DONE

Eyejob done. Alhamdolillah.

I shall dedicate a whole post to the gory details, but not quite just yet.

Right now, I have chicken tikka to eat ... in my new 'í don't need lenses' eyes :)

This is what it looks like ...

You would think your cornea needs to be of a certain thickness in order to be polished off for the purpose correcting your vision without losing the integrity of the whole eye structure. Turns out you would be right.

The Doc numbs your eyeballs (details further down) and then uses a smallish object to prod your eye. Well, smallish compared to other htings in the room .. the Doc himself for instance. But incredibly large when you consider it in relation with your eyeball. So this Actually Small, Yet Relatively Large objectis brought unconfortabel close to your eye and before you know it, it's so close you can't even see it.

Imagine a piece of jello placed before your eye and then a knitting needle pressing it's surface. Visualise the surface of the jello as it gives way to the knitting needle. The jello surface indents reasonably, yet hte needle does not pierce it.

Now imagine your eyeball IS the jello.

You'll feel your vision kind of warp where the prod sinks in. Funnily (and disturbingly enough) you won't feel a thing, but will - instead - be taken over by an eerie calm.

A kind of "Look! Someone can poke me in the eyball and I can't feel a thing so bite me" kind of calm.

When it's over - if you're lucky - he'll tel you your cornea is thick enough to be polished off without risking the remainder being too flimsy to contain your eyeball fluid within.

Yuck. Imagine flimsy eyeball. Or don't. Mine - luckily - are thick enough to withstand a second procedure if needed as well. I knew there was some good to come from the way Me Eats Me Spinach!

After that, they need to get a good look at your retina. But things must be done before that.

They give you muscle relaxant eyedrops to dilate your pupils (to be able to look at your retina through them, apparently) so that everything appears super-bright and the 11ish sunlight seems like sunrise on ... whats that planet called where Riddick goes to fetch Jack in Chronicles of Riddick?

So yeah, once your pupils are dilated enough (apparently I have extremely energetic eye muscles that refuse to realx unless oyu give them a dozen dozes of the eye drops)the doctor takles you to his parlor and teases you with a syringe with a long needle attached to it.

When you hyperventilate and tell him that no one told you any part of LASIK involves NEEDLES and bloody long ones at that ... the doctor just sniggers devilishly and proceeds to fiddle with the syringe and a small drumlike contraption. He looks up at you and says "Hmm".

When the doctor say "Hmm", i always take it as a cue to shit in my pants.
"Hmm", he says. "If getting the gel out into this is so tough, imagine how tough it woudl be getting it out into your eye".

And you get visions of the doctor struggling to inject gel into your eyeballs with a syringe that just won't cooperate dammit.

And then he laughs and puts the syringe away. Dammit them docs.

So he puts some eye drops to numb your eyeballs. Yes, NUMB your eyeballs (not that I thought eye balls had any feelings to begin with) and once numbed, he screws you into the device pictured in the photo that looked like it would be very much at home in any self-respecting torture-chamber.



After that, he fixes the drumlike contraption over your eyeball. Yes, over your eyeball: lids parted, the drum just sucks itself onto your eyeball like a particularly ominous leeech of some medicinal variety. Once stuck to your eyeball, there is a funny sucking effect and you almost feel your eyball being sucked out ever so slightly but not quite .. actually .. only just. And then the doc looks at your RETINA.

Wow.

I thought that was some farway land in the nether regions of one's eyeballs.

Apparently, my retina is just fine too.

Doc tells me to return a day before the Op for antoher check-up. Maybe they want to check my pituitary glands next.

As I leave ... eyes shut tight against the too-bright sunlight, I feel glad I never read such a detailed accoutn of the procedure PRIOR.

I find out that the muscle relaxant takes time to wear off, so my eyes have been rendered unable to read. Heh.

The things people do to get the things they can't have.

More gory details to come ...

0900 78601

Yours truly is in karachi for a few days to get her eyeball polished. LASIK vision correction they call it.

wish us some luck and tell us how we can keep our minds off the laser that will peel a flap off our eyeball, open it, polish my eye and replace the flap.

Bhayya has gotten the ball rolling:

He has introduced me to the eeerie catchiness of [/i] 0900 78601, telefun telefun [/i]

C'mon everyone ... 0900 .... life will never be the same ...

Something tells me, if I made a ringtone of it, it would give The Annoying Thing a run for it's money.

What's in a name?

Okay, so we're all guilty of a little vanity-googling. Y'know .. where oyu Google your own name ot see what comes up.

To me, it was a pretty satisfying exercise while I went by my maiden monicker. Post-marriage, I've dealt with a name change and a severe shortage of Google search results under my name.

Bah.

I tried somethng new today.

I googled 'Ujala' in Google images. What skeletons did I pull out of the cyber-closet?

Quite a bit. Nothing as exciting as a hidden gallery of my photos maintained by some psychopath who admired me from afar, but an interesting mix of stuff none the less:



I guess the big blue bottle in the middle is something i don't need ot explain: I've gritted my teeth to chants of 'aaya naya ujala, char boondon wala' ever since Zee TV has invaded the minds of folk arond me.

The two banners on top prove the existance - in some part of the world- of two businesses being carried out under my name: some kind of a trading business and some kind of fabricators. Should I take them to court? I think the state of Kentucky got a hefty sum from KFC for using their name.

But I'm not American am I? More less an American state?

Ah, anyway. Next to Ujala Supreme is Ujala Eyedrops. Wow! My name keep your whites whiter AND your eyes brighter!

On opposite ends, you'll see two movie posters. My name has graced both Bollywood AND Lollywood. C'mon Hollywood: whatcha waiting for?

I am mroe popular in the media than just that. You'll find Ujala radio in India and Amar Ujala - a newspaper. On top of Ujala Eyedrops, you'll see a graphic for ARY digital's show named after ME!

Wow.I'm famous :)

The Bungling Editor

She Bungled Up. Behold:



"Treats you Special This"

Treats You Special This What?!!

The "summer" that ran away. The case of the missing word. The bungling editor.

Wow. I made a boo-boo. I should really proof-read more carefully. This is a feature in my magazin'es July issue tht just came out. Hot off the press, my boss shows me the typo and then silenty leaves the office.

He has chosen to let me be alone with my oversight, rather than admonish me for it. i admire my boss in so many ways and one day, I will dedicate a blog entry to him.

But today, we will skim over my inability to proof-read my own work: it's just that it gets darned boring when I have to reread what I've written over and over again.

I remember a time - some ten years or so ago - when seeing my words in print was a rare novelty and a blessing unmeasurable. Clippings would be collected and filed by date. Two photocopies would be made and also filed in separate places.

I remember someone once telling me roundabout then that they had stopped collecting their clippings a long time ago - that if they kept ALL of their published work, they wouldn't have place to keep anything else. I marvelled and balked at that at the same time. Balked at the attitude of being so 'couldn't care less' about once published clips and marvelled at the ..well, marvellousness of being able to be in such a situation where one couldn't careless about one's clips.

Somewhere down the road, I became Them: that person I balked/marvelled at.

I can't recall the last time I religiously clipped/filed my published work. I am almsot quite certain I have some of my recent work aorund ... just not sure where, or if at all.

Over the years - I now realize - I have become the person I looked upto or looked at from afar so many years ago.

The fumbling teenager with a little pink diary who used to worry about exams and talk on the phone for hours has become the confident, yougn woman who gets up at 8 everyday and drives to work in a shiny red car and worries about paying her bills and insurance/pension payments on time.

Life is funny: it confronts us with realities that were once a fantasy and brings us face-to-face with what we observed from afar.

If we're lucky, it turns us into what we admired.

If we're not: we become the victims and minfestations of our own fears and prejudices. We become the abominations we once abhored.

I am not quite sure whether I should marvel at my indifference to my printed work or balk at it.

Sikh?!!

I tested myself in on the Belief-o-Matic today. It's a quiz (slightly lengthy) that assesses your religious beliefs and then matches you against various religions in it's system to see how well you fit in with which.

Turns out my beliefs make me a better Sikh than Muslim. Fancy that. Infact, Islam lists itself way down on number 6 for me as far as the belief-o-matic is conerned.

Aparently, I subscribe mroe to Sikhism (100%), Liberal Quakers (98%), Reform Judaism (98%), Bahá'í Faith (89%) and Unitarian Universalism (87%) than I do to Islam (85%).

Interestingly, where I am 85% islam, I am also 85% Orthodox Judaism. Hinduism is 70% and Scientology 61%. Bottom of htel ist is Nontheist (27%).

Well, at least the Belief-o-matic realizes I believe in God.

Try it yourself: http://www.beliefnet.com/story/76/story_7665_1.html

People say the darndest things ...

Oh yes ... someone you've never met, puts a smile on your face. Strangers from cyberspace matter more than real-beings you share real-space with.

The man in the car next to me at a red signal. The woman at the next checkout counter. The people working in the office accross the road, who I see all day everyday from the bay windows. The municipality workers. The delviery boys. The waitresses. The operators at companies I call.

Real people in real space.

Or a girl in another part of the world tpying in response to me.

Whose the real people?

Tulsi Addicts

Okay, please get your water balloons and rotten tomatoes ready: I LOVE the soppy, never-ending Indian soaps.

No, really. I do. Seriously.

Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi. Khanai Ghar Ghar Ki. Tu Tu Main Main. ALL OF THEM. All 35,678 of them.

I don't know why, but I do.

I love the saris, the bindis, the self-righteous matriarch, the bitchy bhabhi/nand, the scheming saas, the gorgeous devar .. uff .. sadly, I don't get time to watch them anymore.

Funny how - post-marriage - my TV diet has switched from a mum-induced Star Plus overdose to a hubby-induced wrestling/boxing/anime/car-racing intake.

IMO: Let the Tulsi-addicts be. They're just harmelss TV shows. So long as Ammi doesn't start wearing a sari and ALL here jewels ALL the time, it's just TV, no?

I mean, when was the last time you saw Shrek and farted ceaselessly in the pool?

The REAL me

I read somewhere that quizzez on the internet are more about analytical ego-stroking than about ciritical self-analysis. That everybbody is "a leader" or "has "great potential" and is basically "a gift of God to Humanity".

Blah.

I then stumbled upon this quiz where someone I knew had scored as an angel. Curious to see what mythological creature I might turn out to be, I gave it a shot. How did I far?



Yup, that's me. Whatodo? I am like this only.

Why don't you try it too?
http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=21002

A WOO A WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (or whatever it is that werewolves sound like)

And id you note, I score 75% as both mermaid and werewolf. Why did they show me the werewolf picture?

Hmmmm.....

RED, I said :)

I stumbled upon a fairly boring and mundane quiz while surfing the net and it so turns out that my Color Personality is Red. What can I say? At least the results made me smile :)

"Based on your choices," it tells me, "you seem to lean toward the traits associated with an affinity for the color red."

"Your friends likely describe you as warm, passionate, and dynamic. You tend to feel emotions strongly and often wear your heart on your sleeve.A very social person, you are popular for your energy and readiness to have a good time. You're one person who's always ready to party! When it comes to relationships, work, and even how you decorate your home, you can be pretty traditional, but you're also willing to make bold moves to make a statement.Your strong opinions and competitive nature mean that you sometimes clash with others, but often your warmth and confidence save the day. If you want to introduce your signature color into your home's décor, consider a rich red for a formal dining room or as an unexpected punch of color in an entryway."

You can find it hree: http://interiordec.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?zi=1/XJ&sdn=interiordec&zu=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.bhg.com%2Fcolorquiz

OOAAY HOAAY!

*lol*

Kami bhai is funny.

We have a building in Dubai named after him. He sang songs at Bhayya's mangni party. He sang songs (I think) for Kiran in the hospital. He's nice.

Hello Kami Bhai.

18 years of k k k k k k kiran ....

Out of Body

Happy Budday to you my joozer sistwar :)

Viva la Italia

I shot this picture in Athens. It's one of my favorites.

I don't know what it is about this picture: whetehr it is the mere display of affection or the fact that I have got it on camera? Is it the fact that it confronted me with mixed emotions in a foreign land: joy for their love with a pang of envy on the side?

Or is it that looking at this picture takes me back to that lazy day in Plaka when I strolled about with no real purpose but to take in Athens? Is it in remembrance of the warm sunshine of that wintry afternoon and the lingering taste of my taverna lunch?

Or - in the larger scheme of things - does it remind me of the days when I could actually just up and go?

Or .. or .. or ... is it simply the travelbug biting again?

October looks like Italy for us: Arafaat and I. We haven't been on our honeymoon yet, so maybe that will be it. Is it still a honey moon if you go after your first anniversary? I guess it's a bit like asking "Is it still a baby shower if you're seven months pregnant?" or "Is it still a graduation party if you've long spent your first paycheck?"

I'm not complaining. I'm anything BUT ....

So off to Italy, eh? here's a little peek of what might be in store for me :)

BakPakChik Forever

This weekend just proved it ...

"You can take the Chik out of the BakPak, but you can't take the BakPak out of the Chik"

For all my red-LuminaS-Coupe-driving, actual-spa-massage-enjoying, lunching-in-jumeirah, buying-clothes-not-on-sale, post-marriage life, I am still a humble-bee at heart.

I can't do five-star, I just can't.

I felt like such a fake standing in the marbled, sparkling five-star lobby (a feeling that would return in a few hours as we dine next to palstic tourists with orange skin)explaining that nobody asked me to bring my passport. I felt liek a fake knowing that I live just down the raod and yet I want to come and spend the night in a '1100-Dhs-a-night' hotel suite.

A little golf cart drive us to our room that was about fifty feet away from the lobby. How's that for luxury?

The first thing I did was (of coruse)scan the room for souvenirs. Unlike Ross, I don't believe in entitlement to the lamps and salt shakers ... just simply to the amenities. And oh joy! What do I find but Elemis amenities. I know Elemis .. I worked for Elemis. Hence, I take all the Elemis. They line my bathtub at home now!

We ventured out to the beach. We came back with sand between our toes and seashells weighing down my pockets. Dinner was a sad affair, wedged in between a Russian family to my right and a German pair to the left.

The Russian family was orange from too muh sun in too little time. The father was balding and middle aged. The mother was euqally aged and enormously endowed. The kind you look and wonder what you can attribute the size to: saline implants, silicone or hydraulic pumps? The son was a hrmelss (and apparently bored to death) teenager. I feel glad mine weren't the kind of parents who took along the kids on month-long holidays in a foreign country and spent it all going orange on the beach.

We tried to get some shisha after dinner, but theo nyl place with shisha apprently operated between 5:00 and 7:30. Who has shisha between 5:00 and 7:30?!

Back in the hotel room, Arafaat and I flipped channels on the telly and then lay flat on our back looking at the ceiling and giggling at each other. This was so NOT us. Whatodo?

"You know what?" I finally threw in the towel. "Let's just go back home. Let's just fire up our shisha and put in a DVD."

"Let's" he agreed.

And we quickly packed back whatever little luggage we had brought and checked out.

We lasted a total of four and a half hours in five-star luxury.

I wrote this blog entry in my head, with Arafaat driving down Sheikh Zayed Road at 200 kph ... going back home to our own shihsa and our own telly.

You gotta love life when you own a red Lumina S Coupe and share lives/cars with a RacerBoy.