Post 01/23

Wow, I can't believe it has been less than a week since Ruchi has been married, and that she is only on the 3rd day of her honeymoon! The overwhelming emotion of the event, and the subsequent feeling of emptiness and exhaustion has made it seem as though weeks have passed.

So after my outburst in the car on Tuesday, I went for dance practice to my cousin for HER sangeet happening tonight. Got home tired and cranky but cried out, and my mother persuaded me to try on the clothes she bought me from Ahmedabad. Damn pretty stuff! When my sister gets married next year I'd rather shop for her trousseau and our outfits at these lesser-known boutique/traditional places than some chhakmak Bollywood designers. Oh, and my mother bought me my first ever sari blouses! And we will go shopping for saris soon!!! Yay!

(I just realised how mundane this entry will be. But sometimes this blog is also a way for me to preserve my sanity by maintaining a record of weeks of nothing that seem to just fly by and I think I am becoming senile or crazy because I can't remember WHAT i do everyday.)

ON wednesday I missed workout again! Due to something i don't remember... I think I left work late or something. It occured to me that God wanted me to get fat! And i was determined to work out for 2 hours on Thursday morning since it was a holiday and I would have free time from 8am till 11 am. So I threw a tantrum and went to bed early on Wednesday night and sneaked the car I'm not really allowed to drive out to workout. The gym at my club was closed in SPITE my having called the day before and being told that it was open! And the funny part is, I had a dream/premonition that I should bring my swimsuit. And it turned out the pool was open!

I also had a dream about an acquaintance being ill with flu/fever and my calling/meeting him and his being sarcastic about how I shouldn't visit him, and his tone implied that I didn't care. Turns out he DID have the flu! And you know what else, everytime I have dreams about women being pregnant, they usually are! I dreamt about my bhabhi and my dad's rakhi sister's daughter being so. And around the time they conceived, too! I also had a dream about Anne Hathaway being pregnant and I emailed her (she was in a class with me) about it. She replied saying that in psychology a dream baout pregnancy implies creativity and fertility and she had actually spent that time performing on stage etc! Funky coincidences no?!

I have the same tshirt! From a Sarah Jones performance!

My mom also had a dream that I hope comes true :D but I don't think it will :(

So then I frantically called Talwarkars where I go for aerobics, and they were closed too. As was gold gymn :(. I tried. I then went home and gorged on cereal. washed and blowdried my hair (which didn't turn out as well as last time :( ) and went for sangeet practice, where they had called a dosawalla. Yummmmm there was idli, mini idli, fried/masala idli, dosa, uttapa, sambar, rasam, tomato and coconut chutney, strawberry cheesecake, rasgulla, two types of chocolate cake,chocolate and brownies.

Came home, got waxed, got all set to nap when my mom dragged me to see a ladies' outfits to get an idea for my sister's wedding. We all ended up having a lovely informative chat about the lady, who was a Shia Muslim, her family, her devotion, and Muharram. Faith is incredible. And the faith of even regular moderate Muslims, immensely staunch. MUCH more than our regular Hindus/Christians/parsis. They don't wear their religion on their sleeves, unlike the hypocrites and fanatics, but practice and talk about it normally. It's just amazing to hear them talk about their unquestioning belief in Allah and the deep cuts from the Muharram beatings that heal without any recourse to doctors or stitches. The maatam, the tears and wailing and beating, that women still indulge in centturies after the battle at Karbala, can you imagine our children doing that about anything but themselves? How many Hindu kids do you know who actually know more than the very elemantary basics of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata?

Traditional Muharram self-mutilation

Muharram is traditionally a festival followed mostly by the Shias. It marks the first month of the new year in the Hijri or hejira calender, and is considered a sacred (muharram) month in which no sins should be indulged in. The Shias follow the mourning period for 2.5 months, starting next Tuesday this year, wearing only black clothing denoting mourning, and not eating out, watching TV, partying, listening to music etc. On the 10 days of the Muharram festival, maatam or mourning ceremonies are held in homes for the women, and the men have processions on teh 10th day in which they beat themselves in mourning. These are still held in Muslim parts of the city, and at Mahim you can see the waterpots that are kept for them to sip from as they pass. This link I think tells you the Sunni version of it. It also explains the pre-Christian/pre-Islamic commonalities in Middle Eastern culture, such as the creation fo Adam, the safe landing of Noah's ark, the saving of Abraham/Ibrahim from fire, of the Jew musa/Moses from the Pharoah by parting the waters of the Red Sea for him. The tenth day is called Asoorah and is a day for fasting as Allah created the Heavens and Earth on this day.

This link explains Muharram in a more basic form. Muharram is celebrated, umm, commemorated far more elaborately by Shias than by Sunnis because it is one of the causes of their division, kinda. The Sunnis and Shias branched out because there was a disagreement after Prophet Mohammad's death as to who would be his successor. The Shias believe that Prophet Muhammad had elected his daughter Fatima's son Hussain to be his successor, while the Sunnis believe that Ali, Fatima's huband and Prophet Muhammad's cousin was actually declared his successor. Please correct me if I am wrong, some of the websites i have browsed are pretty diconnected/confusing.

Artistic pictures of Muharram.

Then I meet a friend for coffee at Moshe's Crossword. I must say that It si MOST unsatisfying to drink tea from a mug that looks like a wineglass with a silly handle! i need a CUP! or a mug! Not a weird inbetween excuse! THEN i came home, ate dinner, and went for a Gujju play, Bas Kar Bakula.

Note to self and others: Gujju drama is MUCH better than Gujju comedy. Though Siddharth Randheria is a good actor, the best comedy I've seen is Parnya Chhe Kone Kahiye, and the reason I started liking him was when I saw him in a social drama, Tuuj Mari Mausam, way back in school. Gujju comedy is basically cliched as hell. Makes fun of the wife either as a fat virago with nothing better to do in life than to make her husband's life miserable, or as a silly sweet youn bimbo. The husband is always hapless, and through no fault of his of course. Throw in a whimsical, negative-IQ servant, some evil in-laws, some greed for money and schemes, some retarded cheesy pokey-nosed neighbours, and there you have it, a spoof on middle-class Gujju mentality. Sad, sometimes.

Last night I went to a business dinner/party with my father - a farewell for an industry captain. Oh, I wish I had pictures! It was a lovely night, and I was at my sunny still-sparkling best. I think I chatted with more people than my dad did. First the appetisers and drinks were circulated on the Chambers Terrace of the Taj. The last time Id been there was MONTHS ago. The Chambers itself is a stuffy brown and yellow heavy sort of lounge with overstuffed cushions for corporate and political bigwigs to relax their stressed-out derrieres in privacy without stares and whispers echoing from the common populace around. The terrace is large and lovely and faces the sea and the Gateway (but it didn't smell thank God). I succumbed to the temptation fo a tiny Samosa once. (Let me remind you to avoid Indian food at the Taj Mahal in Mumbai - it's very... sanitary tasting, and hence personalityless - a little self-observed tidbit that served me in good stead over my choice of dinner). We then proceeded into the Ballroom through a passage for dinner.

As we entered, we all ad to walk on the ramp for a picture before going to our tables. Was fun but quite conscious-making.

The seating had been determined in advance, and I was lucky to be seated between a good-natured English gentleman and a lady who happened to be the mother of a junior from my school, though the people across from me looked rather dour. I was also one of the few women there, the ratio of men:women being 12:1, and the ratio of men:young women being, well, 150:1. So I got looked at a lot. No wonder the men get bored at these stag affairs when all they do is talk business!

The entire room had been done up so it looked like the inside of a diamond. All blue and white and triangular facets. It looked stunning with the lighting. The MC was a lady with a trained affected accentless English sort of fake sappy voice - neither here nor there, but she was utterly nauseatingly feminine in her pink asymmetrical ruffled dress and giggle and glamourous lighthearted air. Then followed some speeches with different entrance music for each gentleman who ascended the stage to the podium, (quite funnily incongruous some of theme were!)

We were served our first course in the meantime. An espresso cup of exquisite whipped thyme and pistachio soup. Fragrant and flavourful mmmmm I was so sad when I finished it and had to hold myself back from the temptation of slurping up the last dregs! I had opted for Italian, and was rewarded for my good judgment with some excellent Ravioli in pinenut pesto. Pooh to those who opted for an Indian thali! It's just so messy in polite company and just doesn't taste good if not eaten with the hands! Not to mention the aforementioned detoxified insipid taste of Indian food at the Taj (except for the broccoli with mustard at the Masala Kraft which gives quite a kick.) The third course was disappointing with a vegetable parcel wrapped in filo dough on a potatoe roesti kinda base. In a bland saffron sauce that the sharp taste of powdery pepper improved only slightly. The show continued as we ate with a fashion show and jhatku-matku dances by models.

Note to self if I ever become an event-coordinator:

1. Models SHOULD not dance! It's too obvious they're doing it for show.

2. Find dancers who love the dance.

3. Don't make dancers wear supposedly skimpy clothes if you will provide them with a skin coloured bodysuit that does not match their skin tone!

4. Do not give western movements for Indian beats. It looks stupid and graceless as hell.

The dessert brought a surprise performance in Aasma! (how hep, they have a website!). They are a good looking band who can sing, and have been doing so since 2003, formed by Channel after Viva. I knew Sangeet in my Xavier's days, when he was the cutest guy in ur batch in JC, (he was in A div, Maths, and I in C), and the Prince Charming to my Cendrillon. A cute guy who's smart, clean-cut, can play and sing and dance? Now THAT'S a catch! Used to remember driving past Not Just Jazz by the Bay and seeing his name up on the billboard, slated to be performing that night. Anyway, I waved to him and he remembered me and dedicated the next song they were performing, Kajarare, to me! Yay! Then he had me up on stage when they performed the song that made them famous, Chandu ke Chacha. I was so embarassed but it was really nice that he remembered me! Of course after the party daddy asked "How do you know that boy?" Hehe. Sangeet on the left!

They are tremendous performers, vibrant and enthusiastic and sporting. They have an excellent rapport with each other and really involve the audience and had people up on stage to dance. unfortunately it was only a 10-15 minute performance.

Tonight is my cousin's sangeet! I shall see the fruition of all these practices! Wish me luck!