'The Bump story'

“Scary!”

Till a year back, that’s exactly how I would describe the bump of an expectant mother she so proudly flaunts. Be it in shopping malls, offices, restaurants, and even theatres, they pop up, expectant mothers, with their full protruding belly, and scare you! I would get imaginary cramps and feel a tug in the stomach at the sight of one, and would make failed attempts at keeping steadfast eye-to-eye contact with the person concerned. I cannot tell you how guilty I feel now, for each time I felt that way in the past. Till I figured there’s a whole club out there who shares this with me.

Few months back my brother said the idea of seeing me in that avatar is making him reconsider his visit during my pregnancy. I was annoyed at first, but then I reasoned and thought of the many occasions on which I might have said something to that effect so callously, surreptiously vanishing from scenes where a pregnant belly is seen or discussed. That, when I am a woman myself, married, and sure about having kids, no matter how much the thought of the ordeal had bothered me in the past. This one I am talking about is my poor brother, a man who recently tied the knot, has a wife who wouldn’t spare a single detail relating my pregnancy to slap on his face, reasoning, “he has to get used to it.” Ok boss!  No arguments there. But my heart goes out to any such soul who resonates with me on this. I find a personal connection with them. “I have been there, folks.” I want to tell them. It’s alright if you maintain a minimum of 10 feet distance from me when we meet, and refuse to look into my eye and carry on a conversation. Hug? Are you kidding me! It’s totally fine if you gawk at me and wonder at how bloated I look, and my transformation from a human to a water buffalo so complete! I get you, kindred soul. I really do.

In my defense I just have to say that I have had very limited experience of spending time around expecting women. A lack of an elder sister makes it an obvious miss, but cousins, I have plenty of them. But I managed meeting just one, just once, during her entire pregnancy. And forgive me saying this, but the image of a sister bloated up to such proportions, kind of left a certain image in my mind. It would suffice to say that what I witnessed was anything but far from appealing.

When me and my husband were based in Qatar, we saw an alarmingly great number of pregnant women in public places, with kids prancing, running, falling, flipping all around the pregnant mothers, lost in conversations, leaving their Indonesian or Pilipino maids to attend to their kids, and they themselves being monitored by the husband they share, with hawk like attention, when not fiddling with his smart phone. They are a happy lot, can afford to have as many, with a population that doesn’t even make 30 percent of the entire population of the country, they have nothing to worry about. (I don’t know why I am talking about Qatar’s population here. You see I digress.) Anyway, the point I am trying to make is that, sighting pregnant women in Qatar must have somewhat prepared me for it. The fact that they would have layers of clothes worn under their flowing abayas, must have helped too, making the bump appear less obvious, hence not triggering the creeps in me. I was finally flirting with the idea of a child of my own.

Coming to my own story now, the quirky, confused and sensitive one that I am, no matter how much I appreciate my bump with wonder in private, I initially did not like the cursory glances at it by strangers. I would often seek a second opinion on the shirt I am wearing, “Is it making it so obvious?”, I would ask the husband; but if a close one dared to say it’s still not showing ‘enough’, I will take it as a challenge  and prove otherwise. To such behavior, the sane husband’s response would be, “About time you decided what you like to hear.” I could not agree more. To such a curt and practical reaction, all I could do is chuckle, flash a stupid grin and leave it at that.

Now coming to a somewhat unrelated yet an inevitable topic  – ‘social media.’ Such a mighty phrase!  As we live two lives today – the real and the virtual one, I think we all will agree that we are somehow burdening ourselves with the virtual one way more than we think we control it. Especially when it concerns a topic as personal as pregnancy, I found myself negotiating between what and how much is personal and how much can be comfortably shared on these platforms. To my credit, till my seventh month, I resisted posting images of my pregnant belly on Facebook or Instagram. Resisted is probably the wrong word. For once I did not feel the need to ‘announce’ it. Those who need to know have been informed about it. But the rest of the world can wait. Someone mentioned to me the other day about how another couple posts a minimum of four to five pregnant pictures every week! They believe in celebrating their newfound happiness every single day! On social media! Too bad I do not feel any such urge. I wouldn’t however pretend that the thought did not tempt me at all. If privacy relating personal matters is sacrosanct to me, I also do not believe in living in an ivory tower. People I interact with over these spaces on a daily basis, do matter to me. Therefore, it’s bothersome to think what if this behavior is a breach of the unwritten rules of social media that are so revered and solemnly practised by all. Probably I am old school, probably my personality has this duality that still needs settling. Or may be I care for people’s opinion too much to drown them with images that might not necessarily concern anyone, and to the faint hearted ones, even a little unsavory may be. Or make them feel obliged to care about everything I post relating my pregnancy, like I must have felt a few times while doing for others. In my bout of happiness I do not want to choke them with overflowing emotions and sentiments about by unborn baby. And I did not even think of the ‘superstition’ or the ‘bad omen’ part, till someone pointed it out. Hell no! I might sound supremely ancient at times, but I am, at the least, superstitious. So I did want to declare I am expecting, I did want, like all excited first time mothers, to flaunt my pregnant belly, but a part of me was still unresolved. Should I go click click on my phone and share a picture of my bump in a silhouette created while standing against a sunny Buffalo afternoon?  Or should I just share a smart-ass image and ‘break’ my pregnancy news, without quite showing it? But does not posting a picture make me appear like I attach some superstition to the grand revelation? Not sure. While I was fiddling with these thoughts, I came across some very creative revelation ideas. The Internet has no dearth of it. The wackier, the better, probably  a bit too far fetched at times, but when a trend hits the bull’s eye there is no stopping the herd. But then think of this, what if you have placed two safety pins next to each other and placed a small one inside one of the two, and mention which week of pregnancy you are at. I thought that was minimalistic and fun, probably very common, but interesting never-the-less. Till someone pointed out; “What if no one gets it? What if it gets trolled, and a matter that holds such sentimental value to you, takes a nightmarish turn?” Good lord! Imagine the anti-climax! I shuddered at the thought.  So brushing aside all negative thoughts, some more procrastinating happened. And when I reached my wit’s end, and something as banal as this was turning as challenging as deciding a name for the baby, that’s’ it I thought. Enough is enough.  I made up my mind. The brother and the sister-in-law were arriving the following week for my baby shower. And I concluded what better way than simply posting the shower pictures and letting the world know! But no touching and holding of the bump while doing a photo session please. Ok probably the husband is allowed, but only when I am ready. No close-ups of the bump, no awkward poses, no creeping out the kindred souls. Just happy, joyous photos of us please, I can handle that.

If you are still curious to know, the brother and his wife did arrive, he did look at me nervously, no hugging, just greeting and saying I look ‘normal’. I pulled out the most pregnant friendly clothes from my closet to keep things normal for him as much as I could. Either sister-in-law went though this with him several times before they flew down, or he did a pretty good job faking it. But he did seem normal; he did not always maintain the 10 feet distance he would famously do. Opening the car doors, and doors in public places were done more promptly, no speeding while driving was followed dutifully, a 'mommy in car' sticker was ordered, based on his own judgement, without any prompting. The shower turned into a lovely sunny event. I was very pleased with the way things turned out. And the week they stayed with us must have been the most cheerful and happy days for me by far in Buffalo.

Leaving you with some photos from the shower. Hope you enjoy going though the pictures :)

[This post was written for the First Moms Club, hence the photos once again]

Eid in Qatar

As the holy month of Ramadan comes to an end, excitement around Eid is palpable in the Qatari air. With Qatar-based newspapers, magazines and the virtual world going abuzz with news, information and useful tidbits on what, how and the where of Eid festivities, it transports me to my first Ramadan and Eid in Qatar. It also reminds me of how I graduated from ‘Ramzaan’ to ‘Ramadan’ in a matter of few days!

Having worked out of an office in the vicinity of Old Delhi where Eid celebrations remain paramount around this time, my expectations knew no bounds from my first Eid as a non-Muslim in an Islamic country. While I had some idea about how normal life takes a complete turn during Ramadan here, I was hardly prepared for what it truly entailed. I remember writing excited mails to friends in my anticipation of markets and public places exploding into glittering lights and colorful stalls during night and the usual hustle bustle during the day. Needless to say, I was spoilt by the atmosphere around Diwali and Holi back home. But Eid in Qatar has many other facets to it and I was in for lot of surprises – more good than bad.

Besides office hours slashing down by two hours with most employees fasting, one cannot eat, drink or smoke in public during Ramadan, keeping with the local custom and tradition. This meant all eating joints in the city remaining closed till sun down. This also meant stocking up the fridge well while shops are still open and not relying on a quick snack from a drive-away like on normal days. But as the blistering sun languidly goes down, making way for the first drop of water and nibble for the believers, the whole town seems to take to the streets to do nothing, but eat!  With the unimaginable number of cars raging on the roads to make to their destinations in no time, this month also sees an alarmingly high number of road mishaps and accidents.

The preparation for the holy month starts a week ahead as grocery shopping turns into a ‘consumer emergency.’ Shoppers queue in lines at supermarkets with loaded carts, and rolls of riyals are exchanged for rolls of grocery receipts. Then malls are decked up with Islamic art, ‘Ramadan Kareem’ and ‘Eid Mubarak’ banners, bright lights and colorful lanterns. Stores display their latest Ramadani fashion trends and hotels promote their special banquets for ‘iftaars’ and ‘suhoors.’ With discounted rates on latest gadgets, household items, food, clothes and what-have-you, one is bound to remain outdoors most part of the evening exploring these offers.

Like other Arab countries, Qataris are also known for their family intimacy. Although traditionally iftaars are had at homes along with friends and relatives, with the boom of consumerism and innumerable food joints attending to the whims and fancies of the consumers, Qataris too have taken to eating out during Ramadan and Eid. These outings go on till the wee hours of night and expatriates like me can make the most of this festive season by exploring the city at night, which one is not likely to do on a normal day.

Newspapers arrive thick and fat with list of discounted rates on goods during this festive season. One is likely to receive a pack of iftaar goodies while waiting at a traffic signal and receiving acts of unexpected generosity from absolute strangers. A friend talked about how he and his friends were offered money for movie tickets when his credit card ditched him, and the lesson learnt on how refusing the money can cause indignity to the offer. All this point towards one thing - the spirit of Ramadan and what it preaches amongst the believers of Islam – patience, tolerance, spirituality and generosity. Keeping with this spirit, this month also sees the highest number of organ donation in this part of the world and an iftaar organized for construction laborers are not rare sights across the city. One can also donate old clothes, food and other useful items at specific points near malls and other important landmarks across the city.

This year Qatar highlights ‘Islamic calligraphy’ as its theme for Ramadan and Eid. Both citizens and residents are encouraged to participate in various events and activities such as – sand painting, dance performances, fashion shows, painting and photography exhibitions. There are a host of sports related activities taking place to boost sports in the region.

Although many Qataris today feel that globalization and consumerism has taken away the simplicity and goodness of Ramadan and Eid, but this transformation is happening worldwide and is inevitable. For instance, not being an expert in detecting the Qibla’s direction by the sun is no longer a problem. Using Qibla apps for your prayers can be an easy one-tap solution. Tablet and smart phone apps can also be used for digital Quran recitation, Islamic e-lessons and alerts for adhaan, iftaar and suhoor. But despite these changes I’m sure that the first sweet taste of dates after hearing the Maghrib adhaan tastes just as good today as it did a century ago.

This post was published in: http://thethumbprintmag.com/content.php?cat=Culture%20and%20Society&content=Eid%20in%20Qatar

Come, get drenched!

Doha does not quite qualify as a fun place. Well, depends on what your idea of 'fun' is, though. I am plainly toying with the very 'popular' notion of fun here. A friend tells me that in 2008 this place was yet to experience the smattering of ‘happening’ things that Doha is slowly opening its doors to today. The transition is slow and easy, like the pace of the city, but, ‘definite’.  So the expat society here, who is a majority of the city’s population, very earnestly takes it upon them to head to anything that comes under the parameters of ‘fun’. Come weekend, and lo and behold! A convoy of land cruisers and land rovers would trail through the sand and dust hoping to experience a little respite from an otherwise work/money-driven life of an expat in Qatar.

On the last day of May, which was yesterday, under the sweltering 45 degrees, Red Apples Events and Media House, who was also behind the Holi ‘Rang Barse!’ event in March, decided to drench and sway the city dwellers with water sprinklers, sprayers and foam tubs as popular DJs like Akbar Sami play away chartbusters till wee hours of the night. They called it, Pani da Rang’, an event heavily inspired by the Songkran festival of Thailand. And as expected, some of us flocked to the Sealine Beach Resorts, the venue of the event, simply to get wet in the middle of the desert, under the blazing sun.

The event which was scheduled to start at 3, eventually started at 6 pm, not very uncommon in this part of the world, and since majority of us were Indians, the brand ambassadors of tardiness, very few of us were seen complaining. The event started with a solo gig by one of the performers and it did very little warming up; with unusual choices for songs, he failed to feel the pulse of the audience and soon enough made way for the next. So the DJ-ing eventually started and we finally found ourselves exchanging some reassuring glances as we moved to the Bollywood chart-boilers. The water sprinklers, planted conveniently to accommodate as many people under and around it, brought in the much awaited chill and thrill along. As the numbers got groovier, the moves got brazen, and the stomping and the dancing left some pools of water and mud in the sand, and I prayed hard against an adventurous bloke turning it into a mud fight or something of the sort. To be honest, I was most suspicious of my very own husband!  Thankfully, things did not get wild and most of us stuck to the water pistols and mugs and other seemingly likely containers to hold water to splash at each other. But from time to time the tempo of the beats would fall and people would invariably be heard discussing how wonderful the Holi event was! For the ones like me, who missed out on that one, had nothing much to complain about. However, in between came a band of boys, with a mouth percussionist as the highlight, but since the sea was close and with temperatures slightly dropping, one hardly had the patience to do anything but keep dancing to keep warm. When it things got rather boring from time to time, we would hog on the kababs, the shwarmas and the fritters that had to be bought from the near-by stalls and drag from  a  sheesha and sip tea to keep the spirits alive.

And after much wait, came DJ Sami. I must have been a part of many of his DJ-ing stints during my college, back in Delhi; he’s known to keep his fans' excitement levels soaring and reaching a crescendo. Here, however, he did not quite take the crowd by storm, but fueled the momentum in a crowd that was losing interest. Refreshed, after the tea and the snack, we joined the crowd one more time and it did not surprise me at all to see how easily we broke into the hook steps from the popular Bollywood numbers. We Indians love our hind cinema, don’t we? In a matter of some time, the songs got catchy and some of the latest numbers added that zing which was till now missing. In between, the adventurous streaked husband, made a few splashes into the sea as well, and I followed suit, complimenting his mad spirit. And by now the crowd had gotten madder and bolder than before. For once, it was reassuring to see that men in all shapes, sizes and of every age groups behaving so well, that too more so in a rain dance. I would have never considered going for a rain party back in India since one can expect anything but well behaving uninebriated men in a party like this. The problem is not alcohol, but the undue liberties men take in their inebriated state and conveniently blame it to the alcohol. Take this same bunch of men and drop them in a party scene in India and we all know how little it would take to turn them into monsters. But since alcohol is not consumed in public places as a rule in the country, (except for a selected places) and the most unthinkable of penalties for harassing a woman, one would think twice since it would take much more than just blaming it to the alcohol. So without having to worry about what we womankind are so given to worrying, we danced away till late in the evening and before the crowd could break and a sea of vehicles jammed the roads, we quietly left the scene and savored the good time we had.

Qatar - an old post rehashed

I came to Qatar for my husband's posting. As  part of my  preparation to move to this part of the world, I chewed and digested the ‘lonely planet’ volume on the gulf countries which made way to my library as a farewell gift from my husband’s colleagues. Naturally my knowledge of the gulf countries was rather bookish and therefore far removed from reality. Also the fact that the volume came out in 2007 and hence we are talking about a lapse of 3 years and had it been any other country it would not have mattered as much as it does in this particular case. Qatar as a country has undergone a mammoth change, least wanting to sound like another write-up on the country’s progress. The common adage is, 'this country has more money than sense', but Qatar in 2011 has moved well ahead of all these stereotypes it got attached to and today it offers much more than just its oil and gas.

In the initial couple of days, what caught my fancy the most was Qatari men and women's attire - men in spotless white thobe and women in long flowing abbayas in black. For an outsider it might not be easy to tell  the difference between a Qatari from an Egyptian, a Libyan from a Saudi man, an Emirati from someone from Oman, based just on their attire. On a more careful observation one would note that a Saudi man would wear a checked head scarf, an Omani would don an embroidered scarf and wrap it around like an Indian 'pagdi' etc. Though it is difficult to imagine that under that austere attire, many Qataris don the finest fabrics or Milan’s most fashionable fittings, it is infact quite common place for the rich Arabs. I read these lines somewhere, and it remained with me: ‘ From the fold in a woman’s ankle, you know her age; from the size of her wrist , her build; from the abeyya in motion, her figure; and from her hands, her complexion. From the eyes, you have everything else.’

Qataris follow the Wahhabi sect of Islam, the religion followed by most of Saudi Arabia. Wahhabism doesn’t see women working in public places as an offence, therefore, a Qatari women driving to work and shopping all by herself are not rare sights. The current king and queen have apparently contributed a great deal to the liberty that the Qataris enjoy today. Though alcohol is forbidden and one would not see a Qatari sitting over a glass of beer in a fancy bar over a weekend, they would not banish you if you do so. The Qataris are known to be rather tolerant towards the expat community which is ever growing in these parts of the world. I was quite surprised to see some white women strolling in bikinis on the beaches that I had visited.

In common with the rest of the gulf countries, Qataris value family intimacy and a visit to relatives is usually planned over the weekends. In many instances, ‘outside’ is the best description of traditional hospitality. While female guests are invited to the house, men are often entertained in tents outside the house, and in the modern housing societies - in the club. This is how I found my answer to the rows of sofa that waited the club, below the gym, besides the pool in the society we live in. This housing society of about 200 flats has twelve Indian families and the rest constitute Phillipinos, Pakistanis, Sri lankans, Bangladeshis, Nepalis and the rest of the Arab countries. These expat societies constitute half of the population of Qatar, adding to its diversity in food, culture, language et al. This is the progressively modern Qatar for you! Signing off till there is more to talk...