The Barrenjoey Walk

The first time Prashant and I went to Manly - a seaside destination and a popular residence for Sydney’s bankers - it was for a walk along with a friend. Cecile, who has long lived in Manly, wanted to show us some of Sydney’s northern beaches. We were still new to Australia then and our fitness levels, for our age, were somewhat appalling. Cecile had said we’ll do a “short walk” so “she can show us around” but I had found the roughly 10-km walk pretty daunting then. Wrong shoes only added to my woes. 

So, when Cecile planned another walk last Sunday I was all psyched up. Months of boxing and circuit training should come in handy, I thought. We packed our picnic of fat-free chocolate cakes, sweet potatoes and feta salad and some healthy savouries and set-off anticipating a long day ahead.  (Scroll down for my recipes)

We were one less than a dozen in all — 5 adults, 6 kids. 

We reached Palm Beach Golf course around 1130 am and almost immediately set in motion for Barrenjoey Lighthouse which promises stunning views of Palm Beach on one side and Pittwater River on the other. It was a very busy and steep stretch but even before we realised we were on the top! I didn't say then but I could have easily walked a few more kilometres if such views were on display. We walked around the lighthouse, clicked some pictures, soaked in the views and then started our march back as the kids were already hungry! 

The walk up didn't take us more than 15 mins and I clocked about 10,000 steps on my Fitbit going up and coming back. But after joyously covering the 10-km Spit-Manly walk only last month this one was disappointingly short. Cecile says we can do day-long or half-day walks from or to Palm Beach so that’s definitely on our check-list for next time. 

(Scroll further down for recipes :-)

Recipes:

Sweet Potato Feta Salad

INGREDIENTS - 

Half boiled sweet potatoes - 2

feta - 1/3 cup, chopped in cubes

chat masala 

salt
A dash of lemon

coriander leaves (optional)

METHOD-

Grill the sweet potatoes till nice and brown. Sprinkle some chat masala and salt to taste. Squeeze in lemon. Mix well. Add feta and coriander leaves. Eat hot or cold. 

Fat-free chocolate cake

INGREDIENTS:

1-2/3 cup wholemeal flour or multigrain flour

3/4 cup brown sugar

2/3 cup cocoa powder

3/4 cup applesauce

1 cup - yoghurt or fat-free sour cream

1 tbsp vanilla extract

2 whole eggs

100 gm - good qtly 80 pct dark chocolate

METHOD:

1. Preheat oven at 180-200 degrees C
2. Mix self-raising flour and cocoa powder in a bowl. Keep aside.
3. In another bowl, beat the sugar, eggs and vanilla till light and fluffy
4. Add yoghurt and applesauce and mix until thoroughly combined
5. Now mix the wet ingredients with the dry and beat on low speed until just combined
6. Transfer to a baking dish and bake for 30-35 mins or until skewer comes clean

Australia's Diwali: Six reasons to go Vivid this year

The city which normally becomes a ghost town after 7 pm really comes alive for the three weeks in June for Vivid Sydney. I'd like to call it Sydney's Diwali (India's festival of lights) for it really takes me back to India!
   
 What I loved about this year's Vivid -

1. Vivid Sydney reminds me of home but in a nicer way. Diwali in India can get a bit annoying with loud firecrackers and overdose of pollution. This is quieter but brilliant. The sails of the Opera House change colors every second, the waters around it are shining rainbows and the neighbouring buildings each have a vibrant story to tell.

   

                                         Martin Place

                                                       Museum of contemporary arts

2. Buskers take away the cake: I love buskers in Sydney. Some of them are so good you want to hear them sing all day. One of my favourites was a couple, both Spanish men, playing the guitar near Circular Quay station. One stunt performer who played with fire among other things was quite entertaining too although he scared the wits out of me. (Sorry I don't have a pix/video of these guys because I was so spell-bound by their performances that it didnt occur to me to capture them ;)

3. George Street, the artery of the city, is closed for this event so you can leisurely walk about a kilometer from Martin Place to Circular Quay without waiting for pedestrians lights and worrying about traffic. Buskers perform along the way. What fun!

4. You'd never have as many places to go to for dinner in the city as during Vivid Sydney. We hit the city for a late lunch as I had to walk to clock up miles for a corporate walking challenge that I am a part of. We went to La Renaissance, a lovely French Patisserie near Circular Quay for a quick bite. The aroma of freshly baked delights is extremely inviting and you'd definitely not leave the place disappointed. From freshly-made baguettes to puffs and macaroons it's all there. Besides, La Renaissance is also a participant in Vivid Sydney which means it is open late in the night for at least the next few days. Must go if you're around.



We also strolled along the Argyle street for food stalls but since I am a vegetarian I gave the kebabs and some Japanese foods a miss. For dinner, we hit the Appetito, a stylish restaurant hidden behind historic sandstone and stained glasses. Spanning three levels, Appetito offers really good food, but slightly expensive for what we had - a pizza and a bruschetta cost us around $50!

5. Views from the Harbour bridge are to die for...

   

6. This is just a tip -- I'd go there on a weekend to catch the markets on the Rocks as well. They are quite arty, I'd say and have some really beautiful things on sale which you'd normally not find in shopping malls. Also a great place to buy gifts for folks back home.

Israel: A trip to the Biblical past

Making another exception here -- This blog entry is by Prasun Pandey, a naval merchant, who loves exploring around the world. This is Israel from his eyes. 

No sooner did I realize that my merchant ship carrying loads of cars was getting to Israel, I started romanticizing about a trip into Biblical history and a ‘dip’ in the Dead Sea.

Once there, I left with my mates in the wee hours of morning for Jerusalem, a 4-hour journey from Eilat where we were docked. It was a beautiful morning with temperatures hovering around 27 degrees C. Clearly, luck was by my side as it had hit a high of 36 degrees just the previous day! Our tour guide, Benny, a tall man with lush silver beard, greeted us with a wide smile but warned of a long day head.

We began the trip while it was still dark but as the sun rose to its glory its rays gleamed on the golden sand, making it a sight worth capturing. Stopping intermittently for photography, coffee and breakfast, we finally reached ‘Qasrel Yahud’ at the Israel-Jordan border. This is the place where Jesus was believed to have been baptized.

The surprises!

•     Coming from India with a not-so-friendly neighbor in Pakistan, a border reminds me of guns, warfare, military posts and barbed wires. But here the border is a friendly river with churches and mosques on both sides. I also saw some locals and foreigners gather there at the river bank to perform the baptism ceremony.
• 
  

•       On our way to Jerusalem, we came across vast farmlands growing almonds, oranges, water melon and some vegetables near the Dead Sea. Dead Sea is so named because it has such high salt content that no form of life can ever exist. However, Benny told me that the water near the sea is all but salty which helps the lush cultivation, of course with support from the government.

Photo credit: JTA.ORG 

The spiritual and religious experience…

After nearly four hours on the road, we entered Jerusalem -- the city that promises a religious and spiritual experience and rightly so! Our first stop was Mt. Scopes – which offers a bird’s eye view of the entire city. It was quite a picturesque sight.

Next, we went to Bethlehem.  The archaeological and religious sites there, including the birthplace of Jesus Christ made my visit memorable. As we entered Bethlehem, we saw the medieval age come alive with high-walled fortresses and watch towers. We visited the church where, as they say, a miracle took place when Jesus was born. The church, a huge tower with glass paintings and prayers inscribed on the walls, saw a regular movement of visitors possibly from all across the world. The place brought immense peace to our hearts and spending some rare time in complete silence indeed felt like connecting with the supreme power.

Our next stop was “Via Dolorosa’ , the place where Jesus was crucified and buried by king Hordes. The sacred place is on a small mountain in Jerusalem. However, the setting inside the church was in sharp contrast with the one in Bethlehem with visitors reliving the sorrowful death of Jesus.

Shopping…

After gratifying our souls, it was time for some materialistic pleasures. Bethlehem is known for its beautiful hand-made artifacts carved out of olive wood; wax paintings and potteries.

As I was picked up one of the paintings I chatted with some local sellers and passers-by who were all big ‘Bollywood’ fans. They remembered stars from the 60s and 70s including Amitabh Bachchan and Hema Malini. Benny himself was a Bollywood fan and entertained us with old classics from Mukesh, Rafi and Lata. I can still remember him crooning melodiously “dost, dost na raha, pyaar pyaar na raha .

The food…

Shopping can get tiring. So, we headed to try some local delicacies. Being a vegetarian, I always have to be extra cautious before ordering any food overseas but Bethlehem seemed to be an easy place for leaf eaters! Some people turn vegetarian on the days they come to pray so finding green delights is never a problem. Benny took us to a local restaurant which had loads of options including humus, falafel, khus-khus, rice, mixed vegetables, eggplant, and fried potatoes.

Dead Sea…

Photo credit David_Shankbone.jpg 

We hit the roads again to head back towards the much awaited destination -- the Dead Sea.

With no aquatic life and near zero levels of pollution, the mineral-rich sea has pristine ferrous green water and is a great place to buy cosmetics such as hand and foot creams, anti-ageing creams and sun-blocks. Besides, the black mud from the sea has known therapeutic effects on the body. When I found out about the body pack, the first person that came to my mind was my first cousin Swati for whom I am writing this blog. I remember a family holiday in Dive-agar , near Mumbai, where she buried herself in the black sand because someone told her it was good for the skin! LMAO!

So, I bought some black mud, applied it all over my body and jumped into the Dead Sea. I was fascinated by the fact that you actually do not drown in the waters, no matter how hard you try! No wonder we didn’t spot any life guards either. You can leisurely float on the waters while reading a book! Note to self - Never allow the water to touch your eyes unless you want to ruin your entire day. They do have fresh water showers available nearby but the burning sensation of even few seconds can kill.

I bought some Dead Sea cosmetics for family back home and some black mud for Swati as a souvenir.

The return journey to the ship was long after a rather tiring day but I took back a lifetime of memories and experiences. Floating on the sea was the best experience ever. When I popped by head out of the window I could see the sun set as if trying to say goodbye to us and I hummed the popular Hindi song to myself kahin door jab din dhal jaaye… 

Remembering the mother I've lost Part-II

Here's the part-I if you've missed it: Remembering the mother I've lost Part I

October 2013

It was a long day, running around the hospital and managing home and relatives. So when Prateek called us up at around 2 on Monday morning neither me nor my husband Prashant woke up. It took us an embarrassing nine missed calls to shake us off our sleep.

"Hello?" I answered the phone, still half awake.

"Have you guys put your phone on silent mode. Why did it take so long?"

"Errr.. Sorry, we were fast asleep," I replied apologetically.

"Hmmm, can you give to bhai please?" I handed over the phone to Prashant who sat tight on the bed, alert.

In half a minute, the conversation ended and I knew he had bad news to share -- Mummy’s blood pressure was sinking despite the medicines and the intensive care while doctors were losing hope. 

I had some meetings that day at work which I promptly cancelled. My father-in-law was the last to be informed. Tuesday passed in waiting.

Come Wednesday, guests started pouring in and phones never stopped ringing. There were many, many people -- some I had never even heard about -- who were really concerned and anxious about mummy.
During the times that we live, we seldom realise that our close friends and relatives can be our greatest strengths of pillar during tough times like these. Having them by your side can be a source of immense support. Unfortunately, when we live we worship our egos and love takes a back seat.

Wednesday was even terrible. 

We figured she only had a few hours left. Unfortunately, she hadn't opened her eyes in the last ten days that she was in the ICU. In her last waking state, she was hopeful of returning home, she wanted to bake a cake for us, celebrate Diwali and see my brother-in-law Prateek settle down. I shudder to think what would have happened if she was conscious and saw her life peeling off her body every single minute. Was she lucky to have been spared the horror?

She was on life support. Doctors said the advanced medical systems these days meant patients survived longer than they otherwise would or in their own words they delay deaths. Had mummy recovered then she would have been nothing but a bag of bones, battling an even harder life with regular trips to the hospital, doctors suggested towards the fag end of her journey. One question on our minds then was how long can she be on life support anyway? Unfortunately for us, when her liver started degenerating the doctors lost all hopes. That is one organ that cannot be put on any life support systems.

In those last few hours on Wednesday afternoon, we took turns to stand beside her bed, holding her swollen hands or kissing her yellow-ish forehead while urging her to depart. Mantras were played on soft volume for her ears while the hospital administration had lifted the restrictions on the number of visitors. While we waited for the bad news, we were also praying for a miracle which never happened.

While in Kerala, just a fortnight before her tryst with death began, mummy and I entered this massive gold souk in one of the malls in Kochi while the men ate their hearts out. Mummy walked in hesitatingly. The shop had an amazing collection of both ethnic and modern jewellery. From the look of it, I thought mummy may finally get what she’d been looking for. 

 "But, we don't want to buy anything," she said, stepping back. 

"Dekhne ka paisa thode hi hain, chaliye” I almost pulled her by the arm. (meaning: it doesn’t cost to just look around, come on in)

We had barely stepped into the store when a battery of salesmen pounced upon us to ask what we needed.
Mummy had always craved for an elegant diamond necklace that she would wear when Prateek would marry. So, that was asked to be shown. The over-zealous salesmen put up a great display before the two brothers chased us out of the store!

Unfortunately, she left the world with that desire in her heart – to wear a diamond necklace for her son’s wedding. When I think about it I feel we plan so much for life, sometimes make compromises for future comforts. We make decisions or avoid them worrying about what’s lying ahead, we ignore our loved ones because we are too busy securing our future. And, then one fine day life plays a cruel joke on us.

Around 7 p.m. on that fateful Wednesday when the visiting hours at the hospital came to a close, mummy's younger sister told me about things we'd do when we get back home that night. I was certainly not going back home. Somehow I felt that Prashant and Prateek would need me if the news broke at odd hours. I put my foot down, and earned a concession -- I could stay at Prashant's aunt's place which was just round the corner.

That night we couldn't sleep. Around 2 am we got a call that mummy had passed away. This was inevitable, and I thought I was prepared for it. Still, when I heard the news a chill ran down my spine. I was shivering.

The journey to the hospital was never this long. At the same time, I wanted to escape in another direction. I couldn't believe that mummy, she who always saw her entire world in her fist and whose life revolved only around her two sons, has decided to leave everything for good.

Once at the hospital I saw that sunshine yellow body again. Tears rolled down my cheeks. We said our prayers and walked out of the chamber.

The ‘Gita’ says that the soul lives forever while the body- all bones and skin- is rented. When the rent agreement expires, the soul leaves the body. No negotiations. 

A final look at mummy on that same wheel bed... This time the monitors were not beeping. Like her, they too were put to rest. There were no intravenous pipes piercing her skin, instead cotton buds were shoved into her nose. She was at peace, but we? 

Remembering the mother I've lost....

September 2013

In a white and blue checkered gown she lay on a wheel-bed, still. Sporadically, she would gasp for some breathe. At least six intravenous pipes passed through her body and the nose, which was covered by an oxygen mask. A nurse, in a pink blouse and skirt that fell just below her knees and hair neatly tied up in a bun, would be around all through the day and night, noting down her blood pressure and heart rate on a log sheet.


'Patient no-620' was critical, and survival chances grim, so said the doctors. For us, her kith and kin, even the smallest signs of revival was good news -- blood pressure holding well, blood counts improving, brain scan normal and so on. The doctors' pessimism over her chances would dampen our hopes only momentarily!

Just a fortnight ago, patient no. 620 was a normal, smiling, laughing 61-year old mother of two big boys, one of whom is married to me. We were in God's own country, Kerala - the beautiful, lush green south Indian state - on a family holiday. We had a great time gorging on the yummy Keralite food and trying to mimic their accents. We spent our time playing cards against a picturesque backdrop on a houseboat, chatting about all and sundry and later shopping away to glory!

Within days of returning, a terrible, gnawing pain in her abdomen made mummy cry with discomfort. What we suspected to be a minor case of food poisoning turned out to be a life-threatening chronic infection that rendered her vital organs lifeless.

In her last couple of days, she started growing paler, and gradually a shade of sunshine yellow. In her two weeks at the hospital, memories of her at home, amid daily chores, teasing, laughing and, at times, grumbling would flash in my head. She was not a hearty, happy-go-lucky person. She was quiet, non-controversial, a great learner and very open-minded. For her age, I thought she was way ahead of her times. Unfortunately, when I was with her, I never realised what I was learning with her by my side. I would also later find out that her demise was a turning point in my life, in a lot of ways.

"Is it hepatitis?" I asked the doctor at the Intensive Care Unit (ICU).
"No," he said before considering, "it’s a case of liver degeneration."
"Liver failure, you mean."
"Ummm, yea. You can say so."
"Is she in a coma"
"Sort of coma. Her brain is not dead, yet."
"How much time does she have?"
"Difficult to say. You should be prepared. Any moment...," he trailed off.
I am not sure if I imagined this but I felt he chocked at those last words. I pursued no further and left.

Good times don't last forever, they say, but you always feel that you'd be spared the rod. That something so terrible could happen to us came as a rude shock.
There was an abominable lull around the waiting area where my family sat. Tears would never stop. Meanwhile, my husband, brother-in-law, and I had become friends with some relatives of other ICU patients in the hospital. If you see pain and death there, you also see love, kindness and prayers.

"How is your mother-in-law?" a petite, 30-something woman asked me, very warmly. I couldn't stop noticing her sense of style. I would later find out her name was Deepa. She and her sister, both impeccably dressed, would be in the hospital every single day.
"She is stable, but not much improvement," I replied, tears clouding my vision. "Sorry, you are here for...?"
"Ah, my dad," she said. "He is just next to your mum. Whenever I go to see my dad I say a silent prayer for her too," Deepa touched my soul with those words.

This was during the initial days of hospitalisation.

In my own worries I had not bothered to look at other patients, their relatives and their sorrows. Over a period of time, I would learn about more people who saw their dear ones swing between life and death. And like me, who saw their loved ones go far away. Very far.

On one occasion, two old women sat next to me sobbing silently. Both were trying to offer strength to the other but tears wouldn't stop. Coming from an economically weak background -- her husband a carpenter and she a housewife -- a big worry was meeting the ballooning treatment costs for her 22-year old son who was struck a full-body paralysis. Fortunately, doctors had shown hopes, and said he would be normal soon. Her heart was sinking. He was her only son.

Another bloke by the name of Ashwin had made the hospital his abode for the last 2-1/2 months. His dad was battling brain hemorrhage. There was gradual improvement during the time we were there.
"The doctors here are great, you don't have to worry," Ashwin told me in the first week of us admitting my mother-in-law. And "even if it takes time, don't lose hope. Taj Mahal took years to build," he had once quipped.

Mummy, as I called her, had a pathetic diet regime and she would often get mad at us for forcing some food down her throat or pushing her out in the open for a leisure walk. She almost, always preferred to be home-bound, and a good way of getting her out was to take her shopping or for a Shah Rukh Khan movie.

When she got angry, we would all look for a place to hide. Sometimes, even the smallest things could bother her but she kept it all in her heart. Like all mums, she was great -- always willing to sacrifice, ever-ready to make that favorite dish that would bring a smile on our faces and sure to compromise in the terrible situations.

To be continued...

6 reasons why a beach trip on a rainy Sunday was a great idea

"Are you guys here for the weekend," a waitress at the vibrant Mexican-style Cranky Fin asked Prashant and me. The cafe, painted in psychedelic colors with quirky messages splashed around, sits on top of Palm Beach, one of the prettiest oceanfronts in northern Sydney. It was a 45-km drive from our place through curvy, at times terrifying, stretches. The latter part of the journey was along the shores and through a massive, quiet lake where time seemed to have stopped.

Image source: Daily Telegraph; eatdrinkplay.com

The plan was to reach Palm Beach, have some food and then walk up a couple kilometers to the Lighthouse. "No, we are here just for the day. We wanted to go to the lighthouse but wondering if it's a good idea in this weather," I replied. The friendly waitress advised against the rainy walk but happily showed off Instagram snaps of her at the lighthouse and the enticing views of Sydney's northern beaches from the top calling on us to visit again. Magnanimous!

Image source: www.bayswatercarrental.com.au and weekendnotes.com

While we waited for the rains to stop, I had some steamed greens with ‘skinny cap’ -- Aussie for skimmed milk cappuccino -- while Prashant settled for some fries at the cafe. The rain was unrelenting but we decided to still go ahead with our plan. Armed with a big, black umbrella and a rainy jacket we marched towards the lighthouse. The walk was harder than we had imagined: the winds made carrying the umbrella a futile, almost laughable, exercise while Prashant's lower half was almost completely drenched, thanks to the raincoat. As we walked, the sand hit hard against our calves. It was punishing, to say the least. So half-way through, we gave up only to start our journey back home.

While it may seem like we shouldn’t have gone to the beach in the first instance as it was raining, I still think it was a great trip. Here’s why –

1.  The 45-something km drive is a must do. I loved the Narrabeen lakes on the way and the views all along. Long drives on rainy days are always romantic, for me!

2.      Made me nostalgic… As kids, my sister and I would look for excuses to go play in the rains and escape school home-works.

3.      The ocean was still warm (remember, we are heading into winters in the southern hemisphere) so it was very nice feeling the water as the moving carpet swept under our feet.

4.      Cranky Fin is a lovely café albeit with a restricted menu. It has many vegetarian food options and the waitress, as I said, was very helpful. The greens were fresh and tender, the fries were just fine. We devoured our small meals. Nothing like some hot food and a hot cuppa on a cold, wet day!

5.  Palm Beach is not very far from where we live so there can always be a repeat trip on a sunny day. So, we get to experience the best of both. All’s not lost!

6. We found out later that next time round we could also take a boat from Palm Beach to Patonga, a hidden gem at the southern end of the Central coast. Patonga boasts of a beautiful cafe that sells locally caught fish with chips.  More here

My body, my choice -- My take!

Recently a #VogueEmpower video featuring a top Bollywood celebrity, Deepika Padukone, went viral on the internet. Many of my friends loved it, some were indifferent and few abhorred it. As you can see from my other posts, I don’t normally take a high level view on burning issues  but I will make an exception this time on a friend’s request. I have tried to break down this video to analyze it from both the perspectives. Have kept it snappy for those who don’t have the patience to read beyond 140 characters :P

What I liked about the video:

1.      If you don’t delve deeper into it, the broad message is that women have or should have a choice. A choice to do whatever they want. And that choice will help empower them. 

2.      Aesthetically appealing – the use of camera, the gorgeous Deepika, the black-and-white effect, women silently screaming into the camera – all that makes for a great video.

3.      It has stirred yet another (and much-needed) debate about women rights and gender balance in India. See these hilarious, at times mindless spoofs 

What I didn’t like:

1.      Weak script: The exploitation of the word “choice”. They probably wanted to say that the society should not judge you for what you do but that message doesn’t come across as succinctly. Instead, it creates a portrayal of a pugnacious woman who thinks she can get away with crime.

2.       Hypocrisy: Deepika has acted in one of the most regressive movies we know – Cocktail -- which told us that a plain-Jane country bumpkin stands a better chance to fish a mate for herself in an alien country than a rich, spoilt brat of a girl who exercises her “choice”. Let’s assume, that movie was a mistake, one of those wrong “choices” you make in life, but then how do you explain the regressive ads she features in? What about appearing in songs that objectify women in every possible way? See this, for example: 

 Now, moving on to Vogue – We all know it’s a fashion magazine that sells stereotypes. The reason most women are insecure of their bodies, their cup C figures or that pimple on their cheeks is because of these magazines. These publications tell us how we should look, what we should wear and how much flab on our bodies is good, how much is not. They tell us - you’re not hot enough if you wear ‘salwar-kameez’, that if you want to win friends or grab a great job you should be fair, beautiful and fashionable. They are not really an ideal place to learn about "women empowerment", I reckon.

3.      Male-bashing: The video really doesn’t address the gender problem in India. Unfortunately, the gender debate in India is really all about male bashing. You want to be a feminist? Just keep some cuss words ready for the men and hurray you are a successful, self-proclaimed feminist now. People just fail to understand that “feminism” is not just about women, it’s about our men too. If you want sanity to prevail in the society, we should be talking about gender balance. We should learn to take a middle path, instead of going to one extreme and claiming “it’s my choice.” Some helpful links here - 

Feminists, stop raping Indian men 

India's men's rights group

4.      Why come up with this video? What are you trying to do? Who are you catering to?
So to answer these questions, I am making a very broad assumption here -- The women who watch or have watched this video probably already exercise their rights or choice. So this video is perhaps pointless to them. Whereas those who don’t or haven’t watched it till now will most likely miss it altogether, possibly because they don’t have access to the internet or do not understand English at all. Now, for the sake of fairness, let’s assume a woman who cannot for her life exercise her “choice” and is constantly judged by the society actually ends up watching this video. So, what does it do to her or to the people around her? My answer: nothing at all. I just don’t get the point of spreading an ambiguous message to a nameless target audience.  

5.      Unbalanced and biased: Now, the underlying tone is that women do not have their “choice” because of their husbands (or fathers) who dominate her life. What about women who are oppressed by other women? There are far too many, and I am not just talking about oppression by mother-in-laws here.

6.      Complex issue handled carelessly. This needs no explanation!

Now, to those thinking if this is not women empowerment then what is?

1.      Start by acknowledging strong women in our society? You’ll find hundreds of example of strong, powerful woman around you who did not buckle under the pressures of the society. We just need to identify them. The key is really to keep these stories 2 or 3 minutes long, given the low attention span of our internet generation.  

2.      How about shining a spotlight on those men who help or push their wives to greater achievements? I liked those “MARD” campaigns that Farhan Akhtar led to highlight that not all men are rapists. I think we need more of those.

3.      Finally, let’s stop over-reacting and contain that fake outrage. Be sensible, not everything that says “woman empowerment” actually means to do so. 

Four months old but still new

When my husband and I announced our Australia move in the family it wasn't exactly a happy affair.

    Nobody rose up to congratulate us, neither did we hear any claps or cheers. No triumphant air punches either -- expressions that totally belied how we felt inside our hearts.

    The bone of contention was that Prashant was having to resign from the cosy comfort of a well-paying Mumbai job and find ways to eke out a l

iving as a foreign migrant down under.

    The good thing was that at least one of us had a job so that could take care of us even if Prashant took a little longer than expected to get on a company's rolls.

    Indeed, that was a big risk, given Australia has a relatively smaller jobs market for journalists, the country is staring at a fading mining boom, one that powered its economy for more than a decade and amid some concerns about racism.

    But chance we had to take. You don't really take life risks when you turn 50, do you? And so, in the middle of March, amid tears of farewell, we bade our goodbyes to close families and friends and landed on foreign shores, jet lagged.

    My initial impression was of a country with very warm and friendly people, an easy place to settle down.

    My company had taken care of all relocation-related stuff, including our flight bookings, visas for us both, shipping our furniture and a temporary accomodation for a month during which time we had to search our own rented place.

    As a result, the first month was easy - we were living in the heart of Sydney, about 10 mins walk from my office and across the world famous Sydney harbour.

    For Prashant, it was a much-needed break from the busy Mumbai life and corporate work pressures. For me, it was a relief from the endless hours of travel on Mumbai's local train.

    Sydney is beautiful in March. Temperatures skirt around 18 degrees, it's mostly sunny and the air almost always has a waft of strong coffee aroma, thanks to the hundres of cafes lining the city's busiest streets.

    Although we were a bit taken aback by the high cost of living (remember, I was still spending my Indian rupees then) we had become regulars at the cafes that served freshly baked, delicious cakes with a regular coffee of choice for A$5.

    In the months that followed, I would learn to bake so we had a running stock of apple cinnamon cakes and fresh banana breads at all times at home. Cooking didn't seem the boring chore anymore and thanks to youtube and Tarla Dalal I would gradually become what my dad calls a "paak-shastri" or a culinary expert.

    Of course, the quality of food -- which is unparralled -- helps. We would find out later that a lot of the vegetables and dairy we buy everyday is sold as "premium" products in other Asian markets, including China.

    Not to forget, the beaches are breathtakingly beautiful. We did a 6-km walk from the famous Bondi beach to a lesser known Coogee beach and didn't even feel tired at the end of it! (That we woke up with muscle aches the next morning is another story.)

    Surfing and just plain swimming in the clean blue Aussie waters are probably the most enjoyed sport here, after of course Rugby and "footie".

    On the flip side, work life is more busy than I had ever imagined and I am working harder than I ever did in Mumbai. I have to wake up early and given that I prefer my late-riser status, that's the biggest adjustment I have made!

    Prashant did not face much difficulty in finding a job, although he wasn't exactly scouting out for one in the initial 2 months. A couple freelance assignments came his way, although they were few and far between, but eventually he was in a situation where he had to choose between at least two offers.

    That was quite a luxury given that the job market is not quite rosy -- Australia's unemployment came in unexpectedly weak in July and the jobless rate jumped to its highest in almost 12 years.

    So, while after about four months of not having a full-time work we were at our wits end, ultimately being in a problem-of-plenty situation was indeed desirable.

    We are now waiting for the summers so we can spend more time on the beaches. We've already hosted our first guests and probably did a not-too-bad job of it. Our second test is just a few weeks away and we are looking forward to it.

    Staying abroad also makes you more patriotic, you start loving things about your country that you hated earlier, you share the great things about India with foreigners -- the yummy food, the cottons and the art.

    I have already shared a few Indian food recipes with corporate executives in Sydney who loved the cuisine and wanted to try out at home. Another executive I met at a media dinner recently was interested in Indian classical dance and music events in Sydney.

    Foreigners don't stop short of complimenting my colorful bags and shoes, all of which are totally made in India. It's a great feeling to be an ambassador to your country and humbling to see how easily accepted you are in a foreign land.

Oh god! Why did I leave Mumbai!

Hello mates, and apologies for the long, unintended hiatus! I am posting something that I wrote just three months after moving here. Not the views I harbour any longer but thought it's still worth sharing! :-) And apologies again, I don't have pix to go with this, hehe

“What happens on the yoga mat, happens in real life too. So, do what you can, because only you know your best. Take a deep breath in now, inhale….” My yoga teacher said as I trailed off into a reverie. 

I am lying on a green-coloured yoga mat that I had borrowed from the fitness centre. The room is not packed, unlike most places in Mumbai where I earlier lived. I have my space here. Is that what is making me uncomfortable? I have been working harder than I ever did in Mumbai although life is not as strenuous. Probably that’s making me uneasy. Or am I just homesick?

“Deep breathe out exhale… as you exhale throw the negative feelings out of your head,” Finn continued. 

Do you know that feeling in school when your class teacher gets into the classroom and you realize a) you haven’t done your homework and b) you didn’t remember to copy it off your friend’s book either? I feel that here on most days, like something is amiss… like I just missed a train!

“When you compare yourself with others you become vain and bitter. So, give your best, don’t compare…” Finn went on, unaware of the tussle in my mind. Well, I am just comparing my own life a few months back and now. Should I not do that either? I couldn’t ask Finn that because well, he was not counseling me. I had gone for the class to get some stretch after a neck muscle pulled giving me excruciating pain.

A lot of people in the last three months have asked me – “So, why Australia?” or “why did you think of leaving Mumbai?” To be honest, I never thought about that question before, except when I was preparing for the job interview last June. I still don’t know the answer to the first one but to the latter I’d say I was getting sick of being in Mumbai and I wanted to run as fast as I could, as far as I could.

“Fold your knees to bring them closer to your chest, hug them and turn to your left, spread your arms wide and turn your gaze to the right. Keep breathing normally,” Finn moved on to another stretch exercise but I was still stuck in Mumbai.