Queue Jumpers

In the few months that I have lived in India, I have come to understand how the human brain works. Or at least I hope I do. I am still figuring it out. The world is a complex place. Let me correct that. The world is a simple place. It’s the human beings that live on it, that are complex. Greed, Lust, Corruption etc. at the most basic levels turn human beings into animals. Comparing lowly actions of humans to animals is an insult to animals. Before you raise those eyebrows of yours, allow me to elaborate.

I had gone to Kolkata as my husband had to apply for the Australian visa. While he had gone to the main office to submit his documents, I stood in a queue to grab a seat. The seats were mostly filled by elderly people who were applying for visas to visit their sons and daughters settled abroad. For half an hour, I did what any youngster would do in presence of an elder. Offered my spot to them which they readily grabbed. As time passed, it started getting more crowded and now I could see more middle-aged ladies. One of them promptly planted herself in front of me. I assumed that she presumed the queue was for the visa process even though any person with eyes could see that the queue that I was the leader of, led to sofas. With a smile as sweet as honey, I politely informed her that she was standing in front of the wrong line if she wanted to visit her son abroad. Laughing at my ignorance, she proudly proclaimed that she knew the line was for seats which she was in dire need of. If I could, I would have exploded into the Hulk. Such hypocritical aunties will lie about their age at counters and offices and license documents and birth certificates. But when it came to a sofa spot, they would fling the mask away and reveal the wrinkles and the backache that comes with age. Suddenly I was getting shoved from the back and I realised to my horror that the old people were jumping queues. I felt I was the only one who was raised with etiquettes. These were the same people would click their tongues at youngsters for wearing shorts and having little patience but oh look how the tables have turned. The attitude disgusted me. If these old and middle-aged people were so flawed in basic human behaviour, how did they expect the youngsters to be anything but impatient while waiting in queue?

A day later, my husband and I were at the airport waiting at the security check when a girl slightly older than me barged through the queues, exclaiming “excuse me, excuse me”. Without waiting to be excused, she rushed to the start of the line, got her baggage checked and ran to whichever portal of hell such idiots fly to. Not a moment had passed when two other girls in their late 20’s, calmly jumped the queue, got their baggage checked and were well on their way. I was already seeing red but now even my husband couldn’t hide his annoyance at such blatant “I couldn’t care less but I am going first” attitude so he loudly exclaimed to me “Kuch log padhaayi likhaayi karke usko waste karte hain. School jaate hain lekin line mein lagna nahi seekhte” (Some people just waste their education. They go to school and yet don’t know how to wait in queues.)” The girls, even if they heard , and they would have, made no sign or effort whatever to correct themselves. These line jumpers have certain characteristics that I would like to list down below so the next time you encounter them: it’s easier to spot them.

1. They come in all varieties of shapes, forms, genders and age categories.
2. Mostly they shall start by gently nudging you from behind as if you have committed some mistake such as heavens forbid, jumped the queue. This gentle nudge will turn into a firm nudge where their elbows will overtake yours.
3. Their body will slowly start appearing until you can see them in your lateral view. They are now by your side.
4. Then they shall take advantage of your innocent look and innocently but shamelessly stand in front of you being very careful not to meet your eye.
5. And that’s how the subtle art of jumping the queue is done.
6. Others usually just come and stand in front of you and will turn a deaf ear to your protests.
7. While many others will just come barraging from behind excusing themselves like they own the place or are in dire need of using a toilet up ahead.

The Brits are amazing at this. They vouch that if you have patience to stand in a queue, you won’t have to stand much longer. Things go by smoothly and your work is done more efficiently.

Indians, you might want to learn a bit or two from your colonial masters.

Who Am I?

I am in my last semester of Masters, and for this semester I have taken electives that I, for once, am enjoying studying and participating in. One of the electives is Teaching English Internationally. Based on the course title, I assumed, it would equip me with skills to teach English in an international setting. It is anything but. The unit delves into the migrant experiences and how language is a major but not oft seen concept in the current era of globalisation.

A little background info about me. I was born and brought up in The United Arab of Emirates till the age of 16. My family and I then moved to Australia where we have been settled for the past 8 years. So, in a sense, my identity is an amalgamation of Indo-Arab-Aussie. I have married an Indian guy who hadn’t travelled outside India until our honeymoon in Europe. Whenever I travelled to India, it was only to my relative’s place. My husband, on the other hand, has travelled all over India. My husband and I come from different states in India. In India, each state might as well be its own country. My husband and I speak completely different languages, have different cultural backgrounds etc. Since I have always lived overseas, our upbringings are also vastly different.

I had never realised the importance of identity until I got married.  I might look Indian, but my upbringing has never been because of “log kya kahenge?”. I was raised along with my two brothers but except for the fact that I should be back home by sundown, I never felt that I was limited in opportunities and freedom of expression. My in-laws are great people, but I was expected to behave like the Indian daughter-in-law. They never limited my movements, but I was expected to wake up at the beck of dawn. The food and language, albeit minor issues, were still issues. I am expected to learn a language even if the rest of Assam is fluent in a language I speak, Urdu/Hindi. Which came as a shock to me. No one can learn a language overnight. I felt like an outcast in a foreign land with a language that was alien to me. It’s not just Assam apparently. If an Assamese went to any other state of India, they would be expected to learn the language. And yes, I assume in a professional setting, that would do. But in a home setting, I would assume people would speak in a language that was understandable to all present. No? Just my family? Right.

My parents raised us in a way that wasn’t apparent in efforts but seeing families in India and their upbringing highlights the different way my parents instilled their values in us. It was never forced upon us and yet we grew up following their way. They taught us the principle of empathy. They showed us the beauty of Islam through their practice. The ideals of our Prophet for the whole of mankind and humanity was something we strived upon. My parents raised us to inculcate the good values of any culture, community or country and to disown the not so good ones. We were never patriotic to any country but I feel close to the Indians, Arabs and Aussies. They are not perfect but they can’t be stereotyped. And I, most certainly, do not fit into any stereotype. I am my own person with my own values. And I will not conform to anyone else’s expectations of how an Indian should be.

Update

Currently writing up a literature review for uni which means its procrastination time.

I hope you have all been well. I apologise for my long absence. I was getting to know my better half and his family in the past year. I was planning on returning quite a while ago, but it had been ages since I had written anything that I lost the hang of it. So, if my writings doesn’t seem like the usual, I apologise. Will take some time to get back up there.

I am completing the last semester of my masters. I was in India for a year after wedding. My husband is based there. And wow, living in India is something. I had always gone on vacation to visit my relatives. But it is a totally different experience once you actually start living there. I shall detail some of it in a later post.

That’s it really. I am drinking tea as I am writing this. Tea doesn’t have the same flavor once you have had it in India. My husband is from Assam and that place is famous for its tea plantations. So really, the tea in Australia feels bland in comparison.

Enough of the rambling. I better get back to my assignment. Toodles.

A Year Later

It seems just like yesterday. I vividly remember the night before. I couldn’t fall asleep. The henna lady had just left. It was 3 am. Lying awkwardly in bed trying not to smudge the henna on my arms and legs, I tried my best to get some sleep. But even with my eyes shut, I couldn’t picture you. My heart was all a-flutter. I had lost my appetite since evening. Everyone was talking in excited whispers of the day to come. I was a mixed bag of emotions. Too emotional to leave my family behind, too nervous to step into a new one the next day. My whole childhood and youth was spent in imagining my wedding day and yet when the day was finally here, I couldn’t imagine myself saying I do. Not that I didn’t want to. I did. But I felt like the moment had come too soon.

I can still remember rushing from the salon to the wedding hall. No, allow me to correct that. I don’t remember. I was in a daze. One minute, I was heading to the salon with a friend of mine and my wedding dress and jewellery. The next minute, I was all bundled up in a shawl, wearing the heavy lehenga with a heavy garland of flowers and heavy jewellery and huge heels heading towards the wedding hall. What I do remember is sitting on the stage, looking down on each and every person that I had met and gotten acquainted to over the years in my visits to India. I still remember the whispers and the looks as people took me in, my dress, my jewellery and all. I still remember my cousins asking me if I needed anything as I hadn’t had anything to eat since a day before.

Suddenly, my uncle and my dad appeared with the nikaahnama. And the tears appeared out of nowhere. Everyone else had left the stage and so when my mum came up to comfort me, I still remember clutching her hand tightly. Listening to my uncle ask if I accept you as my husband. He asked me three times. And I had to nod my head three times. Each time I nodded, I felt a stab in my heart as I saw my mum and dad and how it felt to say goodbye to them. Each time I nodded, I felt a gush of joy filling in the crevices of my heart as I realised that, at that very moment, I was becoming your wife.

And all too soon, I heard that you had arrived. If my heart was thrumming since a day before, it was nothing in comparison to the pounding that was happening now. I felt I would faint. So nervous I was. I still remember when I looked up slightly towards the door and you walked in. I still remember only seeing your shoes and looking away because I felt so shy. I still remember my heart throbbing stronger and stronger with each step that you took. It took you quite a while to come

up to the stage because my cousins wouldn’t let you unless you handed over your shoes. And at last finally, you sat by my side. I still remember when you whispered your first ever word to me since we became husband and wife. That “Assalamualaikum”(peace be upon you) with a hint of a smile. I still remember that I blushed.

It took 23 years to reach that day. I had heard how tiring the wedding day is supposed to be. But the time just whizzed by and all too soon, it was time to go. To be honest, I don’t think such a time frame did justice to my lehenga. I needed it to be worn for like at least 24 hours instead of the 4.

Jokes aside, I still remember sitting beside you in the car as we returned back. And the only thought I had was OMG that’s my husband. HUSBAND!! How weird. I will get some time getting used to saying that.

I still haven’t gotten used to saying it. But I have gotten used to many things.Which are a lot of things but that’s for another time. I have gotten used to living with you and so, I find these days and particularly today, a bit hard. But oh well, I am hoping to complete my studies asap and be back again.

Happy Anniversary my dear Husband!! Our first year was an awesome roller coaster from start to finish. Can’t wait to enjoy the rest of the ride.

P.S. I made you your favorite dessert for the anniversary : cheesecake. And that too Triple Chocolate Cheesecake. With triple the joy.

Blessed

It has been a month since my birthday and I was recalling how I was finishing up a last minute assignment the night before. I had a long day at university and I rushed home to get on with my assignment. I finished it up at 11:45 and was ready to pass out on bed. I am glad I called before I did but I am quite sure even if I hadn’t, you would have called at midnight. Because you had remembered it was my birthday when I had forgotten.

I was sleepy azz and wished you good night but you wouldn’t let me hang up. You kept talking when all I could respond with was hmmm and yeah. You pleaded to stay awake for 4 more minutes which confused my already sleep-deprived brain. Normally you put me to sleep but not that night. When I asked why, you blabbered with what you had been up to the whole day and when 4 minutes had passed, you suddenly wished happy birthday which woke me nice and proper. Well, also the fact that my phone pinged with notification at the same time, opened my shut eyes and when I rubbed my eyes to respond to you and my phone, I realised that you had sent me a poem. A heartfelt, beautiful and thoughtful poem that not only had you carved from your own thinking, but you had written so elegantly and beautifully. All this was too much for me to handle. The rush of emotions that came from within resulted in tears of happiness and I started weeping in joy. For I felt truly special. And cherished. And although you are miles away, I felt as if you were right next to me. How I wish you were, so you could see my giddy smile and excited heart. For even though, we both have grown old to celebrate birthdays, the gesture made me feel like a child again.

And this is why I say alhumdulillah, I am so lucky to have you.

Ra-MAD-aners

Ramadan Kareem y’all!! It’s mid-Ramadan now and although Ramadan is said to be the month of quran and patience, I am having a real hard time keeping my patience.Nope, its not coz of the hunger pangs. Its coz of certain people.

1. The Snapchatter : This is the person that literally snaps each and every moment of Ramadan from suhoor to iftaar to taraweeh to “feeling blessed and holy”. We all know you be stuffing pakoras everyday for iftaar mate. And we all know you attend the 20 rakah taraweeh instead of the 8 rakah that mere mortals go to.
2. The Instagrammer : This person posts iftaar pics everyday like literally everyday. Its the same iftaar with same pakoras and same samosas and same roohafza drink and the same caption of yummmmm and the same hashtags. The only difference is the seating positions on the table.
3. The Temporary Haram Police : This person is typically the one who smokes shisha during the non-Ramadan period but as soon as the Ramadan moon is sighted, he is seen distributing dates and Noman Ali Khan lectures CDs outside the masjid. Another distinguishing characteristic is the replacement of swear language with masha Allahs  and subhan Allahs. 
4. Moon Fighters : Australia might be dubbed the city of beaches and sunshine but there ain’t no sun shining at us folks here in Melbourne. Hence, the Board of Imams seek the scientific calculations of astronomers on the likelihood of the appearance of crescent moon. The Hilal Committee on the other hand try to physically sight the hilal through telescopes. Obviously there is always a contest since never the twain meet. Every year, the moon fighters (or loony moonies a.k.a people who follow the Hilal Committee) will debate with the astronomical – culators (people who follow the Board of Imams) on the correct ruling and which day the “actual” Eid actually is? The reason I find these conversations annoying is because they happen literally every year like they DO NOT learn their lesson. Its like someone presses the repeat button. Last year we were the moon fighters, this year we decided to go with the astronomical-culators, since people keep sprouting myriad hadeeth citations.
5. The Cute Monsters : At the start of the taraweeh, these are the tiny toddlers who are lying on the masjid carpet,looking innocently at you, making it harder for you to focus on the quran that the imam is praying because you get so lost in those big baby boo eyes of theirs. Four rakahs in and its even more harder for you to concentrate because the imam’s voice is lost in the wailing and screaming of that same baby who was innocent a few moments ago. While the mum of the baby concerned should be concerned, she clearly isn’t as she is seen humming along to the tune of the imam. Meanwhile us other ladies are trying to calm the baby down during prayer by showering angry faces for it to stop which only results in the wails getting louder like seriously baby SHOOOOSH!!! And as soon as we finish our prayer by doing the tahiyyat and shaking heads right and left by assalamualaikum wa rahmatullah, the baby is as quiet as an unplugged vaccum cleaner. You stare at the baby and ask what the hell baby and it just hypnotizes you with its eyes by saying that aint me, nuh-uh!
6. The Mums of Cute Monsters : Sisters, please for the love of Allah, I am not going to sugar coat or humorify this paragraph because wallahi that baby of yours, masha Allah and subhan Allah so so cute but during taraweeh are all tauba tauba and astaghfirullah. Sisters, I wish I could quote the hadeeth now but I am too lazy to go research it, but I do know for a fact that you get the same amount of ajr and sawaab and rewards if you prayed at home then if you came to the masjid. Allah allows this because masha Allah you are making effort and coming to mosque, changing the clothes of your baby and yourself and praying among the din din of your baby noise but sister, pray at home so the only person suffering is just you and not us.  We wish the enjoy to imam’s qiraat and the quran recitation and the not having cute but annoying babies phase. Jazakallahu khairan.
7. The Annoying Azz Toddlers : It is mentioned in a hadeeth that during the holy month of Ramadan, the shaytaan (satan) is locked up for ease of the Muslims to abstain from the whisperings and evil sins. So imagine my surprise when I rocked up on the first night of taraweeh and saw mini devils running around the mosque. Those cute monsters mentioned above are not alone, oh no, they have older baby brothers and sisters, who have spawned into halal shayateen. The characteristics of these munchkins is that they will either be running around the legs of the taraweehers or crying for an iPad or iPhone that one out of the 15 have. They will come and grab your water bottle from your purse and chug it down with their saliva splatters on the rim of your drink or take a shower with it, or take your iPhone and try unlocking it so many times that the next time you can unlock it is in 367 years. All this right in front of your eyes and you helplessly watch them unable to do anything because a) you are in prayer and b) their mum is nearby so you can’t thwack them. Sometimes they grab the chairs off those who pray with them resulting in a couple of ladies falling while seating for sujood which is horrifying really.
8. The Mums of Annoying Azz Toddlers : Sisters, please don’t create these munchkins. Just kidding, they make taraweeh fun. But seriously, teach them etiquette of the mosque especially to not play with chairs of those who pray with them.  It can seriously injure the ladies. Aand again, pray at home. PLEEEEASE!! I get very thirsty because your Abdullah drank all my water. Waaaaaah!!!
9. Huffaz : When the imam is praying quran taraweeh and you are a hafiz yourself, it is tempting to read along with him. I totally understand. I am a hafiz myself. And I do read along. Just not aloud. I neither whisper, nor hum, nor mutter, nor mumble. I neither read the faa nor the seen or the sheen aloud. Infact my lips are closed as I pray along in my mind. Why am I quoting what I do? Its because other taraweehers, including myself find it irksome to hear someone two rows behind going haaaaaaa aloud when the imam recites haa meem. We get it masha Allah, you are a hafiz. May Allah grant you jannah. But sister, Allah knows what is in your heart. Pray in your heart and Allah will reward you. You can even dance a bit on your spot if that’s how excited listening to imam read what you know makes you. That’s not allowed but you do you. Just do it silently. Thank you.

Writing these down has calmed me considerably. You might have witnessed these people in your mosques or maybe you are one of them lol. If you know any other kind then vent down below. Just no swearing please. Shukran.

 

Quick Update

There’s a reason I have been on and off WordPress lately. I got engaged recently Alhamdulillah. My fiancé is aware of my blog and he is supportive of it (in fact he keeps telling me to get back on it properly) so rest assured I shall be back in full force shortly. I apologise for not keeping up and leaving you all in a lurch. Honestly speaking, I myself had no clue where life would be taking me in the past few months leading to today. But now that a big part of my future is done and dusted, I can sit back in ease focusing on my studies and blogging among other hobbies to name a few.

The wedding is in January next year in sha Allah and I am so excited. I have been looking at bridal dresses and drooling on wedding décor because you really can’t do much desi shopping here in Australia so I am just patiently biding my time till November when I am off to India for the shopping and planning. I apologise in advance for the break I shall be taking from November to February.

Right now I am doing my placement at a secondary school for the teaching degree that I am doing at uni. Its going really well Alhamdulillah. Enjoying so far although some of the naughty kids are doing my head in. But I am glad I decided to take up teaching after Biotechnology. I will be able to teach biotech at tertiary level if I do my PhD. So far I am enjoying school teaching so I am still deciding whether I should go ahead and do PhD or stay at secondary level.

Anyway, that’s what’s up with my life. Lots going on with university, teaching, planning lessons, finishing up on assignments, getting engaged, attending friends’ engagements, planning for wedding, etc. Let me know what’s up with yours.

 

Weird Things That Keep Us Awake At Night

This post is a collaboration with sulphurman. It was a long time coming considering the idea was borne a couple of months ago but as we all know, life happens and we got busy with our schedules. Nevertheless, we finally decided to finish it off and present to you guys the weird stuff that keeps one awake at night. Let me know if you have similar experiences/thoughts in the comments. I would love to know I am not the only weird one.

• Did I brush my teeth? I am pretty sure I did. Blows air  onto hand and smells for bad breath. Hmm smells good. Wait, that’s a biryani smell. Arrgh I didn’t brush.

 

• I have to go to the toilet but I just got so comfy and warm!!

 

• If I sleep now, I will get exactly 3 hours 15 minutes sleep. Now only if I could fall asleep.

 

• Did I lock the door? Hmm I should go and check. Rabia aunty was telling about this robbery that happened the other day. One can never be too careful. *flips the blanket over, icy air rushes through the bones,slips banket over* aaah never mind. Quite sure it’s locked. Dad must have locked the door. And I don’t even have any enemies to kill me right? Hmm wait, Reshma did hate me in primary school. Always snitched on me and stole my best friend Neha. But she wouldn’t rob me or try to kill me yeah? I mean she lives in Bangladesh. She wouldn’t fly all the over to Australia. She doesn’t even know where I live. I think she got married. lets stalk on instagram.I mean who on earth agreed to marry her? *grabs mobile and switches it on* Aarrghh too bright. *squints in the darkness*. 3 hours 15 minutes later. Wait, is that the sun?

• Cousins who kick you in sleep. Constantly. Repeatedly. You find solace sleeping on the floor.

• You are about to sleep and your phone pings with notification. You pick it up and its the phone company sending you a text message that you have exceeded data limit. And its only been a week since you started the data cycle. So now you cant sleep thinking how will you survive 3 more weeks of being 3G less.

• You analyze and over analyze that aunty’s comment that she passed on you for being a failure.Whereas your brother became the successful doctor. The good thing is your younger bro is also a non-doctor. So you both can cry together.

• You are planning your whole wedding in your head. The dresses, who to invite, the flower bouquets, chocolate fountains, waiters on wheels for swift service, carpeted halls in purple and cream colour,brides maid dresses, who to make your brides maids,also a silent prayer to Allah that let the groom’s mother let you decide what bridal dress you wanna wear for both baaraat and walima instead of gifting sweet and hideous dresses that isn’t your style. Parlour bookings, what type of makeup and jewellery and henna designs.

• Also one thing that doesn’t let me sleep is temperature control. Its spring here. Sometimes it is hot at night and sometimes it is cool. Sometimes hot changes to cool and sometimes cool changes to hot. I throw off my blanket to the floor and then a while later I am curled up in fetus  position with chattering teeth. Too cold and lazy to grab blanket off floor. Other times I am wearing winter wear with sweater and socks and it starts burning. Next morning mum comes to wake me up and finds sweater thrown on chair, socks hanging on fan, me lying spread eagled soaking cool air.

• Thirsty. Drinks a whole bottle of water by bedside. Falls asleep. Gets up 30 minutes later for toilet. Comes back to bed. Falls asleep. Few minutes pass. Thirsty again. Bottle empty. Gets up to refill water. Drinks water.Falls asleep.30 minutes later , toilet break. Cycle goes on till Fajr.

You get the idea.

Go check out sulphurman’s post for the second part. Show him the love by following and reading his humorous and not so haha funny posts.

Thank you Mahaah for asking us to collaborate. I had fun coming up with points that didn’t allow me to sleep while writing the post. Go check out her blog too. She clicks awesomesauce photos, draws and paints awesomesauce pictures and writes awesomesauce stuff.

 

 

Ssshhh

Sneaking in ever so quietly…..

How has everyone been? I missed my internet fam. There have been sweet comments left on my blog by the absolute sweet sisters that made me melt.I shall get back to responding.

I am back. No, I didn’t get married (fortunately) as some had asked if my husband forbade me to blog. I would rather chuck the husband out than my blog. I had gone overseas and returned back to start my Masters (which is what desi girls do when they don’t get married by the end of Bachelors :P). Masters is draining the hell out of me. Classes all five days 9 to 6 with assignments and assessments. Anyway no excuse will justify my long absence. So let me just make it up by letting your Aussie girl inform you about the weird facts of good ol’ Aus you might not know.

1. The fact that toilets and bathrooms don’t come with locks. Not all houses, some, but still. My friend bought this house and one of the toilets doesn’t come with a door!! Apparently you have to pay extra for the toilet door.
2. People in India just drop in without calling. People in Dubai call to let you know they shall be visiting. People in Aus are soo polite that its annoyingly cute. They don’t come. At all. You have to send an invitation and ask them to come because you have started talking to walls. I bet even for my funeral, I shall have to call everyone 2 hours before my imminent death with invitations and ask them to RSVP.
3. Day light savings.
4. That my little cousins attend “colleges” (primary level schooling) and my brother and I attend “schools” (a.k.a universities).
5. That there are alcohol shops next to schools, ahem I mean “colleges”. The two colleges I got to attend here, both had them so I am assuming its a norm for all (Could be wrong. So far no drunk kids spotted.)
6. Return policy : you can return any item (except bedding,cosmetics and used nappies) as long as you have the receipt. This is the main reason why NRI’s here don’t want to go back to India lol.
7. The water that flushes the toilet is as filtered as the water that I drink from tap (Let that sink in.)
8. Almost all shops close by 5 p.m. Worst thing ever. One gets back from work/uni/college/school whatever by evening and the shops are closed. People here don’t sweat about it but as a Dubai mall girl I seem to find it highly unfair that the plaza is open only for housewives.
9. The public transport system is so unreliable that one is forced to force her brothers and parents to drop her off to station so she doesn’t have to wait for 40 minutes for the bus and walk 1 kilometre to home.
10. They make you book in for a doctor’s appointment and call you in an hour late than the scheduled time but when its the other way round and you arrive just 5 minutes late, they have to reschedule your appointment to another day because you are late and they weren’t able to torture you to the maximum one hour they are allowed to.
11. Mcdonald’s also known as Maccas. So when a friend first asked whether I would be interested going to Maccas, I assumed Makkah and stared at her nonplussed. Refused because I hadn’t saved enough money for the pilgrimage when really she was asking whether I would like to hang out for a 4 dollar McFlurry milkshake.
12. The slang language. Barbeque = barbie, afternoon = arvo, etc. There is a whole dictionary full of it and I could write a post just on it.
13. Honey soy chicken chips.Like whaaaat? So its a potato chips chicken flavoured. All good yeah? But no, lets vegetify it and add soy. Make it a little bit healthy. Let the vegetarians taste the goodness of chicken. But wait, what about people with a sweet tooth? Can’t forget them now can we? Ergo honey.
14. Vegemite. Nuff said. For those who want to have a lick at it, I have one that expired a year ago that I received when I got my citizenship and we got it from the council for becoming an Aussie. So you shout Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi (while balancing the Aussie passport on your head) and then scoop a chunk of vegemite and dunk it in. If you can’t eat that scoopful, you aint becoming an Aussie. That’s how Stralians play mate!! We keep that honey soy chicken close and vegemite even closer. (Disclaimer : Not sponsored by Vegemite or the chickens.)
15. Australia is the only country where it is legal to eat the national animal. But I mean kangaroos!!! Why??

Any Aussies reading the post : you can come at me. These are my observations and the intention wasn’t to offend/insult Australia/Australians. I love me my Aussie barbie and we can have a nice chat some arvo.We can have vegemite together too.

Free Bird

She was staring at the ceiling, her mind whirling in a chaotic mess. With blank stares, she felt the tears sliding across her smooth cheeks. Suddenly the door creaked open. Her mum peeked in and whispered if she would like to go somewhere. She said she was fine and turned to the other side. Her mum walked in and patted her head lovingly. Asked her to get ready for a surprise.

She got up and got ready, her mind and heart wandering far away in the unknown. She climbed in the car and stared at the scenery but her mind didn’t process the usual beauty of nature : the dew that formed on the grass, the sky sporting wisps of white clouds and the air that came in bursts. After a while the car stopped and as she turned to look at the destination, her mouth dropped in surprise.

While her friends would rejoice at getting some retail therapy to alleviate stress, she felt nature in its glory was the perfect me time.

She asked her mum if she could be left alone. Her mum agreed and so she scampered quickly to the sand. She kicked off her shoes and let her toes sense the sinking dissolving sand. She bent down to stare at the shells. Marvelling at the intricate designs, she started collecting and placing them on the sand, pushing some deep within so that just a bit peeked through.

There were quite a few fair and white shells, polished and shining. Then there were tiny brown and black ones with markings that seemed to be shying away, hiding in the sand. Perhaps they were afraid that this visitor would reject them like the countless others in favour for the beautiful white ones. She scooped them up lovingly because for her, those markings, those scars made the brown and black shells even prettier. She played with them for a little while and then stood up to observe the water, the sky and the sea. The clouds of mist had vanished long ago and in their place were angry black clouds.Mimicking the state of her mind,they blocked the sun, its light and warmth and as she stood and gazed at the approaching storm, the clouds suddenly gave way and the sun shone through. It became so bright, the reflection of the pure warmth and grandeur of sunlight on water, that she couldn’t take it in. Momentarily blinded by beauty so rare, she was awestruck and speechless. The more she stared, the more it felt the sunlight was rushing through the water and entering in her. Filling her with warmth, inner joy, happiness and peace. The chaos that was her mind, was muffled by the harmonic wavelength of the sunlight.

She heard a kid’s cry and turned to see a little child stumble from a swing. As he got up and ran towards his mum, she ran towards the swing in glee. Picking up her shoes, she climbed onto the swing and started rocking back and forth to gain momentum. Once she felt she was flying, she closed her eyes to feel the breeze passing through her soul. Her mind felt a thousand times lighter. Her body too. She felt she could fly. And fly she did. She jumped from the swing, flung her body in the air and broke into a wide smile. Hurtled down to Earth in a millisecond. But that millisecond was enough for her. She felt euphoric. She looked up and saw a seagull flying high. It kept flying. The gravity wasn’t its enemy.

As she clambered back into the car, she gave a wide smile to her mum. Mum always knew best. The return journey was different. It had started raining and she opened the window a wee bit to feel the drops on her face. It felt as if God was giving her the whole invigoration package. Not only was she rejuvenated on the inside, but the raindrops freshened her up instantly as well.

She came back home and plonked on her bed with a sigh. A while later, she was fast asleep with a content smile.This time the ceiling stared at her.

Images by yours truly 🙂