Lockdown life

Okay, so I have received many many (okay, four) emails from fans of this blog checking on me and questioning the lack of posts. It was high time I got back into it.

On Feb 21, I wrote a post about Covid-19 in Singapore and the naive me was like, "OMG we have 86 cases."

Ha. Who'd have thought I'd be shaking my head at my own naivety a few months later.

Watch this and relate.

It's been about 4 months since then, and as of today, the total number of Covid-19 cases in Singapore is 44,122. Every day, we have a few hundred new cases, which, given Singapore's small size, is not exactly negligible. Things seem to be under control though. There is a steady stream of people (in the hundreds) being discharged daily and we have moved on to 'phase 2' of our lockdown (what we call "circuit breaker"), with schools and some public places opening up. Masks are mandatory, of course, and you can get arrested for not wearing one. Except when you're doing strenuous exercise, of course. So if you forget your mask and you spot an enforcement office, run at top speed. Not away, but towards him/her.

Viv and I have been working from home for months now. I worked from home as a freelancer for years after Xena was born, but this is so different. The good -- no waking up at 5:30 am YAY! The bad -- there is no "end of work day" anymore. Everything has fused into everything else. Xena had school holidays for a month, and as we still don't give her any alone screen time, I took leave to sit down and write a full month's 'what to do you're stuck indoors' plan for her. I incorporated all subjects, reading, art, household chores and even workouts, so that she would have stuff to do during our working hours. I have to say that she took it very well and was very disciplined. Every day, she'd carry out her tasks and check them off. (Maa par gayi hai bilkul.)

So Xena's birthday came and went and my birthday came and went and it looks like Viv's birthday is also gonna come and go like this. I had told him (way before Covid-19 hit us) that I wanted a quiet, private birthday this year. Yeh kuchh zyada hi quiet and private nahin ho gaya? Damn.

I don't really miss the office all that much (except my team; I miss hanging out and joking around with them) but I do miss skating a lot and I do somewhat miss the gym. Luckily, Viv found Hasfit on YouTube, which has been an absolute blessing for both of us. Viv, missing his heavy gym weights, came up with the very creative solution of using Xena as his 20-kg weight for stuff like goblet squats. After not doing much on the workout front for most of April and May, I ordered a pair of dumbbells online, and I have been working out using the Hasfit videos at least 5 times a week. Now that Xena's school has opened, I walk with her to school and the return journey is about 2.5 km. All this is great because then I can have less guilt over all the potato chips I have been downing over Netflix every night. To make matters worse splendid, Ruffles has come up with a jalapeno-flavoured pack of chips! Why, why, why would you do this to me, Ruffles? (Well done, by the way.)

Speaking of Netflix, we have discovered a whole bunch of new stuff to watch. We have finished Fauda (awesome), Pataal Lok (great) and Criminal Justice (quite good). When things get too violent/crime-y, we switch to Brooklyn 99 for a break. Two night ago, we started watching Aarya on someone's recommendation, but I found the writing, screenplay and acting really bad so I couldn't carry on after the first episode. I found a Quora thread on "Best shows to watch during lockdown" and Mirzapur seems to be quite a hot favourite, so we might try that out next. Any other recos?

Viv and Xena have been playing tons of games, including indoor cricket (using a yoga mat as the pitch!) and 'dog and the bone' and what not. I was trying hard to pull Xena away from her 389753208750th reading of the Harry Potter books, but she simply wouldn't yield. So I started reading one of my childhood favourites (Enid Blyton's Five Find-Outers) to her over meals, and now she (and Viv too) loves it! It has now become a family tradition to take turns to read a couple of chapters of this series each day.

One of the amazing things that seems to have happened everywhere is that people have started reconnecting over Zoom. Both Viv and I had our respective 'cousins on Zoom' calls (and I'm still pondering over why his was so civilised and mine was dangal-in-jungle level). My sister who lives in the US has started a weekly call between her kids and Xena, and it's heartwarming to see cousins who have only seen one another thrice, interacting and showing off their artwork and what not.

We also have a Friday call with some of our friends from university, and it's nice to have that to look forward to at the end of the work week. The girls in the group have now decided to dress up a bit for these calls because our nice clothes, jewellery and make-up are rotting away. I haven't put on contact lenses or make-up in months. In fact, on Monday, I had to go submit some documents for a tender. I had no contact with anyone, it was just the tender box and me, and YET, I put on eyeliner. (There was no point in putting on lipstick I felt, because we have all been reduced to masked bandits). I came back and reported my eyeliner badassery to some friends and was showered with their hearty congratulations.

So that is what has been happening here. And how have you been?

Cheers,
Sayesha
PS: Half the year is over, guys. Half the year is over. 

Viral post

So lately, I have gotten myself deep into Punjabi music. How?? Why?? Well, it just happened. When you leave for work at 6:40 am and take a 45-minute bus ride, you zone out in the bus and do not have any energy to change the autoplay music. You just let it do its thing. And once "it" realises you ain't budgin' your ass, it will really do its thing. Once in a while, you jerk awake because you hear a guy singing, "Mainu lehenga le de mehenga ja marjaniya". (Buy me an expensive lehenga??) Or "Sun le hun ek gal sohneya, Singapore le chal sohneya." (Listen to me, my darling; take me to Singapore.)

Ha.

No one, I repeat, no one in their right mind is asking anyone to take them to Singapore at the moment. We used to be the hub of trade and travel; we are now a hub of the Covid-19 virus. I never thought I'd see Singapore so high up in a negative list.

It's been crazy. But we have seen crazy before. I was here when SARS hit in 2003, and I remember the temperature checks before we were allowed into the office, the uncertainty, the panic, the deaths. There was no social media back then, which was probably a blessing. I cannot imagine the kind of forwards that would have circulated.

So yeah, we have 86 cases and things are still kind of uncertain. Anyone with a respiratory symptom is being given a 5-day medical certificate. Anyone who has been to mainland China has to be quarantined. Anyone who has any contact with anyone who has it has to be quarantined. Companies that can afford it are having some or all of their staff work from home.

The fear is palpable. Any cough or sneeze you hear in the bus is enough to cause a mild panic attack, especially if you're not wearing a mask. We are out of masks and sanitiser. The entire island. Totally out. Not a single shop has a single mask. I was ranting about it to a colleague (I take public transport three times a day) and she recommended her 'dealer' to me. A lady in the Admin department is actually her dealer. You need to email the lady that you need a mask and she will literally say, "Meet me at the back door in 5 minutes." where she will discreetly hand you the contraband. It's hilarious.

So I have 4 masks in the office and 4 at home but because that's all I have, I am not using a mask daily like many people I see in the bus. Sometimes I look at the masked folks longingly, and I can sense them giving me a proud "Mere paas ma(sk) hai" look. The class divide between the haves and have-nots is sharp. But I did attempt to hand-stitch my very own washable, eco-friendly masks. I made three pieces, one each for Viv, Xena and me. They are not very successful though, because they don't have the metal strip that keeps the mask tight over the bridge of the nose, and the elastic loops keep slipping off too.

So I am clinging on to the 8 masks I have and like a good law-abiding citizen, following the government's advice on saving the masks for trips to the clinic or hospital, in case we need to. Speaking of government, my Mom told me that our Prime Minister's speech was going viral in her circles. Bloomberg covered it too. Did you see that kickass speech? Clear, calm, decisive. (And yeah, he delivered it in 3 languages. And yeah, he's a coder.) So I feel incredibly proud of him and also incredibly sorry for him for possibly being the first Prime Minister in the world to have to use the words "toilet paper" in a speech addressed to the nation.



Yes, the trigger for his speech was the insane hoarding that happened that week. Supermarkets were wiped clean. People were sweeping all the instant noodles, all the rice, all the toilet paper into their trolleys. Clearly, the sense of panic was its peak. Like a friend said, it felt like we were going to war.

But immediately after this speech, a sense of calm swept the nation. The National Trades Union Congress supermarket even issued a video the next day, showing that they had 9 million packs of toilet paper in their warehouse, in case junta was shitting their pants over the virus. Suddenly, toilet paper and instant noodles and hoarding were the hot topic, sidelining the virus. There were memes and jokes and forwards and we all laughed and moved on.

Speaking of forwards, I received some lovely ones from India, about how homeopathy can cure the disease (scientists and researchers all the world racing to find a vaccine are just doing timepass, no? I sent this right back.) and how drinking ginger (or was it garlic? Whatever.) water can kill the virus and oh, drinking hot water too because "the virus is not heat-resistant and dies at 23-26 degrees" (and our body temperature is...?) Finally, someone sent the one forward that made logical sense.

The 2019-nCoV has mutated to affect the human brain.
Symptoms:
The reported symptoms include immediate alarming drop of IQ to zero, lack of judgment, rush to stock of supplies like toilet paper and instant noodles. (This symptom is the same as rush for Hello Kitty many years ago.)
This symptom may appear immediately. There is no incubation period.
The new 2019-nCoV is spread by WhatsApp, Facebook and Instagram from person to person contacts
There is no known cure. The infected will die from stupidity.

Someone even sent me a forward about a new song called "Humra lehenga mein coronavirus ghusal ba". Bas, yehi sunna baaki reh gaya tha.

Things are a lot better now. There is a WhatsApp service by the government you can subscribe to, which provides daily updates on how many people are diagnosed and discharged each day, and precautions we should be taking. Lately more people are discharged each day than those diagnosed. My heart breaks though for the Bangladeshi construction worker who is in a very critical condition. The whole country is rooting for him though, so let's hope a miracle happens and he recovers. There was even a 6-month-old baby who had been admitted, but now he's home.

Clusters have been identified (including two churches, a health shop, a meeting at the Grand Hyatt and a construction site) and contact tracing has been very efficient so far. But once in a while, isolated cases do surface. Because of the incubation period when there are no symptoms, anyone could have it and be roaming around, spreading it. We could have it. Our friends or colleagues could have it. We are trying to be responsible. Washing our hands 87639846 times a day. Not touching our faces. Not going to crowded places. Avoiding meet-ups. Of course, none of this will guarantee that we won't get it. We just do the best we can.

Posters have been put up in the office reminding people to wash their hands. Bottles of disinfectant have been handed out to each team to disinfect the usual suspects every day — the work area, laptops, phones, etc. All essential work travel has been cancelled. I was supposed to travel to promote a new school book series we are publishing and sure enough, the schools we were supposed to go to plainly refused to meet anyone from Singapore. I heaved a mental sigh of relief because I have no desire at the moment to go through two airports and one aeroplane.

I will just stay put and wait for this thing to blow over. I will trust the system. After all, Pulitzer prize-winning epidemics expert Laurie Garrett said, "If Singapore can’t do it, if Singapore can’t keep it under control, then we’re all screwed, because they’ve got the best system in the world."

And if things still look bleak, I will sit in the bus wearing my inefficient homemade mask, plug in my earphones and listen to "O teri navi saheli de naallo mere sandal sohneya" (My sandals are better than your new girlfriend).

Free space

"Ours is an era of distraction. It's a punishing drumbeat of constant input. It follows us into our homes and into our beds. It seeps into our... into our souls, for want of a better word."

Viv and I have been binge-watching 'Elementary' on Netflix lately, and though initially I found this version of Sherlock quite OTT, almost grating on the nerves, I've come around to not entirely disliking him. And I believe it was this statement of his that caused the switch. He'd finally said something that showed his vulnerable side, something a regular person could instantly relate to.

I often think about this. The constant cacophony of noise, news and distractions in our lives, and our inability to escape them even though a part of us really, really wants to.

And it is for this reason I love the beach next to our place. It's a beach all right, but the part where we adda-maarofy is different. People do not come here to make noise. They come here to sit and watch and listen and contemplate. I've lived near this part of Singapore for nearly 12 years, and even now, I just love, love, love it.

It's amazing that in the busy, crazy, noisy, crowded, unforgiving, relentless, fast-paced, metropolitan city that is Singapore, there exists a space that tells me that my home is but a tiny little island and if I seek it, I can find both joy and serenity in the same place.

Photos taken during a family picnic last evening at the beach

D is for domestic help

So our home renovation plan includes demolishing the 'helper's bathroom' and converting it into a laundry room (our washing machine is currently housed in the yard). The 'helper's room' will retain its current function, as the storeroom Viv's cricket equipment room. Most homes in Singapore are equipped with a room and a bathroom meant for the domestic helper. Getting a live-in domestic helper in Singapore is probably one of the cheapest in the world. For about $600-700 a month, you can get someone to do cooking, cleaning, ironing, laundry, taking care of your kids and pets, washing your car and what not. However, we figured that we're extremely unlikely to get one, so we're better off using that space for something more useful.

A neighbour asked me last week, "How do you manage a job, a TV-free kid, and a household without a domestic helper?" I have also received the same query via email from at least three readers of my blog, so I decided to come clean with it and share how Viv and I manage a helper-less household.

In general, Viv and I agree on the fact that we want to do all Xena-related things ourselves. Of course, her medical issues make this even more critical because the kind of care that she needs (or at least needed in the early years) is something we cannot leave in someone else's hands. Especially the feeding bit, which has been the most frustrating part of our parenting journey so far. Considering how close we come to losing it when she refuses to eat, it would be a miracle if we got a helper who was more patient than us and didn't whack her silly. Of course, CCTV is a common solution in Singapore, but do I really want to be in my office watching live footage of my home every day to see whether or not my helper managed to give my kid a full meal?

A friend once told me, "Getting a good helper is like striking the lottery." I couldn't agree more. I've been horrified at some helpers' behaviour (letting the kid pee on the grass next to the playground, etc.) and I wouldn't even know if I had a not-so-good one. Because I wouldn't be there. And I'd keep wondering. Also, a helper might be able to bathe and clothe and feed the baby, but she might not go the extra mile and play with and talk with and enrich the baby's mind. So DIY it is. In fact, my time with her always takes priority. I don't want to be drowning in housework while my kid is playing by herself, or worse, staring at a screen. The dishes can wait, but my time with her can't. Talking, reading, doing fun activities, singing, dancing, playing, going for a walk, building sand castles at the beach -- these are the moments that matter and will never come back if I'm not there for them now.

Also, Viv and I are both a little Monica about certain things and we're pretty sure we would drive any poor helper nuts. We would stress her out and she would stress us out. As a friend remarked, the keyword in 'helper' is 'help' so if it's not help you're getting, then you're better off without one. at the same time, in spite of our Monica-ness, Viv and I are quite easygoing about other things. We're okay with the house not being vacuumed and mopped every day (I sweep it in the weekdays and he vacuums and mops during the weekend), we're okay with it not sparkling all the time, and most of the time we get away because most of our friends are parents who know how difficult it is to keep a tidy home if you have a kid.

Next, finances. When I got pregnant, I wasn't sure if I'd be one of those women who quit it all for the baby. The first two years, maybe. But I had not really given it much thought. My career was going very well. Of course, with the complications with my pregnancy and Xena's birth and subsequent health issues, it was a no-brainer. I'd have to be home. I needed to be home. And though my plans of going back to work after two years have gone for a toss, I am lucky enough to be in an industry that allows me to work from home.

Even though my freelance writing/editing income is about 20% of what I used to get during my fulltime job as a manager in a prominent publishing company, it's okay. I am happy to work from home, picking the projects I like, and managing my time around Xena's schedule. Besides, we don't have a lavish lifestyle, we don't own a car (one of the biggest expenses in Singapore), and we only splurge on two things which we consider important - Xena's preschool (most preschools in Singapore are crazy expensive) and holidays. So it's been working out well.

Over the years, we have come up with an efficient, organised system that functions like clockwork. We divide our work equally. If I do the general cleaning, cooking, dishes, laundry and ironing, he does the weekend vacuuming, mopping and grocery-shopping. The entire time that he's at work, I'm at work too (half day of freelance work, and half day of cooking/cleaning and Xena-related stuff). The slots before and after our 'work day' are divided exactly equally. He drops her at school and I pick her up. I give her a shower after school, and he gives her a shower after her evening playground time. I put her down for her afternoon nap, and he puts her down for her nightly sleep. I feed her one meal, he feeds her another (The third is done by her teachers at school). I coax her to get through a glass of milk in the afternoon, and he coaxes her through the morning's glass. Even when she was a baby, diaper-changing, bathing and feeding duties were divided as equally as possible. Division of labour is critical. For order, and more importantly, for sanity. (I even get Xena to help out with some chores, but I'll have a whole other post on that some day.) Of course, when he's travelling (that happens 2-3 times a year) or working late, I have to do everything myself and that is not exactly easy. But then he gets home and I toss her at him and go off for a movie or dinner with my friends.

In spite of this perfectly-oiled schedule of getting things done, Viv and I are also particular about taking time to meet people, organise outings and generally have fun. Yes, we have no one to leave her home with, so we watch fewer movies in the theatre than before, but we tell ourselves that most movies are crap anyway, so we just catch the good ones on DVD after Xena sleeps. We also try to make sure that our fitness routines and hobbies are not compromised. He goes for his weekend morning runs, and his weekend cricket, and I go to the gym after they leave for office/school, and attempt to keep blogging when possible, because it's something I enjoy, and something worth taking out time for.

The other thing is that I like to cook and I'm possessive about my kitchen. So there. I said it. A helper would just keep getting in my way. That said, even though I like to cook most meals at home, Viv and I are not fussy about having home-cooked food all the time. If he's working late, or I have a deadline, we simply eat out. Eating out in Singapore is relatively cheap so that's not an issue. (The real issue is MSG and unhealthy fats, hence my insistence on home-cooked meals most of the time.)

Lastly, we need our privacy, and don't want an outsider to live with us all the time. At one point, we got around this by having a part-time cleaner come over once a week, but it was difficult to coordinate timings with her, or stick to the 'minimum 4 hours rule'. Also, I discovered that most such part-time cleaners in Singapore are illegal and this country is the last place where you'd want to take panga with the law.

And that's how we manage things. Now we're kind of set, so it doesn't feel like a lot of work or stress. At the same time, I appreciate the fact that this model will not work for all households. If you have twins or triplets, or both of you have full time jobs that involve travelling, or if one of you can't or simply doesn't want to quit, or you just happen to hate housework, this will not work for you. Some households need external help. Period. It's perfectly okay to get help if you can, especially if doing it all will take a toll on your physical and mental health.

For me, it's a keeda in my head. I take each day as a challenge -- to work and play and perform my duties as well as remember to have fun. I think I actually enjoy it. It gives me some kind of evil pleasure. The planning, organising, executing, the little details, the fun stuff. Making the most of each day.

I tell myself that at the end of the day, I should still be smiling and thinking, 'Now that was a fulfilling day.'

C is for CBSE board exams

Long long time ago, my dad got posted to a very tiny town. I joined Std IX of the only English medium school there. There used to be a big board hung above the door leading to the principal's office. It had the name of the school toppers, one column each for Std VIII, the CBSE 10th board exams (GCE 'O' level equivalent) and the 12th board exams (GCE 'A' level equivalent). It was a very simple school in a very small town, so the board was a very basic one too. Nothing fancy, and the names used to be hand-written by one of the teachers.

But it held great significance for me. It was my dart board. I wanted my name up there in the second column. The CBSE 10th board exams. And I was crazy nerdy to a level that not only did I want to beat all the previous years' scores, I wanted nobody to beat mine. For at least a decade.

So when the board finally did feature my name, I was thrilled to bits. And because it was a really tiny town, 93.6% was a big deal. I was in the papers and on radio as well. (I still remembered the radio guy asking me what was my secret and I told him that I listened to music on my walkman while I studied. I was trying hard not to laugh when he said, "Toh shrotagan, yeh hai Sayesha ka raaz, walkman ke saath padhai.")

So part I of my mission was accomplished and for part II, well that would be a long wait. Anyway, many things happened in the next few years, so I couldn't really keep track of that board. I came to Singapore, my dad got posted elsewhere, and my school friends also got scattered all over the world. There was no link with anyone who knew if the board was still being used, and if my record had been broken.

When I first landed in Singapore, I was suddenly reduced to a nobody. I don't know what the system is now, but back then, they used to give about 50 scholarships a year to Indian students. I was just one of the 50. So everyone was a scholar and everyone had great board exam results, and during ragging our seniors ensured that each of us was made to feel very very small. Equally small. Nobody was special. Least of all me, a girl from a small town in India that no one had even heard of.

And I think that might have made me crave to see that board all over again, as a way to remember my past glories. Years passed, and once in a while I'd remember the board and wonder if they still kept that system of hand-writing the toppers' names in this highly digital world.

A few years ago, I got in touch with an old school friend who lives in the US. I asked him if he could pop by the school during his next India visit and check if the board was still there. He said he would but I never really heard back from him and I felt a little silly bothering him again for it.

I got back in touch with another classmate last year and I asked her the same thing. But nothing came out of that. On some levels, I understood. It's a busy life for everyone. When you visit home, you might not really have the time to go back to your school hunting for a board for a friend. So I gave up my search and tried to put my mind to rest. I told myself that the record was probably smashed to smithereens, and the fact that I couldn't get to it was probably better for me.

Some time ago, I got added to my school friends' WhatsApp group. I got back in touch with many of them. And strangely, one of the guys messaged me saying that he needed to tell me he was now an English teacher. We both laughed heartily at that. You see, back in school he used to hate English and I used to help him with his homework every morning at the bicycle stands before the school assembly. He was an English teacher now! I was so happy for him! We started reminiscing about school days and the board came up in our conversation. I told him of my desire to see if it was still there and if someone had broken my record.

The very next day, I was in for an amazing surprise. He had WhatsApp-ed me a photo of the board! He knew someone whose wife was a teacher in that school, so she took a photo and sent it to her husband who sent it to my friend, who then sent it to me. I was blown away. I thanked him and then I thanked him and then I THANKED him again, and I sent him the folded hands emoticon multiple times. He had no idea what he had done for me.

So yes, the board had been alive and functional all these years! Until 2009, when apparently the GPA system kicked in. And I also discovered that my score had stayed unbeaten for 9 years. In the year 2005, she who shall not be named (but, of course, I immediately issued supari for her) broke my record by 0.6%.

Okay, I tried to blur out the names on iPhoto, but it didn't work well, so I used pic collage and put stickers over the names instead. 

9 years. Ahhhh. Just short of the decade dream. Oh well, what can you do? Besides, the joy of seeing that board after almost two decades, and the fact that my friend had made such an effort for me, surpassed everything else.

If this was a perfect story, my record would have been unbeaten forever. But it's not a perfect story. It's a story about imperfect little things, and imperfect little connections that may take their time, but eventually bring us little joys. Imperfect little joys.

Hǎo jiǔ bú jiàn!

In case the title made you think that Xena somehow overpowered me and assumed full control of my keyboard, let me assure you that it is not so. The title simply means 'Long time no see'. In Chinese. Woohoo! Yes, I'm learning Chinese. Mandarin, to be precise.

A few weeks ago, somehow, the universe conspired to firmly plant me in a Beginners' Mandarin class. Well, this is what happened. My sis-in-law, who is staying with us now, had signed up for the class and then she got a part-time job and the timings clashed and she couldn't defer it and the stars aligned and bam, next thing I know I'm asking her if I can take over.

I must have been out of my mind when I asked her that because my July and August schedules are already jam-packed. I'm doing four projects at once, and one of them has daily deadlines. And Xena has been sick almost the whole of July and has lost another kilo, adding to my stress. So it was not exactly a great idea to completely ignore the existing contents on my plate and pile on one more thing. But somehow, somewhere, a hypothetical, rolled-up Chinese newspaper was thunking my head, reminding me that this was a sign and that I had always intended to take up Mandarin again.

Yes, I said 'again'.

You see, exactly a decade ago, I had enrolled myself in Cambridge Language School for a 10-week Mandarin course. Viv, who just happened to be with me as I was enrolling, suddenly found himself signing up too. I was thrilled. Here was my chance to show him his aukaat - his level. Muahahaha. My mom once told me that she thought I was very intelligent until she met Viv. Sheesh. Great. Thanks, Mom. So here was my chance at a face-off. To show him what stuff this first-bencher nerdy class topper was made of. He rolled up his sleeves too. Next thing we knew, we had become one of those obnoxious couples. You know, the kind that sits together at the first bench in a Beginners' Mandarin class and kicks everyone's ass? Yeah, that one. Needless to say, everyone hated us. Except the teacher, of course, who loved us. And somewhere along the way, in spite of it being a very difficult language to learn, I forgot about competing with Viv, and started truly enjoying the lessons.

Our teacher ("lăoshī") was from China and she spoke in very pure Mandarin. She was also exasperated at how, in her words, "so many Singaporeans kill the beautiful language with their bad pronunciation". So under her influence, here I was, telling my friends that they spoke bad Chinese, while they gave me looks that could only be interpreted as, "Please go back to your country." I know better now. And I can seriously tell you that the most brutal murder of this beautiful language happened at the hands voices of the back-up singers of the song 'Ajooba' from the movie 'Jeans', who sang "Ooowaanee oowaanee!" instead of "Wŏ ài nĭ wŏ ài nĭ" ("I love you, I love you").

Anyway, back to the topic. At the end of the course, I carefully kept my books and notes in my bookshelf. And never saw them again. Sheesh. It was sad because even Viv and I never practised together. So our Mandarin rusted. Into microscopic pieces. Until it was no more. The thing with learning a language is that you need to keep practising. You need to keep talking in that language. In Singapore, I rarely get that chance because everyone speaks English. (In fact, many of my Chinese Singaporean friends tell me they themselves rarely speak in Mandarin, even at home.) And when I did attempt to speak the language, I got laughed at. I blame the damned tones. Ugh, the tones. You see, unlike other languages, Mandarin has this amazing feature. The same syllable can be said in four different tones, and they all mean different things. So you might end up calling your friend's mother a horse because the word for both is the same, but the tones are different ("mā" means "mother", while "mǎ" means "horse"). My teacher told me that "mā-ma mà mǎ" means "mother scolds horse". Try saying that. Trust me, at the end of it you won't know if the mother is scolding the horse or the horse is scolding the mother!

Anyway, so here I was, back in the same boat I'd boarded a decade ago. I'd missed one lesson (the first one that my sis-in-law had attended) so I was a bit nervous when I entered the class. And obviously there was only one question in my mind -- would I be able to... bag a seat at the first bench? Of course, I got one very easily, because the first row is the 'danger zone' and no one wants to sit there and put themselves at grave risk. Especially during role play when the teacher asks the first person on the first bench to start off a conversation in Mandarin. The back benchers have nothing to worry about, because by the time the teacher is done making sense of what the front benchers are saying to one another, and correcting our 2727364638 mistakes, it's time for the lesson to end.

And yet, week after week, I sit there with courage in my heart, struggling with the tones and the grammar, attempting to string together one coherent sentence. Why? Because I love it. It is a very fun and interesting language to learn (well, the spoken form, at least). One of the perks is also that now I know what Xena says when she tells me something she learnt at school. The other day, as I attempted to stuff an apple slice that was approximately 0.0008876 mm thick into her reluctant mouth, she pointed to it and said "píngguŏ!" And I understood. Omg. I mean OMG. I understood what my kid was saying in Mandarin. I can't even begin to describe the thrill I felt. The other day I was at a shoe shop (where else?) and the shop assistant said, "Nĭ yào shénme size?" ("What size do you want?") and I was so thrilled that I forgot to say "sān shí jiǔ" and said the very boring "39" instead.

Learning Mandarin also helps me make much more sense of Singlish, which I'm fluent at, but never really saw the 'behind-the-scenes' of. For example, the simple "What do you want?" in Singlish is "You want what?" which makes so much more sense when you see that it's a word-for-word translation of "Nĭ yào shénme?" (Nĭ being you, yào being want and shénme being what).

I have two more lessons to go. And after that, I'll be on my own again. I don't know how much better I'll do this time. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. For all I know, I'll be signing up for another refresher in a decade's time. But for now, all I know is that I'm really enjoying it. Especially the fact that I don't need to learn it; I want to learn it.

Good night, bewdas!

Wǎn ān!

(Sorry, I don't know how to say "bewdas" in Mandarin. I don't think I want to ask my lăoshī either.)

C is for Changi

Last week, Singapore's Changi airport topped the list of the best airports in the world in the 2014 Skytrax awards. It did so last year too, and this is the fifth time it has been named the best airport in the world. These awards are based on nominations from 12.85 million travellers across 110 nationalities, and includes 410 airports worldwide. Of course, it won't come as a surprise to most people because Changi is truly a phenomenal airport.

I love different things about India and different things about Singapore. And Changi is one of the top things I love about Singapore. The airport literally stands for what the rest of Singapore is.

I have loved Changi since I set foot on it almost 16 years ago. It was my first international flight, and I was coming here from a town so small that I had to take a bus, a train and a flight to land in Calcutta, from where I flew to Singapore. I was 18 and travelling by myself for the first time. I must have been in a state of trance because I felt no fear. But when I stepped out of the plane and into Changi airport, the song 'Yeh kahan aa gaye hum' played in my head. Very loudly. I simply gaped. My first impression of Changi was... "How freakin' clean is this place??"

My relationship with Changi airport grew stronger over the years as I passed through it to travel to about a dozen countries. And yet, every other airport I saw simply paled in comparison.

So here are the top seven reasons why I heart Changi airport.

The efficiency
Changi airport is the only airport I've been to where you can get off the plane and be in a cab ten minutes later. Even though it is one of the busiest airports in the world, catering to millions of passengers a year, the efficiency is amazing. It's crowded, yes, but the crowd moves along fast and in an orderly way. You'd be shocked at how long the taxi queues are, but you'd be even more shocked at how within minutes, a marshall is ushering you to your cab.

The cleanliness
As I said, the first thing that struck me about Changi was how impossibly clean it was. I was even sure that they dunked the free massage chairs in boiling water after every use. No seriously, the squeaky-clean floors shine like mirrors and everything is always bright and clean and shiny. Even the toilets. Even the toilets. When I first saw all this, it was almost blinding, especially to someone like me who had only seen Indian airports. (Though I'm told that some Indian airports are now very cool and clean and swanky, I hadn't seen any back then. Hopefully I'll make that much-desired trip to India soon; just waiting for the green light from Xena's doctors.)

The amenities
Singapore is such a tiny island that I'm always amazed at how much space and amenities Changi has. Other than the usual amenities such as hotels with pools and gyms, there are indoor playgrounds, arcade games, a butterfly garden, an orchid garden, a koi pond, spas, including a fish pedicure spa (yikes, but wow), art installations, a four-storey tall slide, and an aviation gallery.

The free stuff
Who doesn't love free stuff? And Changi sure has plenty of it. Free two-hour city tours for passengers on long transit, free foot massages, free wifi, free phones, and even free movie theatres!

The food
I think there must be at least a hundred dining places (maybe more) in Changi. From local food to international cuisines. From hawker style to fine dining. The free skytrain makes it so easy to travel from terminal to terminal, you can eat any kind of cuisine you crave. In fact, a lot of people go to the airport just to eat.

The hangout place
When I was studying at NTU (it's on the other end of the island from Changi), some of my crazy friends used to take the train all the way to Changi to study for their exams. Seriously. I never tried that though. It was a bit too much for me. I know people who take their kids to Changi and just let them run around and blow off steam. Airplane buffs can watch planes take off and land barely four metres away from the Terminal 1 viewing gallery. I'd have never thought of an airport as a hangout place till I saw Changi.

The welcome
Every time I'm flying back from somewhere, the immigration staff always smile and say, "Welcome home." And somehow, it does feel like home when I touchdown at Changi. It's always sad when a holiday ends, but when it ends through Changi, I feel like some of the pain goes away. Believe me. So all you bewdas who are planning your next holiday, don't think. Just come. And look me up.

Okay, I have finally come to the end of my government-sponsored publicity post. Thank you for reading and wish you a pleasant experience at Changi.

On a serious note, you can tell that I really do love it.

Changa hai Changi. :)

It's a sign

I'm a huge fan of the signs found inside the lifts of big shopping malls. They are always handy when you're rushing to a movie and you enter the mall with no idea whatsoever about where the theatre is. Instead of spending precious seconds/minutes (that are threatening to come between you and the trailers) to find the mall directory, you just rush into the nearest lift and there you have it - the sign that tells you which button to press to go the theatre.

I'm also a huge fan of Singapore's free public library system, and am a regular at the Marine Parade public library. I may not have used it much in my pre-Xena days, but it's such a blessing now. Raising a TV-free and iPad-free child means that you need books - lots and lots of books. Books that you can simply return when you're done, instead of buying and hoarding them. Books that you can simply borrow again if your child suddenly misses them and wants them back (happens a lot more than I'd expected!). I make a visit to the library every fortnight and come back armed with about a dozen books.

The Marine Parade library is a relatively small one, with just one lift catering to the four floors. There's a sign outside the lift telling you which level has which type of books, but it is often blocked by the hordes of people waiting to get into the solitary tiny lift. Since I'm a regular and I only go to the children's section at the moment, I know where my destination is. But I have often noticed that many people rush into the lift without noticing the sign outside, and then looking a bit lost inside as to which button to press. It does not help that one of the buttons, the one between levels 1 and 2, simply says 'M'. (I believe it's some kind of 'Middle floor', constructed later to hold books for young people.)

I wondered how cool it would be if just like the shopping malls, the library lift also had a sign inside. So on a whim, I went to the main library's website and wrote in my tiny suggestion to install a sign inside the lift as well. I wrote to the very generic email address they have under 'Contact us', not really expecting anything. Instantly, I received an automated email to tell me that they would respond to me within three working days.

I'd sent my email on 15th January at 9:16 am and on the same day at 10:24 am, I received a reply... from a person! Wow. Of course, he only told me that they would share my feedback with the library manager. So that was that. Honestly, I didn't have any other expectations. I was just thrilled that there was a human being behind the generic email address! I didn't have any high hopes of my tiny piece of feedback making it anywhere. The library surely had more important matters to discuss in its meetings, such as 'Oh no! This generation does not read!', or 'We started lending DVDs to make more people come to the library and be exposed to books, and now they're only borrowing the DVDs!', or 'Should we tear the library down and build yet another shopping mall?' Even if my input made its way into the AOB section of their meetings under 'Extremely trivial matters', they would probably have to consult the other 25 branches to see if they all agreed. What if some of the libraries didn't have the space in their lifts for the sign because of all the posters? Would they dare to be inconsistent?

Clearly, I was thinking too much. So I stopped thinking.

And that's when they bowled me over.

On 16th January, at 10:18 am (just over 24 hours of receiving my feedback), they wrote to me, "We are pleased to inform you that the Library Manager at the Marine Parade Public Library has taken on board your suggestion and will be installing the signage on the inside of the lift. Thank you very much for your good idea."

Wow. Gotta love Singapore. :)

Sing-ing praises

This is a week of milestones.

Today marks my 15th year in Singapore. On this very day, a clueless 18-year-old me (okay fine, you know my age now, hmmmph!) landed on the shores at the airport of Singapore, not knowing what life had in store for her. And now, I have lived here 15 years. That is more than twice as long as any city in India I've lived in. My dad's an ex-banker so we moved around a lot and I kind of grew up all over the place. And that is why I don't really identify any Indian city as my 'hometown'. Of course, I have a huge soft corner for Jharkhand where I spent most of my teens (if you want to know more about my hilarious Jharkhand days, you have to read my Jai Jharkhand series), but I still can't call it my hometown. If there's a city that seems effortlessly 'homely' now, it is Singapore. You know how we all crib about India but if any outsider does it, we jump to defend it? I feel like that very very strongly about Singapore too, and I think that's the greatest sign of me being a Singaporean. Sure, it has its issues, but then which country doesn't?

It was not an easy decision taking up Singapore citizenship. We were emotional about giving up Indian citizenship, and it took many many years before we realised that if we're going to be here for good, it just makes sense to exchange our dark blue passports for red ones. A passport is just a piece of paper that enables international travel; it does not make us any more Indian or Singaporean than we ourselves feel from within. It took a while for this thought to sink in, but eventually it did and I'm glad. Because I love Singapore and I'm proud to call it home. Of course I miss India and my family (and roadside pani puris... and winter!), but I also miss Singapore a lot when I am elsewhere. I can't choose one and I don't want to choose one. So until India starts handing out dual citizenship, I shall be a Singaporean with an OCI card.

So here, in no particular order, are five things I love about Singapore:

Food - We say that eating, shopping and complaining form the national pastime here. I don't do a lot of the second and the third, but I sure do a lot of the first. Though virtually every cuisine you can think of is available here, that's not the cool part. The cool part is the local food. The wonderful, delicious, amazing local food. Think chilli crab, chicken rice, rendang chicken, laksa, ayam penyet, yum, yum and more yum!

The little red dot - It is amazing what the country has done in less than 50 years. It is a tiny dot, measuring 49 km from east to west and 25 km from north to south. And yet, it is highly urbanised without compromising on greenery. Things are hair-raisingly efficient. Stuff actually works. The public transport is great. (I mean buses and trains. Not cabs. Definitely not cabs. I don't believe they really exist. Cabs are just an urban myth.) It is really clean, yes, even public toilets. And yes, while the rest of the world laughs at our chewing gum ban, when I compare the streets of London and Singapore, I prefer the ban. If you love travel, it's a nice central hub to explore the region from. Another nice thing is that people from all kinds of cultures and races live in harmony. They may not fully understand one another's cultures, but the basic respect is there.

Distance to India - You can skype, call, sms, or email, but whatever said and done, physical distance matters. My parents, in-laws and other family are in India, but because Singapore is just four hours away by flight, sometimes I don't feel like I live in a different country. For all I know, if I were in India in a different city from them, it would take me longer to reach them than it would now. This is also one of the big reasons why we chose to settle here rather than the US.

Safety - I know I should not take safety for granted anywhere in the world, but Singapore's safety levels amazed me from day 1. During my university days, I'd go jogging on the roads at 1 am. After orientation (that's just a fancy term for ragging), I'd walk back to my hostel by myself at 3 am. And it was fine. I never felt scared. That is something I, coming from India, appreciate very very much.

Viv - "Huh?? Viv??" You ask. Well, Viv and I came to Singapore from very different parts of India on the same scholarship. If either (or even both) of us had turned it down, we'd have never met. And though my life in that parallel universe might not be too bad, I just can't imagine this one without him and Xena. So yes, it was Singapore that brought us together, and I'm grateful and thankful.

So there, that's my list. Of course, there are things about Singapore that annoy me, and some day if I'm in a ranting kind of mood, I might list those. But today, I am celebrating my 15 years here, and reminding myself of all the good stuff.

But... there is a hidden agenda too. Through this post, I am also attempting to yank back old friends I miss who have moved to Dubai, New York and India. You know who you are.

Move back pronto.