Mumbai Terror

As many of you know my parents hail from Mumbai city. Infact in ten days they are going to be on a flight heading for the city in anticipation of my cousin’s wedding.

Yesterday my cousin, her husband and two kids were being driven home for the airport at Santa Cruz, when they felt their car begin to rattle. With great presence of mind, my cousin decided to gun the engine, with a second car following in tow. Later they realized that a few feet behind them, some insane madman threw a bomb unto the highway, missing them by minutes.

My family is now home, safe and locked up in their homes. Many were not as lucky.

Some obscure group known as the Duccean Mujahadeen is now claiming responsibility for the insanity.

From visiting Mumbai last year, it was apparent to me that the city is undergoing a huge cultural transformation. Take Bandra: Eons ago when my parents were raised in Bandra, a city in Mumbai; the make up was primarily Catholic Indians. Today most have left the city for North America, Australia or New Zealand, and the few that remain co-exist uneasily with an influx of Hindu and Muslim Indians. Now in the streets you see Muslims outnumber their Hindu counter parts and you can’t help but feel the underlying tensions. Yet it is the Hindu governments that make the rules, and you can’t help but wonder how long the inequitable situation will last. During my last visit, a monk had been hung, and the slum people were rioting, so that there were parts of the city that you just couldn’t get to for a few days. At the end of the trip, some gang lords had decreed to shut down Linking road, a popular shopping destination, for a few days to teach the government a lesson.

I was glued last night to CNN, watching the madness unfold, staring at the beautiful Taj hotel in flames, shocked at what was happening. Then I began to consider the tensions I felt last year. The change in the city; where you could once go out at twelve, bar hop till six am and then go to breakfast; which now decrees that all night life shut down at 1am. The backlash of this attack is going to be scary. Top officials have lost their lives, and people’s families were attacked. The real terror is yet to come.

To The society of Romantics & Mislead Hopefuls,

Here we are a again, the season of red, Christmas, love, joy, sharing and my time being rented out to buy gifts for my friend’s girlfriends.

This season, so far, I have had (Count it) FIVE such requests.

To date I have come up with the following ‘romantic’ gift ideas:

• A gift basket entitled “Her favourite things”
• Fun Christmas lingerie for the girl who loves boy shorts and the man who feels they need more spice
• A new HD TV
• A day at the spa tailored to her needs
• An enchanted night, complete with tickets to a show and dinner at a swanky restaurant
  

My dearest society after helping to buy these extravagant gifts for “Others” the following thoughts came to mind:

• What happened to spending $50 on a great gift for the one you loved?
• Remember that story about the couple who sold her hair and watch to buy things for each other? Where’s all the humbleness and sacrifice in a TV?
• How much longer must I go around shopping for other people’s happiness, till someone feels inclined to the same for me? (It’s been 27 years already! And yes it is all about me!)
  
  

Thus if you could inform your members that I am no longer able to lend my expert opinions, style and grace to their future gift purchases, I would be mighty grateful,

Yours truly,

Cranks

How to Sweat a Recession...

The world’s recession, (which everyone is afraid to call a recession,) has hit Canada, but for now, it’s sort of like the big bad wolf, we whisper about, but no one’s quite seen yet. The malls are filled with shoppers, and people are still buying ridiculous things like H2O mops, which other people tell them are a total waste of money, yet they feel compelled to have. (It was on sale.)

There are some indications that the big bad wolf is coming. My new job in recruitment has all but slowed down to snooze pace. Being the kind of foxy girl who always looks on the bright side of things, I’ve discovered that the slow down has allowed me more time to explore other avenues of life, namely salsa dancing on Monday nights.

You know your hard core, when you go salsa dancing on a Monday.

Last week, I returned to the world of salsa. Somewhat scary is how all the characters that were the hot and heavy dancers five years ago, are still around, hot and heavy, only older, and their pick up lines have gotten a little cornier. Latin people are all about the luvvvve. When they meet you, they hug, they kiss, and they smile, such a happy people!

It was a lot of fun, and felt ever so sinful, getting all hot and sweaty on a Monday night, knowing how irresponsible I was being. Funny part is the next morning instead of being tired, I was rejuvenated and full of energy. And since I had spent four hours sweating my behind off, I had a Chocolate Danish as a treat. La Vita A Bella!

The whole week since, I’ve been like Richard Gere, in Shall we Dance, testing out my moves in the kitchen when no one’s looking, taking a few spins across the hall to the washroom, practicing my shines under my desk.

So my dearest recession, thank you, for a little break to enjoy life again!

This weekend I watched “Guess whose Coming to Dinner” with Sidney Poitier, Kathryn Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.

For those who haven’t watched the movie the quick story line is: Hepburn and Tracey’s daughter has fallen in love and intends to marry a black man (Poitier.) The parents are self proclaimed free thinking liberals who are confronted with their own hidden biases. The film also delicately exposes black on white and black on black biases.

There is a beautiful scene in the film when Tracey (The father) asks Poitier (the intended husband) if he has given any thought as to what will become of their children. Poitier cheerfully replies that Joanna (the daughter) wants them to be Presidents, but that he would be okay if their kids end up as secretary of the state.

Watching the film forty one years later after Obama’s momentous win, I could almost picture Obama’s mother and father having a similar conversation, hopefully talking about their son’s future, and the world around them thinking how crazy they are.

Three cheers to unreasonable hope, I am reminded of my favourite quote by Bernard Shaw:

"The reasonable man adapts himself to the conditions that surround him... The unreasonable man adapts surrounding conditions to himself... All progress depends on the unreasonable man."

My mother taken in by the US Election fever signed up to receive notifications from the Obama campaign.

Since then she has received notifications on a daily basis, and is particularly pickled with the ones that come signed, Barack Obama.

Today she calls me, breathless, excited; talking so fast that I can barley understand what she is saying.

Somehow I discern that she received an email from Obama saying that if she donated $30 in the next half hour, she would receive a flight to his victory party. Thus she was calling me to make a donation on her behalf (she herself would never dare trust her credit card to an online site.)

She insisted that the ‘donation’ could count towards her upcoming birthday gift, and that she would take me along for the ride.

Here’s what the email really said:

Mother Putz --When you look back on Election Day years from now, you'll tell your friends and family that this was the moment you helped make history.You could also have a story to share about how you were right in the middle of it at the big Election Night event in Chicago.You could be one of 5 first-time donors to go backstage on Election Night, as long as you give -- in any amount -- before Sunday at midnight.If you're selected, you and a guest will be flown to Chicago, put up in a hotel, and given a front row seat to history.And if you make a donation of $30 or more today, you'll also receive a "Change the World" T-shirt:

We aren’t even American!