Trying To Keep Mum!

I have heard or read somewhere, that the more often we talk about the unpleasant experiences of our lives, the deeper goes its impact. Somehow talking about it, seems to keep reviving the memories of the incident, maybe even, some other unpleasant ones connected to it and just digs deeper into our minds. Its like if I have a fight with a stranger on the street about something, and seethe about it. Then I come back home and tell the GP about it, the anger is revived anew, then I speak to a friend the next day and tell her about it too, and once again the mind gets agitated. And hence each time I talk about it, the agitation, anger, frustration just goes deeper inside my mind. Creating a deeper pocket of negativity.

I think the concept is true, it does indeed happen, the more we talk about it, the more we end up thinking about it, and the more it keeps bothering us. So how easy is it, then to just shut up and not talk about it? Not easy at all, I think. Something happened today, something that would seem rather small, but it got my goat, besides that it triggered a memory of similar past incidents, and just got into the snowball effect. I am trying to get my mind away from it, but then the mind does have a mind of its own. Its easy to fall into the vortex of anger, negative thinking, self pity, bitchiness. So I have taken a proactive step, something I have never done before. I have decided not to talk aloud about it. It is coming to my mind now and again, and it will be easy to just call up someone and talk about it, but I am not doing it. I did tell the GP first off, because it was just too fresh in my mind at that point, but post that I decided to try this experiment, of keeping mum about it. It is hard, very hard, but I am trying. And I am hoping that it works, and I get over it sooner, and better. The three hours of watching Avataar definitely helped.

Tell me how you deal with situations that bother you? Is it always a good idea to tell a friend and lighten your heart and mind? What are the tricks up your sleeve, please do share!

Crazy Scary Day

Yesterday turned out to be one of the most anxiety ridden, crazy day of my life. The GP left for his first overnight business trip since we got here, the night before. I stayed up really late, and went to bed, only when I just could not keep my eyelids apart,because that was the only way to ensure a good night's sleep, without frights and scares and ofcourse the dollops of self pity which comes easy. The morning, that followed, I did not even attempt to wake up, till the BB was up and all ready to go about his day.

This weekend was a long one, since Monday was a holiday, but there went my day of fun, with the GP gone. So halfheartedly I started off my day by serving the BB his breakfast, and told him to eat it, while I went about me day's work, expecting nothing more than some evening loneliness, and boredom. Obviously I did not know better. The BB did not have his breakfast, and since I told him he could not get off the dining chair till he had that single slice of bread, he decided to curl up on the seat and just lay there instead. Follow that up with me burning my wrist on the inner side, trying to clean my gas stove, not a big deal in itself, but its just that the location of the injury was a first timer. And this was the smallest thing to happen in the day.

I am very scared of flights, and I mean really really scared. For me taking a flight, whether myself or any of my loved ones, basically means a fifty-fifty chance of making it out alive. Blame it on the GP who made me watch a million episodes of Air Crash Investigations, instilling in me a lifelong fear of flying. And hence it is a firm rule, that the GP must inform me, as soon as he lands each time he takes a flight. Well, what do you think happened yesterday? His phones did not work when he landed, the international roaming did not kick in on either of his phones, he was in a rush to get to a conference with his colleague, and could not make a short stop call either, and I was freaking out beyond imagination. I left him text messages, kept trying his numbers, and eventually ended up even leaving him a mail. All this while the BB still did not have his breakfast and remained curled up on the chair. I finally take things into my own hands, and start feeding him, and he promptly pukes it all out. My mind is still busy wondering about the GP, and so I pick up the BB who seemed bored and tiered by then, make him drink some water, and put him down for a pre-lunch nap. I went back into the kitchen, and tried to cook lunch, but I was just too worried about the GP to concentrate. Somehow I manage to whip up something edible for lunch, bring the BB down for his lunch, he simply refuses to eat, so I leave him alone, and let him nap some more. Have my own lunch, get back to the laptop, and see a two liner from the GP telling me he is safe and sound, and just cannot call me. Though not happy, at the least I was off my worries on that front.

With the dipping mercury in the climate, a post lunch nap feels like a lovely option, with the BB wanting to nap, I just curl up next to him, under the cosy quilt and go off to la la land. We wake up, and I finally get some food into the BB, his first bits of the day. He seemed lazy and lethargic, but I blamed that all on his being without food since morning. He felt a bit warm, and I thought that was about being under the quilt most of the day. But at half past seven, a while after his meal, the BB's lethargy, did not quite leave me comfortable, so I thought I will check his temperature to calm my fears. Well, who knew, calm was the last thing I would be for the day. The thermometer in no time jumped to over a 102, and I was at my wit's end. I immediately called up a friend, who took us to the doctor in his car. The clinic was closing down for the day, and I had to beg them to have a look at the BB, and fortunately they did. The doctor checked up the BB a bit and simply asked me to give him some paracetamol, and get him back to the clinic in the morning if the fever did not go away. And I thought, my job was just to monitor his temperature through the night, and giving him regular doses of paracetamol. Apparently not.

A couple of hours after I administered the first dose of the medicine, the BB's temperature shot up again. I could not administer another dose for another hour and half atleast. The doctor had suggested sponging him with cool water to keep the temperature down, and I would have done that, had the BB not been shivering by then. It was close to midnight by then, and I was nonplussed about what to do next. I called up my friends again, and we decided to take him to the Royal Children's Hospital. We got there at midnight. The nurses, took down his details, I registered at the reception, and were told to wait, till his name was called out. Good enough, I thought, after all, how long could it possibly take in the Emergency Room of such a huge hospital. What did I know. It was way past 1, and not a single child had been called in. This was not looking good any longer. I asked the nurses again, requested them to check the BB's temperature, and it was a good 104 degrees, and he was sleeping peacefully in my arms. The nurse advised no medicine as long as he was comfortable. I waited. At close to two, I could not wait anymore, I asked, just how long would it take for a doctor to have a look at the BB. Apparently there were six other people waiting ahead of me, and the wait period was expected to be close to four hours, which the nurse exclaimed was a good thing, since in the day it is usually over six hours. What the hell does EMERGENCY mean, I wondered. My friends had office the next day morning, and looking at the way things were going, it just did not seem to make sense to wait anymore, so I decided to leave. Apparently a child with a head injury, had left just before we arrived after a long wait too. I am appalled at the state of health care here, and that is the least I can say post that horrifying experience. A little girl was howling in pain, falling asleep, and waking up howling in pain yet again, with absolutely no doctor to attend to her, nor a nurse or staff member who expressed even a hint of caring. When I spoke to the nurse and told her the BB had a temperature of over 103, she just coolly kept chewing her gum, and replied bluntly that she did not know what that meant. The reason, I am guessing, is that they use the Celsius scale. But her attitude, well, it was just amazing, and if you thought chewing a gum meant the nurse was a young girl, you are wrong, because she was atleast a good forty years old. I just came back home completely disgusted with the system, and lack of care and organisation, in a supposedly developed nation. If you cannot provide prompt health care services, in your hospitals' emergency rooms, I don't think the country has any right to call itself developed. It was scary enough with a burning up BB, in a new place without the GP, but the last thing I had expected was to come back from a hospital after waiting for over two hours, without a doctor even looking at my sick child.

Back home, I kept monitoring the temperature. As per the instructions of the nurses at the hospital, and the information sheet they gave me on children's fevers, I held back the medicine, for as long as I could. I was up till my eyes started to shut down of their own accord, and finally at 4am, I decided I needed to get rest, since I could not afford to fall off exhausted myself. The temperature was hovering around 102, and so I gave him a dose of the medicine, and then I prayed. Infact I called on God, as though He was my own father, and told Him, He had to, simply had to look after the BB while I get some sleep, and that the BB was His responsibility while I slept. At 5am, I woke up. The BB was sweating heavily, and his fever was gone. His clothes were damp with his perspiration, and his hair wet. I changed him, and slept again. I checked his temperature next at 9am, and it was hovering around 99. And that is the way it has been all day long today, hovering around 99. But the big deal is, that he has been happy and active all day, and most importantly has been eating a bit. Till the fever crosses, a 100, I don't give him any meds, so for all practical purposes, he is just fine. So I can thank the great Lord, for truly taking care of my son, when I actually handed over his care to Him. Breathing easier today, but checking on the BB's temperature every hour, who has suddenly started finding it very amusing and wants to be checked every five minutes instead.

I can only express my gratitude to God for making the fever go away, and hope that the BB is completely fine, before the GP gets back. And that is how my life goes, and makes me wonder if I will ever get back to working again, what would I do, when the BB falls ill, times when I completely lose my mind, and cannot think of being away from him even momentarily!

Of Parenting

When, if ever, is the right age for parents to leave their child in the care of others, is a question that keeps coming to me often these days, since we started sending the BB to the care centre. I have a million doubts about, whether I am doing the right thing or not? The GP is much more determined on this front, and is sure that we need to let him be, for him to grow and learn. I do agree about the growing and learning bit, but, I still am not sure.

Anyone who has been reading me, is sure to know that I am quite a paranoid mother. I work hard at keeping it in check, but sometimes it gets to me. After we shifted to this place, the BB has finally had the opportunity to spend time regularly with kids of his age, at the playgroup, the care centre, the park. And I am very happy about it, what concerns me though, are the things he ends up learning at times. The BB has, so far never been an aggressive or violent child. No, he is no angel, and can quite scream and cry his heart out when things don't go his way, and be a complete brat when it so pleases him, but he is not aggressive in his attitude or behaviour with other kids. Correction, was not. Overnight, it seems, he has learnt to push, shove and horror of horrors, grab the throat. I have seen the kids at the centre, push and hit each other, playfully, when I go to drop the BB there, and I was a little concerned about it, but to see him pick it up so soon, I really don't know what to do. It is quite mortifying as a parent, to know, that a child, we think we are bringing up well, go and push or shove another child. And yet, I realise after a lot of thinking, that it is all a part of his learning curve, possibly, time for his first lesson in selective learning, from what he sees around him.

He needs to spend time with children his age, to facilitate a normal social development, and when I let that happen, I cannot control what he learns from there. And we cannot hand pick the kids he spends his time with, just as we cannot hand pick the people we work, go to school or move around with. The important thing is know what to learn and what to leave out from what we see all around ourselves. Brings me back to my original thinking, that we can only impart, or rather try to impart the right values and principles to our children, and hope they use it well, because they will eventually leave the nest someday. But isn't three a age too young to impart values, and expect them to stick to them all the time. And hence I wonder, what in fact is the right age to let a child, infact go solo. Had we been in India, I would not have a choice but to send him to school/pre-school by now. And it would not necessarily be a place of my choice! Coming back to learning things that are not-so-good, I am again divided on what to teach him here. I have started consistently repeating that he needs to be nice to his friends, not hurt them, share his things and such, but what also worries me is, that what should he do, if it is being done to him? I have had doubts about this earlier and still do. Possibly teaching him, never to be the first one to do it, or do it to kids who are not bothering him are the first step, but I wonder how often would a child remember what his mother told him at home, when he is out there with other kids playing. I do understand it is a part of growing up, possibly the first instance in his life, where he will learn the importance of selecting what he absorbs. And yet, he seems to be too young for it all.

Over the past few years, I have come to realise parenting is the biggest test in self-doubt. We end up second guessing ourselves at every step. Was this the right way to go or not, should I be doing things this way or another and the list is endless. At the end of the day, what really matters is that we try our best to impart the right values, or in the least, help the child develop his own value system. And I guess every trying step now, is just a way of reaching that ultimate goal. And there is no doubt that he is also learning nice things being with other kids, and that can never be discounted, just because of a few things learnt, which we don't quite like.

The BB is still at an age, where I can hug and hold him, and soothe away all his troubles. I cannot even express in words, the immense satisfaction it gives me, as a parent, but I also wonder about the times, when this will not be enough. I love being able to make his crying stop, the pain go away, the anger melt, by holding him close. And yet I already see things starting to change, where just a mumma-hug is no longer enough. How hard would it be to see my own child in pain and not being able to make it go away with just a cuddle, and some soft words in a few years from now? I just don't ever ever want to let go of this little mumma-magic I possess, that is so effective till now. And I know it will kill a little bit of me, when it stops working or when it stops being enough!

Poll This For Me

This is a short, to the point post, and I am doing this, to get some peace of mind. When we shifted here, I had some of my things packed and sent here through air-cargo. I looked up online, and found a service, which handled international relocations, called India Relocation. There were no big things, like furniture or white goods, but stuff like curios, toys, some bedding, clothes, which I needed to ship, because they went way beyond my airline baggage limit. The things arrived here in shambles. Lots of things were missing, and of the rest, many were broken and terribly damaged. The services for transport were provided by TNT, and so you know very well what I have to say about them.

I called up TNT, and lodged a complaint on the 24th of Dec 2009. Nothing has happened so far. They say they will forward claim forms to the person who booked it from India, namely a Mr. Sandeep Sharma from India Relocation. When I follow it up with Mr. Sharma, he says he is working towards getting the forms, though I doubt that, since he has pretty much no concrete thing to show. he says he will forward me his communication ie the chain of mails, with TNT/DTDC, but has not forwarded a single thing to me so far. Also I cannot be sure where the things went missing, since so so many people were involved, did India relocation keep some of it for themselves or is it TNT to blame. But each time I think of all the wonderful things that I have lost, I feel so enraged. And yet I wonder if pestering or following up, really matters, because I cannot be sure it is being followed up from the other end. I think, now, I want to forget about the whole episode and give up the whole thing, because I don't think I can get any concrete results here. Its been a big loss, because I have paid for transportation of things, which were never actually sent, paid for packing, which was not done, things had just been randomly dumped in the boxes which were finally shipped, while they were packed really well under my supervision back in India, and hence finally have reached here broken and damaged. But I don't see a point in being upset about it, and just making my own blood boil. The worst is they have damaged and taken away things that were brand new, besides this gorgeous wall hanging my grandmother had made for me. My heart cannot stop bleeding for it.

Does anyone here think, there is a point in pursuing it, because if the things have been removed before being handed over to TNT, what is left for me to find. And anyone looking to relocate and transport their good, STAY AWAY FROM INDIA RELOCATION and TNT. Absolutely worthless service and reliability. Just a total waste of money. I am really counting on you guys to help me out here, to decide about whether to do anything about this or not. I am just swaying between two extremes right now, not sure about what to do. If you are reading this, please, do leave a comment with atleast a 'yes' - follow it up, or a 'no' here to help me decide. And for all those who say fight for this, please show me a way!!!

PS - Based on the first few comments. I have followed it up, lodged a complaint, followed it up with the India Relocation guys, called up TNT here a no. of times. But as such I cannot do anything hands on. So do you think the follow up will bear results? I have done the start up/follow up. Tell me if you think there is else I can concretely do.

Moving and Baking Don't Mix

OK, so this is final. I am never shifting without every little thing of my house coming right with me. Why, you ask? Simply because it means I cannot bake decent cakes for like an eternity after a shift. When I was in India, I could just go to the local grocer and tell him to pack me the ingredients in exactly the amount I needed. So it was pau kilo maida, pau kilo cheeni and so on.(*pau kilo - 250 gms). At home I never had to bother with the measuring or weighing, the ingredients were always in right proportions and life was good. Nearing Christmas, the local supermarkets even stocked up baking ingredients in smaller portions.

Then we shifted. In Sharjah, I could find nothing in packs of less than 1 kg. I never bought a kitchen weighing scale, because I just find it too pretentious. I tried to get the proportions right and messed up each time.I did not bake for a year. In fact just before the Christmas of 2008, I desperately tried, every option, the microwave, the pressure cooker, the oven I had brought from India, the gas oven in my kitchen there, and even bought a new electric oven to do it. Everything fell absolutely flat on its face. I got textures ranging from custard to halwa to rock hard, and everything else you can imagine. Then it took an epiphany, and a baker friend's recipe to guide me to try a measuring cup to get proper quantities, and what do you know, it worked like magic. Once again, I had a measuring cup at home, the one with came with my rice cooker. Don't think I would have bought one, because I just find it too 'fancy'. And I was back to baking well.

And then I shifted again. No measuring cup, no local grocer to weigh my stuff for me, and one gross cake is what I make. I hate it, absolutely hate it. This is simply unfair. Each time I move, my baking suffers, and just because I no longer have with me the things that make it work for me. And so I declared to the GP yesterday, that I am not moving anymore. However may I just add, the big ego boosting factor was that the BB did enjoy the cake, and asked for some more. But I for the life of me, don't know why.

And add to that the woes of new, unknown varieties of onions, potatoes and some more. The onions just don't make for the kinds I am used to in my salads, or sides. I like the Indian onions. Maybe they are not of great quality or breed, but that is what I am used to, and I miss them, I miss them so so bad. Atleast in Sharjah, they were available. Why do there have to be so so many types of onions for God's sake? And I miss veggies, you know the kinds that can be prepared as sabzi(curry). Bored with the same set of 4-5 veggies that can be prepared like curries being available, and I am in no plan to completely change to eating veggies only as salads, I like mine cooked, complete desi style, spicy tadka et all.

So well that is what it is out here with my food related woes. Otherwise, the place is treating me well, I am liking it quite a bit. All I need now, is to learn to drive, and if the GP pushes me hard enough, I may just go ahead and do it.

PS - Did I mention how I am managing without any parlour visits so far. The threading ritual every fortnight is not happening, so its all about my own efforts to keep myself presentable. Not a great success, but tagging along somehow.

What is With Me?????

Oops! I did it again. That people is my middle name. I keep putting myself into stupid sticky situations, and just don't know how to come out of it with my peace of mind intact. I can easily say that its the other people, but I know it is not, it is me, and this is a completely me thing that I need to work on.

Though I am quite well guarded against vulnerability to people, than what I was before, the guard does slip once in a while. And I let people into my heart and emotions, a lot deeper than what I want to, or need to. I like people, in general, and genuinely enjoy communicating with people, knowing them. Of late I have lucked out so many times, found such amazing friends, that I keep wondering, how come?

The issue here though is different, when someone suddenly turns a blind eye or deaf ear to me, for no apparent reason, it bothers me. I was watching 'Samantha Who' just today morning, and something very similar to what I go through. About the series, Samantha is a woman suffering from amnesia, and barely remembers anyone from her past life. So she bumps into a man, her ex-boyfriend on the street, who she had been stalking earlier, and is surprised, by the way he runs away from her. When she finds out the reason, she gets to him by hook or by crook,to let him know that she is not stalking him anymore and does not wish to either. He tries to escape, but she keeps catching up with him, till she tells him her side of the story. I am so like that, I just cannot handle it when I know someone is misunderstanding me, or someone suddenly behaves weirdly without any apparent cause.

I never get it when supposed friends, do a sudden u-turn, and just stay away or shut up, without any visible reason. Though I don't mind them walking out on a friendship or whatever they thought the relationship between us was, I think I have a right to know why. I cannot pretend to be nonchalant, because I am not, and it bothers me when I have invested time and emotions in a relation with someone, and that person simply turns cold. These are not imagined friendships, but a real two way thing, where the person on the other side, has bonded with me and been as open with me, as I have been with them. So it feels very strange when they turn cold, suddenly. It bothers me, and I need to clear the air, if you have an issue, say it out aloud, and leave, but have the sensitivity and etiquette to do that much atleast.

I hardly ever lose close friends, atleast to unknown causes, so when it happens it like a nagging pain, till I know why.This happened recently when someone got in touch online, was very friendly, and shared a lot of things. I was touched at the fact that someone so openly trusted me, and could share so much. And honestly I cannot take people lightly. I did think about this person as a friend then on, as I am sure would anybody, if I went and discussed my entire life with them. But now, there is a sudden point where there is refusal to talk, and I find it strange. Forget about a hi or hello, there is no response to my greetings either. Its OK, if you suddenly feel you don't want to be my friend, there is no rule which says you need to be. I have no intention of invading into anybody's life at all, but I don't like being given a cold shoulder just like that either. I need to put a formal end to this, if there is no continuation, just clear it up and move on for both our sakes. And here I am not talking about someone you meet at the store counter, I am talking about someone, who is a friend, or atleast someone I thought is a friend after the exchanges we had.

I don't expect friends to lay their lives for me, and it is quite understandable if they are busy, or whatever, but I do expect that they will be nice enough to not suddenly run away without a word. the problem with me here is not that I want to maintain the relationship, but that I need to know why. If you come upto me, share your life with me or propose a friendship, I take it seriously, if you don't then please don't come knocking on my door. I take it seriously enough to genuinely care for you, which is not about talking everyday or hugging, or sending gifts each other's way, but it is about caring for you as a person. After I have gladly invested that for someone, coldness from them, is not taken lightly by me. And I do deserve an answer.

Maybe I am naive, and should learn the art of not caring, and not giving a damn. But that is so not me, I try so hard to pull back when I feel myself really beginning to care for someone, but it gets difficult when they put their most vulnerable side right up in front of me. Maybe I need to just not care, but that would just add to my list of undesirable characteristics I have developed over the years, under the guise of practicality. I just don't know what lesson to learn from this, so as not to get into such a mess yet again, ever, because it will bother me till I can talk it out with the said person, and I don't want to turn into stalker Samantha.

New Place, Same Goofy Me!

The city of Melbourne and its suburbs are said to have a great network of public transport, consisting of buses, trams and the metro. You simply go to a website, put in your address, the place where you want to reach, and it chalks out an entire travel plan for you. Is that not cool, I thought to myself. What did I know then, that I was just challenging fate, trying out things too soon, to do it right, being my clumsy, goofy self.

So here I was on a bright afternoon, out with the BB to meet a friend and her daughter, in the heart of the city. The route was simple enough. Straight down my street, I had to reach the tram station, get in, and it would take me exactly to where I needed to go. The GP told me to carry a lot of coins, because I would require them to purchase my ticket, and to take a full day ticket, which is like a whole days pass to travel by the trams.Good enough. I start walking, miss a couple of stops, and end up walking a lot of extra distance getting to the 3rd closest one to me. Wait for the tram, it comes, I get in, and then I don't know how to get the ticket. To me, a bus has a conductor selling tickets, and he asks you what stop, tells you the fare, you pay him, he gives you the ticket. And that's it. But in a country that is far too technologically advanced for the half-witted me, and where manual labour pays more than blue collar jobs, there was no conductor. There were some validation machines, but I had nothing to be validated. Feeling like a complete fool, i went to the driver and asked him for a ticket. he told me to go to the big machine at the back and get it. I go back, and still don't spot it easily. All this time I am holding onto the BB's hand, balancing his stroller, and hoping for dear life that I don't fall in the moving tram and look like a complete fool. So I manage to find the machine, enter the numerous details it needs, some based on pure guess work, and it asks me to put in the required amount in the slot machine.I did not have enough change, so ended up paying a few cents extra. Got my ticket and went and sat down. Called up the GP to boast about my great triumph at managing all of this too. And thank the lord who looks after children, that BB managed to be too happy/overwhelmed/ashamed of being with an inept woman for a mother, to not get upset or want something, or do anything crazy. I had to get off at the last stop, so that definitely did not need much of a genius I figured, and relaxed into my seat. The BB happily looking out of the window, I picked out something to read.

What I did not know then, was that this was just the start of my adventure. A few stops along the way, climbed in too men. I did not see them, because I was too deep into my reading, I just realised that someone came and sat in front of me, and adjusted the stroller, to make better space. Look up to see a man, who wore nothing on the upper half, was sweating like a pig and was constantly hitting himself. Before I could register it all, his friend pulled him up, he touched my head and walked off. Wow! I did not even realise what happened. I don't think anyone else on the tram cared, and as long as he went away, I kept quiet. But this man was mad, he got upto all kinds of antics post this, and pretty much all other passengers were upset. And then suddenly an announcement, saying the next stop would be the last stop, and the tram would not go further. It did not seem like a final stop or the end of tracks, and I was confused, but got off the tram with everyone else. And realised it was somewhere in the middle, there had been an accident ahead, and the trams could not go any further. So what do you think I do? I had no idea where I was. Fun is it not, first day out on my own, and I don't know where I am. I asked around, and a sweet guy, forthcomingly came forward and told me that I just needed to walk straight ahead for about a kilometre and I would get to where I needed to be. And that is how, walking down the road, I reached my destination

The return was a lot better, because the journey itself was uneventful, except that I got off a few stops too early. Waited at the same stop, for the next tram, hopped on and got off where I need to, and then walked back home from there.

And then the very next day, there is some more travel fun. I visit a friend's place for lunch. She is about two kilometres from my place, and so I walk down, have some lunch, chat up and leave. I strap the BB onto his pram, plug in some soul rendering music from Wake Up Sid, into my ears and start to get back home. And what do you know after about twenty minutes of walking I realise I have no idea about where I am. Pancic. Panic some more. Look around. A board with the street name. Uh-oh! I did not take the first turn I had to, and continued unabated on the street on which my friend lives. Can I please blame this one on Shankar Ehsaan Loy, because their music just left me day dreaming, humming along? Coming back to my predicament, I realise that I just did not want to walk all the way back now, because that would mean first covering back these twenty minutes and then another thirty minutes or so to home. I spot a bus-stop nearby, call my friend, get the details, and wait for the bus. It comes, I get in, again problem with the ticket. There is no ticket vending machine in the bus. Here, I have to buy it from the driver. I ask him for one, he is rude, and tells me to carry change next time. I tell him, I had no plans of taking a bus today. I tell him what stop I need to get off at, and go and sit. When we start nearing my stop, I stand up, only to see a big 'No Standing' written on the floor. All confused, I sit back down, thinking he would stop it at the stop, esp since I have told him where I need to get off. Well what do you know? He does not stop it, I go running to him and say, "I had to get off there", and pat comes the reply, "Well, you missed your stop." and he just goes on. Normally it would have been ok, but missing my stop, which is the last one on my street means, I go across the highway/freeway to the next stop. That means I cannot walk back, and have to again take a bus to get back to my stop. So I get off at the next stop, and so does an older man with me. I look across the street, and there is no bus stop there. So? How do I get back. I ask the man, and he tells me, buses going either way, come on the same side at this stop, and he told me which one to get on. Then he nicely looked up the time table, and his watch and said the next one might take a while, basically 15-16 minutes. He knew what happened back in the bus, because he was sitting upfront, and I guess he is a regular traveller of that bus, because he told me, that particular driver was a bit rough and rude. I thanked him profusely and he went his way.

And you would think it was just one stop now, and I was home right? No! I took the right bus, but gave wrong stop-name. Know why? Because the names of the stop on one side of the road do not match those across, basically because they are the names of the streets which lead inside. And how was I to know that? The driver this time round, however was a pleasant man, and he stopped at the next stop for me, which meant a little more for me to walk, but I reached home all the same,just a little worse for wear. So that was how my first two attempts at going places in my own have turned out. Am I daunted? Hell no! Because I have learnt, some, and I am sure I can do a lot better next time, and only if I keep doing it, will I get the hang of it isn't it? Surprisingly though I have never got lost, or gone the wrong place ever before, not even when I was new to Bombay and had just started traveling on my own, local trains and all.

A few things that I really liked, during these two trips, was that people around the place are very forthcomingly helpful when they see you with a child. Getting onto public transport with a stroller, and a child, would invariably mean people would help without even asking or expecting a word of thanks,. It almost seemed like a norm. Coming from Bombay locals, where heavily pregnant women stand through long journeys in crowded trains, and young students or women who have been there themselves, just sit in their seats, not giving relief to the women for a second, this was really amazing to me. A man even offered me his seat in the tram, when I was returning, since it was quite crowded and I was with the BB. When we were dropped off mid-way, because the trams could not go further, I was all bewildered, and even without me asking, people came and asked me where I wanted to go, and offered me directions. The guy who really guided me in detail, was an Indian, I believe a student out with his friends, and he did so his own, without my asking. I mentions Indian here, because I would never expect teh same courtesy back in India, atleast not proactively done. And that was indeed nice.

Just wanted to share my crazy adventures on the blog, and hence this overly long post!

The One Where I Take The Flight

And so, here I am, in a new place, a new home, but fortunately with the same old family, and a few old friends. Its been nearly a month since I finally managed to take my flight to Melbourne, after all the hiccups, and so far, its been nice, or rather its all fine now. Let me chronicle the events from where I left it last, and you can find out yourself what a roller coaster ride it has been, just getting till here.

My tickets were rescheduled, for the 16th, which meant the BB had a week to recover, which he did not, had a relapse, and he was still on his course of antibitotics when I finally flew out of Bombay. I had no idea how I would single-handedly administer the medicines to him, during the travel time of close to 24 hours. All was well, when he had a tiny meal at the airport, and then some salad in-flight. I had to change my flight at Hong Kong, and the flight landed there an hour earlier than scheduled, and I was just wondering what I would do with an extra hour at hand. (Taking here the opportunity to say, people, do fly Kingfisher whenever you get the opportunity, you will love it. The glam interiors, the great service, the huge leg-space. It is ready to compete with the best names in international travel services. Mr. Mallya I just need to say this, great job!) The extra hour was put to great use, when the BB threw up all over himself and my back, (yes I was carrying him in a carrier on my back). I had extra set of clothes for the BB, which I cleaned him up and changed him into, me, well I had a denim jacket on, which was immediately taken off, and away I went in my sheer cotton top, in temperature of below ten degrees. Fortunately the panic button remained switched off, and I managed to take care of it all, it was only the GP, who was snapped off, when he called me at that point. After taking a train to the next terminal, I managed to check into the connecting flight. The HK international airport fortunately offered trolleys at most places even for hand baggage, and that was a super duper relief for me, since I did have loads at hand, besides a not so well BB. I managed to get the BB juice from the Starbucks there, where they refused to take any currency but the HK dollar or USD, fortunately I had a few scraps of USD, and hence procured a bottle. Thank God for the smart GP, who ensured that I carried some USD with me. What would I do without that man I tell you.

A rather meek BB, looking out, waiting for our connecting flight. The sea is visible from the airport here.

Got onto the next flight, gladly, and I think the BB and I snored through most of it, and I woke up with just a couple of hours left for us to land. The BB was just tiered after having been flying for the better part of 24 hours. On a side note, I did not like the Qantas air hostess who made faces, when the BB was taking his time to get off the flight, dragging the case I had carried in hand baggage.( We were the last to leave the plane, because I did not want others to get stuck behind me.) You are supposed to be a hostess woman, and being sweet and kind to kids is a part of what you are paid for, forget about common human courtesy. Once off the flight, the BB decided enough was enough, and promptly threw a tantrum, and I had absolutely no idea, what to do. He just refused to move ahead. I think that lasted for a good twenty minutes, which meant all my fellow passengers were half way home, by the time I even reached the immigration counter. Managed to pick up my luggage, and found that one of it had not arrived, filled out the required papers for its retrieval, and finally moved out through the customs.

When I exited from the airport door, I had about a hundred pair of eyes trained on me, if not more. That made me so uncomfortable, that I did not even look for the GP, but just kept walking, averting all the eyes on me. There were loads of people waiting for their loved ones, and I was a solitary exit from the airport after a really long interval of time I believe. Finally met the GP, hugged him, and handed over the BB, I was too drained for any more expression of emotions. The honest fact is I have never missed the GP, as much as I had this last one month, with an ill BB, the incredibly long journey, and for no, just having him around.

The next day was not too good either, the BB went back to throwing up, and we had to locate a doctor and take him there, the very first day we got here. The antibiotics were given up on, but fortunately there was no relapse of the fever, and over the next couple of days he recovered from everything. And after all this ordeal, all he is left with is some skin and bones. His skeletal look when he arrived, completely shocked the GP, who had left him less than a month back. He is attempting to feed the BB every fattening thing available on the face of this earth ever since. Illnesses are really hard on kids, but the good news is, they bounce back faster than we ever can. And hence I am just happy that he is not ill anymore.

A BIG Thank You And Some Shock....

This is a quick short post, to thank all of you, who sent their prayers and wishes for the BB, namely M4, Sraboney, Shrutzz, Silvara, Rakesh, DIC, Swapna, Pixie, Nancy and D.Thanks a lot for your wishes people, you prayers and wishes mean a LOT to me, and the BB is doing a lot better now. I am keeping my fingers crossed about him being well enough and fit to travel.

On a separate note, please head over to Roop's blog and get dismayed at the heights of plagiarism which takes place. A photo from her wedding, she had put up on her blog, has been used by a magazine without her knowledge or permission. So what does that tell us, don't share your pics? After the many many other cases of violations of cyberworld copyrights, this is one more. It is just getting worse, and we need to stand together and fight this kins of theft.

Ill At Grandma's

OK, so the BB is not doing too well. He resents his medicines strongly and absolutely denies having them without vehement protests. I hated those syrupy things doctors prescribed for me, when I was a kid, so I quite sympathise with his situation, but I also need to see him healthy, happy and at present, most importantly, fit to travel. So that means a huge amount of restraining and forcing goes on each time a dose of medicine has to be administered. And no matter, what, the final decision on whether to ingest the unpalatable syrups or not, lies with him, and he promptly spits out whatever is forced into his mouth. The process has left me with bitten-off fingers, and a very very resentful mother-in-law, who would continue to delude herself into believing that anything that makes her precious grandchild cry, is paramount to criminal behaviour. The fact that she holds down the BB at these times only after millions of my helpless pleas, is something to be grateful about in itself.

Considering the extent of the the BB's infection and symptoms, he was prescribed four different medicines, and strong ones at that, since I was scheduled to travel the very next day. The symptoms subsided, the desire to avoid medicines remained just as strong in the BB, I gave in and almost stopped his medication. I am weak willed that way, and not having the GP around, makes me more so. So what do you think happened? The symptoms made a grand comeback today, and I got shivers when his temperature began to spike. So hurried calls were made to the pediatrician. He prescribed a different antibiotic, and I scheduled an appointment with him tomorrow morning. And yes, I swear by my life that I will continue the medicines, for as long as scheduled this time, no exceptions.

And in the meantime, loads have happened for the BB's illness management, that could only happen here, at his Gamma's place. There has been intense praying, blessings, smearing his forehead with all kinds of holy things like oil, ash and some more. I cannot help but be touched by the fervor with which these gestures are carried out. A family friend went and prayed to Mother Mary, and placed on her feet with requests of making the BB fit and fine. the BB's other grandmother, has been praying at her end, with all kinds of offerings to her Guru ji. And then there has been all kinds of nazar utaarna. For the uninitiated, those are preventive methods, used to remove any kind of negative emotions from others, that might have affected the person, usually a child. Besides all the other types done, today evening, there was a small ceremony, which involved burning coconut shells and some more. People may or may not believe in the effectiveness of these methods, some laugh it off, while many others swear by it and some like me, never believe in it, till they become parents themselves, and then everything becomes plausible, as long as it keeps the precious child safe. But whatever, I am so very touched by the amount of efforts being taken, and all the people involved in it. The BB may not remember the events that have taken place lately, but I am sure the affection which is felt for him, will remain with him forever.

And though the GP is not here, it is tough to manage an ill BB in his absence, especially when the medicines need to be given, I am overwhelmed by the efforts being taken to ensure his speedy recovery, by so many many people.

And for the non-believers, here is an article I found which talks about how the organs in our body are associated with particular emotions, and how negative emotions may remain trapped in the associated organ, and harm the entire body. Though not the perfect fit to what I wrote about in this post, it does give some truth to the connection between mind(emotions) and body.

The Single Parent Chapter

Its just not nice, not at all, when the husband is miles away and the child falls ill. As parents, the DH and I completely freak out each time the BB is seriously ill. Anytime he has fever, we are up all the time, and pretending to be all nonchalant about it to each other. But we basically are pair of nutcases till he gets well.

So here I was, all ready to fly out on Thursday night, and the BB promptly falls ill on Wednesday evening. I rush to the pediatrician (thank God, because he is my most favourite and reliable pediatrician), a list of medicines are given, to get the fever down, stop the vomiting and more. I was totally freaking out, and going nuts in my head. What followed was nightmarish night, with continual vomiting, high temperatures and no food. Had to get a special medicine from the hospital in the middle of the night, that finally got the temperature under control. The next morning, the vomiting was still on, and we had to go to the hospital and get the BB a shot to stop the vomiting, so that he could ingest some food, and then some medicines. i never anticipated needing to inject medicines into him at such an early age, but that just goes on to show, that we are never really prepared for everything that may come our way. A night without sleep, loads of stress, and the BB just not settling in, it was not easy. And I have never quite missed the DH as much as I did that night.

While battling this, I was also trying to reschedule my flight, and having booked it through an online portal, it was not an easy task, it took me marathon phone sessions to finally have new tickets issued to me, about five hours before my original flight was scheduled to take off. It was a to-hell-and-back kind of experience, and I don't know how I survived through it. But fortunately I did! The tickets were re-scheduled, the BB has been without fever for over 24 hours now, and I am breathing easy. It has been worse for the GP, since all he has is news that I am passing on to him, and he cannot see the BB for himself. Yes, we are quite overly sensitive parents that way. A sick child leaves us more anxious and stressed than anything else, and I have read enough mommy-blogs to know, that is exactly how most other parents go.

But this entire experience makes me realise just how tough it is to be a single parent, to not have that another equally responsible adult by your side to care for your child, especially when the child is unwell. I really admire the parents who do all of this alone, and balance a job too. Its just too much to handle for mere mortals like me. And I know that I definitely never ever want to go through this again, not alone.

The stay in India is now extended by a few more days. The mother-in-law, I think has added quite a few new grey hair to her collection, by this, now seemingly infinitely long stay, with the added excitement of the BB falling ill. I am quite sure, the way we are driving her crazy, she will surely let the champagne flow, when we finally fly out. Then there is me too, eagerly waiting to be in my own home now, after being like a nomad for over a month now. But then I also believe that destiny always has its own plans, and there must be some real good reason why I could not fly out on the 10th like it had been planned. I am getting into this very spiritual bent of mind these days, and am getting more and more convinced about what a sham this world really is, and how I am wasting my time, living the way I do. Had it not been for the BB, I might gone the ascetic way by now. The divine scheme of things is what I believe made me re-schedule my trip and I am sure its all for the best.

The Fighter In Me... And You?

I believe its always easier to fight, when I am not fighting for a personal cause. I don't know if that is the way it is with most people or its just the other way round. I can fight for a larger cause, I can fight for the weaker people, I can even fight for animals, but I can never ever fight for myself, baring when the DH is my opponent. Possibly that is the only completely honest, true and absolutely open relationship I have in my life, and hence most precious and very treasured. But getting back to the point, how easy or difficult is it for a person to fight for himself?

Very recently, I was out with the BB one evening, when a Jeep, ferrying school children stopped in front of a building, and a child got out of the vehicle. There was a stray dog resting near the spot where he got off, and he immediately kicked it, I involuntarily screamed aye, and followed it up by telling the child that the dog hurts and he should not kick it that way, while he kept running away, and the bystanders looked on at me, like I am a crazy person. But I was unfazed and quite happy at what I had done, and did not mind it at all. But believe you me, if it had been me who had been pushed or shoved or even bitten for that matter I would not have uttered a word. It has always been this way with me. Maybe its my Libran trait that cannot tolerate injustice to others, but finds it beneath myself to actually speak out for me. This was the most recent incident that I could think of, but that is the way it has always been with me.

Somehow I never fight for myself. I think its so much easier to raise my voice, fight or work for others or for a cause, but I can never be assertive enough to do it for myself. It would have been all good, possibly had I been an ideal woman, with no grudges or grouses. Reality though is quite different. My lack of confrontational abilities, leave me frustrated from within. Sometimes it is pretty much impossible to confront at all. I am currently in quite a soup, where my name and image are being tarnished left right and centre, and everyone is using me to cover up their own backsides to be honest. I know it, and I simply sit quietly, avoiding everyone involved in the fiasco, rather than go and tell them honestly what I think of them too. A few words are being picked up from entire conversations and being misrepresented, I am being blamed for reacting to being accused of things, I am said to be thinking that I am too high and mighty, just because I openly did what I thought was the right thing to do, where everything was getting muddled up. An act that could have been a sweet and nice gesture has now turned out into a total mess. I am completely sure of what I did, and totally stand by my action, but I also stand up and hear silently all the accusations and blame, so that the others can keep fueling their personal interests. When earlier people have told me such stories about themselves, I have actually gone up and stood for them and fought, and openly. Some have appreciated my standing up for them, when they could not and then there have been the others too. But the point is why can I never just stand up for myself and say it like it is, when I am being wronged or need to be defended? I think I am just a non-confrontational coward.

Tell me about you, what are your fighting skills, how much and how far can you go, when can you never do it, and what if anything makes you an unstoppable fighter? For me, I think it would be the DH and the BB, I can never take a word or hurt against them, no matter from whom it comes, but I let people walk all over me.

I Am A Bigotted Racist..... And Why Not?

When you step out of your house, with or without a child, the perception of you varies widely. I have experienced it, in ways that have surprised me after becoming a mother. Unknown people will smile at me, help me, or just generally be nice when I go out with the BB. I have always smiled and cooed with babies I have met in malls/shops or streets. I enjoy being with babies, way too much, so maybe it was just me. But the BB came along and I realised that people are usually nice to babies, at least in India they are. I can go on to my theory of positive and negative energies here, and tell you, that people love babies, because of the absolute positivity that flows out of their innocent, precious souls. But I will let that be for now.

When we go out, and people play with the BB, I just let it be, some one would just run their hand through his hair, or just touch his cheeks as he runs around, and I let it be, because I see them as gestures of love. And I know for sure that had I been living in India, these happenings would be a lot more frequent and more vigorous. This place however is crazy land. To explain the title of my post, I am sick of the Arabic women in scarves, their rude, ill mannered, and disgusting behaviour. The men not so much, because I have come across nicer ones more than the mean b****** the women are. But the women are invariably the ones one should be aware of and ignore and avoid. I am still to really lose it, and abuse them in the face once, but I have definitely have had enough of their disgusting behaviour.

They either feel they are a higher race, are supremely arrogant, plain fools or just uncultured,uncouth louts unfit for civilised society. Whatever it is, they are all equally disgusting. And if saying that makes me a racist, so be it, but I stick to my opinion. This place is know for its racism, They literally adore anyone in white skin, and treat the rest with disdain. Even raffle coupons at malls, need your nationality in its details. I wounder how my nationality affects a lottery result, or their ability to inform me, in case I win. Oh! And when the DH returned from his Australia trip this time, he received a very warm welcome at the immigration, with smiles and wishes, something that never ever happens when traveling to or from India may I say. Coming back to the issue, I hate these women, and now follow a blanket rule to be simply blind to them.

Coming from India, where people are exceptionally warm to children, the initial experiences here, really put me off, till I realised that these women are bred to be such fools. Just the other day, we came back home in the evening, and entered the reception of our building. There stood a woman in a scarf with a man, and a child of about two in a pram. The BB being, what he is, ran to the kid. I smiled at the woman, as usually parents mutually do, and the expression on her face put me off so bad. I wondered if she was worried the BB might hurt the kid, so I pulled him away, and the BB enthusiastically waved a bye to the kid, and kept turning back, while we walked towards the elevators. I too said bye, to join in with him, and turned back, and it was then that I saw the expression on that b****** face that actually pissed me off. I just walked away of course, and was happy at not having reacted, and been a bad influence for the BB, but if I had the power I would have clubbed her head. Not just her, but all those women like her, the ones in scarves.

I have had so many such experiences with these women, that I really wonder if they are worthy of civilised society, have they been brainwashed, or are they just that way? I have not met one, and I say this clearly, not one single Arabic woman with a shred of decency. Living here has tarred there image in my heart forever. Never again in my life will I look at these women free of prejudice. For that matter I hope I never see much of them. I hold a strong dislike and bitterness against them, and I have good enough reasons for doing so. I never believe in generalising, but at some point, where I have had enough experiences of similar kinds, that is the only way to face what may lie ahead. I don't expect everyone out there to come cootchie coo with my son, but being mean and making faces to a child, where do these people get that from? Just want to ask, what did you mother/father/culture teach you?

Maybe they are filled with misdirected hatred, or are brainwashed racists, or whatever else, I have no good thoughts for these women nor a desire to give them an opportunity to prove themselves better in anyway, left in my heart. I have made my judgment, and I am sticking to it. And while at it, I am passing on some free advice too, stay away from Arabic women in scarves people, they are uncivilised, rude and simply disgusting. Will I pay them back in their same coin, maybe not, because I don't want to be what they are, but I really don't know how to explain this to the BB, without tainting his innocent soul. Oh! A world this prejudiced and hateful does not deserve these innocent little babies, it just simply does not. I wonder if those women actually train their children to be just as prejudiced and hateful too. And how is it even possible to be rude a child is absolutely beyond my comprehension.

The BB's Birth Announcement

When the BB was born, I had everything set in place. I need to have everything set in place for my peace of mind. I can be a bit like Monica from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. , though not so much anymore. I had no idea how groggy I would be post surgery, so I had made a written list of people to be informed, marked for those who needed to be called up immediately, those who were to be messaged and such like. I had even composed the message to be sent, and left it on the DH's mobile. Yes, I am super thorough that way, and I have to be, when my man is overly relaxed about everything.

Yesterday, I was thinking about the day the BB was born, and remembered the text message, they were four rhyming lines that had been sent out. And suddenly realised my mobile phone was the only place where I had a copy saved. The GP changes phones too frequently, and I had no expectations of him having a copy anywhere. And the one in which I had a copy, was the one which died when I had been to India in March this year.It just died, and I could retrieve nothing from it. I was worried about the photos mainly at that point, having completely forgotten about the important messages I had on it. And yesterday the realisation dropped on me like a bomb. I searched high and low, on my PC, hoping I had it on a mail or some document, but no such luck. Then I checked the memory card of my old phone, switched on each and every one of the DH's old phones and tried, but no luck. I was so angry, just so angry. Called up the DH, asked him if he had it with him anywhere, I was mostly blabbering and being incoherent, since I was totally upset at that point. No help from that quarter either. He suggested I ask the people we had messaged, and I knew there was no point, it has been over two and half years now, no body would have that message with them, still. And I gave up.

At around 4:30 the DH got back home. Its Ramadan, so he gets back home early these days, and the first thing I told him was get a pen and paper. Somehow like magic the lines came back to me, and he wrote them down. A bit here, a bit there, but finally we got them perfectly. I don't think I have felt the feeling of happiness and relief in a long long time. And thank God, my mind still has the capacity to recollect somethings. And I am putting the lines here, so that I don't lose them again.

We think you should know this,
This is a news you wouldn't wanna miss,
Our family has increased by one,
We now have a baby son.

======================
On a completely different note, my eyes had been giving me a scare, with blurred vision the past couple of weeks. But then by chance the BB took out my old pair of spectacles, and I tried them on to realise the new pair had the wrong power and was making me go cross eyed. Feel lucky to have realised the problem before I did severe damage to the eyes. And the BB was the one who broke the old pair, forcing me to go get the new one.

In The Eye Of The Storm

This weekend was scheduled to be fun, because it was a long three day weekend, and after a really long time, it meant a Sunday holiday. After an entire week of anticipating, and a little bit of planning, I could only plan a day trip for one day to a zoo, which eventually did not even happen. The problem is this is a desert, outings of the outdoorsy kinds don't quite work out in the heat. The SG turns up with allergic reactions on his eyelids, and me with my allergic congestion. Strange especially, since I have never faced any allergy issues ever before, but here it just keeps cropping up. Fortunately even the zoo is air conditioned, so it would have been a nice way to spend the day, since all three of us absolutely love animals. In this place you either visit malls, or nowhere, especially during the summers. And there is just about as much of mall visiting that we can do. The plan for the zoo trip was for Saturday, and that was the only day we had a plan for.

So Friday morning, I woke up and started to search the net to find any possible places to visit, and found some archaeological sites at the bottom of a travel guide site.The problem was, none of these places could be found on the GPS, except for Al Madam, which was a small town of sorts, very close to the Oman border. So that is where we headed to. Long well built highways, with large stretches of the vast desert on both sides, is the way leading to Al Madam. Something like wilderness, but of the desert kinds. Along the way, we saw a group of camels walking in the desert and parked for some nice photo-ops. They were not very close to the boundary wires, but I was excited none the less at seeing these animals. Unlike what I had expected, we don't really get to see too many camels around the place. A couple of camels actually lied down and lolled around in the sand. Something new seen.


We continued on our path and reached Al Madam. I was surprised to see expats in that place, because it was just such a small little place, could hardly even call it a town. It was tiny, really tiny. We drove around for a bit, the BG absolutely not wanting to take the SG out in the heat. There was no sign of any archaeological site, and we were just a few miles away from the border or Oman. And then the lightening began. A storm had been predicted for Sunday, so we expected Friday to be quite safe, but here, we were seeing the skies darkening, with heavy lightening and thunders. There was a lightening bolt striking about ever five seconds. The BG's protective instincts kicked in, and he decided it was time to rush back towards home, towards civilisation about a hundred kilometres away, and an about turn is what we did. I clicked like crazy to get atleast one lightening in my photo stock, but got nothing.

A little bit down the way, the skies looked clearer, the wind was not howling, and things seemed fine. A signboard, suggested we go right to get to one of the places on our list. And we thought we will give it a try. On hindsight, it was a bad bad idea. A little way down the turn, I saw a camel farm,(photo on the left) and thought it would be nice to go close. To do justice to my blog name, I persuaded the BG to turn the car into the sand towards the farm, which was at about a couple of minutes of walking distance from the paved road. This place was like a small settlement with about five or six houses. As soon as the car turned, we were stuck. the sand was soft and the front wheels went right in. An attempt to get it out would mean loads of sand flying everywhere, and the car going deeper inside. There were no people around either. I was dressed most inappropriately for such a situation, in a sleeveless ganjee kind of top, and believe me in small place, where women are covered from head to toe, it was terribly discomfiting. Trust me to get a sticky spot stickier for myself. Fortunately for us, while the BG was running around trying to get help, a car stopped by and the man, offered his help. He had a rope, he tied it to our car and tried to pull it out, the rope broke. After a while, he left. Then another man, I am guessing and Afghan, came with his truck, and he was determined. Just as the BG and he tried to tie the rope, the storm hit us. The sand was blowing everywhere, and the visibility almost killed. I panicked. This was not the best situation to be in with a child. And I had only myself to blame.Opening the car door for just a second, was filling it up with sand. But the man was determined, and kept working at it, and we gave it another try, but once again the rope broke. I got off and clicked photos, and the BG was irritated, I understood, but I wanted to have photos to look back at this experience. I could just click one or two, before the BG would lose it, and that is all I have. A couple of fruitless tries later, a couple of more men wandered into the scene. Mind you, the storm was in place by then. Finally, with two men pushing the car, one car pulling it from behind from really close, we got out. Aah! Thank God, atleast a part of our worries were over. I really wanted to walk down to the farm and atleast get a few photos, but did not, because the storm was getting worse, and the BG did not think it would be a good idea to waste more time, when we were so far away from home, in wilderness. The SG was remarkable, in that he did not get upset or anything, but just sat quietly through the entire thing in his car seat, while his father and I kept flitting in and out of the car.

This was followed by travelling through about 50 kilometres in very low visibility, at a very low speed. I could not get photos of the worst times, because at those moments I was sitting on the edge of my seat. From the look of it, I felt I had been transported to the winters in Delhi, with thick fog engulfing us. As we closed in on habitation, the visibility improved, since there were buildings and other man made structures to act as barriers. Closer home, it seemed impossible that we had been through the storm we had. Strangely enough, we got home by around six, and by eight, the sand storm had completely abated, and visibility completely restored. So guess the storm was meant for us. However, the was the BG and I are lusting for rains, maybe it just happened, so that we could get a small taste of the rains. And I would never have seen the real force of a sand storm in the open desert if we had not been there. There was a possibility of the storm recurring, and hence we dropped the plan the next day to hit the zoo, because it was in another emirate altogether. And as expected, there was no storm post the one we braved.

The photos below are a comparison in the visibility before and during the storm.