September 09, 2006:
As Cambodia celebrates Pchumban for a week, Achan arrives tonight for a 2 week vacation in India. I still hold my memories of life in Phnom Penh- some loving, some that I'd want to forget. The following three posts are from my initial days in Kampuchea. Read on.
It’s a strange country inhabited by alien people following their alien customs, speaking a language that seems impossible to decipher and relishing food that to me seems anything but edible. I am in Phnom Penh, the capital of a once-communist and now unfortunate Cambodia. I am sitting on a recliner in a two-storied villa watching Kampuchea arise from the dead. The process to most of us symbolises a failed battle against human betrayal. But to them it’s a die hard way of life. If not peace there is definitely acceptance in the minds of the people amidst all this economic turmoil and moral chaos.
As I cosy myself up in my recliner wondering if I can make it in this country, I see my answer right in front of me. At first sight, she is a young mother with a little child in tow, poverty seething through her bones. A scavenger- if her clothes have seen better days, it was definitely not while she owned them. A frayed straw hat, not very different from a wad of wet napkins, sits in its place- a little awkwardly, but doing its job nevertheless. Perhaps the only protection she has ever known. As she rummages through the garbage cans I see more...she exemplifies hope and survival.
Half asleep in my recliner, housed comfortably in a double storied mammoth of a bungalow and a maid fixing my dinner for the night- my heart reaches out to thank the woman. But for what ? My conscious mind is still trying to figure that one out. A few possibilities surface but I can never be sure. Maybe it’s because she gave me the promise of survival that I so needed. If someone like her with absolutely nothing in the world to boot for save for a lifetime of misery can find something, even something as menial as rag picking, to do in this place, what could possibly be in store for someone like me. Someone with a university degree, an expensive roof over the head and a far reaching phone book.
Or is it because she reinforced the expansive existence of mindless poverty in the third world countries which gives some of the developed nations a sadistic pleasure at the very prospect of getting to play God and having the ‘poor and uncivilized’ live a parasitic life eating out of their scheming hands? Could it have been a case of possible guilt attack? Was I right on my part to live a next to extravagant life in Her own land while She scavenged away? Or it could have been my genuine interest towards improving the lives of the not so fortunate ones and help them find meaning and worth in their lives. Just what is it that made me tug at the cord that connected our hearts for that one minute I shall never know. Until then its back to my life in the cosy recliner.
Dated June 25, 2002
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Cambodia Diaries: Home Sick
Cambodia Diaries: Homesick
I am just half way between east meets west and I am already homesick, at least for those simple things home has to offer. Things that I never really bothered to sit back and ponder over how life would be if they were ever taken away. Things and people I had taken for granted. The India in and around me that I so casually took for granted- gol gappas, kadi patta, Shah Rukh Khan, Bangalore lingo, mallu jokes, yelling across the street to find out from the fat old anglo lady if the miniature fishing net my 5 year old retriever hid under the couch was actually her panty hose, dads garage that doubled as a free three star boarding and lodging for strays, getting caught in conversation with the wise old man next door, our phone that always parked itself on my cheeks as I regularly exercised my vocal chords. Now that I haven’t done or seen any of these things for over a year I almost feel alienated from what was once my life.
Reborn far away in Mandalay a year and half ago I find myself eating steamed vegetables with chopsticks for meals and training a bunch of people in spoken English to pay my bills when I am not job hopping. I don’t have neighbours to go around talking to. If my phone rings its only because my colleague at work wants to know where the weekly report files were kept. After a year of forced abstention from movie halls I finally showed fate my finger and sat through an entire Khmei movie. It was kinda fun but I wish I’d taken my ear plugs along. Sure there were days when I dint even see the sun but life here in Phnom Penh is not as dreary as you might think. There are lotta fun things you can do around here. All of them essentially need two things: Hoards of money and No parental supervision. Absolutely.
I have quite a bit of the former but not enough to beat the latter so Nat Geo and corn kernels it is. I am not a huge party bopper but I really don’t mind dipping into the social scene once in a while as long as the company and the conversations are equally compelling. Not many locals speak English so buddy hunt is a tall order. There is a huge expat population in Cambodia, mostly in the form of NGOs, missionaries and English teachers. About 80% of them are former backpackers who were smart enough to capitalise on their white skin and the intellectual superiority that it is double packaged with. Some of them haven’t even bothered considering bathing and chopping off their grimy matted locks. I know dozens of them who have been here for ages. Now I know what makes them stick around here- cheap beer, cheap sex, cheap coke and a next to God status. Chances of spotting a 60-something year old white with a local twinkie is as good as spotting a gecko in an Amazonian kitchen. The United States has managed to invade Cambodia without having to send a single soldier across the border. They are everywhere- as super hero social workers, as messiah missionaries with bread in one hand and the bible in the other, as English teachers – all proclaiming themselves to be the Chosen Ones of God born to liberate these unfortunate people from their obscure land and living and introduce them to civilization. Does Dubya Man think civilization was born in downtown Texas? While little Bush should probably sit at home and undergo some psychotherapy along with some History lessons, the jerks who created the whole mess in the first place are pretending to try and fix South East Asia- Again.
Of course, I don’t mean that anybody sporting genuine white skin is a glue smelling gold digger. A small portion of them are humane too. I have friends amongst these and we do have our share of fun, mostly hanging out at Java, our coffee shop talking politics and culture. If we were to do the same outside, we’d be attracting bullets. The café, run by a friend Dana, a young enterprising American has a loyal expat following. Loyal, because of its excellent service, awesome caffeine and homely ambiance. Expat, because of its charges. Nevertheless it truly is a home away from home for some of us.
Life is good if you believe it is. We all hold on to that belief and get on with our lives. The journey hasn’t been half bad. In fact, on the whole its been a thrilling adventure and an amazing learning experience if I were to take away the little irritants. I get to work with bears, tigers and gibbons. I get to live in an international community- swapping political and cultural views as much as recipes. I teach the children of some of the greatest internationally accomplished personas I’ll meet in a while. Living in Cambodia has taught me a lot. This Country will make me what I will choose to be. I will be grateful to this land and its people one day when I truly understand what life is really all about.
Sometime in late 2003
I am just half way between east meets west and I am already homesick, at least for those simple things home has to offer. Things that I never really bothered to sit back and ponder over how life would be if they were ever taken away. Things and people I had taken for granted. The India in and around me that I so casually took for granted- gol gappas, kadi patta, Shah Rukh Khan, Bangalore lingo, mallu jokes, yelling across the street to find out from the fat old anglo lady if the miniature fishing net my 5 year old retriever hid under the couch was actually her panty hose, dads garage that doubled as a free three star boarding and lodging for strays, getting caught in conversation with the wise old man next door, our phone that always parked itself on my cheeks as I regularly exercised my vocal chords. Now that I haven’t done or seen any of these things for over a year I almost feel alienated from what was once my life.
Reborn far away in Mandalay a year and half ago I find myself eating steamed vegetables with chopsticks for meals and training a bunch of people in spoken English to pay my bills when I am not job hopping. I don’t have neighbours to go around talking to. If my phone rings its only because my colleague at work wants to know where the weekly report files were kept. After a year of forced abstention from movie halls I finally showed fate my finger and sat through an entire Khmei movie. It was kinda fun but I wish I’d taken my ear plugs along. Sure there were days when I dint even see the sun but life here in Phnom Penh is not as dreary as you might think. There are lotta fun things you can do around here. All of them essentially need two things: Hoards of money and No parental supervision. Absolutely.
I have quite a bit of the former but not enough to beat the latter so Nat Geo and corn kernels it is. I am not a huge party bopper but I really don’t mind dipping into the social scene once in a while as long as the company and the conversations are equally compelling. Not many locals speak English so buddy hunt is a tall order. There is a huge expat population in Cambodia, mostly in the form of NGOs, missionaries and English teachers. About 80% of them are former backpackers who were smart enough to capitalise on their white skin and the intellectual superiority that it is double packaged with. Some of them haven’t even bothered considering bathing and chopping off their grimy matted locks. I know dozens of them who have been here for ages. Now I know what makes them stick around here- cheap beer, cheap sex, cheap coke and a next to God status. Chances of spotting a 60-something year old white with a local twinkie is as good as spotting a gecko in an Amazonian kitchen. The United States has managed to invade Cambodia without having to send a single soldier across the border. They are everywhere- as super hero social workers, as messiah missionaries with bread in one hand and the bible in the other, as English teachers – all proclaiming themselves to be the Chosen Ones of God born to liberate these unfortunate people from their obscure land and living and introduce them to civilization. Does Dubya Man think civilization was born in downtown Texas? While little Bush should probably sit at home and undergo some psychotherapy along with some History lessons, the jerks who created the whole mess in the first place are pretending to try and fix South East Asia- Again.
Of course, I don’t mean that anybody sporting genuine white skin is a glue smelling gold digger. A small portion of them are humane too. I have friends amongst these and we do have our share of fun, mostly hanging out at Java, our coffee shop talking politics and culture. If we were to do the same outside, we’d be attracting bullets. The café, run by a friend Dana, a young enterprising American has a loyal expat following. Loyal, because of its excellent service, awesome caffeine and homely ambiance. Expat, because of its charges. Nevertheless it truly is a home away from home for some of us.
Life is good if you believe it is. We all hold on to that belief and get on with our lives. The journey hasn’t been half bad. In fact, on the whole its been a thrilling adventure and an amazing learning experience if I were to take away the little irritants. I get to work with bears, tigers and gibbons. I get to live in an international community- swapping political and cultural views as much as recipes. I teach the children of some of the greatest internationally accomplished personas I’ll meet in a while. Living in Cambodia has taught me a lot. This Country will make me what I will choose to be. I will be grateful to this land and its people one day when I truly understand what life is really all about.
Sometime in late 2003
Cambodia Diaries: Stolen Lives
(From left: Sr. Marie Paul, yours truly with baby Kim and Sr. Bertina- my inspiration, my peace)
I never thought of them as special. Their sacrifices never mattered to me; after all it was the done thing. They created me and it was simply their duty to look after me and to provide for me. I had known my parents ever since I was born and they waited on me hand and foot as a child. So I presumed it was my duty in turn to take them for granted. But no more.
I spend about three hours every other day with a whole bunch of reasons that helped me see light. They are between a week and 10 years old. Little girls and boys. Eyes that have seen enough even before they opened. Some- reminders of a fleeting moment of passion between two people; others who managed to escape when tragedy struck, but spilled over into another world that isn’t worth the trouble, and the rest physically and mentally challenged- omens of evil- ostracised from their own families. But All- constant reminders of how society and economy have made it so convenient for people to snap the cord that ties a soul to its creater, that which brings one from history to walk through to eternity. A bond that gives you a name, a place, a home and promised love, one that looks after you until you are able to look after yourself and even after that. A bond that craves and seeks support in each other. Now also a bond so tangible that it allows parents to have the heart to lead the child into oblivion and leave him there.
Dated: sometime in August 2002
I spend about three hours every other day with a whole bunch of reasons that helped me see light. They are between a week and 10 years old. Little girls and boys. Eyes that have seen enough even before they opened. Some- reminders of a fleeting moment of passion between two people; others who managed to escape when tragedy struck, but spilled over into another world that isn’t worth the trouble, and the rest physically and mentally challenged- omens of evil- ostracised from their own families. But All- constant reminders of how society and economy have made it so convenient for people to snap the cord that ties a soul to its creater, that which brings one from history to walk through to eternity. A bond that gives you a name, a place, a home and promised love, one that looks after you until you are able to look after yourself and even after that. A bond that craves and seeks support in each other. Now also a bond so tangible that it allows parents to have the heart to lead the child into oblivion and leave him there.
Dated: sometime in August 2002
Sept 08, 06:Its all about making peace, good friends and some cheesy jokes!
Yet another friday passes me by with no beer. But a load of fun we did have. Aparna aka dory's sister is back from London and on our request has brought us boxes of liquor chocolates. Me dory shoy sush and joey decided to take a break once the pre meditated friday afternoon laziness set in. Loaded with our miniature bottles of spirit encased in bitter cocoa, we trudged towards the cafeteria. With 5 liquor hungry tongues wagging, a refined and discreet battle ensued for that prized Jack Daniels in the basket. Dory had more of them at home so she wasnt even considered a worthy contendor, Joey was the good one, and gave up even without being threatned, sush is easily bullied and not much of a whiskey addict. That left me and shoy- I was basically happy, so I let her have it. A quick shot of bitter expresso followed by my pick of the lot- exqusite vanilla flavoured vodka enshrined in chocolate was sensually appealing to say the least. We clinked chocolate bottoms, chewed off the bottle tops, slid our tongues in and made sweet love. And the way we ate and groaned, we'd always know when the other was satisfied in bed. We raised a toast to more of such merrinesss, sleazy humor, mirth and jolity.
Is it a bull? Is it a ram? No! its the female anatomy!
Dory must have been feeding on these chocolates the last two nights for she came up with what she calls a a gynecologically proven (ahem) theory of how a slight bump seen on a woman's tummy around where her uterus sits to be indicative of her sexual activity. Yeah right! bumps?! I've got tyres man, and I've still not given away my flower!! With all of us on our perverted best, rolling on the floor laughing, people eyeing us with curiosity, disdain and amusement, we hoped we wouldn't be chucked out of the cafeteria like me and Dory were last friday. Oh come all ye morbid corporate poker-faced, shit-assed souls, lighten up! So we made plans to go out for the evening. Shoy was working late and Joey was meeting old friends, so the original trio- Me Sush and Dory drove over to the Indranagar 12th Main coffee Day. Memories came flooding by, but it dint pain me this time. Thus, fun cheesy conversations, wild career ideas and ways to entice venture capitalists to buy them remained unaffected. I gifted Dory a silk stole my rebirth poem and two hours later we called it a day. Three friends, three cars, three routes, one soul. It was a good feeling. We plan to take off for the weekend soon.
Back home, I logged in to find **** online. I was glad. Its been a while since we did some quality talking. And it was important that I tell him what I really felt about things now. Like I have said before, Lucky told me a few things before he left, and I made a few promises. I have begun to act on them, and do feel the difference. Its not tremendous but its taking place nevertheless. I am proud of the way things are begining to take shape. I am not sure what the ultimate picture is going to look like, but I know it will be pleasing. Excerpts of our conversation:
****: :) something is there isnt it me: told u- i am at peace....
****: i meant between us :)
me: all barriers between us are broken
****: :)
me: thats what i meant maybe we are part of the same soul or something
****: (deep breath)
me: (throws another pebble into the lake)
****: (lying on the grass and watching the stars
me: n says...
''see that pebble slicing through the waters...thats like our relationship...we do things to eachother that create ripples n disturbances in our lives, but thats only for a while....once the effect wears off.....its burried deep and the the waters are back to their serene self'' :)
''see that pebble slicing through the waters...thats like our relationship...we do things to eachother that create ripples n disturbances in our lives, but thats only for a while....once the effect wears off.....its burried deep and the the waters are back to their serene self'' :)
**** :) perfect
I am not there just yet. I saw one of his friend's on O***t and wondered what she meant when she was saying what she was saying. I wondered if there was anything between the two of them. I know its none of my business. I know I must remain unaffected. Things will take time to get to the phase I would want them to be. It requires a lot of patience, strength, great love for myself and a lot of confidence in me and how I can charter the course of my future. I have all these in various proportions- I just need to acknowlege their existance and make them a part of my everyday life. So far, I am doing a good job of it. I'll just have to keep going.
September 06, 2006: Lucky Passes On.
'' I felt his breath on my cheeks, and then it stopped.''- Ninni
Lucky was laid to rest this morning. A lot of things were laid to rest this morning and amidst storms there is anticipation of peace. Deliverance has happened, acceptance too. Only memories remain. Last morning, getting ready for work, I had a bad feeling. Someone was calling me from a distance. I couldn’t see who- and I dint have to. I felt him under my skin. Afraid to face the inevitable, I made Amma call Nalini Chechi. She sounded tired and her voice was fading. Ninni was in a silent mess, interrupted occasionally by brief outbursts of repressed sobbing. He was going. I had to be there, with her, for him, for me and for all that we shared. Just like I was there when he came six years ago.
I remember the distant Sunday from not so long ago as Nalini chechi, Sashi mama, Arjun and I got out of the car with Ninni nestled in Sashimama’s arms. She had been suffering from a strange pain down her back that left her unable to walk. X-rays, tests and scans revealed no orthopaedic causes. We were all baffled. And then she said it. ‘I want someone to be with when I come home.’ Sashimama is a scientist/professor at the agricultural university. Nalini Chechi was always juggling being a lot of things- a mother, a stock broker, a wife, a counsellor, a florist, a daughter, a retailor… Arjun was a big boy and good friends were few. She was justified in feeling so. Ninni had always wanted a dog she would call ‘Lucky’. And as the five of us piled out of the elevator and waited for the breeder to answer the door, we knew we would find her Lucky on the other side. There were six of them, five yellow and one black. The black one, owing to his natural distinction, seemed to have an edge over the rest to be the potential ‘Lucky’, until His Royal Goofiness decided to make his presence felt. It was feeding time, the bowls were out and the pack of six clearly knew the drill.
It was an overwhelming sight- half a dozen heart warmers huddled around an equal number of porridge-filled bowls, their tails wagging in excitement, tiny pink tongues laying covetous claim on the neighbour’s victuals, big brown eyes darting for any unruly run away morsel. It didn’t take long for this curious, playful, very hungry, handsome, and evidently dippy ball of energy to roll right into our hearts. With his ears rhythmically flopping on either sides of his face, he trotted around the house sniffing everything he could lay his eyes on; sticking his nose into all available crevices and then making new ones. She stuck her outstretched arms out towards him and called out, ‘Lucky’. He cocked his ears to one side, looked up at her with the warmest eyes and bounded into her arms. A fairy tale begins.
(to be continued...)
Thursday September 7, 2006 - 10:02am
Lucky was laid to rest this morning. A lot of things were laid to rest this morning and amidst storms there is anticipation of peace. Deliverance has happened, acceptance too. Only memories remain. Last morning, getting ready for work, I had a bad feeling. Someone was calling me from a distance. I couldn’t see who- and I dint have to. I felt him under my skin. Afraid to face the inevitable, I made Amma call Nalini Chechi. She sounded tired and her voice was fading. Ninni was in a silent mess, interrupted occasionally by brief outbursts of repressed sobbing. He was going. I had to be there, with her, for him, for me and for all that we shared. Just like I was there when he came six years ago.
I remember the distant Sunday from not so long ago as Nalini chechi, Sashi mama, Arjun and I got out of the car with Ninni nestled in Sashimama’s arms. She had been suffering from a strange pain down her back that left her unable to walk. X-rays, tests and scans revealed no orthopaedic causes. We were all baffled. And then she said it. ‘I want someone to be with when I come home.’ Sashimama is a scientist/professor at the agricultural university. Nalini Chechi was always juggling being a lot of things- a mother, a stock broker, a wife, a counsellor, a florist, a daughter, a retailor… Arjun was a big boy and good friends were few. She was justified in feeling so. Ninni had always wanted a dog she would call ‘Lucky’. And as the five of us piled out of the elevator and waited for the breeder to answer the door, we knew we would find her Lucky on the other side. There were six of them, five yellow and one black. The black one, owing to his natural distinction, seemed to have an edge over the rest to be the potential ‘Lucky’, until His Royal Goofiness decided to make his presence felt. It was feeding time, the bowls were out and the pack of six clearly knew the drill.
It was an overwhelming sight- half a dozen heart warmers huddled around an equal number of porridge-filled bowls, their tails wagging in excitement, tiny pink tongues laying covetous claim on the neighbour’s victuals, big brown eyes darting for any unruly run away morsel. It didn’t take long for this curious, playful, very hungry, handsome, and evidently dippy ball of energy to roll right into our hearts. With his ears rhythmically flopping on either sides of his face, he trotted around the house sniffing everything he could lay his eyes on; sticking his nose into all available crevices and then making new ones. She stuck her outstretched arms out towards him and called out, ‘Lucky’. He cocked his ears to one side, looked up at her with the warmest eyes and bounded into her arms. A fairy tale begins.
(to be continued...)
Thursday September 7, 2006 - 10:02am
Ode to Peddling
This is to you Mr. Hiralal Yadav. You inspire.
Harleys, leatherjackets, tattoos ‘n’ pot-
You think its gonna get ya right on top?!
Illusions, delusions ‘n’ petrified dreams-
You gotta pump in more dope to stop those screams.
Pause for a moment, give it all a thought.
Your whole life you gave in and what have you got?
Deranged, in rehab with therapies galore.
I’ve been there, seen it and want no more.
Listen up friend, mark my words
Coz this ain’t a trickie like the bees ‘n’ birds.
Dealers ‘n’ peddlers have laid out their nets.
Once you’re in there’s only regrets.
Life’s what happens when you’re making other plans,
Life doesn’t give you a second chance.
So baby next time you peddle
Peddle it right.
Just make sure you’re
Peddling your Bike.
Harleys, leatherjackets, tattoos ‘n’ pot-
You think its gonna get ya right on top?!
Illusions, delusions ‘n’ petrified dreams-
You gotta pump in more dope to stop those screams.
Pause for a moment, give it all a thought.
Your whole life you gave in and what have you got?
Deranged, in rehab with therapies galore.
I’ve been there, seen it and want no more.
Listen up friend, mark my words
Coz this ain’t a trickie like the bees ‘n’ birds.
Dealers ‘n’ peddlers have laid out their nets.
Once you’re in there’s only regrets.
Life’s what happens when you’re making other plans,
Life doesn’t give you a second chance.
So baby next time you peddle
Peddle it right.
Just make sure you’re
Peddling your Bike.
Entry for September 04, 2006
I am glad for some people in my life. That way i've been very lucky you know. Life has given me very few but extremely genuine friends. I can count them and their brothers twice over on my fingers, but I know they'll linger around longer than a 10,000 million lightyears put together. When college was over and done with and all of us had to walk our own paths I never thought we'd stick it out. But four years, two break-ups, a marriage, a kid, rebound love, a broken engagement, committed fancy-free love, another marriage, a confused relationship, another confused relationship later, we're still together in it. Whats brilliant about old friends is that they let new ones in. Whats great about new ones is that they turn out to be worthy of being old ones. I am really glad I met sush and Appu at work and by God I know they will always be a part of my life, and I, a part of theirs.
T'was a rough day today post lunch with the bad news about Lucky. I still havent been able to accept it. It stings my heart- just like the ray fish stung Steve's heart this morning. I can almost feel the blood trickle out of my heart and puddle at my feet. And my head becomes a marshland for eerie thoughts - the more I try to get them out of there, the deeper they sink. But they dont sink and die- instead they breed in the deep dark slimy waters, multiply into a million eerie thoughts and when theres a slight gurgling within the depths of the marshes, they rise- piercing through the muck- like a dagger through the heart. Wet, slimy, stinging and fatal.
...what am I saying? ! what am I thinking? Its not making any sense to me. Its all so warped and twisted. Maybe I should wait this phase out. You know, not write about it...just live through it for the next few days and come back when I am feeling better... Maybe then it wont feel so bad.
Monday September 4, 2006
T'was a rough day today post lunch with the bad news about Lucky. I still havent been able to accept it. It stings my heart- just like the ray fish stung Steve's heart this morning. I can almost feel the blood trickle out of my heart and puddle at my feet. And my head becomes a marshland for eerie thoughts - the more I try to get them out of there, the deeper they sink. But they dont sink and die- instead they breed in the deep dark slimy waters, multiply into a million eerie thoughts and when theres a slight gurgling within the depths of the marshes, they rise- piercing through the muck- like a dagger through the heart. Wet, slimy, stinging and fatal.
...what am I saying? ! what am I thinking? Its not making any sense to me. Its all so warped and twisted. Maybe I should wait this phase out. You know, not write about it...just live through it for the next few days and come back when I am feeling better... Maybe then it wont feel so bad.
Monday September 4, 2006
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