My daily dose of encouragement, sponsored by St. Joseph's Church in Juhu

Ch-ch-changes

Although in my twenty six years I have never admitted it, a new image has become increasingly prevalent in my head. Call it my biological clock, call it whatever you like; it feels natural enough to be such a thing. Up until very recently, the idea of becoming a mother was something I had always dreaded. Not because of the actual act of giving birth, but rather the mere fact that I would be responsible for a human being. I would have never thought of myself as capable of such a thing. I guess that is where living in India is truly leaving its mark on me. I’ve never in my wildest dreams ever felt as fiercely protective over another human being; the awareness of that feeling (if/when it happens) really does shock you.

I was about to steal a child. Well, whilst that would obviously never be my intention, I guess there is no other way to describe it. He must have been no older than a month old, but it was hard to tell in the darkness and the smog. He was bent, half crooked, in the arms of a child, barely old enough to walk herself. The car had stopped at a crossroads not far from Mumbai airport. It was a common spot for beggars. Don’t get me wrong, during my first few months living in Mumbai, I figured I must have seen it all; from the Hijras to street children; to those with amputated limbs and much, much worse. I know now that I was wrong to assume anything.

You see, nothing is constant. The fragile beauty of living somewhere like Mumbai is that it can, and will, tumble now and then. Like a pyramid of cards the magic is over in the blink of an eye, exposing a raw, angry core. That night, I had to be stopped from leaving the car. I had to be pulled back, as I watched the crying babe in arms being poked and hit at by someone who should have been too young to know such violence. I had to try in vain to hold back the sobs as we left the junction. I had to try and sleep that night. I couldn’t.
Neither could you.

Working 9 (half 8) to 5

Interesting(ish) work facts thus far....


1. Stationary is sacred and kept under lock and key
2. Burping out loud is totally normal
3. People hang up when they hear my voice on the other end of the phone an average 10-15 times an hour
4. Baking/bringing your own cake in for no reason other than you want to eat cake is seen as odd
5. I must not wear racerbacks (apparently, even with a cardigan) due to male colleagues' x-ray vision
6. The roof is the place to hang out at lunch
7. The coffee machine is turned off from 11-2 (?!)




The Desk Of Doom



Moving Country by Numbers

As Elvis would say; I'm all shook up.



1 girl, 1 new, exciting country, 1 new (beautiful) flat, 1 new job role (complete with desk), 1 new (female) boss to impress. 1 Mosquito bite (as known).



Rewind 15 days



The crackling sound of Radio 4. 1 girl, waking up at 11am. -1 degree temperature outside. 1 half asleep human being fumbling with curtains, opening to reveal the following:

1 itinerary planned, 1 tearful goodbye. 1 mindless duty free purchase. 2 plane rides, 1 half-eaten onboard meal, 4 partially watched average movies.

1 panic attack as luggage carousel whirrs around with no sign of own belongings. 1 sigh of relief. 1 intimidating look from immigration employee. 1 visa stamp in passport. 

1 flower garland placed around neck. 1 public display of affection. 1 tut overheard in the distance. 1 (air conditioned) car ride to flat. Multiple oohs and aahs heard from balcony. 1 last burst of energy.

1 large yawn. 2 eyelids close.