Technically, it is possible to survive on 30 dirhams for a whole week. That is if you are willing to live off chai, eggs, rice, bread, a whole rotisserie chicken and canned beans. The one thing I have become a pro at since moving to Dubai is surviving without food and money by the end of the month. I am always getting lectured by friends and family that I should not starve myself however they make no sense. In theory, I don’t starve. I’m like a hamster who eats up before going into hibernation mode. When I know I’m close to running out on cash I binge eat till I am beyond stuffed. Then obviously “kokki” hits me and that keeps me sleeping for a long, long time. Weird? I think not.
Time to drift from the subject onto something on a totally different tangent. Maths terms. Hm. I like maths. Yes, this is REALLY how my brain works.
Families are such complex huddles of people who are genetically and physically alike but intellectually worlds apart. I’m like the black sheep of my clan. Not that I feel left out but I’ve known for a very long time that I am that one odd apple that fell off the tree and landed very…..very far away. See, if you come from a “Memon” family you’d sort of understand already. The women are married off early and most of the time choose themselves not to pursue further education or a career. When the sad consequences of these choices hit them, they spend the rest of their lives ranting and complaining about how they wish they would have done something during their jawaani years yet they always end up repeating the same bloody cycle for their daughters. I mean are you shitting me? Things have to change… This unnecessary suppression and lack of encouragement is what leads or woman to believing that they do not belong where the men do and that is absolute bollocks in my opinion. For example, my grandmother single handedly ran her father’s bakery after his death and yet she believes she can not do something like that now that she is married and has a family. Why not do both? As an individual I strongly believe that be it man or woman, they have an equal right to careers and doing what they want with their lives. Further, they should both be encouraged equally regardless what they decide to pursue. I for one cannot imagine myself in the kitchen making “dhokdas” and “khaosueys” but instead building up my career.
Chai. It is the basic means of my survival. And americanos. Also, cheese croissants. I am bored to the point where all I am thinking about is food and wondering whats going on with everyones lived because no one seems to want to have a conversation right now. I have whatsapped people, called several too but everyones just busy….while I am here dying of excessive boredom. Sed lyf.
I mean not that I don’t have friends who would love to meet up right this very second. Socialising is what my friends do best but on the other hand I can’t be asked to get out my jammies and into normal clothes. Then, struggle to get my face to look normal with some makeup, fix my hair and find some shoes. It’s too much effort.
Pizza for dinner yey. Me alone at home 2Xyey! Home alone days are fun but having one of the girls over would have been more entertaining. Maybe it’s a sign to get off my fat behind and start reading the material for my social media class.
No but wait. Now it has hit me that my life in Dubai is so different from my life here. In Pakistan, I am a lazy food-aholic who just sleeps all day. The most productive thing I do is read books, blog and chill out with my fambam and friends. On the other hand, in Dubai i’m doing something or the other except for blogging and reading books. I go out more, actually also bother to study more and get dressed rather than slobbing my life away in last nights pjs. Pjs and food are always a good idea though. That and tights with baggy tshirts. Screw it, I shall be a bhangi for life. Not like i’m some celebrity whose only goal in life is to impress, right? 😏
My boredom has resolved into an observation period. I have spent the last hour nibbling on my favorite Xander’s pizza and admiring my dada dadi’s house. The living room sets off a very vintage vibe with wood panelled walls that smell of whisky and cigarettes. A crystal chandelier hangs low but perfectly placed in the centre of the room, illuminating the dull, olive green carpeting. As you step outside you are surprised by a fuchsia pink wall decorated with a showcase filled with crystal vases and ornaments. It is the perfect combination of old, new and pink.