Party time (Part I)

"No, these are simply not the right ones" thought the Lady in White as she flung the peep-toe shoes back into the shoe rack.
"I need new shoes, if not a new dress to wear tonight" she thought.
She was disappointed to wear an old dress for the New Year's Party at the Ritz. She had worn that dress before for a movie star's wedding and although it was quite trendy, it was beneath her standards to wear it again for a party where there would be a prize for the best-dressed. The dress that she had planned to wear was still at the dressmakers shop - the embroiderer was sick and couldn't complete his work on time.
"Well, just this once, I will make an exception and wear the same dress twice" she decided "but I must get new shoes at any cost."
...
After dressing up for the party, she went to the elite mall downtown.
To get to the shoe shops, she had to pass by the extensive perfume and make-up section. It was then that she saw the following sign:
FREE MAKE-UP DEMO TODAY
It was a leading cosmetics company promoting their latest make-up products. The make-up would be done by experts in the make-up industry. The Lady in White signed up for the demo and was instantly put on the high make-up chair set on a platform in the middle of the section. The make-up artist carefully wiped away the previous make-up that the lady had applied at home. Then with deft strokes of her brush she applied the concealer and lustrous foundation. Skilfully,  she turned the lady's eyes into completely unrecognisable cat-like eyes with impossibly long eyelashes. After putting on a rosy blush, she sculpted the lady's lips into a luscious red bow.
"Well, what do you think?" she asked handing the lady a mirror.
The Lady in White looked into the mirror in disbelief and fluttered her eyelashes in Marilyn Monroe style.
"Oh la la, is that really me?"
The audience of young women who were filled with awe, gleefully clapped in appreciation.
The make-up artist took a bow and our Lady in White walked away like a fairy-tale princess.
On her way out, she came across, the nail colour counter. Its palette of testers had a particularly bright silver. The lady quickly put it on and finished off all that was left in the tester bottle.
When she was done, she spotted the most expensive perfume on the opposite shelf. Spraying herself generously with the tester perfume, she floated along into the shoe shop.
"Wow, isn't that mother of pearl?" the lady exclaimed as she felt the glaze on the shoes.
"Yes, madam" agreed the polite salesman "We just have one pair of these so they are special. For a special lady like you."
Slipping on the pair of shoes, our Lady in White was ready to rock the party.

(Watch this space for Part II to find out what happened at the party.)

(Photo courtesy: Google images)

 

(The Lady in White is Anna's creation. If you are in the mood for humour, do look up the label on top for more such stories.)

Small Talk

Sometimes people just need to be alone and allow time for reflection.

Aradhana came to Sakhi's house today.

"Hey, where have you been? Haven't met you for a long time" Aradhana asked.
"Yes, I have been playing hide and seek"  Sakhi smiled.

After talking about the recent social scene, Aradhana turned to Sakhi.

"So, how are things with you?"

"Nothing special - just the usual."

"Oh, you must have plenty of time now after resigning from your job."

"Well, I have things planned. Twenty four hours are not enough in a day."

Aradhana meant well and was eager to tell Sakhi who said what.

"You know, Rita was so critical yesterday. She said that you made a wrong decision. You shouldn't have quit your job. She also ..."

"Yes, Rita likes to talk like that. I bet she doesn't not know about all my other flaws. Or else she would blow the trumpet about all of those too" Sakhi laughed mischievously.

"Oh, come on yaar..." said Aradhana with a pat on Sakhi's back.

Then they had tea and chatted about other interesting things.

 

(Picture courtesy: Google images)

 

 

 

To JC

It’s not easy to be your friend

In earlier births, I had known Durga and others.

Befriending you was a fairly recent trend

Just after Mohammed’s tall orders.

 

They were all difficult, perhaps.

(I don’t recollect much from my previous birth)

Sermons, scriptures, rituals – devotional traps

Vague promises of heaven on earth.

 

You, JC, have made me meek

Unwillingly, unwisely, uneasily,

I always turn the other cheek.

Your will rules in me, see?

 

Durga would have inspired me

To dance in destructive frenzy.

Instead, I give up lamely

And let evil feed on victory.

 

Battered and bruised, yet bold,

To my humble hill-top house I return.

And finding you waiting at its threshold

Into your comforting arms I run.

 

 

JC, your faithful friendship I withstand

This journey seems long, please hold my hand.


 

(Picture courtesy: Google images)

 

 

A Warm Welcome

A tall Omani gentleman welcomed us with a bouquet of flowers when we landed in Muscat seven years ago.

“As salaam aleykum! Welcome to Oman” he greeted.

We had never been so warmly welcomed in any other country.

The gentleman escorted us to our transit accommodation. It was a modest two-bedroom furnished apartment with a great view. The fridge was stocked with eggs, bread, and milk. On the dining table was a box of Omani dates and a stiff white envelope from Outpost which is an expatriate support network in Muscat. It had a welcome message and a request to get in touch with Sudatta from the Welcome Team at Outpost.

Sudatta answered my call immediately. “I would like to come to your transit accommodation to welcome you formally” she said.

She presented me with a welcome gift – a piece of cut-work Omani pottery. It was the only thing of beauty and art that graced our living room while we waited for our shipment to arrive from the UK.

After exchanging pleasantries, Sudatta handed me an invitation for a coffee morning at 5, Sahma Street.

“Please come” she said “You will get to meet other ladies who have recently arrived in Oman.”

“Can I bring my little daughter who is not yet at school?”

“Yes, she is welcome too.”

“But I don’t drive.”

Sudatta gave me a phone number.

“Call this number on the day before the coffee morning and they will make your transport arrangements” she said.

“Who are you? A fairy? You seem to have ready solutions for every problem.”

Sudatta smiled and waved goodbye.

On the day of the coffee morning, a courteous elderly Omani gentleman ushered us into his SUV. After making sure we wore our seatbelts, he smoothly drove us to 5, Sahma Street.

The hostess, Norma Malcolm, and the other ladies from Outpost showed us around. There were also several ‘new’ ladies from different nationalities. While my daughter rode a toy bike, I made enquiries about schools and driving lessons.

***

Soon after I got my driving license, I got involved with Outpost as one of the Welcome Team Members. It was a joy to do volunteer work with Sudatta, Nicole, and others.

My assignments took me to the transit houses of several families.

When I visited Madhu, her house was full of the aroma of South Indian breakfast snacks. Her parents were visiting and it turned out that they all knew Muscat very well because they had lived here before and they hailed from Kerala. Any Keralite would feel at home in Muscat because it has been the favourite city of Keralite expats for decades. Everything they needed was either available at Lulu or was soon made available by someone who was visiting their homeland.

I gave Madhu the Welcome gift from Outpost, told her about Outpost’s activities, and left with the impression that I might have to call her for information sometime instead of expecting her to call me!

My last assignment as a Welcome Team volunteer was at Naella’s Marjan Beach-facing transit flat. The view was magnificent. It turned out that Naella too knew Muscat well as she had been here before.

“I’m interested in cake decoration” she answered passionately when I enquired about her hobbies. I provided her with information about some well-known shops in Muscat which sold cake tins and other accessories essential to specialised baking.  I knew her venture would be a successful one because of the deep conviction in her voice as she talked about her pastry projects and experience.

Presently, Naella bakes the best cakes in town and has made special cakes for once-in-a-lifetime celebrations

As my circle of friends widened, I found other activities to interest me and left the Welcome Team.

Then one day, I saw Naella’s name in the Outpost Team list. She was the Welcome Team Coordinator!

***

As expats, our families come to Oman for a few years, breathe in the beauty of this place, and absorb its culture. Some of us even begin calling it home. Then one day, it’s time to move on.

While here, if you look and ask around, each of you is sure to find something interesting to do – be it photography, painting, gardening, writing, or something else.

Oman has always provided a fertile platform for budding creativity.

 

 

(This article was also published in Outpost Newsletter, January 2015)

Life goes on

On New Year's Day, last year, we met Uncle Patrick who told us something important.
He was a cancer survivor.

"You know, I think of this disease as something like an ordinary fever. It came and it has gone. It may come again. Life goes on, nevertheless."

We did not meet him this New Year's Day. He did not survive.
The important thing is that whatever he told us lives on and gives strength in hard times.

 

Winter Wonderland

This is a charmed town.
Fairy lights blink from trees, garden gates, windows and rooftops.
Snowflakes dangle from awnings and some trees have a dusting of cottony snow. The only thing missing is a sleigh and a snowman.
We turn around and spot them both framed by a backdrop of coconut trees gently swaying in the cool breeze.

We grew up in this coastal Indian town of Vasai but somehow at this time of the year, it seems like a winter wonderland.
We turn around a street corner to be greeted by an arch that leads us to a stable. We come face to face with life-size images of the Holy Family in traditional Indian attire. The father feeds a quiet cow while the mother gently rocks the baby to sleep.
It is an amazing work of art. The enthusiasm and enterprise of the villagers is evident in the realistic depiction of the humble birth of the divine baby.
We walk along a lake to find it guarded by angels who smile down at a giant poster of the Holy Family in the middle of the lake.
At the crossroads, we meet a group of children in Santa hats who are singing carols.
The next day, we find ourselves waving at three kings riding on camels. they are followed by men and women in traditional clothes. It is the Christmas Carnival.

In the churchyard, there is a display of stars made by several villages for the Star Competition. The theme is 'Best out of Waste' so we find stars made of sackcloth, coconut fronds, newspapers, plastic bottles and used CDs. The stars spread the dual message of spiritual light and the unity of the people in the villages who came together to design them.
There is also a Song and Dance Competition one evening where tradition rules over modernity. It was heartening to see so many young people in saris and dhotis singing and dancing to the old folksongs.
Dazed by the sights of day we retire behind curtains which wink with the light of the silver and blue fairy lights and the Christmas star that shines all night long.

The real star of the season is the little Baby Jesus whose birth brought light into the lives of so many people around the world.
Tender voices join in the singing, "Long time ago in Bethlehem" and our little town echoes with the story that unfolded long ago.

 

A Sentimental Fool

People do rude things sometimes and I don't get angry.
My friends point it out that if people do rude things to me, I must do something about it.
I choose to ignore their advice most of the time.
Some people step on my toes. When I let them be, they climb all over me.
"This is called bullying," says my best friend, "You must learn to stand up for yourself."
So one day, I tell a bully to step off my toes in front of everybody else.
She is encouraged by a bigger bully to hit me. I fall down flat on my face and lie down there till my friends raise me up.
Yet, I am not angry.
"Do you think I did the right thing?" I ask my best friend as she wipes my face.
She tells me to step aside. Her face is red.
"I wonder what makes you so angry" I  tell her.
"YOU make me angry" she says.
"Me?" I ask.
"Yes, you just let people step all over you. You let them judge you but you never tell them when they are wrong. It makes me sick."
"Why should I?" I ask.
"Why should I what?" she questions back.
"Why should I judge them?"
"Because if you don't, they think that they are right all the time, that's why."
"Then let them."
"Then let them what?"
"Let them think they are right"
"But they are not"
"Of course, not."
"Then why do you let them?"
"Why do I let them what?"
"Think that they are right?"
"Because they are not."
"Of course, not"
We carried on like this till our conversation ceased making any sense and we ended up laughing.
...

I may be a sentimental fool but there is one thing I know for sure - there is someone else who knows the truth all the time. We do not have to drum it around. He knows the truth because He put it there.
He is the best judge and leads us to where He wants to take us.
The people we meet, the decisions we make, and the events that unfold, good and not-so-good, shape our journey and navigate our way.
The most intriguing thing about this journey is that we don't know how far or where we are going.
It helps to know that someone is guiding us like a Shepherd.

(Picture courtesy: Anna Lemos)