Dreams ...realized. Now what?

For years I had saved up my cash, bonus money, well any money in general and then spent it on things which I "ought to" spend it on. I had registered for courses which I didn't want to do, but thought I ought to do with very little persuasion to finish them. 

The thing about being in your thirties is this, you need to get off your bum, and do the things you spoke of, otherwise you are going to have a real monkey on your bag, growing and aptly whispering in your ear, " regret...regret...regret". 

This is by no means a philosophical piece or opinion one. But while buying the thing I really wanted, I felt something gnaw at me, and not a sexy nibble but more a feeling of discomfort. 

It made me think, of how often, we are not kind to ourselves. We are taught to be kind to everyone else, but to ourselves, we should hide, shy away...Ware afraid to say something nice of ourselves to others because what if others think we think highly of ourselves? It's a female thing and before this turns into a feminist piece, I say, buy things that make you happy. It's your hard earned money so stop feeling you need to validate your purchases. 

Mine was a Iced Rasberry Kitchen Aid (KA)  which is modeling with My Gingerbread Man. Also, is a pic of the cookbook,  of the fabulous deli in Woodstock, the Kitchen. I tested my KA, by making a Ginger and Yoghurt  Loaf, which turned out deliciously. 

I had lamented and fought furiously with myself convincing me that a cheaper and equally good mixer would do the same job. But it's not about just getting the job done, it's the romance,  it's the feeling of awesomeness when I glimpse at my deep metallic pink machine sparking in the distance, whispering, "Turn me on and together we can bake amazing things". She has not disappointed to date:)

The Pink Mermaid

Ajooba

As a child, Sunday mornings were occupied by three kids earnestly watching an outdated Bollywood movie with the utmost concentration and diligence.

A movie that was recorded on a VHS tape, but was watched repeatedly enough to damage the quality so that intermittently it was covered with lines, scratches and snowy effects. The irony was, that none of these kids could even understand Hindi and relied heavily on the inaccurate and poorly translated subtitles.

I won't even bother elaborating on the storyline. It includes an evil advisor who coincidently happens to be a satanist. There is a dapper prince who must save the day, a princess needing saving, and of course flying carpets and lots and lots of songs replacing any potential love scenes.

My 4 year old brother pretended to be Ajooba, a cheap Zoro type masked hero who had the dance moves of Justin Bieber.

My sister chose the fair, straight haired delicate princess.

I chose Rukshana, the unruly haired fiery puppeteer, from the city of Hind, in search of her father who was a magician and falsely accused of murdering the royal family.

We watched the movie till it was so damaged that it eventually went into the pile of VHS tapes, that were half recorded with episodes of Pound Puppies and Mrs Pepperpot, all now obsolete.

Over the weekend, my brother on route to get a chicken tikka at the local Pakistaani chicken stand, sees Ajooba's masked face peek behind the latest Bollywood hits. He had to get a copy.

He had passed it onto me after he had watched it. I had to watch it in batches over the space of three evenings.

It's five hours long, but the memory of Ajooba will linger in my mind, forever.

Ajooba Zindabaad*!

* long live Ajooba