Hide & Seek

Just finished Hide and Seek. Dakota Fanning. Brilliant acting. Didn't know who she was. Googled her. Found out this wasn't her first role. She'd been a pro when she did this. Nevertheless, brilliant acting and great twist in the end. Couldn't predict the end this time. Here's a poster of the movie:

Anyway, watching such a thriller has to be balanced with something. And what better way than to listen to good music on our trusty ole radio station:

http://en.radyovoyage.com/

Ah! One thinks of faraway meadows and Venetian canals when one listens to this radio station.... Bellisimo! Tres Magnifique! 

between sleep and wakefulness

this is where i want to exist. right here. in this escapist reality. between the throes of sleep and wakefulness. the mind tires. exhausted. sleep now, it says. but the body labors on. tries to find peace in something. closure in something. the dessert after the full meal. the obligatory post-coital cigarette. what is the equivalent in real life of these? is there ever any closure? or is this just what dreams are made of. pray tell me. o please. enlighten me. release me from this chakravyuha.

Pointlessness....

So, today is just one of those days. I don't feel like working. And I declined to go to Nerd Nite, though a colleague was really keen on going. And then, there's a book, waiting to be read. Nothing quite interesting, just your usual Michael Crichton novel, its called Nano or Micro or something. It invites me to bed. With a come hither look. But I don't feel drawn enough to jump into bed with it. Maybe later, by way of a sympathy read. And the left eye is twitching. Which in my culture means bad luck. And I'm superstitious about these things. And there were 2 visitors to my blog today (Yay!!). Both from my own office (yes, I can track that). Interesting times. Wonder who would've read the blog today and said. Oh! So this guy is actually nuts. Its not a facade after all. They've changed the liquid hand wash in the bathroom and it smells icky. Now I'll have to go and wash my hands with soap. Life, I'm telling you, is fraught with struggle....

WHAT NEXT?

First of all, and this is a disclaimer, I do not write to be published. It is not a literary work that I'm publishing. I write to vent. I write to put whatever's there in the mind out there.

That done with, over the past few weeks, I've been thinking. What is to be done next in life? I've got two degrees, worked in Goa (\:D/) for 4 years, now I've been in Africa for a year (to the day) and all I can think of is 'WHAT NEXT?'

Having done so many things, Goa, Africa, Engineering, MBA, you'd think now life would be pretty exciting for me. But no, that's not the case. I think excitement comes from within. There, sitting in some far-off corner of the world, maybe even away from satellite / mobile communication, life would be more interesting than sitting at a desk typing out this blog, having nothing worth anything to do with one's life. People would be happier there.

Or is it that I just need a vacation? Don't know. The company thinks I need a vacation once every 6 months. Now, I've been here for a year, and have gone home twice. So, next vacation should be 6 months away, no? No. Its too much. Its Africa, isn't it? It takes its toll on you. Even though you are fully taken care of. You're housed, fed, cared for even better than you were at home. But still, it gets boring, it gets frustrating. Starts coming out of your ears. And there's only so much you can do not to lose it.

Even so, we labor on.... Evermore, like the worker bee that we are...

Easy - and the allure of string instruments

Not so long ago, a friend (m2) sent us this link. And by us, I mean the other two of us, pristine, and me. Its like the three of us form a whole, incomplete without each other. On 3 different continents, but together, part of each other, people of the same insanities. But I digress, here's the link: Easy - Anoushka / Norah / Karsh

Its magical, isn't it. Just the right amount of plinky plonky Sitar, and then the smooth as silk, warm as caramel voice of Norah Jones. Magical, I tell you.

Which brings me to the subject of this post, what is it with the string instrument and Indian subjects? We regularly come across instances of the exoticized India being background-musiced by the Sitar. And it feels so nice, so homely. Like its mine. This warm cozy feeling in all this music.

Just the other day, pristine was speaking of opening a restaurant in (where else?) Goa. And today, whilst hearing this song, I was picturing sitting in such a restaurant, yellow candles flickering in the fading light, and the 3 of us, together, in our bliss.

Ah! but then I dream too much....

The pleasure in exhaustion...

So, Gujjubhai is back to Liberia. Yesyes, I was away, bi-annual leave, India, got stuck in Ethiopia, was rescued by boss.... All that. Cut a long story short, I'm back, babe! And I'm lovin' it!

Ever since I came back, I've been trying to get into some sorta exercise routine. I've tried going to the gym, only to come back after having tread the treadmill for 15 minutes and gotten glares from the instructor for coming down too hard on the 'mill. Then I've tried walking. But that's scary in the dark where I stay, and well, not too much of an exercise, eh? More like something old people do.

So, then we're back to the original exercise, the one we've been doing since we were in Goa. In fact, I learnt how to swim in Goa only. And its a blissful exercise. If I may use some Hindi here, 'Mazaa aa gaya!'. You should try it sometime.

And you know me, overzealous kid that I am, I decided to overdo it. First time in the pool after a long time. Was just subconsciously trying to make up for lost time, I guess.

So, the first few laps I felt I was going to drown. Don't know why, but just felt like I couldn't get the rhythm right. The breathing wasn't proper. I was swallowing water. Cough! Cough! Cough! All that. But then slowly, I got into the flow. Then there was no breathlessness. And hardly any breaks between laps. People came in. People went. And I kept swimming.

Then I got really, really tired. But God knows why, I just wanted to keep on swimming. '2 more laps, that's all', I'd tell myself. And I'd just keep going. Is swimming addictive, by any chance? I must look it up.

And then, I got really, really, really tired. And it was like I was swimming on autopilot. More like drifting. Ever so slowly. On the surface of the water. The hands and the legs moved on their own. It was almost like meditation. Swimming in the blue pool in the artificial yellow spotlight, it felt magical, almost surreal. There I was, floating, blissfully, arm after arm, legs gently swaying. Arm after arm, legs gently swaying. Floating, nicely, calmly, blissfully. And then...... dank! Muscle cramp! Ouch, that hurt. Right in the middle of that deep pool. What's the depth like? 9 feet? And noone around. 'Dammit!' I thought, 'I'm definitely gonna drown today! Thakur toh giyo!'

But you know me, I'm not much of a risk taker. So, I discovered that, out of sheer habit, I was swimming right next to the edge (Yes, you can call 'Sissy!' now, but I wouldn't be writing this blog, if not for this habit of mine). And so, I grabbed onto the edge and slowly slid myself into the shallow waters. Pulled myself up onto the edge of the swimming pool. And then, for what seemed like an eternity (must have been hardly 30 seconds), I sat with my legs stretched, trying to make the cramp go away. And it just wouldn't. God only knows how I've come back to the room. I'm still pretty sure I can feel remnants of that nasty cramp in my thigh.

But, all in all, it was fun. The swim. The tiredness. The peace. Hark! Even the cramp. I think I'm gonna continue swimming. Inshallah!

PS: This really hot white girl was swimming when I came in. Had a nice little chat with her. My newly acquired bald pate is quite a conversation topic, you see. She's gonna go out tonight. Hope she comes to where I'm going. :P

Accra!!

So, this Monday, we went to Ghana to get some Khana. More specifically, we went to Accra to get some Khakhra! Ok, that's a bad Gujarati joke.The Accra trip happened for some office work. And Accra turned out to to be a breath of fresh air after the drudgery of Monrovia. It feels like a big city. It behaves like a big city.

The people in Accra are gentle. They're nice and laid back. Accra Airport (Kotoka International Airport, they call it) was agog with boards saying 'Akwaba!' This means 'Welcome!' in their local language Chvi (or Chui or Chi, as some people pronounce it). Life over here is slow and relaxed. People take their own time going about their life. At the bank, a teller was patiently attending to a lady for over half an hour and the people in line (Thank God I was not in that line) were patiently waiting their turn. Without protest. Also, they have great respect for their public places in this country. For example, at the bank again, I was standing in line to pay some money, and I just whipped out my phone and started talking to an acquaintence (you know me, I get restless easily). And the people around me started giving me dirty looks. I didn't get it. Eventually the guard came up to me and asked me to hang up please. Very politely, but in a strict schoolteacherly way. It was kinda nice, how these people respect their public places. Unlike India, where it is socially acceptable, even fashionable, to whip out your phone in a public place and start speaking at the top of your voice, with everyone evesdropping on your conversation. But then, its also efficient. I mean, you could get more work done talking on the phone while standing in line or commuting.

All in all, Accra presents itself as quite a developed city (I'm going to present some photos to you shortly, which I'm sure you've skipped ahead and already gone through) with good roads and proper traffic directions. Indeed, it might be the most developed city in all of West Africa.

So, anyway, after a hard day's work, I decided to give the taxi a pass and walk back to my hotel. It was quite a revelation. Here's a few pictures of Accra I took on my phone:

Does RIM know about this? :)

Shady poster

On the streets of Accra

Such posters dot the sidewalks on Monrovia as well

Another shady poster

More Accra traffic

Glass-fronted building next to a nullah. Remind you of Mumbai?

Rush-hour. People heading back home.

Beer!

Mercedes Benz showroom (wow)