Amazing ABBA

Jabiz commented on a previous blog post of mine and stated, “We should do a series of posts about songs and memory. To keep us motivated. One a month….pinky swear? First one due January 31st.”

So here I am, trying to sift through the memories and the music to decide what I’ll write about.

I’ve thought about it, and it’s going to have to be ABBA and in particular, “Super Trouper.”

This takes me back to the early 80s when we lived in the UK and HK. It takes me back to a time when the music my parents listened to was cool. This takes me back to a time when my sisters, parents, and I danced together and sang at the top of our voices as the album played (on our ultra cool hifi turntable). There we were; the five of us, lost in our own worlds, but still together. My sisters and I would still get a little embarrassed when our parents shared a little too much love between them. We giggled when they danced with us. We had the best moves in the room. Yes. We would give Mick Jagger a run for his money!  My sisters and I had a routine for all ABBA songs. We especially loved showing off our dance for “Super Trouper.”  I bet all three of us still remember the moves. I know I do.

This group is etched in my mind. What are the names of the members of the group? I still couldn’t tell you off the top of my head; hence the link above. What I can tell you is their music influenced my childhood. Our New Year’s Eve parties (for a good part of the 80s) always included ABBA and their “Happy New Year” track.

As we counted down, we’d run to change the track and maybe wipe a cloth on the record as the record turned. Excited. The possibilities of the New Year were around us. With tinsel in our hair, with way cool sweaters on, and with a little fruit punch on New Year’s Eve, as ABBA played, my parents, sisters, our parents’ friends and our friends sang in the new year.

ABBA has filled my life with wonderful memories and so I say “Thank you for the Music.”

India’s 63rd Republic Day

It’s India’s 63rd Republic Day on January 26th. Thailand’s first female prime minister, Yingluck Shinawatra, is the chief guest this year.  For the last few years India has invited a dignitary from Asia to serve as chief guest, this is all part of India’s “Look East” philosophy of late.

So India gained independence on 15 August 1947, but celebrated it’s first year of being a  republic on 26th January 1950.

I really like this clip on Indians. I’m not sure I can do the part of “more spice than food” but I do understand that and the rest of the sentiments on this clip.

I’ve been cooking for 41 years

Those are the words my mother had to say about her 40th wedding anniversary. “You know what, Shruti? I’ve been cooking for 41 years.” My dad’s response? “What do you mean, you’ve been cooking for 41 years? You haven’t done it by yourself; I’ve also been cooking for 41 years. We’ve done it together.”

My parents have known each other for 41 years and been married for 40 t0day: January 25th. That’s a really long time to be with someone. I think you grow dependent and add your own special recipes to surviving relationships; to learning different levels of love: from madly in love couples getting to know one another, to parents, to grandparents; through good times and bad; through hospitalization; through deaths and births. You learn more about one another.

From the youthful 22 and 27 my parents are now a lovely 62 and 67. They’ve cooked and fed; they’ve loved and been loved by not only their children but also friends, extended family, and now grandchildren.

I asked my dad today, “So did you buy mum rubies?” He then asks my mum, “Shruti wants to know if you bought me rubies for our anniversary.”   I laugh.  I know he heard me correctly. He comes back online, “No. She didn’t.”

Well it’s all about reciprocity for my parents. Everything is done in partnership : cooking, cleaning, and buying each other rubies.

That said, my mum does have some pretty, pretty diamond jewellery. I guess diamonds aren’t part of the reciprocity!

Madonna Memories

I have ideas for new blog posts, however, I haven’t had the time to compose them. I want to write one on music and the sound track to my life. Here’s a post (written November 22, 2005, when I was living and working in the States) I’m recycling (from a previous blog) on music, memories, and connections:

My older sister was in the States for three weeks on business. She and I got to hang out a few times but her schedule was tight and hectic. She spent her first and last weekend in the country with me.

Since her wedding in 2000 this was the first time we were hanging out by ourselves. It was, in some ways like being children again, but without having to ask the parental unit for permission to do things! It’s really wonderful to have siblings. We reminisced about the way we fought and the things the three of us did as children. We have a shared history; my sisters and I are the only ones that can truly understand our parents and why we turned out the way we did. (I personally think the three of us turned out great, but I guess that doesn’t count.)

You know the word association tests? Well, I think if we had word-memory responses the three of us would come up with similar, if not the same, answers.

So Anvita and I were in the car and she was trying to find a radio station she liked. She stopped on 102.7 because Madonna’s “Borderline” was playing. She increased the volume and we both began shouting out the lyrics in unison. As the song was playing, and we were singing, I had flashbacks to my sisters and me as children.

Anvita, Mitika, and I would get up really early on weekends (only as young children, once we hit our teenage years it was very difficult to wake us up before noon!) as my parents slept in. We’d brush our teeth, creep downstairs, and grab a few lollipops on the way. Once we were downstairs we’d turn on the TV or the radio and jump up and down on the sofas, lollipops in our mouths. We loved Madonna as children (I still do) and we listened to her songs all the time.

Anvita put in the tape (it might have been an LP, I don’t remember clearly). “Borderline” came on and the three of us continued to jump up and down on the sofas hair flying, trying to see who could jump the highest. We sang in unison, laughed when we forgot the lyrics, but still listened for our parents walking down the stairs.

It’s not always easy being a child, and it is most definitely difficult being a daughter and a sister on many occasions. But as “Borderline” played in the car in 2005, and took me back to 1983, something really hit me. It may have been the fact that we’re old now. Adults. Responsible. We are no longer three little people living in a house with two big people. We have our own lives, and Anvita has her own family now…

“Hey, Shruti,” Anvita said mid-thought, “When I hear this song I always think of….”

But we have common memories.

Crisis! Panic! Run!

My title will probably have nothing to do with my blog post. But it was fun to come up with. I lie; it does have something to do with my blog post. Recently I’ve read a few things about the population explosion. We’re now Seven Billion People! Arrrggghh! Crisis! Panic! Run! (See how I did that? You can hold your applause until you finish reading this post. Thank you!)

Jabiz sent me a link to Mark Morford‘s writing. I read the article entitled, Seven Billion Ways to Swallow God. It was a great article. I then compared it to this video made by National Geographic. It just reminded me of Mahatma Gandhi’s statement that the “Earth provides enough to satisfy every man’s need, but not every man’s greed.”

I guess my question is, with Seven Billion people now, someone out there must have a solution. Someone must know how we can achieve the balance. We should now be at the point to listen to each other, right? (You know what? Forget about the applause. *Sigh*)

Burning and Learning

When I first learned to drive, it was on a manual-transmission. As a child, I wasn’t really a risk-taker though. I was always the shy, extra cautious one. My sisters on the other hand, were always rearing to go, go-get-them, risk takers.

With my Sisters

So I remember being in the car, stalling, dad losing his patience, and I gave up. I just walked out of the car. I didn’t want to do it. I wasn’t going to do it. It was easy to give up.

Did I feel bad? Of course I did. Did I want to try. No, I didn’t. Not at that moment and not for a few years. Eventually, I got into a car again. Automatic transmission, this time round. Thank you very much. This I could handle. This I could do. This I liked. It was easy.

Driving

I loved driving- window down, hair blowing, music on full blast, the sense of freedom and control. I like control, just in case you didn’t guess that.

The older I get, though, I’ve found I am more of a risk-taker. Things I was too scared to do when I was younger, I’ve gone out and tried to do them. I jumped off a 21 foot cliff as well. (OK I was wearing a helmet and I had a life jacket on; but I did it!)

Shruti Jumping!

Now I live in Indonesia. I’ve been here for a year and a half. I’ve been trying to learn Indonesian. I’ve got some basics, but I’ve hit a wall of my learning. I need to go out there and speak with people more. I’ve got to feel and smell the burning tyres; I’ve got to prove to myself that I can do this.

It’s like the car all over again. Well, in fact, it is the car all over again. I share a car with a friend; the car is a manual transmission. I tried to get an automatic, but they were just so much more expensive. So Briony has been teaching me, helping me, and encouraging me. I stall, I get a little flustered, I let go of the clutch too soon, I cannot go up a hill…but I am getting there. The hill is really interesting. When I’m out of the car, it’s tiny. It’s not a hill; it’s a little slope. It’s not even a little slope, it’s just a gradation…it’s really nothing. But when I am in the car, it’s a mountain! It’s crazy-huge; it’s a gigantic monster I cannot overcome. (Yes, I’m a little dramatic too.)

The Entrance -"The Hill"!

I’m scared. I’m worried I’ll hurt someone. But I’m not worried about my ego. I’m not worried about trying and failing. It’s not failure that should be viewed as a bad thing. It’s when you keep making the same mistakes and not learning from them, that there is a problem. I will get it. If I only ever do it once, successfully, I will be happy. But I’ve got to keep trying. Practice makes perfect, right?

On this journey of life-long learning, I’m on the “hill.” The handbrake is up… I’ve got the clutch pressed down. I’m in first gear. I’m slowing stepping on the accelerator.  I smell the burning of rubber. I’m slowly releasing the clutch. I’m going to move forward. Maybe I’ll stall.  Maybe I’ll fly and screech like a crazy driver.  I won’t get out of the car and give up this time, though. I’ll gain control. I’ll move forward.

But Where Do You Belong?

“Where are you from?” It is such a banal question. Yet whenever I meet new people I cringe at the inquiry. Where do I come from? Funny answer: my mother. Simple answer: India. But I feel the response is inadequate. It does not define me as I think the answer should. Where someone is from, is supposed to help other people understand a new acquaintance. Trying to find a succinct definition of myself leaves me struggling.

Mitika, Shruti, Anvita

I was born in India, lived there for a few years, lived in England for a few, lived in Hong Kong for several years, moved back to India for a few, lived in the States for a few years, moved back to India for work, and now live in Indonesia. This is the background that defines me and to some extent (minus the US and Indonesia parts, defines my sisters).

The Taj

 

 We have friends all over the world. We have travelled through most of the world too. We’re not afraid to move to another country. We’re able to adapt to different cultures and lifestyles. My sisters, friends, and I fall under a category termed ‘TCK” or Global Nomad.
TCKs/Global Nomads are amalgamations of various cultures. They can speak many languages, (curse in several), understand the customs of people who do not belong to their culture, religion, or race. TCKs have also, generally, tried food from all over the world. TCKs are able to break the boundaries that nation states form.

Hong Kong

 

Why do people fight or go to war? The main reason is fear of the unknown. When people from all over the world live and learn together, understanding is created. So if Indians and Pakistanis, Israelis and Palestinians, Hutus and Tutsis, Catholics and Protestants, North Koreans and South Koreans, White Americans and Black Americans, Spaniards and Basques and so on and so forth around the world, went to school together, the globe would be a better and more peaceful place to live. It is so cliche, hippie, bleeding-heart liberal, and beauty pageant-esqe, but my most fervent desire is for world peace and the end of discrimination.

From all my travels I’ve discovered that although our food, language, music, and religion may be different, we’re all basically the same. (Please, hold back that stunned emotion! I know I have profoundly radical thoughts!) This is why my favorite Shakespearean plays are Othello and The Merchant of Venice. Is our world drastically different from Othello’s or Shylock’s? Sadly, it’s not. Something needs to be done to change the discrimination, hatred, and violence that has occurred around the world since the beginning of time and continues to date.

Help change the world. Travel. Immerse yourself in the culture when you are there. (People are trying to make flying less damaging to the environment. There are ways to off-set your carbon footprint.) Explore the world for yourself. You won’t regret it (even if you do get Delhi Belly). Get off the tourist-beaten path, absorb the culture of the country you’re visiting. If you can afford to, help others experience the privilege. When people from all walks of life can travel all around the world, the global village will no longer be virtual, it will be real.

Garden State Parkway

At my school in NJ someone who had been there for ten or more years is dubbed a ‘lifer’. I can’t even imagine what that is like. I think I will always have this need to travel and discover. My time in every city I’ve been, every country I’ve lived in, is now an indelible part of my life. It is a new ingredient to add to the answer and makes up the recipe for: “Where are you from?”

So where do I belong? Everywhere and nowhere; or anywhere I have friends and family. I cherish the friendships I form and I know I’ll see my friends during their travels or mine.