Over

 

O is for...Out

Finally, jetlag over, we have got our bearings back – a four day holiday for Easter helped no end – hubby had to slow down and acclimatise. Today we went out exploring. First stop, the Garden of the Sleeping Giant. I heard hubby saying 'orchid' and of course I had to get there pronto. It's located at the foothills of the Nausori highlands and houses some 40 different varieties. They were originally the private collection of actor Raymond Burr and later developed into a tourist attraction. The garden itself is plonk in the middle of a Fijian native forest and includes indigenous species as well as curated ones.

 

The road changed to dirt track-ish once we turned off from the main thoroughfare. We passed the village of Natalau. And missed the garden because Google maps urged us on and coolly led us to someone’s private residence. The road by then had all but disappeared and hubby was protesting as the car bumped along violently. The temporary transport he has been given does not have offroad capabilities, he’s already had trouble with the tyres, I understand. Anyway, I got out and knocked on the door of the aforementioned residence and a very friendly lady pointed us back on track. 

Offering these photos of the outing  for the O entry -

Getting lost is de rigueur for us - we've done it in Egypt, also in Bahrain and even in Dubai, so why should Fiji be an exception only because it is tiny? I had a very pleasant time, navigation fiasco notwithstanding. There's a picnic spot for families, a play area with swings etc for the little ones and plenty of benches alongside the pathways. And a fish pond a la Monet with lily pads and a fringe of orchids and tiny central island of vegetation. Recommend wearing sturdy walking shoes, I haven't bothered with unpacking in the hotel - while it didn't stop me from enjoying the place, I would have been more comfortable in a thicker sole with some grip. Overall, good start to getting out and about in Fiji.

A-Z Challenge 2022

Nothing

 

N is for...Notes

When you get to unpack the case, you’ll find

the folded river like a paper crane;

the courtyard, the terrace and the blind lane

have travelled with you, nothing’s left behind.

 

In some garment, in the collar or cuff -

the smell of rain. The lamppost under which

the poor sold bargains pressed hard by the rich

has come with you and can’t be shaken off.

 

You’ll find the texture of sun ripened noons

in the meshed pockets of your suitcases,

the unloved street kids with their grubby faces,

the rain splashed windows, the dissolving moons.

 

There’s nothing you can untangle, discard –

however far you go from this courtyard.

Today I found this half finished pre-pandemic poem in the notes section of my phone. I'd completed it differently at the time it was first sketched and have posted it earlier.  I tweaked the last stanza and couplet afresh and am offering it here for the N-day. 

Happy Easter to you if you are celebrating, happy A-Zing if you're participating in the challenge and happy Spring to all those who are doing neither.

A-Z Challenge 2022

Minefield

 

M is for...Mask

 

Air travel over the last two years has become dominated by masks and jabs and tests and certificates. A layer of extra, tedious health procedures shaving a major chunk off the pleasure of travel. Even within the country, different Indian states had different protocols at different times. And international travel, omg! it’s a minefield! At one point of time in 2021, one had to take a test and be covid negative to transit through Heathrow. We had to get a transit visa as well as a negative RT-PCR test to stopover at Singapore a few days ago.

Adding to the mayhem is the frequency with which the protocols change – at one time, airlines were giving free PPE kits to the passengers on the aisle seat. At another, only masks were mandatory. In 2020 and early 2021, there was a 72 hour window for the test for flying to USA, now it is 1 day. Apart from showing proof of vaccination, of course. Every country has it's own little set of rules and protocols. It’s hard to keep up. And it makes planning any travel super fraught.

 

For Fiji, we had not only to take a covid test 2 days before the flight but also prebook a test for 48 hours after landing. Relocations, much as I am used to them, have a stress quotient all their own, the covid protocols spike that off the charts. Our tests were administered yesterday and turned in a negative result. Another thing to be thankful for! Mask protocol has been changed to optional here except in closed, indoor spaces where social distancing cannot be observed. So my mask is coming off after two years and heavens, does it feel marvellous or what?! Hello, lipstick!

 

A-Z Challenge 2022

Learn

 

L is for...Let it go and Let it be

 

In the case that’s got left behind, there is a humble but rather special garment. It is a seagreen and white floral print housecoat, faded and softened, threadbare with a million washes over many years of use. Ma had it made for me when I went home to her during my pregnancy, exactly 21 years ago this April. I have worn it ever since, the fabric is a cotton blend and therefore sturdy, and though it is now thinned out, the seams have held and there is not a single tear anywhere in it, no patches, no mending required, perfectly functional, never mind its looks.

 

In the first years of my son’s toddlerhood, it saw constant use. That leveled off after a time, but I never got up enough motivation to replace it. I’m lazy with my clothes I have to confess, I tend to go on using the same things year on year unless forced otherwise, no matter how unsightly or threadbare they get. And so it went with me – from Bahrain mindlessly to Dubai to Cairo and back to Bahrain. I still wore it around the house in the mornings. A conditioned reflex almost, without the need for thinking.

 

My mother passed in April 2020, during the first lockdowns in Bahrain and in India. When it came to leaving Bahrain for good last year, I discarded huge swathes of stuff, decluttered my entire wardrobe, but I didn’t, couldn’t get rid of the housecoat. It ties together my mother and my son. Ever since she has passed, I have held onto it even more fiercely. When I was packing to come out to Fiji this time, I threw it into that small case, wanting the familiar comfort of it wrapped round me in this new, unknown journey I was undertaking.

 

This is another one of my failings. I load unnecessary meanings onto material things and cling onto them long after any useful purpose can be served. It’s exactly what all scriptures warn against – this attachment, the maya for worldly goods of whatever kind, investing them with manmade, puffed up significance and hanging on, carrying the comfort blanket of mementos everywhere. It doesn’t make for peace, it doesn’t make detachment easier and invariably it exceeds the baggage allowance. My mother’s memory doesn’t need any material props. I know this in my bones but some other stubborn body parts still refuse to accept it.

 

So. Perhaps this is the universe’s own way of telling me that it is time. Perhaps it’s for that reason the case got left behind. Maybe it’s time to free Ma’s memory from all these physical trappings and hold the essence front and centre instead. Time to learn - to let it go and let it be.

 

A-Z Challenge 2022

Kitchen

 

K is for...Keen

 

Yesterday we viewed the first property. In a gated compound, around 40-45 minutes’ commute. It had an open kitchen, fairly large garden both pot plants and uncontained. Nothing much was blooming, but very green. The masters, one floor up, had an open closet within the bathroom in the US style. The stairs was treads only no risers, with straight steel wire type railings. Also echoed in the balconies attached to the upstairs bedrooms. Contemporary light fixtures. Characteristic Fijian double height sloped ceiling with exposed palm wood beams over the living area. Altogether very modern and neat but also traditionally local.

 

The open kitchen and the open closet are vaguely freaking me out. Indian cooking is not kind to living spaces, to put it mildly. It’s all karahis and stovetop tempering and sizzling spices and ‘frying the masala till the oil separates’ - it deposits a fine film of condensed oil fumes on everything it can lay its hands on. How are those double height beams ever to be scrubbed clean of the oil residues? Similarly, unshuttered closets in the most humid area of a house in a humid climate doesn’t seem like a smart idea. Besides, it's not spacious enough to take both our clothes, meagre as my wardrobe may be. I’ve just got my most basic everyday casuals here, most of my clothes are mothballed back home. But even so.

 

House hunting is really my least favourite expat activity. Right now, I am feeling the lack of my own spaces keenly – over the last decade we have, bit by painstaking bit, renovated, refinished, added to that 50-year vintage, two generation family residence in Kolkata that my PIL built, for our own retired life. It’s been a weird, unprecedented kind of pang leaving it behind and grappling with the idea of making a home, pouring heart and soul into a different, short term building somewhere that we don't own and then having to gather it all up an instant later.

 

Because a kitchen can’t be run half-heartedly and a home cannot be made with zero emotional investment. However shallow and transplant-ready the roots, they must be sent inching down.  And when the time to uproot comes around again, as it will for sure in a year or two, it’s going to be a hard knock. I just wonder sometimes if I still have the strength, the insouciance, the knack of easy transplanting. Every skill, every talent, every ability wears out with age and repetition. All stores run out with constant use. Has mine?  

Nope, not yet. I'll do what I have to do and wring out, as best as I can, enjoyment and learning from this opportunity. It's not exactly a hardship. 

A-Z Challenge 2022

Juggled

 

J is for...Jetlagged

We reached Fiji yesterday just as dawn was breaking. Didn't sleep a wink on the ten-hour flight from Singapore in spite of the sleeper seat  reclining at multitudes of angles and in different dimensions. Immigration queue at the airport was formidable but it moved quite fast, we got through the formalities and baggage collection (and hubs managed a quick trip to the duty free too to stock up the bar, starting from a zero base here). We were stamped and custom checked out in less than two hours, not bad for a first trip in on work visa. 

The HR guys were outside the airport to receive us, whisked us into the hotel in no time. It's not far from the airport. Hubby had a quick coffee and went off at top speed to the workplace as is his usual practice. Doesn't believe in letting the grass grow under his feet, that man. Apparently the entire island is shut for 4 days beginning Good Friday for the Easter holidays, so he has to get the intros done and dusted before everyone disperses for the long weekend. 

 

I was so awfully jetlagged that all I managed to do was to shower and forthwith retire to bed. Unlike the husband, I do not have a workplace to get to. Also unlike the husband, I am quite content to let grass grow. Underfoot and elsewhere.  Much better today after sleeping it off, but I have now missed posting for J and K, and if I am to go by Fiji time, it’s onto L today. Flying east has gobbled up half a day and recovering has swallowed up a full one. Thankfully, I am doing my own version of the challenge and will join when and how I can - letters, dates and days are going to get juggled. 

Next week once Easter is over, we'll have to go on a house hunting jaunt...my usual policy, ever since Dubai and its terribly tangled traffic, has been to find the point of minimal commute. But this place is beautiful!  I am tempted to rethink...maybe an extra 15 minutes in the car isn't an exorbitant price to pay for beach access and gorgeous views. We shall see...

View from seat 2K. Btw, the Fiji Airways logo and uniform
designs are based on an indigenous motif. Created by a
locally renowned artist. Just loved the brand vibe! 

First sighting of landmass - Fiji. Also saw a
spectacular sunrise but wasn't able to get
a good shot.

Sunset shot from hotel balcony yesterday. Even more beautiful
viewed with naked eye than from behind camera lens.

A-Z Challenge 2022

Invitation

 

I is for...Imagine

I is an easy one, isn't it? - I, is, in, it, you can do anything with it, go anywhere you want to, imagine, dream up the most surreal scenarios. 

I'm logging in from Singapore, where we are spending a night with our niece and her family, flying onward tomorrow.  Here are some photos -  of the early dawn landing and of my immediate surroundings.  The tower blocks themselves mimic the letter of the day.

The exit out of India, well, it wasn't uneventful. We had four large cases and two cabin size. Hubby decided to pack one of the latter for the stopover with the things we would need for the night and the onward flight, which then got happily forgotten in some last minute confusion. 

We discovered that one of the small cases was missing after we reached the airport and of course there was no chance of going back and getting it - it'd take two hours for the round trip. So we stood there and took stock - tickets, vaccine certs, RT-PCR results, visa papers, passports, hubs' essential daily medications - all were with us in the hand baggage fortunately, phew! Nothing to stop us from taking the flight, so...in we went and here we are. 

What seems like a catastrophe at first sight might turn out a minor inconvenience on second glance.  I am minus a few items to get me through a year in Fiji. Some of my favourite loungewear/brushes have got left behind. Left behind, I remind myself, not lost forever. 

This too is a life lesson - not to overpack, to declutter, pare down, take only as much as I need. To get out of the habit of panic-grabbing more than strictly necessary. Can I make do with one less pair of PJ's for a year? Pooh! - of course.

The universe has sent me a timely reminder not to be silly and insatiable. It's inviting me to cut out the inessentials, to introspect and prioritise the important, forget the fluff. A change in focus to match the change in living quarters. For that too, I'm thankful.

A-Z Challenge 2022

Home

 

H is for ...Hefting

When I am away, I do not miss your charm

I don’t weep over the beards of banyan trees,
the spikes of straight, but profusely eccentric palms
or the way the paddies shiver in the breeze.

The desert has its bleakness, and its place.

Its magnificence spills over its bare flanks
its vastness controlled with an exact grace
that knows to stop just short of river banks.

So when I am away, I’ve learnt not to long

for your skies, still blue in the darkest night
for the conch shell’s deep-throated, tranquil song
that sets the dawn saffron hour alight.

I’ve learnt to find your face in all landforms

hefting this homelessness of two homes.

Today I'm sharing a truly ancient poem I wrote in 2012 when I was a resident of Egypt.

I'm in and out of airports till 13th, so I might or mightn't be able to post till I get to my final destination and sort out the brain, jet lag, wifi etc. But I'll be back here for the A-Z as soon as possible. 

A-Z Challenge 2022

Gobsmacked...

 

...at the way things are going...yes, the pandemic years have been rough, but things could have been much worse...shudder to think how much worse...so...

Grateful. 

The passports were delivered back today with the transit visa for Singapore, cutting it very fine. All morning we were on tenterhooks, because of course the deliveries are uncertain on a Saturday, so we'd be majorly stuck. But they came in well in time. Tomorrow we will take the RT-PCR tests required, I'm accustomed to this protocol now. We fly out on Sunday. There is a long layover at Singapore before we fly onward to Fiji. Scheduled to reach Wednesday morning. 

The flat is half dismantled, the dust covers are on, the kitchen stops tomorrow. I have to pop over to the tax accountant between packing up and shutting down to drop off some papers, not sure how I'm gouging out the time for that. I've ended up spending 8 months in India, that makes me legally resident for tax purposes. There are mountains of forms to be filled. For India, for Singapore (even though we're only transiting), for Fiji. Never ceases to amaze and exhaust me, the things that the governments require to know from me.

Growing up at such a distance from your own people is also an education. My father said that to me once - he had freshly moved abroad. I'm not done growing, Baba. Wherever I go, my education continues. Grateful.

A-Z Challenge 2022 

Far

 

F is for...Find

One of the things an expat must be good at is finding…When you live far away from home, you have to find ways to recreate the textures and meanings of it. Independent of geographical coordinates or familiar landmarks, smells, tastes, visual and emotional cues.  The farther you go, the more difficult it is to do that. 

Exactly fifty years ago, in April 1972 my father took a huge leap of faith and a Pan Am flight to Beirut and then onward to a small town on the fringes of the Sahara called Maiduguri in North Eastern Nigeria. Maiduguri has since become famous, or rather infamous, due to religious fundamentalist groups, but back then no-one in my large, extended family had even heard of the place. And Africa wasn't exactly a dream destination for middle class Indian professionals, they were far more drawn to UK and USA, the Mecca people flocked to for opportunities. Nigeria?! Africa?! Omg!

My father was forthright - don't know what we're going to find there, don't expect pucca houses, proper sanitation or taps in the toilet. My mother prepared me accordingly beforehand and packed two Bengali classics - a collection of fiction and another of poetry. All the raised eyebrows and headshaking of various relatives notwithstanding, we landed up there. And indeed, though the houses were concrete bungalows, sure enough there was no tap in the toilet. My mother calmly set up a large metal beaker there and kept it filled from the basin outside. She also discovered turmeric in the local departmental store and proceeded to teach her house help, a guy from neighbouring Cameroun who spoke not a word of English, to cook fish with it, Bengali style. 

My father got me subscriptions to Bengali and Hindi children's magazines. Over the years there he slowly built up a stack of Bengali music - records and cassettes which were copied and circulated among the Indian and Bangladeshi expats. In time my mother too grew her own bitter gourds and Indian squashes and cauliflowers and eggplants. And she got the must-have Bengali kitchen implements and cookpots on home leave and took them back. She also sewed me an elephant motif bedspread, 'oh that looks very Indian,' the fabric picked out from the local shops. And so - though the texture of my outer environment changed utterly and delightfully; in my inner world, the conversations, the stories, the food, the music, life generally remained tethered to Bengal. 

The first time I moved out of India as an adult in the mid nineties, the world had become much smaller. Communications had changed - mobile phones, internet, banking systems, budget airlines  -  all of them had combined to shrink perceived distances. The actual distance itself was much less of course. My father had travelled 8000 km from home to a different continent,  I'd gone to Bahrain, less than half that and within Asia. Nigeria was both geographically and culturally remote for us, whereas India and the Arablands have been dealing with each other for millennia. Apples and oranges. It wasn't difficult to feel at home in the Middle East.

But this time, it's truly far away, nearly 11,000 km. To Fiji. To a different continent in a different hemisphere. On the one hand, I'm super excited - whole different constellations, flipped seasons, water draining anticlockwise, all the things I've read about but never lived with at close quarters. (And gosh, Fiji's so beautiful!) On the other, I am super apprehensive - even though I know Fiji has a sizeable community of people of Indian origin. I am going to be 11,000 km away from home, and also 12,000 km away from my son in the USA. India is 61/2 hours behind Fiji, USA East Coast is 16 hours behind. Sixteen hours! The whole time difference management issue is seriously freaking me out. Will I ever be able to get all of us onto a video call?! But I also know this from previous experience, fear of a challenge is worse than actually facing it. Things will fall into place. They always do.

A-Z Challenge 2022 

Exciting

 

E is for ...Expats

 

At the beginning of this A-Z , I put down the relocation as an excuse for my haphazard participation in the challenge - and Alana from Rambling with AM wrote in the comments

" I've never even moved to another country, never mind a different hemisphere. That sounds like a challenge way beyond A to Z!" 

 

It made me wonder - how many people actually do move out of their country and why? What percentage of the global population are expats exactly ? Turns out it's really tiny. Estimates vary from less than 1% to around 3%. Much less than I thought. And here's a fascinating article on global migration patterns  that attempts to answer why.  

 

Personally, I'm okay with moving around, because that's what I'm used to. I have been moving since I was four.  I remember my mother explaining that very first move from Calcutta to Delhi - a thousand miles which may well have been a different hemisphere for a kindergartener. She was very matter-of-fact, no, grandmother isn't coming with us, your father has a new job there, no your friends aren't coming either, but don't worry, it's going to be fine, it'll be more than fine because there are new friends just waiting to be made in every place we go.  In time, Delhi became home. But just as I was getting used to that, my father moved to Africa. And so on and on. 

 

Moving is habit-forming. It's drudgery but it's also exciting, an adrenaline rush. It's a familiar comfort zone - the processes are the same but the end product is new. And moving keeps me focussed on the things that matter - both materially and otherwise. It declutters the home and the mind in one fell swoop, given that the baggage allowance both material and emotional is laughable, as I mentioned earlier.  Moving is also perspective. It's shown me that the world is truly round and small and vast and magnificent, superbly amazing beyond words at all times, never mind the meagre allowances and incomprehensible security rules. 

 

A-Z Challenge 2022 

Different

 

D is for... Direct

Today I am just going to direct you to the main A-Z blog...Drop by and see what my dear friends and I have devised together...you won't be disappointed, I do assure you.

A-Z Challenge 2022 

Collection

 

C is for... CCU

 

…which is the IATA code for Calcutta, unchanged through the name tweaking and the new town developments and swank new airport terminals. Today I am offering you a random collection of photos I’ve clicked at various times in and around the city.

Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose (no relation!!) International airport.

Currency Building, a Raj era heritage building.

Ravindra Sarovar, commonly called 'The Lake,' in South Calcutta.

Chowringhee skyline and Victoria Memorial from the Maidan.

Clay idol being transported by a 'cycle van' for

the main community festival. 

My grandfather's house and my permanent

address for half my life. Now in other hands and

converted to a children's preschool.

View of golf course from South Veranda, Tollygunge Club. 

C is for Chocolate, but of course! 

And also for coffee, both piping hot and iced... 

Calcutta has a total of 39,000 restaurants and cafes. The 4th major
foodie hub in India after Mumbai, Delhi and Bengaluru.  

Cumulus cloud cover over Bawali. A couple hours
from Calcutta. Originally the seat of azamindari
family, now converted to a boutique hotel.

A classic Cal middleclass residence, probably pre-Independence. Calcutta
has this wonderful architecture in ordinary houses built with art nouveau
and art deco details. 

And that makes it a complete dozen! 

Broken

B is for Baggage Allowance...

…which by definition is never enough.  It should really be called baggage pittance. Honestly. It doesn’t matter if you’re flying first class like my father did back in the 80’s, or the fancypants business class now. As for the allowance in cattle class, which I’ve flown for a good long part of my life, that’s just a joke. Whatever arbitrary number or weight is allocated, it is never enough.

 

Some employers will pay for x number of cubic meters or y number of kgs extra but still…it won’t be enough.  Not that I’m complaining, because hard experience has taught me to pack only as much as I can lift myself.

 

I have been packing and repacking my stuff since I was 8 years old. As a child it was easier because most airlines we travelled on had  limits only on the checked bags. Handbags weren’t weighed so heavier stuff like books could be heaved onto shoulders.

 

Over the years, baggage limits have got tighter. I can still remember a time when even in domestic economy the allowance was 20 kgs but now we’re allowed only 15. And hand baggage rules have gotten narrower and frankly, weirder. No knitting needles, no large size shampoo bottles, no pickles. Excuse me?  Are grandma’s pickles considered a weapon now?

I have had things like a child’s fork, a metal tape measure, a key chain with a toy kukri (Nepali dagger) all of one inch long, a teeny pair of round-ended scissors for trimming infant nails confiscated by airport security staff. You couldn’t kill a mosquito with any of them much less hijack a planeful of humans. But they broke some abstruse rule or other and so…I was particularly cut up about the tape measure, it originally belonged to my father and was over 40 years old. Also now they frown at me if my cabin bag tips the needle beyond 7 kgs. That’s basically two and half hardbacks and my bunch of keys. Like I said, the whole thing’s a joke.

 

What to take, what to leave behind? Should I take a favourite book or should I pack my trusty old rolling pin? Should I pack brands I’m comfortable with or should I explore new options?  Excitement of the unknowns or comfortable familiarity in a new place? Prioritise, pack, and then unpack half of it back again.  

 

 

A-Z Challenge

 

April...w/o the A-Z

 

A is for...As and when Able

It’s been a habit and therapy and sanity and camaraderie – I’ve been participating in the A-Z Challenge since 2014 and absolutely love the rigorous discipline of it. I have written poetry and prose, I’ve gone on amazing exploratory trips, I’ve fallen through rabbit holes, I‘ve limericked and panic-laughed and reflected and researched and paid tribute to places and people. I’ve signed up and I’ve stayed away from the master list, I’ve visited hundreds of blogs and also done return visits only. I’ve pantzed it and planned it through life changes -  bereavement, country/continent relocations and sundry other, less monumental issues. In short, an April without the A-Z doesn’t feel like my April at all.

 

And yet. This April I’m not taking the challenge, at least not every day. Life is a mixed bag of chaos at present.  Last year August, I came home to India and took off the dustcovers for the final time. I had initially thought of cannibalising them into dishcloths or something and then that got forgotten in the rush of refurbishing the home base to our current requirements. Turns out it was a nifty move not to, thank goodness! Only eight months after the relocation to end all relocations, after making what I thought was the final journey home, we’re moving again. We fly out in a few days. Life at present is all about dustcovers, sorting through and packing up at the moment.

 

So.  I will be participating as and when I am able. I’m staying off the master list this year as well, because I have no idea when and where I’ll get a connection or the time to write/blog or return visits.

 

We’re relocating this time farther than the Middle East, farther than I’ve ever been. A different continent, a different hemisphere. Excited and a tad apprehensive, but mostly grateful. Life is never easy but it’s also amazing in ways one cannot anticipate in a million years.

 

Happy April to you and happy A-Zing if you’re participating!

A-Z Challenge 2022