I confess that sometimes I am awake all night in my baggiest, most unshapely, hole-y mumu. I skulk around the house being vague, thinking weird thoughts, or talk to myself while conjuring fictional scenarios where I really got to stick it to some nasty bitch or the other. Or, I just sit at my table and stare at the traffic zooming by, trying to imagine the people inside the cars, where they are going or where they might be coming from.
But don’t be afraid. I am not a psychotic creepozoid (unlike some people I know). I am just a bit spacey, that’s all.
First it was Boko Haram in Nigeria kidnapping 270 girls because they sinned by getting a Western education, and then the Sultan of Brunei introduced Sharia, including the death by stoning law, for the first time in South Asia.
But then what chance do we have, when women of privilege and education don’t have the courage to recognize and to call out sexism in their everyday lives – from their brothers and fathers and indeed, from their husbands.
How can we not move backwards in time, when women of independent means and merit will not speak about feminism for fear of being called sour pusses. When they deliberately abstain from airing their opinions, or even having opinions, on the psychological torture devices used in the modern world to hold women back — for fear of being perceived as cantankerous.
For women who will not participate in what is a sisterhood of struggle and hardship of centuries just to be considered fully human, let me tell you that Madeleine Albright was right.
There is a special place in hell for women who do not help other women.
Some nights have melancholy in the air,
when the breeze whispers the names of lost loves, loved ones gone too soon.
Some nights are all about crying into your coffee cup
I came back from Penang yesterday and I miss the sea terribly.
That said, I was thinking about the dinner I had in the semi-fancy restaurant called Kebaya at The Seven Terraces in Penang. The hotel is beautiful and Kebaya is numero uno among the places to eat on Tripadvisor.com.
Surrounded by super elegant if slightly aged diners, I ordered a soupy noodle as my main dish.
Is there ever a way to eat noodles gracefully? If anyone has mastered this skill please let me know. I’d like to sign up for lessons.
I am in Malayasia, on a little island called Penang.
The weather’s been beautiful and this is what I see when I look out the window of my room 😀
I have been craving a certain ice lolly I used to eat in India. They are called Joosticks and are made by the awesomest ice-cream company ever, Cream Bell. I don’t know why I haven’t found Cream Bell in Singa. They are SO GOOD!
Anyway, so I took matters into my own hand and here’s what I did:
Took a bunch of really really ripe stawberries, about 20.
Added 3 tbspoons of sugar, 2 tbspoons of lemon juice and the zest of half a lemon. Then I added a teeny weeny pinch of black rock salt (you can skip this step if you want).
After this, you just blitz blitz blitz till what you have is a silky bright pink mixture.
Pour this into popsicle molds and freeze and you’re done!
Please share your favorite popsicle recipes if you have any 😀
People keep telling me I should go out more. But I have my art, music, books and the internet. So I’m quite alright.
So, I’ve been dreaming of having my own line of illustrated and personalized stationery for so long now. But every time I consider taking a solid step in that direction, I am filled with fears of failure, of how no one will want to buy my work, no one will like it or stock it in their shops and how random strangers will stop me on the road to tell me how much I suck.
Here’s how you can get the perfect beach body, in two simple steps.
1. You have a body
2. Go to the beach
There you have it. Naysayers be damned.
For five years of my marriage, I slept alone on one side of a double bed.
Now, this is how we sleep.
I call it the semi-spoon.