dedicated to diva undecided.

The day I met you, I thought, "God, she's so cool."

And you are. You are hands down the sweetest, coolest girl I've met in Kuwait.

We've been friends a few months at best, but after spending time with you, whether panting by your side during the Friday morning runs, or conversing while we stuff our faces with delicacies in a restaurant or samosas and chai in Souk Safat, I've gotten to know you a lot better and now look up to you like you're my older sister (stop taking this in the wrong spirit; it's not like I said you're a wise old aunt!).

It was with you and only because of you that I made my greatest and most cherished achievement so far in 2013: completing a 5k run. A memory that always reverberates in my head when I'm running and feel like I can't go on is this: you once asked me how I was doing during a run and I said, in between my gasps for air, that I'm good. And you said, 'you're not good, you're excellent.' This pretty much sums up the positivity that you exude that is such an inspiration to me. It keeps me going and reaffirms my faith in myself.

One thing I admire about you is that you prioritize and manage your time like a boss! You're committed to so many different things yet manage to keep everyone involved happy. And no matter how long your day has been or how little sleep you've had, you're always ready with your infectious smile, and it never fails to lighten my mood.

You're one of the few people I know that is so in touch with their humanity. I have never met any girl as empathetic as you in Kuwait. Each of the Q8FS inspires me in different ways—you inspire me to do good and be good, and I love you for it.

Happy Birthday chameli. Here's to tons more conversations, runs, and disastrous musicals. 

(for Diva Undecided)

dedicated to the favourite blogger

For the writer, the runner, the feedback giver, the editor, and the friend—Lord Aymz.

You've done and achieved so much just during the two years I've known you: launched MyBloogle and the Q8 Foot Soldiers, had several articles published, were interviewed by a newspaper and a magazine, ran a freaking 42K in record time! I've met more than a dozen equally amazing people through you, half of whom I'm glad to call my friends.

I admire your commitment to betterment in all that you delve into, and especially admire your fearlessness in expressing your beliefs and your refusal to sit back and accept injustice. 

You inspire me to be a confident and consistent blogger, a determined runner, and a better Muslim. I can honestly say that my life in Kuwait has been enriched since I recognized your email that day at Better Books—so thankful I did!

Happy Birthday A! I wish you every happiness today, and plenty more in the years to come. May you achieve all that you strive for, inshallah. 

my birthday gift to me.

Sixteen years ago, when we shifted into a new apartment, I got a spanking new study table for the room I was to share with the sister. It comprised of a desk, a shelf and a small cupboard. I lovingly arranged my Enid Blyton's and Roald Dahl's on the shelf and thrust some encyclopedias into the cupboard. When I had to 'study', I'd place one of Blyton's many adventure books into the pages of my text book, leaving the cupboard door ajar while reading, so as to conceal my transgression from my parents if they happened to pop in to enquire of my progress.

The study table underwent a startling makeover as it bore the brunt of our transitions, from childhood all through the teenage years. For one, half the Blytons, were replaced with the Harry Potter series. The smooth pine colour was scrawled upon with names of all the awesome men I or my sister crushed on over the years-the Backstreet boys, John Stamos (Full House), Gareth Jones (How 2), Tulio and Miguel (The Road to El Dorado - No. 1 on my list of all-time favourite animated movies), Aragorn and Legolas (The Lord of the Rings), even a couple of Bollywood actors at one point-in blue permanent marker. One entire side of the cupboard was covered in names of all our favourite witches and wizards from Harry Potter in whitener. Later, half the names were shrouded with a poster of The Emperor's New Groove (that'll be No. 2) from a teen magazine called Young Times. We were young; we were fickle.

After school, we moved to Pune and I shipped all the Blytons, Dahls, Potters, classics, novels there-I don't EVER let go of my books. I designed a study table cum bookcase for our room there, the mother got it made, but the sister hijacked it. When we moved back to Kuwait after MBA, I decided the table here had to go. I was a mature twenty-three year old and this embarrassment in no way validated that. I needed a new bookcase to house the books I'd bought in India (you may think I'm crazy carrying books back and forth across the Arabian Sea, but do you know how hard it is to find decent books in this country??).

I also wanted a writing desk. I actually really wanted my paternal grandfather's which was in Hyderabad. Ever since I learnt of its existence, I demanded to have it sent to me. I've been told it's a huge, beautiful, classic piece of teak furniture. I've never seen it but I'd like to own a tangible piece of family history, especially one that's akin to writing. I was also told it was just not practical. So I conceded to buy one.

Two years went by; my inertia coupled with my dislike of every piece I saw in Ikea inadvertently put off the purchase. The books however, kept coming in, mostly from clearance sales at bookstores closing shop, and would end up stashed under the bed and in every corner of my room because there wasn't an inch of space on or in the superannuated study table. But then, a couple of weeks before my birthday last Monday, I finally set eyes on this secretary desk in a furniture shop in Farwaniya:

and was enamoured with its antique appearance. I bought it instantly.

Kuzco took the words right out of my mouth.

I also found a bookcase to go with it. The two pieces were delivered to me after a week, during which I finally tossed out the aging study table, after painting over the names of my old flames and erasing all traces of my teen years.

I kept my tattered poster though.

I spent a happy weekend organizing my books and other bits and bobs that I've held on to, into the shelves.

Twain, Tolkien, Wodehouse...no
longer refugees looking for a home.

The postcard is a print of Caspar David
Friedrich's La Tonnelle. Google it, it's gorgeous.

My first thought when I bought the desk (besides that it was soo bee-yootiful) was that every night, I would spend an hour or two writing narratives and articles that had Pulitzer Prize-winning potential (just potential - eligibility to the relevant category is limited to American citizens) but the universe has been conspiring against me, I barely get to rest my elbows on it for an hour the entire week.

I may not have a lot of time to use my desk at the end of each day and there may not be any masterpieces drafted upon it smooth surface, nevertheless, just seeing it first thing in the morning makes me, as Kuzco puts it...sooo happy.

dedicated to the twa

HAPPY BIRTHDAY B^2!!

For the friend, the awesome ever-encouraging friend, current twin, sole companion throughout the 4th sem,  proof reader, critic, faithful follower - being the one person in the world (as far as I know) who has read my blog completely and gives me feedback after thoroughly enjoying each post (=P), self-proclaimed maverick..

Here's to the discovering, exploring, bargaining with nariyal pani walas and every other wala, intense book analyzing, movie criticizing, vocab enhancing, mouth watering discussions of chicken and crab and the everlasting yearning for the same, testing the elasticity of our imagination, trudging through the city streets, exaggerations, heated ego disputes, excursions over the hills breathing in fresh air gazing at the view in awe, side splitting conversations whiling away Vodafone minutes..

Here's to a lot lot more of that.

And of course a heartfelt wish for you to inevitably succumb to the shackles of matrimony, hopefully by year end =D

Hope the new year brings in everything you want, deserve and more.

Cheers mate!

dedicated to the soon to be 24 year old half Iranian.

Memories flash. Not necessarily in order.

The relief and joy of meeting someone who speaks my language.

That day we watched three heavy films back to back during the PIFF including that weird Finnish(was it?) one we couldn't understand the point of.

Sitting in your society garden or that day in Jogger's Park, gossiping about the debauchery of people I have never met or even knew existed before you mentioned them. So much fun xD

The numerous offerings of Fa deos I got to sample coz of you :P

The ease of correspondence when I was in q8 through a blessed medium by name of Facebook. Logging in and always expecting my inbox to be one msg fuller when I was there and never getting disappointed.

Popping by E-square after Dhruv to catch Cafe Settareh(I think?) and walking into that damn weird everlastingly long movie where that guy/girl kisses that dead guy/chick and he/she comes to life??

That iftaari where we got complimentary fruits! Yea yea sooo sweet of them.

Admonishing you for always answering with a lifeless 'Hello?' giving the impression that you're too shortsighted to see the caller id.

Our fabulous business plan that gonna set the world on faiyaaa!! ;)

Having Iranian roots in common :)

Always, always being able to rely on your wallet to get me out of a financial crunch.

Shopping excursions on MG Road. Funny, I can't recall ever buying anything.. except that piece of cotton for a kurta which turned out to be a complete disaster.

Cultivating and embellishing our conversations with newly learnt business jargon ;)

Struggling to drape that miserable sari and surrendering myself to you and your mom with usually just ten minutes to spare to wherever needs to be going to.

Turning to you whenever I needed help editing something, knowing your touches and

suggestions would render it fabulous.

Whispering conspicuously about Iranian guys when Iranian guys would happen to pass by ;)

Indulging at your favourite restaurant in East Street.. just twice! Financial and taste constraints making it difficult to visit more often.

ALWAYS exasperatedly having to hear your cribbing about walking up to the library even if we're on the same floor.

Automatically coming to the inevitable conclusion whenever we spotted a strange species of Man. 'He's Iranian!'

Studying/discussing/complaining about accounts, sqm, mis and of course transfer pricing that had us so agitated and all for no reason.

Acing French, knowing every damn thing in that text and brandishing it in class excitedly :D

Spending the first year sullenly accusing you of spending your weekends only with your other friends and the second year smug and triumphant coz I had replaced them. (If your friends are reading this, hard luck suckers!)

That amazing, hilarious, victorious expression you threw me during the mom exam when you got the paper, assuring me that we didn't study that whopping big answer in vain.

Being there for each other for the grueling mcs lectures.

Your word being the final word on every single restaurant in the city.. except Hard Rock. That's my zone :P

I may have been (alright I was) a lil weird at times and I'm sorry about that.

Truth is life got a little better after we became such firm friends.

And you've taught me a couple of things for which I'm grateful.

That it's ok to forgive.

If you take something up, put your heart (and sometimes your soul) into it.

That it's not beneath a person to be nice to people just for the heck of it.

And that being too nice can make one wonder which planet has this woman come from coz it sure as hell can't be earth.

and yes you're a superstar.

:* (right cheek)

:* (now left)

:* (right again)

and we're done.

Happy Birthday babydoll. May you be blessed with every happiness. I. A. SA. :)

of birthdays and broken glasses

Revelation for the day?

Before smashing cake on someone's face, make sure your victim is de-spectacled first. The outcome might put a damper on cheerful proceedings.