Our lives really are full to the brim. If we allocate each role half an hour everyday we would run out of the number of hours in a day. This reminds of a wonderful and really insightful article I read a few months ago.

It talked about how to do everything in your life fully. Its only then do you really enjoy the true pleasures of it. When you get up, get up fully. Appreciate the light around you as it touches your face and gives colour to everything you see. The water is blue, the flowers are red and the trees are green because of this ultimate source of energy- the sun. Take it with your arms wide open and ask it to colour your life, let it not be dull even for a moment.

When you drink tea, drink it fully. Experience every nerve ending reacting to the tea entering your body.

When you eat, eat fully. Savour the individual ingredients and how the crunch releases the flavours in your mouth.  How you are blessed that you receive this enjoyment everyday.

At the risk of sounding like a monk, I have gone ahead and given you the discourse. But please let it not be just that. Practice it for a day, I did. Two days back I did this complete exercise. With my son yapping in the background, it’s not that I had to live in a monastery to do this. And its amazing, I am still thinking about the breakfast I had on that day. Was it something exquisite. Not really it was just toasted bread with lettuce and tomatoes. It was so amazing that I had the same thing the next day, but I didn’t have the same feeling, because I didn’t eat it fully. I was constantly after my son to finish his breakfast quickly so that we can do something unimportant.

I mean really what is this urgent need to finish our food as soon as its served to us. Its like a race against time. Its like if we don’t finish it in 5 minutes ,,, its going to vanish..POOF !!

Even when we go out for dinner, if its only family ,, we are waiting restlessly for the menu to arrive, restless for the waiter to take the order, restless for the food to arrive. And when the food comes, it’s a very sincere effort to polish off our plates which have a time bomb ticking next to them. We don’t even wait for the waiter to whisk away our plates we ask him to prepare the bill first.

What’s all this restlessness about ? Oh! And we wont eat dessert here because frankly we have had too much of this waiter’s slow service and too much of this ambience. We will, however, go a different place to seek new fellow patrons, new ambience, new slow waiter and repeat the travel against time exercise there as well.

What is this restlessness about ?

i dont care about my appearance

i  like to think i am one of those women who dont care about their appearance, unless it affects the image of my spouse or my family. Surprisingly my son is very conscious of how i look. For a 3 yr old he is extremely perceptive. He appreciates when i dress up and helps me decide which shoes to wear. Once when i picked him up from playschool he knew i had gone somewhere before picking him up. when i asked how did he know, he said "Oh mama, you are wearing earrings !" Oh wow !! THAT  was the give away.. !!
Anyways coming back to the topic, yes i dont take pains to be ready all the time, ya just grab my bag and ready to go shopping or visiting someone any time.. na that's not me. But one fine day it was exactly this time last year i noticed my first strand of white hair. I literally freaked out.
I mean here i am .. on one hand kind of boasting of the fact that i dont ckeck the mirror every half an hour but on the other hand shrieking with sorrow on the sight of a white hair.
So cliched.
I never thought i would have that kind of a reaction.. infact i am averse to people coloring their hair.. i subscribe to the school of thought of ageing gracefully ..you know the salt n pepper hair variety.. complete with specs... ah so mature and wise!!  But am i then again sticking to and reinforcing a stereotype???
I was really surprised at my own reaction in retrospect. I felt quite shallow, but i guess my reaction was not based on the fact that my hair are turning gray.. i think it was more to do with coming of age.
i think it was life's way of telling me "Hey you have grown up" its a very hard fact to fathom. You are always young in your mind,, in my mind i left school only a couple of yrs ago and college was i guess last yr,, whereas in reality its been more than a decade. (I had to calculate that).
So should i start acting older .. or does that happen automatically too. its true God orchestrates everything. I no longer enjoy going to noisy night clubs where you have to shout to talk to your friend. I enjoy lounges where you can sit , you know thw crowd,, its easy music and you can talk. i don enjoy fast food any more (although still a fan of Mc.Donalds!! there is none in goa)