Do you know that Ballet started almost 500 years ago, in Italy?
Do you know that on average ballerinas wear out 2-3 pairs of pointe shoes per week?
Do you know that a male ballet dancer can lift over 1 & a half tonnes worth of ballerinas? That’s the same as picking up a Hippo! 🙄
Do you know that a three-hour ballet performance is roughly equivalent to running 18 miles?
I am now feeling sorry for myself…. Why didn’t I learned ballet dancing?? Is it too late now? 😦
Do you remember what you wanted to be, when you were a kid? I don’t.
No, I don’t have a memory loss or something. It’s just that I wanted to be so many things that now I don’t even remember if there was something special that I wanted to be.
My kids are also going through the same phase where one day they want to be Police, other day teacher. Specially Tisha, her desire to be something changes by every hour.
So, yesterday she was the Doctor. She decided to be a doctor cause her Papa, being tired, told her that he has some back pain. Liar!!!!
He just didn’t wanted to be a Horse. Actually, every day when he comes from office, all three kids would jump over him and he has to oblige their love by being their ride. So he would be a horse with all three on his back, riding, till they find something else to amuse them. Coming back to point, he didn’t wanted to be a horse, so he decides to say, that he got some pain in back and leg.
Tisha, being the Papa’s angel, decided to take care of him. So she came running to him and said “Papa, I am Doctor.”
Papa: Oh my doll…. You are a Doctor? (very proudly, as if she has just passed her MBBS exam 😛 )
Tisha: Yes. I am Doctor. You hurt Papa?
Papa: Yes, baby. I am hurt. I got pain in my leg.
Tisha rushed to her play room to get a handkerchief, a crayon and water in her sippy cup.
Dipped her handkerchief in water, started cleaning Papa‘s hand (forgot that he complained about his leg).
Tisha: Don’t make it dirty. Clean it.
Then she used her crayon as if giving an injection.
Tisha: Don’t cry, OK. Mamma is here. Good babies don’t cry. Okay.
Papa: (crying) No, Doctor. I don’t want injection. I want to go. (crying louder now)
Tisha: (In a very bossy way, now), Don’t Cry. Don’t be a bad baby. Look Mamma is here.
Otu too came up jumping up and said “Bad Boy”, to Papa.
Papa: crying….. 😦
Tisha: Papa, Push…. Push… Baby is Coming.
Papa: (speechless….. looking at me).
Me: (Laughing so hard… I don’t remember when I stopped).
Tisha later gave a teddy bear, all wrapped up in her handkerchief, to Papa.
See, here is your baby.” 😀
Last year this time I was in a plane, coming to USA for the first time, with my hubby and three kids. I was unsure of what future holds for me. How will I get along with new country, new culture and new people?
It turned out, pretty good. For those, who have read my post on How America is treating me…., would know what I am talking about. I didn’t write anything about India at that time, reason being, I wanted to feel it by the course of time, If I do indeed miss being in India? Or, what exactly did I miss about being there?
Now, that I have spent one whole year, I think I am eligible enough to write my first experience of missing India. So here it goes…. not necessarily in a specific order.
Indian Food – bet I won’t be the only one to agree on this point but, Indian food tastes better, in India only. You can visit any top notch restaurant of the world, but the taste of spices, that you have in Indian food, can not be found anywhere. I have been to the Indian restaurants here, but taste is not the same. I cook daily (almost), but still it’s not the same. I have eaten food cooked by others too, but it’s not the same. Miss that aroma, that smell of Indian soil and air.
Crowd – I know you may not agree with me on this one, but I do miss that crowd, that long stretch of people everywhere around you. When you go out and you start seeing people the moment you step out of your door, to the small lanes, parks, elevators, stairs and main roads…. everywhere a stream of people running for their daily errands. It’s so lively, as if everything has a life. Here I can stroll around blocks away from my home without seeing a single soul for miles (if we leave people running to their destinations, in their cars).
Movies – I do see Indian movies here, in theaters too, but the feeling is not the same. Indian movies are meant to be seen in big halls, with a cheering and whistling crowd of movie watchers; with some school kids still in their school uniforms bunking their classes; few college going love birds trying to find their corner seats; some oversize uncles spreading their legs and bumping your seat over and over again; smell of that buttery popcorn and slurping sounds of big colas; this is what Indian movies audience should be like. Miss it here.
Indian kids – I miss kids playing in the neighborhood. Now, nobody rings my doorbell and runs away before I open the door. 🙂 I miss that innocence when little girls would come by ringing your door bells not once or twice but million of times and would ask, “Can we take Tisha to our home for play?”. I miss kids playing cricket in the streets or flying kites on the roof, and shouting with all the strength of their lungs, on small victories. I miss seeing kids all dressed up in their uniforms, looking fresh and tidy in the mornings. Miss seeing grandparents dragging and carrying those same kids, exhausted after school, and take them back to home. Miss the mayhem and mischief of kids.
My Neighborhood – I miss that chat with the neighbors through balcony having sips of tea in between. How easily we discussed everything from household matters to cricket to debate on who should be the next prime minister, with the whole neighborhood, while still in the comfort of our homes. I miss those small gatherings on the stairs with the neighbors, which used to start with the simple namaste and how are you?, to discussion about their daughter’s friend’s kids school admissions. I miss those visits by neighborhood uncle, who will come by just to say hello. Miss listening to Hindi songs playing on a radio of a very distant shop.
Late Nights – In India we have a wrong notion that people in USA have a better night life, as if they party all night, and have more fun, than us. On the contrary, I have found, here people sleep early, to be precise 8pm is their sleeping time, while we on the other hand would not even have our dinner by that time. Markets are close by 8 or max 9, and then you have no place to go to. I miss those evenings/night snacks of chaat and golgappas by roadside at 10 pm. Going out to eat at 11 and still be able to find good food, specially those late nights aaloo paranthas in Noida.
Driving on Indian Roads – It would be insane to say that, but seriously, the fun that you have while driving on Indian roads can never be the same in USA. I loved going on long drives there, specially on highways; here it looks like every road is a highway, pretty boring. Missed that road rage and honking. Cutting into each others lanes and taking wrong turns. It may sound bad, but it was thrilling (however, I would never advise others to do that). Miss bikes and rickshavalas passing alongside your cars and taking sharp turns, miss cycles and school vans, with kids waving byes.
Street Food and Dhabas on Roadside – Dear dhabavalas, you are really a blessing, and now I have realized your importance. The way we can stop our cars anywhere on the road and would find a small dhaba, have a little glass (not cup) of tea with pakoras… yumm… and those jaljira places in summers…. ooohhh…. missing you. Miss aaloo chaat, golgappa, momos, chowmein, paranthas, ice creams, and jalebi shops/counters (thela to be precise).
Indian stores and Markets – Maggi and Dairy Milk Chocolate are no longer soem food item for me, they are life’s little pleasures. You will know it, when you have to go to 100 miles to buy a dairy milk chocolate. Running to Indian stores to buy that Imli chatni or Indian namkeens and sweets….. how easy it was in India, to go to a store on a walking distance and buy these life’s small luxuries. Step out of your home, and there you will have a shop, delivering everything that you desire, sometimes home delivery too.
Most importantly, I miss family and friends. Miss those times when we would just go to a friend’s place unannounced, just to have a cup of tea, and would come back fully loaded having dinner. Miss that, when you feel close enough to your family and friends to be able to reach them in time of need within hours. Every birthday or small celebration with your close ones. People who really matter in your life. Miss home and miss my hometown. Miss actually everything that my country has. Miss India. 😦
“Abra Ka Dabra” or “Gili Gili Choo”, magicians would say something like this and magically a handkerchief would transformed into a beautiful pigeon. Magic!!!
I have tried saying those magic words, so many times, but not even once I am able to turn any of my hankies to a bird or even to a cleaner hanky. 😦
But, there are some magic words, not to put a lifeless thing to life, but rather turn a sorrow to a smile or a frown into compassion(Vice Versa too) . “Thanks” and “Sorry” are these magic words.
Today celebrations are going on for Thanksgiving day. I am seeing the grand Thanksgiving parade (not in downtown 😦 but, on TV). Showing all my favorite cartoon characters, beautifully choreographed dances and live songs, big balloons and vibrating atmosphere. Loving it. Kind of reminds me of Republic Parade of India gone wild. 🙂
Thanksgiving is a harvest festival celebrated to say thanks for the harvest season, for the food that we are blessed with. Coming to think of it, in India, almost every festival is centered around the basic theme of harvest. Be it Hindu Calendar‘s new year, Makar Sakranti, Holi, Pongal, Onam, Ugadi or Bihu…. so many of them.
Coming back to the Thanksgiving day, my curiosity took me to thinking, what would a Happy Sorrygiving day would look like? Interesting, right!!!
Just imagine a day when whole extended family is sitting on a big dining table, came together to say sorry to each other for each hurtful actions that they have done. This time, no one wants to go first. Everyone is waiting for others to start. Just then, grandpa stands up and says ”Sorry son, but I have changed my will, and now after my death, all my money is going to my twenty year old girlfriend.”
Grandma‘s turn “oh dear… how should I say, but dear daughter in law, I have never liked you. I am sorry, but you are so ugly. I mean, just look at my son and you….”
Kid’s turn – “Dad and Mom, I am sorry, but I don’t feel sorry for any of my action. Go, shoot me.”
Father’s turn – “Dear wife, I am sorry. But, I think I am gay and I want a divorce. I am now in love with my best friend Gary, soon we will marry.”
Mother’s turn – “I am sorry hubby. But, Gary is not gay. In fact, our kid is actually, his kid.”
A loud thunder and lightning. God’s voice is heard “I am sorry, guys. But, your time is over. Come back, all of you.”
Hmmn….Doesn’t look like a good idea to me, to celebrate this Sorrygiving day. Lets, focus only on Thanksgiving.
On that note, I would like to thank every one who has motivated me and inspired me in my life, my family, my friends, my critics, enemies and above all my dear humorous and fun-loving God. Thanks. Keep smiling 🙂
My Journey So Far.... 