Paris

Few other places in the world are visited with such great expectations. Literature, cinema and popular imagination have built Paris up as a city out of this world - the spatial equivalent of art and refinement. Did it live up to our expectations? Lets say, we went with our eyes open, with minimum baggage of expectations, and quite liked what we saw.


A and I had a restful week in Paris. We decided to be non-touristy tourists. We didn't go mad trying to cross sites off our list of things to see, and enjoyed each day as it came, selecting what we wanted to do based on what we felt like doing. And we enjoyed ourselves to bits.

Outside and inside

Outside

Inside

A day of surprises!

The shrill sound of the phone. Darkness. Warm, soft quilt. That phone again. As A jumped up to grab the receiver, (we are always nervous about early morning calls, as I am sure everyone else is) mother dear blurted out a whole list of questions and instructions on the other end. Nothing surprising there. Oh sod it, I went back to sleep without even bothering to ask what the fuss was about.

Thirty minutes later, (or was it over two hours?) my mobile rang. Private number calling. I toyed with the idea of cutting the sound and resuming the sleep. Something made me answer it. And I am so glad I did. That call brought the wonderful news of my friend's wedding. Perfect beginning to a long-awaited day. The most delightful surprise I could have expected on the phone I'd say!

A said that 31st October 2008 has come by pretty quickly. I disagree. I have waited for this day every single minute of the last two months. To see the baby again. I have imagined this day and pictured it several times in all kinds of different ways. I am prepared for everything that I see on the screen.

Am I? Was I? Were we prepared for what we saw? The baby is well, kicking about and playing. We were the shocked parents-to-be. This thing is for real. For REAL. This baby is coming sometime soon to live with us, mould us, challenge us and get moulded in return. Nothing of the kind that happens in movies happened with us. We neither held hands not looked lovingly at each other. We left the hospital in silence and headed straight to the coffee shop. There we sat, very excited, very nervous, very very surprised. And very very happy. And by the time the coffee disappeared, we were smiling uncontrollably!

There is something about weddings and births that touches something inside of you. I think it is the fact that they are both, in their own ways, affirmations of life, and of love. 31st October 2008 will always then be the most surprising day, lovingly experienced.

soft creativity from last weekend

I have finally got down to putting this up here only now. Being technologically unsavvy is such a mighty handicap. I am learning, but the pace, unfortunately, is tediously slow.
These granny squares were super simple to crochet and I made this tiny baby scarf in one day. Considering that this is my first crochet project, I am extremely thrilled. The next mission is to figure out pattern 8 'soft waves' from Jan Eaton's 200 Ripple Stitch Patterns. Everyone seems to be making it in all kinds of wonderful colours - why am I still not being able to figure out dc2tog? :-(

Fear not, I shall work it out, even if I have to sacrifice an entire weekend towards the acquisition of this critical knowledge. Only problem is, A is already sulking.

Exploring, but only just

How socially mobile are immigrants? What is the 'immigrant's penalty'? How long does it take for an immigrant to become the social and economic equal of a native? What is education's role in promoting equality? Some very interesting questions of this kind were raised and discussed during a recent seminar. While no happy answers were available for the 1st generation of immigrants (it takes them about 20-25 years or a full generation to become the 'equals' of natives), the news was much more positive for the 2nd generation. Although it could be said that the research findings are in line with common sense, I think it is about time that issues of social justice with reference to the rights of immigrants are debated more openly and without the ever present sense of 'controversy'. Clearly, if there is an 'immigrant's penalty', there needs to be a debate as to what constitutes it in the British society. Is it a matter of cultural differences or is it discrimination disguised as market selection? More importantly, why on earth are we not talking about these issues?

To highlight the dismal situation of this end of the human rights debate in the British context, the organisation that presented its research findings was a US-based migration think tank. There is no such similar organisation in the UK. Over a more general discussion about community cohesion in Britain, some of my friends strongly believed that racism does not exist in the UK and that it is a more American phenomenon to talk of social integration. How can we say, when we haven't even made the effort to find out? Research may validate your hypothesis or throw up surprising results, but is it not important to explore?

Dilli ki sardi

Talking about winter, we have had the most lovely sunshine lately. Reminds me of the hazy, lazy winter afternoons in Delhi in a friend's backyard on a charpai, knitting, chatting, discussing political theory and consuming mind-boggling quantities of oranges. I do believe those are some of the most beautiful memories in my mind's warehouse.

Too many times now I have exclaimed to those around how familiar this weather is to Dilli ki sardi. It is obvious that I miss Delhi, but I am unsure exactly what it is that I miss - the people, the friends, the family, the familiar air, the ability to merge in the crowd unnoticed, or just the fact that it is home.

Walking with shadows

Baby J, At and I have fallen into a bit of a habit. Every Thursday, we go walking in the garden by the river behind our apartment complex. There is something lovely about this bit of the riverside - it is frequented by small children followed by their ever-excited dogs, enthusiastic babies who want to experiment with slides in the most innovative ways, and young people enjoying a pint and a half by the quiet river. This particular evening was made a shade more beautiful by the haunting shadows. Change is visible everywhere, the trees are changing colours, children heading back home from the play area by five in the evening, and the grass is covered by reddish-brown leaves that go 'crunch' under your shoes. Yet there is a positive warmth to the setting sun, the promise of a hot cup of tea and a welcoming, cosy bed. There is the promise of warmth in the severity of the cold winter.