"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

Part of my childhood memories go back to digging ambitiously in sandy backyards for what could possibly be a dinosaur fossil. “Paliyentologist” – because that is how I spelt it – was what I wanted to be. Even before the advent of the magical World Wide Web, I took recourse in newspapers and Science magazines to find out just how many teeth the T-Rex actually had and why the Brontosaurus had sworn to be a vegetarian. Their gigantic size and the serious mystery shrouding their existence have never failed to amaze me. Back then of course, it did not really matter if the pay would be good enough or if I would ever get an insurance cover for working on fossilized remains of the largest reptiles that walked on earth – it was fun! …While it lasted. On one of my expeditions in uncovering the true reason behind their extinction, I came across the ill-fated asteroid that crash landed on earth – creating a storm that wiped out sunlight for years – blocking every ray of hope for the living. Amazing – not the theory (which I rubbished) – but the Asteroid with a life of its own! My idea of amazing moved from over-sized lonely dinosaurs rampaging across the isolated planet to crazed asteroids shooting themselves from one point in the universe to another… When my idea of becoming an astronaut popped up in my head, I vehemently pursued it. Walk into my house today, and you will still see the radium stars peeking down at you from my ceiling, shining in the dark. I built a space suit I could wear and did some intense workouts on the merry-go-round to simulate as much take-off pressure as I could. I practiced the entire speech to be given right before my space shuttle would be lifted off closer to the heavens. I knew exactly why cracked tiles would allow extremely hot foam to seep through and blow up the entire space-craft if they had not been finished properly. No stone was left unturned in mentally preparing for this future of mine. Zero gravity was also on my list… unfortunately the sponsors were not. Moreover, even though the career was a lot more lucrative than grave-digging in the middle of Dinoland without a medical insurance, I had to give up because I could never continue with Science as a textbook story written and dictated by a bunch of brains. While their findings feed the discoveries we make today, I could not digest the idea of passing exams because I could find the distance between your house and my house when we walked at a speed of x kms per second for n number of hours. Commerce – I landed in the beautiful world of Commerce. It was an accident. It was just an escape from Science and an upgrade on Arts. I wanted to lie somewhere in between and get lost in the crowd. When Economics first hit me, I was stunned by the sheer amount of time I wasted in understanding just how one cross on that workbook sheet was a description of the entire market in the world! The subjects faded in and out until I finally stepped into my major in Finance… The experience was life-changing. Wealth maximization was a matter of personal pride to me. I thought I had read every word in the book and knew just how to turn cents into dollars and dollars into more dollars. When I graduated with a distinction, it was pretty obvious what I was going to do for the rest of my life… Shipping… hmm… my first and hopefully only occupation is miles and acres apart from all of the above. Container transportation and logistics, demand and supply, markets and consumers, seasons and trends, regulations and free trade, weather disruptions and crisis management… As a trainee on an international shipping education programme with fellowships from hundreds of countries, my career spans the globe as I learn from cultures and apply business practices. My eyes are always open for a new language for a new personality that I may encounter unexpectedly. The option (d) in the career list that never was, is now my bread and butter. It is no surprise however, as to why I have ended up in a brand new world of opportunities… My profession has never really changed. True, I was amazed by the mystery of the dinosaurs and where the asteroids emerge from eluded me – And yes, I wanted to know why money made the world go round when it was the world that created it… My quest for these answers was a quest for knowledge. I dug deeper, I thought further, I read far too much and I have traveled long enough only to realize that all I have done, all that I do and all that I will ever do for the rest of my life… is explore.

Overdriven

The only quality that can explain my knack for so regularly updating the blog can be termed as consistency - not the lack of it, but consistency. I prefer variety in everything I do. So why spare the blog? It was then unimaginable that only a few months after boasting tall and short about my Peugeot, the only blog entries I typed (and scrapped) were about my Peugeot. I seem to have been possessed by the little devil. So well, close to losing my account for inactivity, I thought I'd save some face and be a tad bit inconsistent - go ahead and give some more wise talk to aspiring fellow drivers of Dubai. To start with, "Why don't you all just disappear and let me drive in peace?" I would have liked to abuse in the heat of this moment, but... consistency remember? So here I am, parking in and out of a parking lot everyday, paying the meagre 160 dhs a month, when this freak decides to play games with my darling... puncture her tyres, or spit on the windshield as and when his distorted brain can think of doing bad things to good people. And of the 500 cars in the parking lot, mine is the only one he can find. So I book him in with the cops and zoom out of the parking lot saying, "I can fit this tiny power-pack anywhere you jerk!" Before I know it, I have circled my building for the millionth time, in search of the tiny spot that will fit my power-pack. Eventually, I succumb to the 2500 dhs a year parking card that should let me park freely anywhere on the roads of the city, as long as I can find a spot. I am still circling around my building, only less worried when I get a paid parking spot. If I were to list out the innumerous mishaps my poor Peugeot went through in the months gone by, I could never stop. But it is a learning curve for her and me. I mean, nothing can be brand new for too long can it? The bumps and scratches oughta' show. How else can she prove where she's been? Besides the irregular pedaling of my accelerator and brake, and the occassional spurt into racing against cabbies with an overtly ambitious plan of overtaking them on Shaikh Zayed Road, I am alive and she's running all right. I used to be the salient types who stuck to the third lane. But what could possibly drive a 5 month old driver insane? Just one thing - The Traffic. But look at me, positivity on the peak! Since I cannot ram my car into the insane Prado - Tercel maniacs, I choose to do the next obvious thing. Curse them. But just as my car gets older and I talk less and less about her with every person I meet, just as I become the usual abusive, outrageous reckless woman on the highway, out comes the icing on the cake. I tune into 104.4 FM and tell myself, "See, this can get worse...!"

Living with a devil...

They can be people. They can be work. They can be lack of sleep. They can be hunger. They can be anger. In my case, they also include extreme happiness, extreme sadness, walking too far, standing in the heat, waiting for the bus, looking at tomatoes, wearing uncomfortable dresses, gawking stupidly in a party, shopping in the city and reading my book in a car that does not even move. My headaches are the class migraines that you read about in Medical chillers. They are the extreme health concern that has influenced several scientists in parts and portions of the world to spend their lives finding a cure for. I read about migraine miracles in all those R Digests I came across – Homeopathy, spiritual beings invading the mind and shooing the migraine away… even came across a patient who kept a log of each and every migraine attack until she finally pinpointed the “triggers” and stayed away from them… only to discover new triggers. And then I think of myself. Some fine day, with dawn, it comes crashing down on me. Blocking my enthusiasm for life, my excitement, my appetite for a double cheese sandwich… and holding me back against the simple pleasures of the world - cornering me into an isolated and hidden chamber with nothing more than a groan to tell my presence by. Friends and family have not strayed in offering their meaningful explanations for this torture. “You think way too much!” Does talking too much really always add up to that? I would be glad if it did. Nevertheless, I think that’s much a positive remark than “You’re losing it… and its showing.” A lot of people are truly under the impression that the pinnacles of life [that I will eventually brag about on this blog] have clearly affected my sanity. But both ways, it means trouble. Trouble for the head I carry on my shoulders. Do I need a doctor? No. The doctors said they wouldn’t need me. Not with my self-diagnosis interrupting their’s every other minute. I know more about myself than they would at any point in time. That being said, I have often been diagnosed with “Migraines” and given the incidental aspirin to help the pain. How original I know. The only discovery I make when I visit these clinics is an abnormal bank statement I could swear was not mine had it not been for the name on it. Then why or rather how do I survive? It has a lot to do with saying, “I’m like that.” The whole thing about headaches is that they come without warning, they stay and cause trouble, they leave their victim so vulnerable, and they leave without being told when to – Ah, “I’m like that.” May be in the years that have passed me by, in the couple of decades I have matured into whoever I have become, I have actually come to accept if not fall in love with this tormenting condition that has tested every nerve, every vein and every string of mental vigor in me. Temper, Hunger, Sleep-deprivation – Reading, Crying, Anger – Stress, Chocolate, Cheese – Come to think of it, if I ever thought of curing my migraine and made a log of triggers, I wouldn’t even be alive. Look at the bright side they say… Mine is less dark, but less dark it is.

My 5 minutes of fame...

As I walked up on the stage, and tipped my hat at the Chancellor, I was consumed by an immense feeling of dizziness... I had all the words, all the protocol stacked up in my head and double-checked a few times... and yet, as I made my way to the podium, I made a last minute jog around everything I had memorized so far... and all I could remember were Tasneem's words to me "Just say it from your heart". And so I did:

"Wow...! Now let me get this right! We have graduated. I mean... WE have graduated! Makes me wonder as to how that happened. It has been quite a ride if you ask me.

Let me tell you a few things here - whenever we had assignments to submit, our computers would come crashing down! Whenever we had presentations to make, our floppies would refuse to work. Whenever we had to make it to an early morning class in time, the traffic would always get the better of us! Or... was it sleep that got the better of us? We never knew!

But it's not like we never learned! In fact, through all those late hand-ins and getting locked out of classrooms, through this penance of procrastination, slowly but surely, we learned one of the most important lessons of our lives at The University of Wollongong in Dubai : "To be in the right place, and at the right time." And there was a footnote to this lesson: Speed, does not matter! Determination does. And if we want to get there first, and we know we can't be fast, then all we need to do is start early!

As I began addressing our Ruler, the chancellor and distinguished guests, the knees stopped knocking. I stopped thinking about what could go wrong. My words moved from being careful recollections to free-flowing conviction.

At UOWD, learning was fun. And fun was learning! Through the mix of cultures that you see before your eyes today, the international experience of our professors as well as this learning on demand, we have been transformed into able, willing and independent individuals ready to take on the future. And at this point, success can have a lot of interpretations. For us students, it has meant rising through levels of education. For our parents, it means raising children who can face the world on their own. For our professors, it means imparting education, year, after year, after year (no matter how stubborn we may have been!) But today, it has all been factored into one special moment. And that is, this Commencement Ceremony.

But, we know it does not end here. And we know that we have a long way to go. I mean, come on friends, look at our audience! These guys are intimidating us! Some of them are wearing robes that are a lot more elaborate than the ones we are wearing! They have more knowledge and wisdom than we could ever brag about. Then even make more money than us! For that matter... they make money! (That is of course not so important).

But we do realize we have a long way to go... but yea, we are young energetic drivers, and we drive so well... but now it feels like we are driving a brand new car on a road we have never driven on before! We're cautious, yet excited to seek new places and opportunities! And as usual, we may not know what to expect. But we are not going to give you excuses this time, and we are not going to tell you that we don't know what to expect! Because we are confident, that the knowledge and values that this institution has raised us with, will take us where we want to be!

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like each and everyone of us in this auditorium over here today, to go back, to that one moment in our lives, that we cherish the most! Moments of sheer confidence and brilliance when we knew we could achieve everything that we had set out to achieve! I want us all to reminisce and remember... but! For 170 odd among us over here today, that moment is now! Today we know, that no matter what our speed, we are starting out at the right time, and from the right place!

And we have nobody more to thank that you, our families, faculty, and our wonderful management and authorities for letting us finally take over our lives! And not just giving us the wings to fly with, but the wisdom to use those wings! We promise you... and it has long been coming, but we promise you that this is not the last time that we shall do you proud. And just as we enter this scary world of adulthood and bread-winning, here's another shocker... we will never let you down!

Thank you for trusting us, thank you for bearing us... and thank you for touching our lives!

The applause I heard felt like a dream - and in the crowd, the only hands that mattered... belonged to mama and papa... I understood the beauty of this moment only after I had explained it to 800 people - and seen the pride on my parents face as everybody said, "she's THEIR daughter!"

And as I walked back from the podium, and tipped my hat to the chancellor one last time, the daze returned... but differently so! It was overhwelming, frightening and satisfying... all at the same time.

Living a Fascination... you'd think!

As a kid, I was possessed. With the whole idea of driving. Speeding. Drifting. Even changing lanes. All I wanted was for me to be in the hot seat and take myself places. My first preference was a bmw... with many first preferences falling in line as I grew up and understood what a 6 digit number meant in terms of currency. And I fantasized off and on... hating cars for having seat handles and weird headlights. But the Peugot, stayed. And obsessed as I am with everything I have wanted since childhood, I chased this. For a few years of my life, I've spent wisely, saved ridiculously. Of course it doesn't cover the interest I pay for now, but it makes me feel good. Like I did my part. And I finally caught up. With a little bit of money to throw around, I finally caught up on this brand new car, the apple of my eye. The only thing I've ever owned with a resale value attached to it. The process of fishing around for a second hand car until I was finally drawn into the gleaming babies in the showroom made me relish the purchase even more. I looked at her for a full 1/2 minute before jumping in and speeding out on my first drive ever. Cars are liabilities. They cannot hold value. There are 3 permanent speed radars on my way to work. 1 flashes you if you cross a red light. Policemen man every single traffic light I cross in the morning. And flouting the laws will land me in nothing short of a zero or negative bank balance, and probably a stint behind bars too, with my licence and my hot wheels, gone for good. I work 15 kms away from my home. Eyes open for pedestrians who will cross only before or after the zebra lines and when the lights are green - for the cars. Death wish. Death wish. Ears open for every car behind me that wants to honk because I did not set my handbrake down when the lights turned yellow. And if there's anything left of my senses, then making sure that all fully tinted windows and four wheelers get special consideration even if I am driving at the speed limit of 120 (the rare scene) and don't know which car to bump on which side so that they can pass through. Then of course, not running over the now growing biking enthusiasts who prefer to think that Hondas and Harleys have nothing to differ on. Yes I am a woman and a new driver (who happened to earn her manual licence at the very first shot). And I know that explains the whole story. But all I want to do is cruise around without thinking and knowing that every move I make on the roads is treacherous!!! What a pity I was born into a generation that threw the passion of driving out of the window to recklessly zoom around with a death wish screeching out of every abused spare part.

Obsessed

I've been painting ever since I was a kid - it's a picture I can never get tired of. Four oblong coconuts hanging fancily from a tree on the beach. A woodhouse erected right next to the pine with a fence securing the backyard. A turtle crossing the cobbled path that meanders to the door. A boat turned upside down and tied to the pier. The sea touching this solitary island with the smallest of waves. Mountains bordering it far behind, hiding the sun behind them, but letting its warm and mellow rays reflect on the calm lake. No clouds to grey the evening. A couple of birds I could never name. For 15 years, I've painted the same picture, with a few modifications that gave birth to a number of versions of the original. The boat would go sailing, bobbing in the sunset. The turtle vanished sometimes. Rocks and grass grew on the side. The mountains grew in numbers. But the badly drawn tree and the 2-Dimensional house never changed. My father said every kid draws something like this - apparently. It runs in the family. The ubiquitious image that springs in mind when you learn the words sun and house and tree to remember the alphabet as a toddler. I sulked. And in consoling myself, painted a grey version of my little island. I call it the Dream. It was never publicized because my artistic style is nothing worth presenting. But my Dream holds a special place in my heart, purely because it is one of those passions that have survived my childhood and teenage, drawing respect for having held my interest thus far. I cannot comprehend what that picture tells me, but it was my last hope when I had a "Drawing Book" to complete in Grade 4. The versions I mentioned earlier were most useful in filling up the first and last few pages, each a little different from the other. The Dream was my best friend during long, tiring lectures at University where, unfortunately, I wasn't the one lecturing. A touching rendition of my feelings for those who were dear - the perfect "emotional gift" I could give to my close friends, though it became a little predictable the third time and warranted the release of yet another sunset edition I depressed my ex-best friend with. I fiercely defend the image when my friends poke at it and say "is that a tree or a broom?" because it is not the austerity, but the obsession that they try to insult. Of late, my Dream hangs innocently from the monitor on my office-desk. I seek solace whenever the pressure takes its toll... My painting is as unexplainable and intolerable as all the others that sell for millions around the world. But, unlike the creators of those masterpieces, I cannot claim that it has anything to do with anything - not even myself. I talk - banter is the word. I find comfort in numbers. I cannot swim in a lake. I cannot climb mountains. I cannot climb trees either - and the "philosophy" behind my own painting fails to park in my mind. No meaning. No memory. No money. But a tiny creation that I can call my own - My Dream is Everything to me.