Funny Habits Sindhis Possess

As always, I start with a disclaimer. I am a full-on Sindhi. My last name(s) end with a –ani, I love papad and laugh heartily when my folks say “ edjhe kele ja bhare” (kids nowadays). Spending 27 years (and counting) in a Sindhi household has made me realise, we have so many weird habits. Bad habits? Or just plain funny? You decide.

Sindhis don’t exactly have a home country to go to. There is no longer a country called Sindh. It will always be a small province in Pakistan. But if you’re not a Sindhi, chances are that you can easily spot us all over the world, doing one or few of the following. Mind you, this is just for fun. No one needs to get offended. After all, all of us, including me, are guilty for at least one of the following habits!

1. If you receive food in a Tupperware that is yellow-stained, don’t worry. It’s nothing dreadful. That is where we keep our leftover dhal (lentils) and achar (pickles). Somehow, there is always dhal in a Sindhi fridge. Our homemakers make them a lot and store leftovers for what seem like months. Personally, I’m not exactly a dhal person so those yellow Tupperwares put me off. And the smell! Ooooohhhh the smell! Its not gross, but its not exactly flowers-on-grass-and-leaves-in-the-air summery kinda smell, you know what I mean? If I have to describe it, it smells a little like salty, dried leafy greens. I challenge you Sindhis, go ahead and ask your mom or grandma if there is some dhal in the fridge. If they say no, stakes are high they will whip some up right away.

2. There is no such thing as a light vacation. Tell someone you are travelling for the holidays and expect lots of parcels. One for their friend, another for their aunt, aunt’s daughter, aunt’s daughter’s friend, aunt’s daughter’s friend’s cousin and maybe even their dog. And the dog’s puppy. You get the gist. After all, we are nice people who like making others happy, so we shut up and bring them all if we have the weight. Lo and behold, all those people you passed on parcels to, returned the favour and probably passed along gifts for your mom, dad, brother, nephew, aunt, uncle, cousins, grandparents and it goes on and on and on and on. I don’t remember travelling ANYWHERE without carrying things for other people. It’s different when we choose to buy gifts for people (which we do happily) but when others make us bring their stuff? Totally acceptable if they do so with ethics (small sized, light-weighted items). But no, I will not bring 10 kgs of mithai (indian sweets) to feed your entire nation of family.

3. If not for others, people will ask us to carry things for themselves. If they hear you are travelling, they summon you to bring all kinds of things. But, without mentioning any name, a friend of mine recently brought a COFFEE TABLE abroad, as a request from her aunt who she’s staying over at while abroad. I mean, a coffee table? Again, this is socially acceptable when ethics accompany. But seriously, a coffee table?

4. While we’re still in the context of vacation, I have to say this. Somehow, I feel like we know EACH AND EVERY SINDHI FAMILY IN THAT TOWN. Which makes us need to visit each and every one of them. Can you ever go somewhere and see each and every nook and cranny of the city? Impossible, because there will lunches. And dinners. And coffee. And if we don’t go, we’ll never hear the end of it. “There are just 2 homes to visit” they say, and then add, “oh but how can we not go to the Mulanis? Oh and the Nanwanis? And the Vasnanis live just next door”. Sure.

5. Make sure you keep your stomach empty while going to people’s houses. Pump your stomach prior if you must. Because, you will be fed. I mean it, they will not let you go without eating an entire plate that can feed a whole third world country. If you don’t, they will assume you are on a diet and start exclaiming why we’ll get ill or they will even take it personally that their food isn’t great. “You want some aloo tikki?”, “what about some mithai?”, “okay at least try the pakoda”, “why aren’t you eating anything?”, “you can't leave without eating”, “okay take home some biryani”.

6. Don’t trust us when we say that we are leaving. Because we won't. Customarily, as hosts, you tend to drop us off at the doorstep. But then, the conversation will start over. New topics will unfold. New gossips will unravel. New names will pop up. Another country will be developed. A new Harry Potter movie will be made. Another religion will be founded. And that’s when we’ll finally go home.

7. Tell your folks of the yesteryear generation that you are seeing someone and the first question will be “is he/she sindhi?”. “Sure, he/she is a Sindhi. He/She is covered in racist tattoos, tells crude jokes, is a chronic drug user, considers profanity a language, smuggles children for a living, stole from my wallet last week, but that shouldn’t matter as long as I choose a Sindhi, yes?”.

By the way, my mom’s first question was “can he dance?” seeing that she is dance expert herself. Yikes. Moms.

8. Dine with a Sindhi on a Monday and prepare to see the world’s biggest eyes if you order a non-vegetarian meal. Sindhis have this tradition about being vegetarian on Mondays. They call it “God’s Day” because apparently, God is on vacation every other day? Hey, I don’t mind what you choose to eat. Let me do the same and we’re good. Oh, I do try to stick to my veggie days. Not because its God’s Day *insert eye roll here* but because a balanced lifestyle is good.

One uncle once called me “religion-less” because I forgot it was a Monday and I ordered a chicken sandwich. My dad heard the story and called HIM the religion-less one. Dad, you’re awesome. My granny's pretty cute too. I jokingly asked her I'd go to hell for eating meat on Monday and she said "paap mukhe de, tu bhale kha" which translates "Just pass me the sins, you go on and eat". HAHA. 

And that’s it! I’m pretty sure we awesome Sindhis can associate with the above and can even relate to doing one of the above.

It sounds like we are very odd people. But hey, which culture doesn’t have some kind of oddity in them? Needless to say, I’m proud of my culture, where I came from and the values instilled to me by my Sindhi families. I assure you, we are a bunch of really large-hearted people. We go out of our way to help one another. We don’t have to know you, but you’d only need to ask and we will be at your door. We get a little excited at parties, we great each other a little too loudly, our jewelry may blind you a little bit (you hear that, pretty aunties?), our wedding outfits get heavier by the year, our uncles drink a lot of Johnny Walker, but we’re a pretty amazing bunch of people. We love it when non-indians wear our traditional clothing. We share our yummy food with everyone. We sing Bollywood songs with so much happiness and are happy to tell you their meaning (okay technically, Bollywood is Hindi but po-tay-to po-tah-to).

 I’m Sindhi and proud, are you?

Orientation Days = Not Very Orienting?

October 2015. So recently (okay, not very recent), our Ministry of Education released a law stating that orientation at universities must be led by lecturers, not students. A cup of hot chocolate accompanied me that day at my Master’s campus in Yogyakarta, when I overheard the news from a nearby television. I quickly grabbed my cell and Googled the news for confirmation. It was true!

You’re probably wondering why this news brought about such happiness to me, considering the fact that my university freshman days are way behind me? Truth it, those days passed by physically, but not mentally. But let me start from the beginning.

February 2007. I cant remember the date exactly, but I received a phone call from my first choice of university in Jakarta (whose name I have decided to omit, but those who know, oh well), informing me that I have aced their entrance requirements and that I was officially in, if I wanted to proceed with the application. I was ECSTATIC! Of course, studying abroad was my dream but being daddy’s little girl, he couldn’t get acquainted with the idea of sending me away. Either way, I got to go to my choice of local campus, so all’s well that ends well. I went ahead with the application, received my info pack a couple of days later and that I was in. I was officially a freshman, along with some peers from high school.  

Excitement, excitement! I was counting for my orientation days. I couldn’t wait to meet my classmates, my lecturers, get a hold of my books, new stationeries (I’m a sucker for good writing tools) and ditch my school uniform! I wish I wasn’t as excited as I was then, because the days to come, were a bunch of nightmares.

August 2007. Pre-orientation day came upon us. The orientation crew consisted of senior students, comprising of class mentors, disciplinary team and other supporting divisions. My own class mentors were lovely. The crew developed a pretty strict chain of events for orientation, along with a equally stringent dress code. There were so many do-it-yourself items to carry; a signboard to be hung down our necks the whole time, a made-from-scratch notebook for assignments, hand-drawn university logo and so on. On top of that, we received a crap load of assignments, had to join an out-of-town excursion and so on. I didn’t mind them. At first.

A bunch of us reached the campus together on our first orientation day. We were late as there was a no-personal-car policy during orientation (parking around campus was a bummer). Joining an initial checking line, some of us had our name tags taken for “punishment” and had to write our lateness issue on our signboards. My first impression was that they were a team of tough seniors. We weren’t greeted well, treated like children, had our bags opened for content check and were instructed like robots. The day proceeded fine. Several info sessions were wonderful, which involved several lecturers and other academic representatives. But I distinctly remember, our assignments were left unchecked, despite of the constant reminders for completion. The whole day’s event took place up to late in the evening, with a bunch of more assignments to be handed the next morning. On top of that, those who had faults on their signboards were asked to stay back. We were made to assemble in the front lobby and we were HUMILIATED to death. We were screamed at. We were laughed at. Some ass**** caught me shivering (yes, that’s how bad it was) and he and his friend sniggered behind my back. Whatever. I don’t remember what the screaming was about. Something about being responsible, being prepared for more tasks to follow.

Day 2. No lateness this time. But my name tag was initially taken for wearing a dark blue belt (the note wanted black but this was the closest I had). They let me go upon seeing my scared-as-hell face and my explanation that after the previous day’s late event, how was I supposed to go out and get a new belt? Of course, I got the typical “how do you not have a black belt? That is so weird” a million times. Yes, because my fashion choice is to be determined by my college seniors. Do you want to pick out my wedding dress too? Anyway, I got to keep my name tag, which meant no senior screaming down my neck. Our assignments received a small note this time. At least they were read. Later during the day, we learnt more details about our excursion, which was a one-night stay somewhere away from Jakarta. Sounds fun? Think again.

Excursion. We gathered real early to make our way to the outbound location. I felt relieved to be off-campus. The change felt good. Upon reaching, we found out that we were to sleep in barracks. Wooden huts with one small light bulb. No pillows, no blankets. I didn’t mind as I’m adaptable and honestly, rather adventurous. The weather grew cold towards the evening and the only thing that would keep us warm was our orange overalls, which we were told to wear 24/7. Mine got dirty and smelly within the first hour due to the muddy games but no one was allowed to exchange them for a new set. Our phones were taken without notice on how long until we get them back. Bathrooms were dirty. No plumbing. No lights. I would have used my phone for lighting, BUT IT WAS TAKEN AWAY FROM ME. Still, I didn’t complain. It was just one night.

But then, the worst happened. Night time. We were all asked to sleep by 10 pm with warning; we must keep our shoes on at night, along with our overalls and helmet. Sleep with our shoes on? Something funny I expected for sure and I was spot on. I left out my shoes, as they were wet. At around 2 am, an array of firecrackers were shot, along with what sounded like a police alarm. We were woken up by force and rushed to the main outdoor area. Upon reaching, we were asked to lay flat, head down on the floor like slaves. An ant nest was right under my chin and I put my face up to locate elsewhere. A huge hand touched my head and forced it down. No explanations were allowed to be given. An ant nest was on my face.

We were then broken into groups and tasked. The worst task of the day. We were to enter the forest individually and follow a designed trail to reach the other end of the forest. We weren’t allowed torchlights. So literally, the only thing guiding our path was the rope for trail. A slip up and we would have been lost in the woods without light. Granted, they had people in every post in the forest so the chances of being lost were small but we were frightened to death. My turn came and I decided to ignore my active imagination and walked by. I felt surprisingly brave and walked confidently until I felt a cold hand on my rope. That was when I found out, they had placed not only people to help us keep our track, but also placed fake ghosts to spook us out. The hand I touched turned out to be a kid’s, who dressed as a “tuyul” or a ghost-boy. I lost my breath. It was cold, my shoes and overalls were wet, I couldn’t see a thing and a creepy figure was in front of me. I walked away. I don’t know how but I did. There were more challenges along the way. Someone threw leaves on me to freak me out. Another one made eerie laughs. What felt like hours finally came to an end and I joined the rest of the team around a bonfire. It was in the wee hours in the morning that we got back to our barracks, sneaked in 2 hours of sleep and woke up to pack for home. HOME!!! The word never sounded as good before. I must have slept through the whole way home. No shower, no toilet (my cubicle had beetles), my hair was completely tangled and barely any sleep, I was a zombie back home. My folks were so worried, was this how my next 4 years was going to be?

No. not at all. My apologies to the orientation crew, but none of the activities prepared us in any way for our university years. My lecturers never screamed at us, we were never humiliated for poor quality of work, we never had to record our faults on a humiliating signboard, academic reps listened to our queries and assisted us the whole way through, I never had to pull an all-nighter. So what was the point of the whole orientation routine? It was probably downright to embarrass us, intimidate us and show their position as seniors in the campus. My next 4 years sailed so smoothly, I couldn't have asked for more. Later on, I applied to join the committee of the orientation days, simply to help put a change for the next batch as honestly, it was painful to see the cycle on repeat. With a bunch of other people, we did manage some changes, although being freshmen, we couldn’t do so much.

In other developing countries, bullying during orientation is common. In India, some were made to strip in the nude, wear pigtails on their hair and dance to trashy tunes. A case in Taiwan showed freshmen being asked to pose on the roads to garner attention and laughs. This makes me feel sad because orientation is supposed to “orient” you in the days to come. In most countries, it was about survival skills in college, what to wear and what not to wear, how to ace our papers, how to choose our classes, how to shape our careers upon graduation, how to manage our load of tasks and all else, none of which we received during our orientation. Those who we managed to ask, answered fine and showed empathy but overall, we were treated like scums.

This was why I as happy for future freshmen, as they didn’t have to go through what most of the people my age did. The whole set of activities were traumatizing and I do not exaggerate the word traumatize. A few of my friends passed out during the excursion and refused to attend the first day of classes. Anyway, the law passed by the ministry of education received a lot of flak initially, mostly by campus seniors all over the country who actively took part in "welcoming" freshmen. Some freshmen too were heard complaining as they wanted to be at the other end of the torture. But overall, the law has been passed well and I believe lecturers are doing a better job at elaborating what campus life is like. Students are also involved in the activity but under supervision from lecturers to avoid unforeseeable circumstances. I honestly believe, it is human right to be asked to be treated with fairness and justice. We have the right to exercise freedom of speech and have a right to be heard. Bullying is not cool. Governments all over the world have worked hard against bullying and reduce to mental effect of bullying in freshmen. It is unacceptable for reputed universities to participate in demeaning chain of events that can scathe even the bravest of people. Kudos to the Indonesian government for the attempt of protecting freshmen!

It has been 8 years. But my active imagination still takes me back to the forest, clutching the cold hand of a little boy who sneered at me with black eyes and stone-white hands.

Our Obsession with Celebrities

We all love celebrities. I mean, can you pick just ONE public figure you completely adore? Can you honestly say you have never tried to imitate a fashion idea from your favorite celebrity? Have we not stood in front of a mirror, pinching our bellies and sucking our cheeks in to get that “look”? Guilty as charged. Clearly, celebrities play a huge role in our lives. They’re everywhere we go. When you’re in the supermarket, the magazine stand displays them on the cover. When you’re online, you Google their latest scandal. When you’re home, you watch some E! News. And every other minute, you hear about how brave Caitlyn Jenner is while undergoing her sex change. It is inevitable. So it is safe to say, our world is obsessed with celebrities.

As a keen observer and self-acclaimed perceptive person, I thought of a few reasons as to why I believe some of us are completely all over celebrities. They look amazing, most of the time. They seem to have their lives together. Some of them make more money than a nation’s Gross Domestic Product. Their houses can accommodate part of some third-world countries. Their spouses are dreamy. The list goes on. And we cannot help wanting to be like them and try to learn more about them.

I am not sure as per the boundary of healthy and dangerous in this case, especially for younger minds. Some incidents will never leave my thoughts. I vividly recall Kylie Jenner’s “Kylie Jenner Lip Challenge” which encouraged people to suck their lips through a short glass and then release the glass to allow them to have bee-strung lips for a little while. As a consequence, a lot of people suffered from chapped lips, stitches due to broken glass and so on. Also for Kim Kardashian whose marriage lasted for no longer than 70 something days with that Kris dude. Still on Kim who wore killer heels during her last trimester of her pregnancy, defying all labor care suggestions by gynecologists and pediatricians everywhere. AND has published a 350+ page book consisting of all her selfies (sorry guys, I don’t like trash-talking celebrities but if I hear one more story about the Kardashians, I will cry).

This obsession is more apparent after the dot-com rise in the recent decade. News channels are more accessible and we “commoners” can reach out to our favorite celebrities directly on Instagram and Twitter. People have been crazier ever since. Suddenly, we have given way to online stalkers, cyber bullies and other psychopath we find online these days. Those who find a way to steal celebrities' private images are the worst. Of course, if you aren’t a celebrity, you’re probably fine.

I don’t mind a healthy celebrity infatuation. I share a little of it too. I would kill to dance with Shahid Kapoor, although that would be a ridiculous scene. But these desires to learn more about them should not come in the way of us learning about those who try to make the world a better place, by doing more than wearing a barely-there one piece and upload them for a million likes. We ALL know who Caitlyn Jenner is and what she did, we ALL know that Justin Bieber spat on his fan once, we ALL know he and Selena dated (are dating?), we ALL know that Kareena Kapoor gets along with Saif’s children. But how many of us actually know that Paul Walker spent a huge chunk of his assets on charitable activities and philanthropy. That Akon created Star Academy to provide electricity to 600 Africans? That people in Haiti are eating mud cookies simply to survive?  Our IQs seem to get lower over the years, but our ego and infatuation are getting fed. Which is sad, considering that the fact that our rat race towards the finish line should not be based upon the number of abs (six-pack, eight-pack, now I hear there is such a thing as ten-pack?!?!) Shah Rukh Khan is aiming for his next movie. Oh, did you know that in India, Rajnikant's fans have made a 150 feet statue of him, which is washed with milk every other day. Mind = boggled.

It is time for us to stop getting brainwashed by the media. Their headlines have been spiced up to cater to what we want to read. We do not need a full on write-up about Rihanna’s outfit to the VMAs, nor do we need to know for how much JLo has her butt insured. Respect those who deserve to be given the accolades. Don’t forget our true heroes; our firefighters, medical staff and police workers (at least those who work free from corruption) who fight their way for a better country. Respect celebrities, but remember that they are not the center of your world. Most importantly, start respecting yourself and your intellectual self. Feed your mind, not your ego.

Cheers xx

A Tribute for My Grandfather

Last month, on March 9^th 2015, we lost a man with a golden heart, my grandfather. All the words in the world will not do justice to the kind of man he was, and neither will this blog be able to do so. This was written as a tribute, to truly show how much he meant to our family.

If you don’t believe in heroes, refer to your grandfather. They’re just like fathers, but they impose no rules around the house :) The quality that made mine great is his ability to love immensely and the inspiration he was to those around him.

Sadly, I knew nothing much of his childhood. Daddy lost his voice due to stroke when I was very young so ever since, our conversations were limited to his hands signage and some words that he could manage.  There were times when he grew frustrated as we weren’t able to understand what he tried to say, but my brother, who I call Boy (out of habit over the years) and I got much better over the years, we were practically experts ;)

Over the time span we spent together, how does one recollect memories and pour it into a post? An impossible task to truly portray the value of the relationship we shared with him but if I had to pick, the following are few of our most treasured times, all of which never fail to bring a smile to our faces.

Daddy was very fond of sweets. Anything sweet, may they be candies, chocolates, mithai (indian sweets) but his favorite was Populaire’s strawberry ice cream. He would ask either one of us to buy exactly that brand and he’d be in splits of excitement after his meals knowing that a treat is on its way. He had diabetes, so my grandma, who we fondly call Mummy, would keep an eye for his tidbits. When Mummy stopped him from having them, he would literally, creep out of his bed in the middle of their afternoon nap and enjoy a whole cup to himself. Whoever caught him never had the heart to stop him after seeing his big grin whilst eating :)

Daddy’s whole family came from India and he has a lot of relatives in Jaipur. The last time he visited them was a long time ago so at random days, he would insist on taking his passport from our drawer, so he can book his tickets and go alone. When we tried making sense of it, he would get really upset and keep asking for his passport! There were moments when we found this sad, but also those days when we would all be thoroughly tickled by his precious innocence.

There were times when he randomly checked his empty pockets and then complain for not having any money. Boy once gave him a 50.000 note, which Daddy folded into a very tiny square and eventually lost the note. Oh Daddy :):) 

He was always a strong-headed person. He knew he was too weak to make bathroom trips in the middle of the night without his nurse and yet did it continuously. He fell several times during the process and we chided him so much about it but he would just laugh it out.

He was also fond of drinking beer and whiskey. Those very rare moments that he got to enjoy them, he used to have the most peaceful sleep! The usual 4-5 routine bathroom trips were completely out of the picture.

Mummy is fond of talking; with her friends, with us, on the phone, with a passerby on the road, anyone! When Mummy got a little excited, Daddy would tap her on the shoulder and bring his index fingers to his lips indicating that she should chill. The sight of this is always a riot!

Once, Daddy asked papa for a pair of sneakers. At the end, he was happy when Boy lent him his pair. The picture below is worth more than just a mere thousand words!

He once watched Friends with Boy, the part when Ross and Joey climbed down the fire escape, the “face to face” scene and he also couldn’t stop laughing along with Boy.

We had a family photoshoot in EcoPark Ancol last couple of years, where all of us had different Polo shirts. Daddy must have had the time of his life there! His face truly glowed of happiness from being outdoor even though Mummy couldn’t wait to get back home. I remember the exact moment when he sat by the golf cart and insisted that we go on more rounds so he could enjoy the ride further.  

When he was younger, he would take the public bus and head to the city center all by himself just to enjoy his own me-time. He used to come back with firecrackers for Diwali :):)

We also took him to Ancol, although rather rarely, to fulfill his love for the outdoors (and our love for siomay abang-abang).

He used to absolutely adore Vicky, my husband. After we got hitched, I visited home as much as I could but Daddy would give me a brief look and then immediately ask for Vicky.

His first love will always be Indian food but he enjoys the occasional slice of pizza. We would be so happy when he asks for pizza, because obviously, no one will refuse and we wont hear those “stop eating junk food” conversations from Papa (love you paaaaaa). It used to take him 15 minutes to finish a slice of pizza as they need to be cut into really tiny pieces for him to fork each one individually.

He had a particular spot in the house where he would sit, right by the entrance, so his happy face used to be the first sight upon entering the house. Seeing the empty seat is a bitter part of our day. But the way he left us forever was exactly how we would want him to leave. He was 85 years old and by God’s grace, Daddy never spent a single day in the hospital. His last day had him taken to the hospital, for which he was there just for a few hours before he finally departed. He was always one of the strongest men I knew. Various disorders would come to him, blood pressure, sugar levels and more and he would literally kick them out of his system. He did not say goodbye to anyone. He just left. And that was beautiful. He left without any kind of sufferance, no kind of pain and that was it.

I am grateful to have spent most of my days with him. I grew up right in front of him and the times I spent at home revolved around being with Mummy and him. There are people who never appreciated what they had until they lost it, but in this case, I am glad, I am not one of them. I have no regrets whatsoever as I have done whatever I possibly could for him. Our bond was strong, I loved him tremendously and I always will. The person I shared happy memories with is now a memory, a beautiful memory to cherish forever. Someone we love is now in heaven, which is why we can say we have a bit of heaven in our home.

Those we hold closest never really leave us. They live in the kindness they’ve shared and the love they’ve brought to our lives.

Good night, Daddy. Sleep well and we shall reunite one day.