Category: 2019

I’m writing this from Terminal 1 of the Dubai International Airport.

I don’t really have a backstory to give you about this place. I usually departed and arrived into Terminal 2 of the Airport when I flew to and from India. All I really remembered of Terminal 1 was that it was for the markets that weren’t as in demand as the other routes. But offlate, Terminal 1 has become home. That’s largely facilitated by the fact that they’ve completed a massive revamp of the place, while retaining a lot of the old architectural elements – including a footbridge, that on the exterior, looks the exact same as it did back in 2001 (which is where my first real memories of Terminal 1 kick-in). It’s become home because I’m familiar with it. And traveling out of Terminal 1 doesn’t feel like too much of a downgrade from Terminal 3 – as it used to in the past.

I’m flying off to Switzerland alone today. It’s my first solo trip to another continent – I’ve usually just flown alone in Asia. It’s a trip I am equal parts excited, and equal parts nervous about. There’s a lot of excitement because of the opportunity this presents, as I’ll be working with an organization I’ve admired for several years, in the company of individuals I’ve begun to admire over the last few years. There’s nervous energy, not because of the fear of doing something incorrectly, but rather at the possibility of not utilizing this time to the fullest. I don’t see that being an issue, so it’s not something I’m fretting too much about.

By this time tomorrow, I’ll be dozing off in the south of France. I didn’t think I’d ever say that sentence. It sounds like a dream, honestly – especially that I’ve studied French. I’m looking forward to speaking the language everyday. All those years of figuring out how to pronounce the accents properly, all the tense correction exercises – hopefully they’ll pay off.

Today though, I don’t think it could’ve gone any better. It’s the most relaxed I’ve been before a flight. Everything was packed, barring the food items – which my mom expertly prepped and kept ready. My dad helped me rearrange stuff. I took decisions quickly. I chilled on my laptop. Dad and I watched cricket. It was a really pleasant day. My favourite part of the day was at the airport. I know my parents are proud of me. They tell me that frequently enough. But today, I saw something that meant so much more. I was walking toward the check-in area for SwissAir (it’s my first time flying), and I sort of left my handbag with them, to keep, while I checked-in. The check-in queue had the queue management tapes on, and there wasn’t really much space ahead. While I meandered through that, I looked back at my parents because I wanted to see if they were following me or not, and I saw my dad squeeze my mum in a semi-hug, both of them with the largest smiles I’ve seen in a while.

They had traveled around various parts of Europe: individually, and together. We did some parts as a family, me included. Except I have very, very faint memories of that. Their trips individually took them to the Netherlands, to France, and to Belgium – among several other countries. As a couple, I know they’ve been to Italy (I can still taste limoncello chocolates from Capri), and I’m sure they’ve been other places too.

I think it really hit them that I was going to experience that now. And create my own memories in those very same places.

That look they shared was something I really want to frame someday.

So it’s official. I’ve got two days left in Dubai.

I know I keep saying “today has been fun” on this blog. And granted, perhaps it’s getting repetitive for you to read. But honestly, it’s difficult to use other adjectives to describe a genuinely chilled-out, fun kinda day. Today has been fun, and I’m absolutely glad it was.

After a bit of rescheduling, I managed to meet a fitness goal. After that I went and caught up with a really close childhood friend of mine, and his father. That entire family has been a very integral part of my life as I grew up. We grew up as neighbours – living in the same apartment complex and going to the same school. This basically meant that we spent our entire day together. Same car route, same route back, same classes, same portions, same cricket coaching. Same friends circle at school, and the same one at home.

He was the closest neighbourhood friend I had. The fact that he lived literally right below my house made things a lot easier. His was the first house I visited daily, when I wanted to check what we were doing that evening. His was the house I stayed at when my parents wanted to be out late. His was the house our house keys were always at – so I could collect them when I came home from school, and then when I came back from playing in the evening. I knew his family – his grandparents, his cousins, his caretaker, and he knew mine. There was a simple familiarity to our relationship, one I was very pleased to note hadn’t changed over the years. This is despite the fact that we now only meet once in 2 years, perhaps – and only wish each other for our birthdays.

I spent the rest of the evening in my mum’s high school classmates’ house. When she first told me about the invite, I was keen to go, but didn’t expect I would enjoy the evening as much as I did. The food was excellent, and the company was marvelous – across the age groups.

Time to enjoy one last sleep in Dubai.

I did things that would help me relax today. It’s the middle of the week that I’m scheduled to leave for Europe, and I know that the work is really going to pick up once I’m there. Might as well make the most of my time at home and get pampered when I can, right?

I finished watching Modern Family Season 10.

I ate pav.

I slept.

I read.

I’m a happy man.

You know how I waxed eloquent about shorts during Global Poetry Writing Month?

It recently occurred to me that I’ve owned this one pair of brown shorts for about 6-7 years now. And I continue to find them immensely comfortable. While that means I’m always happy in a pair of shorts, it isn’t excellent for the style factor of things. There are people in college I know who have seen me in those shorts since I was 15. Which is now very long ago. And slightly odd.

So I took the bold decision of buying new shorts.

And now I own a pastel pink pair.

That is all.

Spending time with your closest friends is a feeling that is incomparable. My best friend continues to remain one of my classmates from Grade 1, who I’ve grown up with and grown up separated from – but continuously been in touch with. He’s a person I derive a quiet strength from, knowing that although our lives have taken very different paths, we’ve been able to both forge on in paths that we thought of when we were slightly younger, and we constantly strive to be happy and enjoy whatever we do. He’s a simple person – and I think that’s what I love about him the most.

Today I spent the day in his company. We talked, we played table tennis. We ate palak dal and rice and curd with a spoon and a fork, the way we used to as children. We watched a movie about music. We hung out and learnt about the intricacies of things we were each passionate about. I caught up with his parents, he caught up with mine. We shared paneer at a restaurant we’ve visited since we were 7 year olds.

We had fun.

Not because of nostalgia, but because we caught up. Properly.

We message each other frequently, probably once in two weeks. Because of time zone differences, one chat ends up lasting a week – with me replying to him at night, and him back in the morning, and on and on.

But today was a good day, and I’m glad we both managed to find time on short visits just to spend with each other.

There are only three people in this world I consider to be my sisters.

One of them visited me today and dished out gossip about the other. I am grateful for the amount of material I now possess.

That is all.

Please watch this:

 

Another exchange tale beckons. It’s Dubai Summer Surprises, so you’re getting all these surprises for a reason (as am I, I promise).

I’m very attached to my suitcases. I only purchased one for myself last year, but prior to that, my parents bought me suitcases I would use on my travels. I travelled alone a lot, and I always have – so my luggage had to be something I was comfortable accessing, but also one that had the ability to stuff everything my parents wanted to send to India, and then everything my family wanted to send back to Dubai. I was a 5-year-old express courier service connecting places at a rate far more expensive than other courier services would charge. But I was more entertaining, so people didn’t mind.

My earliest memories stem from sharing spaces in Black and Navy Blue Delseys we owned. Shaped exactly like the old Delsey logo, those luggages had these handles on the side. We stuck RAO on the bottom to identify the bag, but there were always two: one dad’s and one mom’s, and a black Delsey duffel bag that was incredibly for all the paraphernalia we carried. Then I got a dark great Delsey soft-case luggage: a MASSIVE bag, which lasted a while. I identified that at Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris, because someone was stealing it away and had mistaken it for their own. That was a proud moment. I was 7 at the time. Or 8.

My dad’s a real suitcase aficionado. We’ve got different sizes of suitcases in our house, for different purposes, largely because my dad knows what different kinds of travel require. As a family, I ended up inheriting a business suitcase my dad once used, just because it was downright amazing. And for a while, we were all Victorinox users. Those Swiss Army/Swiss Original construction that were extremely durable, and launched luggage volume extensions far before others, we were instantly in love. All black suitcases, with TSA Swiss safety locks, and identifying ribbons (largely yellow, sometimes none), we became a family that used business luggage for personal travel – and loved it. They were classy.

My dad’s always had an eye for bags. He bought us some really high-quality, long-lasting stuff. Including my own school bagpack, which literally lasted me 7 years of school and is at home even today – I use it for sleepovers and such.

My mom’s always been more functional. Those Victorinox bags were heavy, and they have odd volumes – which aren’t enough for my mom at times. She broke the mould & moved off to American Tourister and back to Delsey. She even broke the mould of having black luggages, buying an electric blue one that is so easily distinguishable, it’s amazing.

I’m a mix-breed. I like functionality and lightweight stuff, but durability matters to me.

My old luggage tore. I denied it. But it tore. It was old. The handle was tearing too, and you could legitimately pretty much see into the suitcase without opening any zips, if you looked through the corner. We discovered this only while checking in at Bombay, and my dad shot me a look saying “that’s gotta go”.

It hit me then.

I was definitely going to let go of my suitcase once we got to Dubai. It was definitely going to get replaced for free, given its condition and given its lifetime warranty, but, it was going.

That’s countless flights: as a minor, as a major too. Innumerable cities. Camps. Memories.

One stands out though. My mom placed a googly-eyed sticker on the edge of my luggage, just before I went to college. It was her way of saying, wherever you go, I’ll be watching over you.

That was going away too.

In its place is a new bag.

A Victorinox. Slightly smaller. Black. Squarish. With a TSA Swiss lock.

It’s here.

We’re putting a googly-eyed sticker now too. And as we do, I’ll remember my parents are always watching over me irrespective of which city I’m in. But I’ll also remember that old Victorinox bag, which isn’t getting to see me go to these new places I’m about to visit.

I’ll miss you.

Here’s to you, new bag. Time to go places.

I get attached to my electronics really quick. I’ve written about my pangs of separation at various points in the past. Having to give away things, especially electronics that I have used over long periods of time, or have forged memories with. Letting go of my laptop last year (just before the beginning of my 4th year in University), hit me really hard. That was the first laptop I picked out for myself – with my dad giving me minimal assistance, just nudging me. But he had encouraged me to figure out specifications and exactly the kind of machine I desired before we went into the store, and buy what I wanted (within our budget). That machine was a beauty. It was everything: my first memorial drafted, my first memorial submitted, my first fiery e-mail sent out. It was my first all-night binge-watching, my first e-book speed-reading.

It meant so much, that I struggled to see it was past its prime, and I tried reviving it three times, to no avail.

The machine that came after that, which I used throughout my fourth year. That was something else entirely. We chose it with the same process, but naturally, my usage had changed. I was a heavier user now. I spent more time on screen. I needed a lighter machine.

But wow. That machine, I developed no emotional attachment to. It failed me numerous times, when I needed it the most. I traveled far and wide for its service, as you may know. I resorted to using others’ PCs.

We found an exchange offer and I now own a new laptop. I will miss you, my Lenovo experiment. But you were just that – an attempt to try a touchscreen, flexible laptop out. I will love you, but you were not the one for me.

To my new Dell Vostro, let’s make some memories. I will love you. I will care for you, and I will treat you right. We’re going to do some incredible things in the next year, and I hope you get to see all of it.

You see, my mom relies on me for entertainment a lot.

I mean that in the most literal sense anyone can mean that in. My birth meant that my mother was gifted not only with a baby son, but a device she could use for her own entertainment however she desired. To some parents, children are sociological experiments. To some parents, children carry the burden of their expectations. To my mother, I was better than any film she had ever watched, because she had the opportunity to Produce, Direct, Guest Star, and Promote me.

Basically, she did whatever she felt would result in the greatest entertainment value. Think of me as a TV show now. My mother, as a Director, ensured that I would receive the highest possible IMdB rating imaginable. There would be no Rotten Tomatoes, only nice Ripe ones. For example, my mother wanted music: therefore I learnt the piano. My mother wanted someone to fight with (she argued with her sister a lot back in the day, playful stuff): I became a lawyer. My mother wanted comic relief: therefore I fell down on my butt while trying to sit on a chair. My mother had demands that I fulfilled. I used to get irritated easily with her antics – like her tickling. That meant that it had the most entertainment value for her.

I’ve learnt a lot of stuff just because she sat opposite me and asked me questions. Or engaged in conversation and wanted entertainment at the end of it. It’s been good fun.

Aside from this, she relies on me for traditional entertainment a lot too. I’m often the reason she binge-watches shows, or speed-reads a book. She trusts my recommendations and often ends up finishing shows before me, which is saying something. I trust her recommendations too, which is why I do pretty much what she says (except watching WhatsApp forward videos), because they’re pretty exciting.

Whenever I come to town, we do two things together. Binge-watch a show, and watch a movie in a theatre. We’ve even been the only two in an entire theatre hall once.

Today we ticked off one of those boxes by watching Modern Family after lunch while sitting on the sofa.

Time to tick off the other one, Amma.

I always love visiting my parents’ workplaces.

You see, as a family, the three of us have always made it a point to take an active interest in any space we inhabit. Whether this is a hostel, a temporary room, a hotel room, a mountain peak, a sleeping bag, or even a desk, there’s a large amount of fascination in getting to know each others’ environment.

It’s been this way since I was a child. I used to head to my dad’s workplace to draw while he worked. His office was super chill with me hanging out back then, and everyone found a child in the office a golden opportunity to take breaks from work. It’s also the sight of my most famous piece of art, “The Home”, which is complete with scenery (please refer this if you want to know more), and some of my favourite photographs. Including me sitting opposite dad with him in a suit, and me sitting on top of our car. His old office had amazing restaurants very close by, including Fuddruckers, where I (And then half of Dubai) celebrated birthdays.

I’ve done the same with my mom. Her old office in Dubai used to be in a Caterpillar building. I even visited her at the World Trade Center once, because there was this AMAZING auto/car show happening that my dad managed to take me for – and we went up and picked mom up after that. This other time, I think GITEX happened there, and I visited my dad’s set up for that too. Super fun. I continued this in Bangalore as well, finding ways to entertain myself in a clinic was quite the challenge. Meeting people my mom worked with was always fun though.

Anyway.

What I’ve loved the most about it is that you get a feel for what they both do. You also understand what makes them stressed, what makes them smile for half of the day when they’re away from you (when you’re at home, that is).

More than much else, I think you gain a deeper appreciation for them. That’s priceless.

There’s this really cool phenomenon I’ve noticed since I’ve come to Dubai called the driver-pedestrian nod. I feel like this happens in countries where there is mutual respect for the lives of both drivers and creatures crossing the road. By which I don’t just mean humans, but also every other form of living being crossing the road. I’d also like to insert another condition to this phenomenon. It works best where there is a respect for the noise levels and general sound pollution in any given space, and a culture that wishes to protect the ears of all bystanders in the best possible way. Basically no honking. Essentially, I don’t think this works as well in Bangalore. While I might be biased, I’ve driven on those roads (recently) and I frequently jaywalk (with several others), so I know why people hate pedestrians, and people generally dislike drivers.

It works so well in Dubai though.

I think this stems from the driving culture over here. The process of getting a license is ridiculously strict – people have to enroll with institutions which are Government approved, subject to which there is a fixed curricula of sorts (in terms of how many classes you take, what sort of classes they are, how many road hours you need, how many solo road hours you need) after which you give the test. Your first three attempts are on a single payment, because people usually fail atleast twice. There’s a discipline to the driving instruction and the driving here, and the fines for breaking the law are nuts. Nobody dares to do it. In addition to that, on the pedestrian side, the fine for jaywalking is ridiculous too. Nobody’s going to do that either. There are also distinctly marked pedestrian crossings which are constructed very close to each other – maybe at most, 1 kilometer apart, so you’ll definitely find a crossing spot for yourself.

All of this has resulted in the default rule of pedestrians having right of way.

Where there is confusion, however, pedestrians turn to face the driver, who then nods and gestures with the hand that’s on the steering wheel: very calmly signalling to cross. That’s the phenomenon to which I refer. It’s so powerful. In one singular gesticulation, the driver communicates so much. “I respect your life. I am in a hurry, but you are in a hurry too. You have the right of way. I can continue driving because I am likely to reach my destination quicker than you. This is despite the heat outside and my general frustration with the traffic. I will not redirect my anger at you. Instead I will drink water as you cross. And then move.”

It’s beautiful.

However, pedestrians here don’t seem to care where drivers let them by.

As a result, I have instituted the pedestrian-driver nod.

Wherever someone gives me the right of way, I turn to them, smile, and nod. It’s equally powerful, and it communicates so much to them.

“Thank you for not running over me. Thank you for not moving as soon as I moved one inch away from your car. Thank you for not hitting my ankles with your tyres.”

It’s beautiful.

Today’s been a day of reorienting myself and putting into perspective that I’ve got only 2 weeks left on holiday to finish off the stuff I had taken on for the holiday. It also means there’s only two weeks left to me heading off on the adventure of a lifetime, so I’m pretty stoked about that.

In other news: