Its freezing in NYC today!!!! Hopefully you are warm and toasty wherever you are!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Guilty of blog neglect
I admit it, I am a slacker. I have neglected my blog. My last post was 13th January. It's now 23rd January. What are my excuses ?
- One of those never ending bad colds!
- Being clear that this blog is a place to put personal thoughts when they are worth sharing, not forcing it full of any vaguely relevant news.
- Simple laziness.
But I am back now and I will put up some of my last year vacation pics from UK to make up for my absence.
- One of those never ending bad colds!
- Being clear that this blog is a place to put personal thoughts when they are worth sharing, not forcing it full of any vaguely relevant news.
- Simple laziness.
But I am back now and I will put up some of my last year vacation pics from UK to make up for my absence.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
The Few Moving Minutes
It's been ten years since I have been riding the NYC subway. I am among the fortunate/unfortunate bunch that depends still on the subway system to take us places: school, work, home, and all that's in the middle and beyond. The other day while I stared at my reflection in one of the big windows of an insignificant subway car, the dark walls closing-in from both sides reminded me that for a long time that I have been synchronizing my steady movements with them…and it made me think, how the subway rider's life might have changed me.
When I first started taking the under and over ground trains I was a teenager, ready for the world, I had figured it all out, trying to become bored with life fast, but still unable to hide awed eyes. I learned the system inside and out, became an avid guesser of how long it takes a train to get from one station to the other, during rush and non-rush hours, how certain lines carry trendier crowds than others, how the suburb folks look so much more anxious to get home than the city dwellers. The club crowd, the students, the laborers, the doctors and the computer engineers. I learned to tell it all, and it wasn't a talent, because like me anyone who has been riding the subway long enough can tell who is who and where is what just from one tiny glimpse.
One of the unwritten rules of the subway crowd around the NYC area is, the rule of silence. Silent intimidation. We don't talk. We put our personalities, bubbly, talkative, average, whatever it might be, in our purses and wallets when we enter the subway zone. Everyone puts a face on that says don't look at me because I am not looking at you. There are days when I stand or sit in a subway car shoulder to shoulder with others, and there is pin drop silence, it's quite a scene actually, probably the only time when hundreds of people are cramped into constricted spaces without uttering any sound. NYC subway does not welcome friendship, it only allows you to practice your game face, and we are all comfortable that way.
But strange incidents do happen from time to time in subways, to remind us we are not just bodies but also souls with minds. Like the other day when a middle aged Asian man got up with his holy book and wished everyone a good morning and then started singing a Christian holy song, all of us with our game faces tried to hide our expressions, looking at him indirectly, avoiding eye contact with each other. He sat down after two minutes, "have a blessed day" he said. And I felt relieved. The world has made us cynical, religion is no longer okay to be practiced or preached in public spaces, especially in constricted public spaces like the subway. I thought how strange it would be if an Arab man sang a holy song about Islam, how many people would have panic attacks, waiting for some bomb to go off, including me.
Perhaps it's to avoid situations of that sort, to avoid eccentrics, to avoid negative and positive topics that we leave our human minds outside the subway and carry our bodies underground. It's a secret code among the subway riders, we don't welcome your personalities, so don't show your character, just shut up and ride. And most of us are happy with that, we don't want holy singers who make us think of suicide bombers, we don't want Girl Scouts cookie sellers, they make us think of middle class America, we don't want bright eyed tourists ,they annoy us with their enthusiasm. We just want to shut up and ride.
So yes, the subway system has changed me, it has given me the power to observe without looking, to be silent without demanding any rights, and to appreciate movement, the basic and essential in the world of fruitless luxuries and forceful impressions.
IMAGE VIA
When I first started taking the under and over ground trains I was a teenager, ready for the world, I had figured it all out, trying to become bored with life fast, but still unable to hide awed eyes. I learned the system inside and out, became an avid guesser of how long it takes a train to get from one station to the other, during rush and non-rush hours, how certain lines carry trendier crowds than others, how the suburb folks look so much more anxious to get home than the city dwellers. The club crowd, the students, the laborers, the doctors and the computer engineers. I learned to tell it all, and it wasn't a talent, because like me anyone who has been riding the subway long enough can tell who is who and where is what just from one tiny glimpse.
One of the unwritten rules of the subway crowd around the NYC area is, the rule of silence. Silent intimidation. We don't talk. We put our personalities, bubbly, talkative, average, whatever it might be, in our purses and wallets when we enter the subway zone. Everyone puts a face on that says don't look at me because I am not looking at you. There are days when I stand or sit in a subway car shoulder to shoulder with others, and there is pin drop silence, it's quite a scene actually, probably the only time when hundreds of people are cramped into constricted spaces without uttering any sound. NYC subway does not welcome friendship, it only allows you to practice your game face, and we are all comfortable that way.
But strange incidents do happen from time to time in subways, to remind us we are not just bodies but also souls with minds. Like the other day when a middle aged Asian man got up with his holy book and wished everyone a good morning and then started singing a Christian holy song, all of us with our game faces tried to hide our expressions, looking at him indirectly, avoiding eye contact with each other. He sat down after two minutes, "have a blessed day" he said. And I felt relieved. The world has made us cynical, religion is no longer okay to be practiced or preached in public spaces, especially in constricted public spaces like the subway. I thought how strange it would be if an Arab man sang a holy song about Islam, how many people would have panic attacks, waiting for some bomb to go off, including me.
Perhaps it's to avoid situations of that sort, to avoid eccentrics, to avoid negative and positive topics that we leave our human minds outside the subway and carry our bodies underground. It's a secret code among the subway riders, we don't welcome your personalities, so don't show your character, just shut up and ride. And most of us are happy with that, we don't want holy singers who make us think of suicide bombers, we don't want Girl Scouts cookie sellers, they make us think of middle class America, we don't want bright eyed tourists ,they annoy us with their enthusiasm. We just want to shut up and ride.
So yes, the subway system has changed me, it has given me the power to observe without looking, to be silent without demanding any rights, and to appreciate movement, the basic and essential in the world of fruitless luxuries and forceful impressions.
IMAGE VIA
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Living in a snow globe
We had a blizzard here in NYC last night. I managed to get to work but didn't make it to the gym :( I have had enough of this snow! i want warm weather NOW!!!!Tuesday, January 11, 2011
2011 Update
Its been only 11 days so I really don't understand my need to write about an update. Yet I type away swiftly, stopping every now and then to glance over at my window to watch the snow accumulating on the window sill. As of yet 2011 has been a mixed bag more good then bad actually (touch wood!) or may be my perception has changed this year...i dunno. Alright the good things first
- I finally joined a gym and managed to survive the gruesome toning classes.
- I have been meditating every day for 10 minutes. Yeah granted 10 minutes is not much but its a big accomplishment for me to be able to quiet down my monkey mind for that long.
- I also paid off one my credit cards and locked up the other one in the drawer
- I stopped drinking the sugary milky chai that I used to drink everyday with invigorating green tea :).
- My trip to Mexico got canceled :(
- Health wise I have managed to screw my body up pretty bad! Well actually this time my body has actually screwed me up. For personal reasons, I won't discuss much about it here.
- I managed to let some certain people creep back into my life without any inhibitions. I should have known better in fact I do know better and therefore I'm a bit disgusted with my self. These people not only bring me down but constantly make me question my own abilities and threaten my status quo. NOTE TO SELF: Always trust your first instinct and never bring the things back into your life that you disposed.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Happy New Year 2011!
Bye bye 2010! Even though you weren't as lovely to me as I thought you would be, you'll forever be in my head as one of my special years yet. Since in 2010 I
- graduated!
- increased my credit score.
- made some awesome friends.
- realized some people are really unworthy of your attention and time.
- threw some incredible surprise parties for loved ones.
- learned not to get too caught up when some unplanned things happen in life.
- grew up a lot.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Hidden Smiles
IT promised to come. And so it did. Not with the grandest of arrangements, but still pleasant enough. It fell with grace, with all its confetti life drops, white, white as snow should be, and it was - beautiful snow.
Pic taken in 2009 with my best friend Pian Kazi
I never romanticized the winter; I never desired snow, the freezing weather, and the icy paths that always scare me. It is too much of a threat, falling and slipping and then what…pain and cold just is not a good combination. Neither are 3 inch heels against frozen roads, so my tiptoed steps are just way too risky and the falling snow is nothing but an unneeded luxury.
But something happened today. The MTA can only take me so far during my commute, and the rest of it is just consists of long walks full of random thoughts, random interruptions by homeless people and traffic patrols who take their job more seriously than needed. When I stepped out to the road full of the colorful hat and expensive coat wearing crowd, the snow was already falling in monsoon speed. Sticking to the ground, sticking to my coat, my hand, my eyelids, the top of my nose, my bottom lip…the snow now wanted to confront me, for years of neglect, for years of discrimination that I have showed against it, there was no way I could escape the sore cold topic that day, so I surrendered. I guess I had to face her some day. Today was the day.
So I reminisced my first snow in the West… North London, 1995. I had heard so many great stories about “the first snow,” mine, was also one of them, or could be if I colored it up with enough awe and fervor. I was younger, less afraid of slipping, early kiddy enthusiasm was hard to beat, and my younger cousins were these tiny cute things who would follow me around wherever I went. We rolled around the snow, went to a play ground and got on the swing and pushed each other harder and faster till we would fall off, giggling and shivering. We attempted to make a snow man with our amateur south-east Asian hands, and gave up and had a snow fight. But for some reason for me it just was not quite the same as getting soaking wet in rooftops during monsoon rains, so every time someone mentioned snow and its beauty I would argue and bring up rain and its exoticness.
So I conversed with today's snow. I told her I gave her a fair chance, I did my share of the “first time” experience, my first snow man, my 20th snow fight, even have sacrificed gloves and hats to her, I told her it's okay if she is not loved by all, most love her and that should be good enough. I told her to move on, to ignore me, to not decorate my black coat with all her star like white sparkles. But she was persistent, falling harder like Bengali rain, creating a glow all around, a holy glow, one of those dream like haziness, and I looked around and saw everyone smiling even through they were covered with snow, an inner child had awoke in every man and every woman as if, the magic of snow as others would say it.
But I am a girl from the land of mud, not slippery white slopes, but she still followed me, all the way home, my chin now frozen from the cold, my hair white on black, I ran in, shut the door, rushed to the room to shake it all off, but before I could do so, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my red face, my white snowy body, gleaming, and there it was, a smile on my snow covered lips, smiling without even knowing I was, and I felt shy, and smiled again looking out to find her outside my window still pouring.
So she won. I lost, and I am looking forward to our next fight, especially the sweet ends with hidden smiles.
But something happened today. The MTA can only take me so far during my commute, and the rest of it is just consists of long walks full of random thoughts, random interruptions by homeless people and traffic patrols who take their job more seriously than needed. When I stepped out to the road full of the colorful hat and expensive coat wearing crowd, the snow was already falling in monsoon speed. Sticking to the ground, sticking to my coat, my hand, my eyelids, the top of my nose, my bottom lip…the snow now wanted to confront me, for years of neglect, for years of discrimination that I have showed against it, there was no way I could escape the sore cold topic that day, so I surrendered. I guess I had to face her some day. Today was the day.
So I reminisced my first snow in the West… North London, 1995. I had heard so many great stories about “the first snow,” mine, was also one of them, or could be if I colored it up with enough awe and fervor. I was younger, less afraid of slipping, early kiddy enthusiasm was hard to beat, and my younger cousins were these tiny cute things who would follow me around wherever I went. We rolled around the snow, went to a play ground and got on the swing and pushed each other harder and faster till we would fall off, giggling and shivering. We attempted to make a snow man with our amateur south-east Asian hands, and gave up and had a snow fight. But for some reason for me it just was not quite the same as getting soaking wet in rooftops during monsoon rains, so every time someone mentioned snow and its beauty I would argue and bring up rain and its exoticness.
So I conversed with today's snow. I told her I gave her a fair chance, I did my share of the “first time” experience, my first snow man, my 20th snow fight, even have sacrificed gloves and hats to her, I told her it's okay if she is not loved by all, most love her and that should be good enough. I told her to move on, to ignore me, to not decorate my black coat with all her star like white sparkles. But she was persistent, falling harder like Bengali rain, creating a glow all around, a holy glow, one of those dream like haziness, and I looked around and saw everyone smiling even through they were covered with snow, an inner child had awoke in every man and every woman as if, the magic of snow as others would say it.
But I am a girl from the land of mud, not slippery white slopes, but she still followed me, all the way home, my chin now frozen from the cold, my hair white on black, I ran in, shut the door, rushed to the room to shake it all off, but before I could do so, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, my red face, my white snowy body, gleaming, and there it was, a smile on my snow covered lips, smiling without even knowing I was, and I felt shy, and smiled again looking out to find her outside my window still pouring.
So she won. I lost, and I am looking forward to our next fight, especially the sweet ends with hidden smiles.
Pic taken in 2009 with my best friend Pian Kazi
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