10 things I Love About...

Today's post is about 10 things I love because the last one was about my pet peeves. If you haven't read it, here's the link: 10 things I hate about... Today is my grandma's birthday and I've decided to dedicate today's post to all the things I love about her. Although there's 10 things written here, I can easily think of a million things I love about my grandma.

1. Food: Let's get this one out of the way. I generally love food - and it shows - especially the food made by my grandma. Hands down: she's easily the best cook in my family and anything she makes turns out delicious. Why? Because she makes it with love.

2. Films: My grandma's quite up to date with things. English or Indian films, she'll watch them. The other day we were watching Harry Potter and she was convinced that Dobby the House Elf was half dog. Her reasoning behind it: "Well, the elves in Lord of the Rings are so tall, what happened to this one? He's tiny! And look at those ears!"

3. Conversations: My grandma and I have the most random conversations ever. There are too many weird moments to put down here. I could honestly do a separate blog on the things that my grandma says. But my favourite one of all time has to be: "Chicken breasts? That means they should be wearing a bra right?"

4. Fierce: Whilst my grandma is an extremely gentle person, she has her moments which are extremely rare. But when they do happen, it's quite something. Let's just say she knows how to chase away Jehovah's Witnesses.

5. Advice: If I find myself in a bit of a situation, my grandma gives me the best advice ever. Which often consists of: "You can't make everyone happy, so why bother trying to? They're not going to live forever, do your own thing."

6. Doctor: My grandma could have potentially been a neuro-surgeon/doctor/psychologist/anthropologist. However, her main piece of medical advice for any ailment whatsoever is: "Take two paracetamol beta (dear)."

7. Best mate: Growing up wasn't easy, I spent much of it alone. My grandma didn't stop fighting for my brothers and I nor did she give up on my dad. I'm truly thankful to her for always being there. And she always gets rid off scary insects for me.

8. Role model: My grandma has been and is the only mother figure in my life. She's taught me how to hold my own and stand my ground. Whenever she saw me crying, she would dry my tears and say: "Today you feel hurt. But tomorrow onwards you are a lioness." She is always there for me and supports me in any project I embark upon.

9. Reality check: If ever I get distracted or go a bit stupid, my grandma is the one who happily puts me back on track in a manner deemed appropriate for that particular situation.

10. Team Chayya: My grandma is the head cheer leader when it comes to all the support I receive. My family will be in the background with their poms poms but in front is my grandma. She dispels any doubts or moments of uncertainties that I have because she sincerely wants me to achieve my potential and leave my mark.

When I was growing up, I always thought that I missed out because I didn't have a mother. What my grandma taught me was that when it comes to family and parenting, it that actions always speak louder than words. What brings a parent and their child together is behaviour and actions.
Happy birthday nan :) 

Red Tape.

Over the weekend, the British PM David Cameron announced a new war. No, not the type which involves guns, missiles or army uniform. A social war that would avoid "the corrosion of childhood." This follows a succession of social wars that previous Prime Ministers have begun and are still yet to prove their 'victory.' We have the war on drugs, war on terror, war on smoking, war on youth gangs in London - so much so that the social narrative of Britain has become a semantic field of socio-economic warfare. Mr Cameron has decided to embark on his war against the cyber world. Starting with online porn.

When this was first announced, I was quite pleased because it was generally reported as Mr Cameron wanting to clamp down on the porn industry. We hear of horrific situations where young men and women are conned into the human trafficking industry only to end up in pornography videos against their will. The argument against pornography is an iffy one. People argue that  porn takes sex, something many consider to be intimate and cheapens it - yet at the same time sex is still a taboo subject. Porn degrades men and women into silicone pumped, plastic, sexual objects - yet millions of people get a kick out of watching it. Porn has begun to distort the way that we view each other, ourselves, relationships and sex. But at the bottom of it all, sex is a natural normal thing right?

Can we ever fully control the Internet?

After a day or two, it turns out that Mr Cameron's war on online porn is specifically child sex abuse. Something that millions wholly welcome as a future policy following the aftermath of Jimmy Savile's abuse, eye-watering scores of paedophile rings and reports of children as young as ten being raped by other children with the root cause being diagnosed as children watching sadomasochistic pornography videos. Protecting children is something many people have high on their agenda. Children are the future of any state, so it's important to nurture and encourage them to be good citizens. Anything related to child abuse is instantly controversial and relevant because it is an issue that needs to be resolved. It's also a topic that everyone has an opinion about.

The BBC proclaimed Mr Cameron's proposal with the following headline and article: Online pornography to be blocked by default. It's not very clear how Mr Cameron is going to go about controlling online porn. For a start, we've always been told how ungovernable the Internet is. Can Cameron conquer the Internet? With any ban that takes place, normally a board is set up with an independent third party who monitors that board. With regards to a proposed ban on online porn who decides what is and what isn't pornography? How will this be policed? Will we have a National Porn Regulation Board? When it comes to things like this Britain, along with thousands of other countries, has issues with transparency. You need only look at the MPs expenses scandal which occurred a few years ago and the banks which were pretty much unregulated.

So Mr Cameron wants to ban online porn and child sex abuse- so far so good. It's a good strategy for people to warm to him because "he'd be the Prime Minister who put a stop to this madness." It would elevate him and give our current coalition government a bit of decent press for once. But he won't ban Page 3.  For those not in the know, page 3 is in a news publication called The Sun and features images of topless women. Yet it calls itself a "family newspaper." Surely this counts as a form of pornography? It's hypocritical for Mr Cameron to want to implement an opt-in policy for online porn yet refuse to ban page 3 which is also a form of pornography. If you are going to propose a policy which claims to avoid "the corrosion of childhood" you might as well do away with images of rape, nudity and sexual abuse in films, games, music videos and imagery. Do these not contribute to the "corrosion of childhood" as well? Ah but of course, what would Mr Murdoch say?
The proposed ban so far is unrealistic. If people want to watch online porn, they will find ways to do it. I believe that we need to improve our sex-education system and not regard sex as a taboo. The flipside of implementing a ban is that things go underground and remain largely ignored because they are no longer in the public eye. 

Bat Wings and Mortar Boards.

I am on the threshold of entering "The Real World." It's an exciting but slightly daunting feeling; a bit like jumping into a dark room and not knowing where I'll end up. University has probably been one of the best decisions I've made in spite of me not wanting to go in the first place. It's been an interesting experience but one thing I can definitely  say about it, is that university is not fun and games. Well, it is if you want to fail.

First year can be daunting.

First year: This was the worst by far. I can only describe it as a goldfish being put in a tank full of sharks. Funny enough, everyone also drank like fishes and it's something I've never got used to. Culturally it was a shock as well. London is very multicultural; I'd gone from a Sixth Form that was around 70-80% black to a pretty much vanilla landscape. People thought I was ghetto because I was a Londoner with a strong south London accent.  I was shy, I didn't really know what to do in general. It was weird as I'm from quite a close family so I'd never been by myself before. For the first time, in my life so far, I missed south London. And I never thought that day would come. My lack of confidence meant that  I struggled academically and at one point I seriously considered dropping out. People judged me because I wasn't "well-spoken", I had to do compulsory modules that I genuinely hated and didn't see the point of it: but credits are credits ya know! I did, however, meet people who have become my closest friends and still are to this day. Regardless of homesickness and  feeling like a shitbag, I persevered and passed 1st year. And was deeply content with the fact that I'd never see 85% of people from first year ever again.

Second year: This was the best year because I realised that university is an experience you need to take advantage of. It was the nice, comfy middle year and definitely compensated for the blue funk that I was in for my first year. I spent the summer with a sense of reluctance: Would I have weird flatmates again? Turns out, my fears were largely unfounded. I was in a flat with foreign students and we all got on like a house on fire. I did modules that I chose and enjoyed studying. I've always enjoyed studying (geek alert!) so for me, everything had sorted themselves out. I was in a very good place. 

That summer I had a job which forced me to come out of my shell and it truly worked. I always believe in facing your issues head on to get it over and done with. It's scary at first, but you quickly realise that you either sink or swim in such situations. And I needed to swim like a fierce shark. I almost shat myself on my first shift but turns out I did way better than I thought. This job taught me to stand my ground, assert myself and get things done no matter what. And I did. Personally, academically, emotionally and it paid off. I threw myself into my studies, extra activities and regained my old fiery spirit. Rwoar! Oh and I passed. 

After exams and library sessions, we look like this.

Third year: In one word: Challenging. My final year was on some next level (do pardon my Colloquial English there!). You realise that this is the year to redeem any previous fuck-ups or blips, it's everything to play for grades-wise. Everyone I know knuckled down and instead of partying, we arranged sessions in the library. 'Cuz we're mad, bad literary bards. Final year also saw the return of my infamous south Londoner ways: I went back to how I was and didn't care if I got judged for it. Allow it, it's who I am. In such trying times, you realise who is and isn't your friend, who you need and those who are there for show. It's a fire of baptism on many levels. I spent most of my days in a routine which consisted of: gym, library, canteen, library cafe, home, dinner, bed. At one point the only people I stayed in contact with were my professors, dad and nan, Dominoes and my best friend. Final year's  hard because you take it so seriously and it's what you've been preparing for: the end. Like a smooth panther ready to sink its jaws into the succulent flesh of its unsuspecting prey, you want a hearty reward for your efforts. Why? Because you know you deserve it. 

The past three years have been a series of highs and lows, tears and moments where my triumphant cackle has made its infamous appearance. University is not easy and for people who say that it is are deluded. In fact, they can come and do my degree for me all over again. For the outsider looking in, university appears to be easy. Three years on your own, a fat student loan and everyone gets a place. All I can say to that is "no mate." It's not about getting wasted every single night. Eventually you have to choose between opening bottles or opening your books. You learn how to live on your own, manage yourself and you learn things about yourself as well. Eg: whenever I get stressed, I blitz and clean everything in sight. It's safe to say that university is not for everyone even though everyone is told that "you must go to university once you finish school." 

Do it only if you are committed and fully prepared to undergo years of studying one topic in depth. It is an experience that acts as the first step that eventually comes together to pave a unique path. And that path is yours. 

Colostrum

"Look at her! Shameless bitch," he said to his colleague as they lowered their heads in embarrassment and carried on walking. She looked at them her eyes filled with a mix of shame and passive defiance. She wasn't sure whether to be angry, upset, humiliated, stunned or bit of each.

* * *

I was 16 years old when a man said that to his work colleague as they walked past me in a department store. It was a relatively hot day and there was a woman sitting on a sofa with a cardigan draped across her chest. If you stared long enough at her, it was pretty obvious. But if you were walking and glanced at her, it wasn't. The woman was breastfeeding her child in public. Over the years in the UK, the subject of women breastfeeding in public is a thought-provoking discussion. There are those who abhor it and demand for it to be shunned. And those who see nothing wrong with it at all.
Breasts. Boobs. Tits. Titties. Juicy, juicy mangoes. Mosquito bites. Whatever you call them, breasts are there and there's not much people can do about them. We seem to have a bit of an obsession for them as well. Whether it's seeing them in various TV adverts, magazines, websites or in our daily lives, an obsession for breasts and what they should/shouldn't do exists in our minds and general society. It is interesting to note the way that we view and refer to breasts in the English language. When we see things like page 3, hear drunken slurs of "Get your tits out for the lads" breasts are sexualised and turned into a meaningless object to be gawped at and groped. Their original purpose is momentarily forgotten. But note the change when adverts for Cancer Research come on the TV; it goes from sexualised imagery to clinical, scientific language. It's called "breast cancer" not "tittie cancer." Breasts are taken more seriously when they are referred to as "breasts" instead of "titties."
I find it bizarre that it's acceptable for images of topless women to be splashed across society in a series of lad mags, adverts, porn videos and billboards but unacceptable for them to be used for their original purpose; to nurse a child. If a topless woman grinning from a magazine cover is deemed "normal" then so should breastfeeding in public. For some reason, people become flustered when they see a woman breastfeeding her child. Is it really that awkward? Does the image of a child sucking at its mother's breast look like cannibalism? Or does it remind people of a horny overly oiled up person sucking upon the nipples of a fellow horny being which is why they feel uncomfortable? Most people would have probably been breast-fed as a baby, unless they went straight to the formula stuff. There are countless works of art depicting blissfully content mothers looking upon a child peacefully suckling their breast. Hell, this YouTube video about breastfeeding went viral because it is so controversial. It was deemed to be the most natural and sacred act that a mother could do for her child because breast feeding was/and is viewed as an emotional bond between a mother and the child. As time went by, scientists discovered that breast was indeed best as it supports a baby's immune system. I genuinely have no problem with a woman breastfeeding in public. Where else are they supposed to go if they are in public? The public loos in Britain aren't that pleasant nor are pub toilets.
So what's your opinion on women breastfeeding in public? If you have Google+ leave a comment, if not tweet me @c_syal with your response.

10 Things I Hate About....

Ok so maybe the word "hate" is a bit too strong but nevertheless, today's post is about something that irks me every single year. Summer. That's right, I've got beef with this season. Summer has plenty of nice things to offer us like: BBQs, excuses to go swimming, days of lolling about doing nothing, eating ice cream, sitting outside in the garden and generally making people happier. Whilst I enjoy doing some of these activities, for me, the pros of Summer are without a doubt outdone by its cons.

1. Hay fever: Anyone who knows me well enough knows that I suffer from this terribly. It doesn't matter how many anti-histamines I take, how much honey I eat or how much Vaseline I dab onto my nostrils; hay fever kills me every single time. My eyes go so red that I resemble some sort of demon and my nose is so red that I could put Rudolph the Reindeer out of a job.

2. Heat: I'm a typical British person in this sense because I complain about the weather all the time. "It's too hot" and "Oh no, it's far too cold!" There's no happy medium of how I want the weather to be for me because either way I'm grumpy and uncomfortable. If I can't cope with a so-called heatwave in Britain, there's no way in hell I'm moving to a hotter country. What's that? Oooh a ticket to the North Pole...

3. Tan: I know the sun is a giver of light and makes everything grow but when it comes to brown people it is avoided like the plague. My friends will be running around delightfully showing off their tan. Then, there's me. Sitting in the shade, with my sunglasses on. Why? Because south Asians don't like to tan; we're born with one.

4. Humidity: I have very curly hair, so when the humidity rises so does my hair. And that's when I find out that products like John Frieda's "Frizz Control" and L'Oreal's "Smoothening Serum" are full of cr*p. It doesn't matter how much hair serum or conditioner I use, the Summer makes my hair come alive. And because of the heat, it's too hot to straighten my hair (2 hours? No thanks).

5. People: When it's hot, you don't really want to be around other human beings. Especially on the Tube, central London area or your local high street. The collective mass of body heat coupled with the soaring temperatures is enough to put me into a coma. Then there's the smell: sweaty, salty, burning, unwashed human skin smell.

6. People: I appreciate that many individuals work hard in the gym and want to show off their results. If you're confident, got it, then flaunt it - don't mind me peeping at ya through my sunglasses. But what I can't stand is the wannabe "rude bwoys" who take off their shirts, wear snap backs, low riding trousers and prance about as though they are extras in a YMCMB music video. Stop it. Stop it right now.

7. Work: I'm a self-confessed workaholic and I genuinely enjoy working, unless it's hot outside. Buildings in Britain are not adapted to such temperatures so it ends up being hotter inside than outside. Result? Tetchy employees who become irritable, sweaty and unhappy. Further result? Work is done with a sense of reluctance. Solution? Air conditioning and ice-cream for all.

8. Feet: Many people forget that their feet is also covered in skin which needs to be moisturised and shown a bit of TLC every now and again. We all too often neglect our feet because we shove them into socks, trainers, flats or boots. But come the Summer, out come the sandals and the shrieks of horror when we see our feet once Winter is over.

9. Motivation: When the temperature goes up, unfortunately motivation tends to go down. Anything that requires physical exertion or slight movement results in you sweating profusely. While we'd love to be one of those effortlessly hot hip hop video girls who effortlessly struts her stuff in the searing heat, the fact of the matter is that we'd rather soak in a cool tub of water.

10. Make up: This is a pet peeve for women when it comes to the Summer. Magazines scream the latest trends and hottest seasonal looks for the Summer which usually requires the good ol' slap. And a lot of it.
It's all well and good that the models in their campaigns look flawless in a desert shoot but have you seen me walking down the High St in the summer? I swear to God, the make up melts off my face (even if it's just concealer) which makes me wonder why I even bothered to do so in the first place.

Are you a Summer lover? Or do you prefer Winter? Let me know with your comments. 

How to train a Demon.

This is something that I've been meaning to write about for a while and it's finally here. Anger. It's a natural emotion that everyone feels at some point - or several - in their life. From being mildly irritated to a full on atomic bomb-like state, it can stem from or be sparked off by anything; even the littlest things.
For many years of my life I was a very angry young person - I felt that this anger justified my behaviour, my actions, the way I viewed myself and others. But what I didn't realise was the devastating impact it had on my well being, myself and those around me until I got to the root of my anger and saw how much it had destroyed me.
It is very easy to be swept away in the white-hot surges of being angry at yourself, others, a situation you can't control and/or the actions of others. Anger has the capacity to blind us: have you ever said things "in the heat of the moment" that you didn't mean? Things that we end up regretting and think: "Oh God, I wish I hadn't said that to so-and-so" or "It's going to be so awkward when I next see so-and-so."
Of course, it's easier said than done, for me to say: "Let go" because 9/10 it's not easy to get rid off anger or negative feelings. Especially if you've been feeling angry for years but have been unable to resolve it. I often imagine my anger to be a little monster or demon sitting in the depths of my stomach and when sh*t hits the fan, it sits up, growls and starts making a scene. It screams, shouts, tears at itself hoping that its ruckus will come out of my mouth and into the real world. I used to suppress it but that only made things worse because I ended up accumulating years of anger which ended up harming me more than anyone else.
What's important  is for you to try and understand the demon/anger. Why do you feel angry? What sets you off on a rampage? It's essential to try and develop a technique or habit where you can explain to yourself, why you're feeling angry. You don't have to sit down in a corner in the Lotus position saying various chants or stuff like that. Expressing yourself can be in any medium you want; painting, reading, writing, speaking aloud, recording your thoughts, exercising or confiding in close friends/family. However you decide to train your demon, one thing that you learn along the way is how to reconnect with yourself and emotions.
Part of dealing with anger is learning to get to know yourself and what sets you off. Anger has a horrible way of isolating people when they need help the most. How many times have you or someone said: "Look, just leave me alone I'm not in a good mood." Fair enough, sometimes we do need time to work through the motions and clear our heads. But all too often the phrase, "two heads are better than one" comes to mind when trying to understand or deal with anger issues. Why? Because anger not only distances you from other people, but from your true self.
One thing I always say to myself and my friends is: "Always stay true to yourself." If you can't be honest with yourself, who can you be honest with? Emotions are a huge part of the human experience called life and they unfortunately dictate our actions.
You are the best. You are the worst. You are average. Your love is a part of you. You try to give it away because you can't bear its radiance. But you can't separate it from yourself.

Ordinary People.

I live under a rock when it comes to this sport because it never interests me. Cricket. This usually makes me a bit of an outcast and a "weird Asian" because I don't enjoy a sport that most south Asians get a boner over.
Within the British Asian community exists a multitude of inter-communal issues such as caste, religious difference etc. One thing that does appear to unite - and disjoint - south Asians regardless of their roots is cricket. Tournaments such as the IPL, the Ashes etc either emphasise  pre-existing rivalries between countries (notoriously India and Pakistan) or unearth the hidden pride and glory from the depths of various fans' hearts.
The English cricketer Ravi Bopara represents a large chunk of most young Brit Asians whose parents are immigrants. Many, myself included, view Bopara as an individual who demonstrates that young British Asians can get into sport and become professionals. I know many young, talented British Asians who want to become successful sportspeople but abandon their dreams. Surely this should propel Bopara into being a role model showing that you can enter professional sports make a decent career from it. From the report that I read, one thing that shocked me was when other British Asian fans turned against a Sikh man who was supporting England. They called him a "sell out" and a "coconut." I immediately thought of the controversial Tebbit test proposed by Tory politician Norman Tebbit, which has in this situation, been reversed. Whilst racism appears to be at a low in the UK, it is only so because of political correctness which has resulted in it being swept under the carpet. An issue that has come to light, is discrimination within the south Asian community to each other. Should Brit Asians be supporting India or England? Is it really a form of betrayal if you don't support India?
I don't have an issue with who supports who - at the end of the day cricket is supposed to be enjoyed as a sport, not a brown people point scoring contest or a public demo of racial pride. This has sparked off the notorious row about "multiculturalism and integration into British society" - something a lot of people thought had been 'sorted out.' In 2011, a survey showed that in England and Wales the percentage of British Asians was 5.87%. With a significant population that is ever growing come many concerns such as integration and unity. One: we need to start supporting each other to nurture the talent that we have. Two: is there ever going to be enough visibility to represent Brit Asians in the public sphere? Whenever a south Asian actor appears on a TV show or a soap (Eastenders) most Brit Asians I know cringe and squirm. Instead of berating them and subconsciously making them a spokesperson for all Asians; think of them as an individual. It takes guts to appear on TV or go into an industry where none have gone before. They are just ordinary people with talent.
The past 50 - 100 years of race relations in Britain has been tempestuous to say the least. Horrific crimes such as the Stephen Lawrence case and the deaths of 13 black teenagers in a house fire in 1981 are examples that scratch the surface to reveal a plethora of cases regarding racial discrimination in Britain. Such cases have been a crucial part of the black British experience and its desire for equality and representation. The fact that more and more black Britons are entering sports such as football, rugby and cricket should be a sign that ethnic minorities are becoming a part of Britain's changing landscape.
What can be done to address racial attitudes to each other and within ethnic minority groups? Is it a good idea to open up the race debate? Or let bygones be bygones?