NYC Dogs - Part II

Everyone has a dog. It's pretty weird actually. You wander down the street just after dinner time, and you invariably see more people with dogs than without. I think I've seen more types of dogs in 3 weeks here, than I ever saw back home. Today (or was it yesterday?) I saw the most adorable pug ever. Short, stout and a tad on the grumpy side, he was adorable.

It amazes me that people would keep dogs in their tiny one bedroom places. I barely have space for myself in this studio of mine, let alone a s***ting and smelling dog. I can't bathe it every day, and this city is so frigging dirty that it would probably be horribly in need of a bathe after every walk! I feel like I need one after I go out - and I wear clothes and shoes! Sigh.

Apart from the spatial and nasal issues of dog rearing and handling in this city, I've wondered for a while just why so many people feel the need for the 4-legged creatures. The only plausible, and somewhat sensical, explanation I have come up with is this:

People here are so lonely, that they need the added comfort in their lives that 'man's-best-friends' give. They'd have babies, but they're too busy trying to live and make money to spend 9-months gestating or helping gestate...

The End of Everything?

Come-on Shelly, not everything is dying is it? First you write Death of Sanskrit (fascinating by the way), and now your most recent article is on the Death of Philology. Sigh.

I really hope you're not depressing. I guess we'll see tomorrow. You're really cool - everyone who's done any Sanskrit (myself included) thinks so. I really hope you're cool.

But, I'm sorry.

The Tyra show is much more interesting at this point than the article.

(ps - I really haven't had a break for a while, so it's also an excuse to relax)

Academic Heaven

So today, I went to a lecture hosted by Nobel Laureate Jagdish Bhagwati, and featuring the Indian Minister of State for the Environment - Jairam Ramesh.

I'm in love with Indian politics (if you hadn't noticed yet). And the lecture was fascinating! It was great to see how the type of people in Indian politics has changed over the past few years. Ramesh was eloquent, impeccably dressed in a white kurta and blue vest (and with the coolest hair!), and quite funny as well. I also wanted to appropriate his accent - sometimes my 'eh' tinged Canadian accent sounds so boring. Sigh.

Anyway. Ramesh spoke about India's road to Copenhagen and the various processes that have been put into place, and are being put into place, for the upcoming climate change summit. What was fascinating though, apart from the numbers and the action being undertaken by the ministry, was how much India has started to assert itself on the world stage. India's desire to be at the top of the world, in terms of power and influence, was apparent - nay, tangible - in every sentence.

I'm not going to post the notes I took, but will leave you with my favourite quote of the afternoon - from Jairam Ramesh, of course...

And I'm paraphrasing here..

"Why is climate change such an important issue for India? It's because India is completely dependent on climate - economically, socially, culturally. Think about it - what would Bollywood do if the rains stopped coming?"

Hilarious.

NYC Dogs - Part I

Part I because this post was supposed to be about them and is now about something completely unrelated that came up in a conversation with BKScope.

Here it is:

It's like he's become a part of you and you don't really know why or how you let him do that. And you'd like him to leave you alone, but he kinda gives you solace by being there. But it hurts...and oh it's so complicated. And then you can't decide whether you're happy or sad that you miss him...

Men.

*shakes head*

Tear you apart and don't even know it.

A Night with the Angels

Tonight was, for Isma'ilis anyway, Laylat-ul-Qadr - the night of power, the night on which it is believed that the Prophet Muhammad (saww) first received the Qur'an's verses. I have family in town (yay!) for the US Open, and so, we decided to meet up for dinner tonight. It got cancelled this morning, and then because the rain kept on coming down incessantly, was rescheduled (for the same night, of course). Excited about being with family and of getting out of the house, I got ready really quickly and got into a cab.

As you may know already (I can't remember if I've written about the many random and odd conversations I've had with cab drivers - but I've had quite a few, including one where I was so scared I almost thought of getting out of the cab immediately), I speak to cab drivers. So when this one opened his mouth, I thought he sounded Italian - so I asked him if he was from Italy. Turns out, he was from Ecuador, but had Italian parents (score! I'm awesome - teehee) who had emigrated to South America. Anyway, we started chatting about this and that and it was quite amusing. He found out I was studying South Asian politics and then went on about how it was religion that was tearing the world apart (which - I agree with) and how he couldn't understand how Partition ever occurred.

He asked me what my religion was. And remembering the last time I'd discussed my religious views with a cab driver (a year ago - I was between agnostic and atheist, and had received a 20 minute lecture on how I needed to believe in Allah and His messengers - my views have actually changed since then - not on account of that lecture of course), I decided to tell him I didn't believe in God. Given his already-affirmed semi-negative views on religion, I figured that it was the safest option and, thankfully - because I was in no mood to discuss my own religious views - it was. Anyway, so we also discussed men and how apparently, with my new hair, I look like Cleopatra or Isis and how I'm a very shy person and perhaps conservative with a mix of Wild Western thrown in, and how I shouldn't go out with a Desi guy because they're all really boring (FYI - I opposed this statement of his vehemently!) etc. and then he dropped me off at the restaurant with a 'goodbye senorina'.

So I got out of the cab, and went up to my aunt who was standing outside, talking on the phone. And - dinner plans had just gotten cancelled because my uncles had JUST received a call from the USTA, telling them that the tennis matches were about to resume. Having spent a lot of money and having travelled across the continent for the matches, they sped away to Flushing Meadows, and we 3 women were left dinner date-less.

My aunt and her friend are quite the religious people and had come from JK (Isma'ili version of a mosque) just for dinner. I hadn't eaten, and they offered to take me out for dinner. But I could see that they wanted to get back to JK for the various prayers. Anyway, then my aunt had an idea - she said, why don't you just come to JK with us, there's food there (Gujarati food - yummy!) and then you can sit and pray if you want. We'll leave after the 12am prayer and you can go home.

Now, being quite lonely and hungry, and not particularly excited about going back home, watching tv, reading this article I still haven't finished, and ordering-in Thai food, I acquiesced (*collective gasp*). For those of you that know me, I'm quite the un-Ismaili. I went to Alma Mater for 5 years and never figured out where the campus JK was, let alone went to it. I've been here 5 days (not counting the days my parents were here), and about to go into JK. Helloooo!!!!

When I got into JK though, it was an amazing feeling. No No. Not the spiritual kind, but the one where you feel completely comfortable. Having been in places and situations that are completely and utterly new and different, it felt amazing being somewhere where I didn't have to constantly wonder or worry about what was going to happen or how to act or what to do. And when I had that pilaf. OhEmJee. I almost cried. It made me miss my mommy's food even more because it tasted exactly like it (except the salt content was perfect - my mother comes from a family that uses very little salt).

As far as the praying part goes, I'm more Muslim than Isma'ili (no - not the same thing), and so it wasn't too fulfilling spiritually. It was ironic though, for sure, given that I'd just denied the existence of any religiousness within myself an hour or so before stepping foot into JK and then had partaken in a ceremony that only 'the very faithful' go to.

Oh So Funny.

Right. It's now 2am, and my sleep angels are waiting for me to fall asleep. But first, the tooth fairy wants me to go brush and floss my teeth - so sleep will have to wait a little while longer.

Night ya'll and remember...to be born again, first you must die.

9/11/9 - Where It All Started

So, a couple posts ago, I mentioned the fact that I'd be in NYC on the 9th anniversary of 9/11. I wondered how I'd feel, what I'd do, and promised to write about my 9/11/NYC experience(s).

I slept through it. I honestly did. I woke up at around 11:30am, and proceeded with my various morning rituals (sans tea this morning because I slept well - *gasp* - and didn't feel like I needed it).

Recognizing the danger of sounding like a complete fool, I must say that I even forgot about 9/11, until I was flipping through the tv and came across a documentary about that particular event.

Sigh.

Back to Premchand.

Today = September 7, 2004

Today was my first day of school. Grad school. I woke up this morning having barely slept the night before and anxious about how the day would go. It felt almost exactly like that day I first went to my now-Alma Mater for Orientation, without the comfort of driving to campus with two other friends from high-school. I remember that anxiety well. Even though I didn't have to pick the colour of my t-shirt (it was purple because that was my faculty's colour), it was still nerve-wracking figuring out the other details. What pants to wear, whether to wear a sweater or not, what to bring in my backpack, whether to take a smaller bag instead, whether I'd actually talk to anyone throughout the day, whether they'd have a vegetarian option for lunch, whether I'd have fun etc etc. Intense and insane.

That first day was ok. Nothing special. My second time at Orientation (as a volunteer/MUG leader) was much better. I was more confident and enjoyed the festivities much more than I had as a freshie. Plus, not having an insanely weird group leader (who sent us some email about houses burning down and cars getting crashed) helped - although, it is highly possible that my freshies saw me in the same light. My first day of real classes was definitely better than Orientation. I felt much more in my element (even though I started off horribly - and my marks dropped about 25% that first term), and actually got to know a bunch of the people in my class.

Today, was interesting. I was completely freaked out this morning. I set my alarm for 6am, and ended up getting out of bed at 7:30am. Thankfully, I'm a 15 minute walk away from campus, so I was on time (well - early) for my 9am class. I'd planned ahead, knowing that I wouldn't be in the best state of mind this morning, and had already decided what to wear and had put it out on the chair. All I had to do this morning was to iron my top and put on my clothes. So easy. Then, I decided not to take my carry-mug of tea with me (that'll depend on whether or not tea-drinking during class is a common occurrence here - the coffee/tea mug is almost ubiquitous back in YVR) and started walking towards campus.

I got into my class about 5 minutes before it was supposed to start, and saw a bunch of students there. Now, I'm really bad at telling who's a grad student and who's not, so I figured they were grad students. Ends up they weren't - but were undergrads who had already studied the language for a couple of years. My prof walked in, and class started.

During the routine intros, my prof and I started talking - about a common professor we'd both had (at Alma Mater incidentally). It broke the ice, and after she said she'd gone through my file, it made me realize how lucky I was to have had some awesome experiences during my undergrad. Example of how awesome they were - I didn't have to take this language placement exam the others had had to, and was asked whether I wanted to work for this certain prof. Not sure how things will play out, but fingers crossed.

Haha. So afterwards, I went to this awesome bookstore and picked up a translation of the Yoga Sutras, and then got my NYPL library card. Then, I had to use the washroom. Now, over the course of 5 years, I'd figured out where the cleanest washrooms were on campus. Being new to Columbia, I had no idea where to go, and so (because I had 1.5 hours until the department orientation), I walked back home. I found it hilarious. During my undergrad, I went home to eat and sleep. Here, I can go home whenever I want/need to. Lol.

The Department orientation was also cool. The craziness of the PhD program (i.e. how difficult it is) made me want to do my PhD (I'm weird - I know), but I feel as if I need to go out into the real world. Who knows. Maybe I'll end up sticking around for another 6 years. Maybe I'll be gone by February 2011.

Right. So I'm going to finish watching this Monfils/Nadal match. Rooting for Nadal so I can see a Fed/Rafa final on Sunday. I'm going to the final! Woot!

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle - NYC Style

This city is starting to get on my West Coast-let's recycle everything we can find-and use cloth bags for our groceries etc-mentality's nerves. It's insane. I went to the grocery store today to buy eggs, milk, flour, veggies and that sort of stuff. I'd gone gro-shopping a week ago at this place and the veggies were pretty bad. So I walked a couple extra blocks to the Garden of Eden and stepped into fruit and veggie heaven, and recycling hell.

The grapes were in paper - the type I use on the tops of gifts that have been bagged. And in more paper than I would use for the biggest type of bag.

Anyway. So I got all my stuff and proceeded to the check-out. I had my cloth bag with me and told the lady I'd put everything except the milk and eggs in it. She looked at me like I was from another planet and proceeded to hand me my sugar and to put the rest of the items into two massive plastic bags. It bothered me. So much so that I walked briskly back home, threw (well - placed) my eggs and milk in the fridge and signed on to blogger.

Right. Now - back to unpacking. Ugh. Or to Skype...hmmm

ps. I didn't buy any apples...not yet ready to fall from Grace

An Evening at JFK

I find it quite amusing. I haven’t been blogging much for a while, and here I am, writing my third post for the day (although, since this airport doesn’t have free wireless, it won’t be up on RFS until tomorrow). In my loneliness, I find writing soothing. It’s a way to get my emotions out, without having to resort to Facebook or Skype or MSN. It feels more human to do it this way, almost as if I’m writing in a diary – without the diary and the physical writing parts of course. As my friend Christina said, upon her return from Scotland, it feels as if my real life is actually the one taking place on social networks. My physical life in NYC, seems very distant and disconnected from what’s actually going on.

That being said, today was quite a good day. Apart from having barely slept last night, because I’m still a bit afraid to sleep with the lights out in my new apartment (reminds me of that song from Taare Zameen Par – main kabhii batlaataa nahiin. Par andheron se dartaa huun main maa.) and I can’t actually sleep with the lights on. Finally, at around 3am, exhausted but still fully awake, I got out of bed and turned them off. I was asleep within 5 minutes.

And then my alarm rang at 830am and - as is usually the case – I switched it off and dozed for a short while. After I finally got out of bed, I made myself my much-needed cup of tea (more like cups of tea this morning) and dashed off to the International Students’ office to make sure all my visa stuff was in order so I could fly back to Canada for the weekend. My grandmother passed away (inna lilaahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun) yesterday, so I’m flying back for the funeral ceremonies (hence the reference to the airport above). Anyway, I walked the forty blocks there and back (and experienced my first taste of the New Yorker accent along the way – as those of you who have read my earlier post will recollect) and then went home for lunch. After left-over Bangkok fried rice (so yummy!) and Rice Krispies (I had to finish my milk before I left and I didn’t want to drink it straight), I headed out again to the Staples another 20 blocks away. I hadn’t really explored the Staples end of my part of town, and so I was excited to get out and walk the 20 blocks.

So I turned on my iPod. Set it to my Coke Studio and Pakistani Rock playlist that I’ve been listening to constantly for the past few weeks (Noori. Oh,Em,Jee! And Kinara uff!!), put on my Ray Bans and, dressed for the occasion in my West-Coast Kits Beach clothing (Lululemon and Karma plus a t-shirt from my Alma Mater), I set off for the Staples. My attempt to explore wasn’t that fruitful actually – I was more interested in my music. Sigh. Good music will do that to you. I’m sure I got some pretty odd stares as I walked along, smiling at the brilliance of it all and probably (although I’m not sure) bobbing my head along to the music. And maybe singing. I dunno. I don’t remember.

Anyway, I got to the Staples and was happy because they had a massive sale! As a student without a source of income and flabbergasted by the amount tuition costs (although – one year for my Masters is less than a year as an undergrad at Harvard and my tuition will drop $10,000 per semester after this year), I love sales. *Massive Smile*

I got all my school supplies for the year (apart from 3 notebooks I’ll need next term and possibly binders) for 30 bucks – not including the mail-in rebates that will give me back around $10. Yay! (I feel like such a cheapo.)

Diversion RE: I feel like such a cheapo

I’m dressed quite well right now. In my nice jeans, nice flats – the purple Aldo ones I love, this white blazer-type jacket, a polo shirt and a vest. And I’m drinking Starbucks – even though their coffee sucks (but I don’t want to risk having worse coffee in this airplane lounge, so Starbucks it is). Anyway, so it feels weird talking – well writing – about being a cheapo when I don’t look like or feel like a cheapo. Oh – and I better explain why I’m dressed well too. So I’m taking my small suitcase instead of the carry-on so that I can bring my nice jacket from home that I had to leave behind because it wouldn’t fit in the suitcases I brought with me last week. I thought about wearing sweats, but that would mean putting my jacket and the other clothes I’m wearing in my suitcase, and that would give me less space to bring stuff from home.

Anyway, back to my story.

So yes, I bought my school supplies and thought of taking the subway back home. But then I went – hey, it’s a nice day. You need some exercise. It’s only 20 blocks and these bags aren’t that heavy are they? So I decided to walk. And it was decidedly harder than the walk to the Staples. Apart from the fact that part of the walk was uphill, the bags started really weighing down on me after about 10 blocks. By the time I got home, I was so tired (remember – I barely slept last night [you should see the bags underneath my eyes – Nabz during exam season would be proud]). But then I had to pack. So I couldn’t really relax and take a nap.

Next story.

I’m sitting at JFK, waiting for my flight. When my Pakistani cab driver (who apparently used to own an ice-cream factory with 287 employees and then lost it all after 9/11 because ‘something happened’, and who has 5 kids, all of whom are in Pakistan and either doctors or surgeons or heads of operations at some company – and then you wonder why he’s driving a taxi and wearing tattered clothes?) told me there were 9 terminals here, I was astounded and got really excited about being at the crossroads of humanity (clichéd…I know…don’t shake your head at me) and seeing people from all over the world inside. One thing I remember so well is the first (and really the only time) I spent some time at Heathrow (on my way to Kenya). It was so cool because there were all these people from different parts of this world. I remember this Shi’a mullah quite distinctly – I found him fascinating. I need to go to the East. I really do. *lament*

Anyway. But I feel like I’m sitting in Vancouver – without the pretty airport. This place is packed with Chinese people (although that’s probably because the flight I’m on is heading to Hong Kong and is just stopping over in Vancouver). Dammit. My phone rang and I lost my train of thought.

Maybe it’s a sign. I’m nearing the end of two pages on Word (like I said, I don’t have internet access here) and should probably wrap up. I know this post was random. But I felt like writing, so bear with it.

I’m excited to go home. Even though it’s for a sad occasion. I’ll get to meet my bff after 9 months and a bunch of other people I haven’t seen for quite some time. 1.5 hours until the flight departs. Sigh. I’m going to start Gandhi’s autobiography – given that I’m taking a course on his political views.
I love MEALAC

I love school

Wow. I’m such a nerd. :D

PS – I still haven’t gotten around to finding out how to meet Rushdie. Note to self – do it ASAP.

Maximum City - Sort Of

Maximum City is a book I've always loved and found fascinating. Having only been to Bombay once, I feel as if it's my own little window into the magic and mayhem of that city.

There's a segment in that book, that's always stayed in my mind - the one where he talks about living by the water, in an apartment, and leaving the windows open - and how all sorts of junk (including a wet diaper - yuck!) and dust fly into his house.

Now. I always thought he was exaggerating a bit, until I cleaned my own apartment, overlooking water, after having kept the window open for about 30 minutes. Although no stray diapers found their way onto my floor, the amount of dirt that came in within those 30 minutes was amazing. The pan I use to grab all the dirt was full (it's one of those small hand-held ones), and I'm still feeling the effects of all that dust and dirt in my nose...

Anyway. Sorry Suketu. You were right.

Noo Yawk

I had my first experience of the New Yorker accent today - and it was semi-embarassing. I felt like such an idiot. Here I am, a languages major and lover of accents, and I can't figure the hell out what this guy is saying! I don't have a garbage for the kitchen - and have been using a plastic bag (tied tightly of course) for the past few days. Thankfully, my only real stinkable food products right now are the ends of the french beans I made two nights ago. Imagine if I ate meat - wow, my room would've stank!

Anyway, so back to this story. Right, garbage can. So I went into this home appliances store close to campus to get this garbage can, didn't have enough cash and so decided to use my debit card. It got declined (because apparently the ATM machine didn't activate it properly), and so the guy tried telling me it got declined. I heard: 'swipe the card again,' 'the card', 'declared', and everything else except 'declined.' Finally, this lady with a non-New Yorker accent had to explain to me that the guy was saying the card had been declined. Felt like an idiot. I can understand the heaviest of Chinese accents (a product of growing up where I grew up), but not New Yorker accents.

And that's a lesson for all you folks. Sometimes the things that should be closest to you are actually the farthest away.