I’ve started so I’ll finish… or not

Well I don’t often bare my personal thoughts publicly, but there has been something I’ve been meaning to get off my chest for a while so here goes…

A year ago I started something that meant a great deal to me, that as yet I’ve been unable to finish. I wanted to make a film. It started out as a simple film about musicians from India and the UK touring each other’s countries. As someone who has moved away from everything I know and love in the uk – my family, career as a sound engineer, being part of a community of techies, musicians, artists and crazy circus performers, all working doing what they love, often not for money but for a belief that through their art they can change the world for the better.

Also I moved away from a broken heart, the loss of my job at Boomtown and friendships I thought were solid until I decided to keep my baby and be a single parent. While I made peace with many of those that hurt me, I knew the UK, the small island that it is, had lost its calling and I had reached the limits of what I could do there professionally. India, the country that contained a music, arts and festival scene that was exploding, exciting and loaded with new challenges and opportunities to create – a new culture to immerse myself and my daughter in and a fresh start and fresh career- it was calling me.

Through my film I felt I could bring the best parts of these two worlds together. When I went back to shoot at Glastonbury festival, I was reminded of the beautiful energy of the people working there to make a positive change in the world. The film became so much more – not only about two groups of musicians experiencing each other’s culture, but about the potential for positive social change such exchanges opened up and the hurdles that existed to such a venture, both financially and in regards to freedom of movement across borders. Amongst many others, I met some people from South America running a grassroots festival there who also felt the same as me – that the power of music and art at music festivals and other such events has a huge transformative potential. The film became about facilitating this foreign exchange, advocating it – for better or worse, about this more than objectively filming that very thing in a documentary.

If I am to be very honest with myself it was also about the maybe selfish motive of keeping that connection with the scene I loved and the people I loved in the UK and the new world I was part of in India. I returned to India with grand plans of creating a non-profit entity to aid non commercial/independent musicians and artists to be able to participate in performance changes to each other’s countries – doing my bit to make the world a better place and helping out some amazing artists and friends on the way. The organisation would springboard off the film and it would begin by bringing a UK musician to India that winter. I would also finish my other (first) film project on the musicians, performers and travellers working to help the Syrian refugees.

Not long after I returned to India, I was unexpectedly hospitalised and suffered a traumatic experience involving my ovaries, a corrupt insurance company and crooked, nasty doctor and a narcissistic abusive relationship. I suffered PTSD and depression and anxiety as a result, but kept on going – I had to for my daughter- and I got my head down and tried my best in my new full time job for an Indian events company. The job is fantastic but demanding and between keeping my head afloat at work, trying to organise a tour, a second shoot at Boomtown festival (remotely from India) and trying to be a good mum, I struggled and failed at pretty much all of the above.

In India I lacked the network and support of kindred spirits willing to make the tour and film happen. I couldn’t apply for Arts funding in the UK as I am not resident there and I couldn’t apply for funding in India as Im not a citizen here. I tried to seek help from the British council and received a very firm good luck but fuck off. The numerous huge forms and impossible deadlines for funding piled up with no help, guidance or time to fill and I watched everything slipping away. People who initially promised help lost interest or let me down. I didn’t have the resources solo and I just had to admit it. It felt immensely lonely and all I could do was put my project on the back burner and try to prioritise keeping my job and being there for my daughter and partner.

It was soul crushing when I had to admit that I couldn’t organise the tour and had spent the last bit of my credit card on the Boomtown shoot. I had all this footage and minimal experience in editing a film – my blind belief that sheer bloody mindedness and conviction in what I felt was a worthy cause would enable it to happen. simply wasn’t enough. It was overwhelming. It ate away at me night and day. I felt I had let so many people down – the bands, my work who had supported me above and beyond enabling me to do the first uk shoot, all my friends and colleagues in the UK, my family and myself. I couldn’t bear to look at the footage, to try to raise more funds – I felt sorry for myself that more people hadn’t helped me and hadn’t felt as passionately about the subject matter. I felt that I was wrong to have even tried and that as family finances were not great I had made a bad decision putting money I didn’t have into a failed project. I felt I owed the world who was laughing at me now surely, a huge apology and more isolated than ever from the UK.

My day to day life had become about making slogans for corporate company’s employee r&r events, pushing through the harsh crowds on the Mumbai local train and fighting guilt, insomnia and nightmares.  I believed I had become a horrible person to be around. The only joy in my life was the time spent with my daughter. The only thing I felt proud of about myself was that I could still read to her every night and pay her school fees and give her fun and love.

My thirty-sixth birthday approached and with still no fulfilling relationship, no sure immigration status or residency and the general feelings of insecurity this produced, along with crazy stuff going on with my hormones producing yet more insecurities, coupled with the occasional urge to cut my hair and dye it a crazy colour – I had finally arrived at mid-life crisis.

A few faithful and beloved friends persistently kept in touch despite the distance and time difference and a few more over here persistently invited me out despite me rarely accepting and generally not being any fun at all when we did meet. I was absolutely adamant that I didn’t want to have a birthday.

Then the day came. I went to see a doctor about my hormones – whatever it may be it should be treatable and there is hope I can feel normal again in that dreaded week of my cycle. I refused several lovely offers of lovely company and sat down at my computer to face my demons. The first thing I was faced with was broken files, lost work and missing data.

The next morning I started afresh with a new edit project for what I have shot of my film so far. I know it will not be easy and maybe it will never be the film I had originally planned, but if I can make something meaningful and call it my best shot I can maybe live with myself. Who knows, maybe if I can make something that gets my belief across, that if we don’t give up in life when it feels like the world is against us, and keep on being creative, putting our art out there, regardless of what it earns us or costs us, or what anyone else thinks, maybe, just maybe we can make the world a better place.. and maybe, just maybe someone else will feel the same, maybe, just maybe one day with the help of others, I will be able to make something more than what I can do on my own.

I think of the people I have shot and interviewed in my film so far and the ones I still want to shoot – they are the ones who have achieved this and are living this – the ones who inspired me. I owe it to them to finish what I’ve started. Better late than never..

Edit…

I never finished my film, but years later I came to terms with accepting failure, learning from mistakes forgiving others and yourself and letting go of the past.

I also discovered a load of lost footage and have been editing short interviews and uploading on my YouTube channel.

I thought about deleting this post, but didn’t in case it can make someone else feel better about an unfinished passion project/ mental health moment and just to remind myself that even when the world feels like it is all falling apart it might just be ok in the end… (and that I am rubbish at film making and not to try it again!)

Advertisement

Cheese and Wine Whine (Review)

img-20130831-wa0001

I was reading a thread about favorite home traditions of people who have married into Indian culture. Very fast the posts turned into nostalgia about various types of food. I wanted to expand on my thoughts about this, plus I have never ventured into the world of food and drink blogging so here goes….

I’m English and I love cheese. Indians have no idea how to do cheese. Sorry, but it is true. And selling imported cheddar and parmesan in Hypercity or Nature’s Basket for some ridiculous extortionate price is not the solution and paneer doesn’t bloody count! Cheese is important as is red wine. I am currently drinking indian red wine which is genuinely nice – if the Indians can learn red wine surely cheese will follow? We can only live in hope….

Now please forgive me and correct me if I am wrong here, but Indian wine used to taste like a mix of vinegar and piss. Now however, they have totally hit the nail on the head and are producing some damn fine wines! Below are a few of my favorites, all for under 1000 rupees (because let’s face it I am not as rich or as classy as I would like to be!) Any Indian wine makers out there please feel free to send me some expensive wine (for free) to review….

Sula Madera

This is my trusted favorite wine. At a reasonably priced (read cheap) 290 rs a bottle you can’t go wrong (unless you are thinking Blue Nun) with something that is this drinkable. I can’t say I agree with their advised serving temperature of ‘slightly chilled 14-16 degrees.’ Come on! Red wine should NOT be served cold! Yes we live in a hot country but seriously! It’s fruity but not sweet. Best drank after children’s tantrums and arguments with rickshaw drivers. Goes nicely with heavy oily high calorie tikka masala (mutton or paneer) and pizza.

Choco Vino

According to the label this wine is ‘to be enjoyed anytime during the day’ which basically legitimizes my daytime drinking if I so wish. The marketing is clearly praying on 30 something women like myself who love chocolate and wine and the idea of a combination of the two is too hard to resist. It doesn’t really fast anything like chocolate but it is rather nice and has a good body (unlike mine if I drink too much or indeed eat too much chocolate! Note to self!) I found another review which begs to differ on the chocolate taste front and is also rather funny, which you can read here. (I stole the photo from here – sorry!)

Sula Dia

Red wine that is COLD and FIZZY! AND CHEAP!!! Sounds minging? Actually it’s not – it’s delicious! The dryness counters the sweetness and it’s more like a sparkling rose more than a red. It has a rather classy Art Deco label design so you can feel classy drinking it, even out of a coffee mug. I think I have found India’s answer to Prosecco and I am a happy lady!

Fratelli Classic Shiraz

Sounds Italian, actually Indian, actually easily as good as the Italian it wants to be. Rich and ruby red and smooth on the palate. Had this in a restaurant in Lonavala so bit more pricey than the rest of the wines reviewed. Looking at their own description which describes it as having ‘hints of leather’ and suggesting it goes well with ‘Thai beef stir fry,’ I’m not sure they have thought their marketing strategy through well for an Indian audience.

Sula Samara

Bought this because they had run out of Madera in the weird local wine shop that only men seem to go to. It’s cheaper and actually maybe nicer! Maybe I just really craved wine this evening but this is totally hitting the spot. It’s a bit weak at 11% but as it is cheaper you can buy two bottles guilt free and therefore drink more. Best drunk while watching sci-fi serials on netflix while your man is away and you miss him a bit. I’m sure it would go well with chocolate but sadly there is none and no one to send to the shops (small violin playing in the background while I eat Indian ‘cream cheese’ on toast)….

I would give you some reviews of Indian cheeses, but let’s face it (and again please correct me if I am wrong) but there is no bloody point!

Please do share with me you suggestions and recommendations for Indian domestic wine and cheese…..

 

Brexit, Visas and Immigration Ranting!

hand-holding-brexit-sign-eu-referendumThis post has been brewing for a while ,then today I read about my friend’s experience with ignorant racism getting on a bus today in London and I could take no more! RANT WARNING…..

So my beautiful, intelligent and talented young friend of Indian origin and her equally beautiful and talented mother were getting on a bus. My friend’s mother got on but before her daughter could get on the driver slammed the door shut in her face:

“When I knocked on the door, she opened the door and abused me calling me a c*nt and an immigrant who doesn’t know London bus rules and said if I get on the bus she won’t start the bus. Then I said I won’t leave the bus and she can call the police, she then came up violently to me and started hurling abuses again and asked every passenger to leave. Then she went up to the next bus and asked the driver to not take me and my mum on board. Then she left with her bus too.”

This is totally shocking! People like that bus driver should not be allowed to represent our beloved multicultural London and work on our public services. My friend and her mum are the sweetest people! The mother, a classical singer, travels to the UK often to perform her beautiful music and my friend, her daughter, after studying in the UK is already a successful (taxpaying) businesswoman and about to open a classy restaurant (not to mention an awesome cook!). She is a Londoner as much as me!

As a recent ex-Londoner and now an immigrant myself in Mumbai (well in a week or so when my visa arrives fingers crossed!) I love that city and feel it is home as much as I feel London, a city I lived in but didn’t grow up in is also my home. Home is where you work, love and live; where you are part of society and contribute to society- for a great many people on this planet home is not where you were born and our planet and its global society is a more diverse, rich, educated and evolved place for the greater movement and mixing of people and their respective cultures!

She asked the question if Brexit could be to blame for such a public display of racism. Sadly I feel she is correct to a degree. Brexit has caused a huge rise in racism (and xenophobia) which was always there brewing under the surface. Now the media coverage and right wing campaigning surrounding Brexit has given confidence to idiots- like that bus driver. We must not stand for it!

While I voted ‘IN’ I acknowledge that there are numerous left wing arguments for the UK to have voted ‘OUT’. One of the reasons I voted ‘IN’ was because I foresaw this whole fiasco – immigration being used as a scapegoat for the economic and social problems of the UK. It can’t even be called a conspiracy as it is plain for most to see. These issues outweighed the arguments to vote ‘OUT’. Unity amongst nations beyond Europe is more important to me than trade, money etc and extends beyond Europe to a global sentiment. We are all human beings and that above all else beyond race, money, religion, gender, age etc.

Thankfully the racists are actually a minority – they come to our attention more because of their bizarre actions, like religious terrorists. You don’t see people running up the road shouting “welcome to London! We love Polish supermarkets and Indian restaurants and bagel shops and reggae music and all of the wonderful culture we can call ‘British’ but has come to our shores from overseas. I see multiculturalism as an important part of ‘Britishness’ and part of our identity as Brits – something to be proud of!

Screw the media and all that it pushes and represents – screw the selfish interests of the few, the privileged and the ignorant. Screw the way only negative news is pushed and anything positive is ignored unless it involves sport or puppies or celebrities!

Institutional racism and xenophobia exists within the British government. How can we hope for a peaceful future when this is the case? Yet we must hope and educate our children as they are our future.

Reverse Culture Shock

DSC00064

After a tearful goodbye at Mumbai’s flashy new airport I hobbled white faced onto the plane, doing my best to repress agonising stomach cramps whilst dragging my screaming toddler behind me. I could see the looks of “please god don’t let my seat be anywhere near that woman and her brat!” on the other passengers faces as I passed by. What a great start to my repatriation experience!

I had little or no desire to be back in England, however 40,000 feet in the air and sick as a dog with airline staff discussing whether they should land the plane and take me to hospital, I couldn’t get there fast enough! Luckily I had been prescribed some morphine and there no short supply of hot water bottles and hot drinks from empathetic air hostesses, so with plane still firmly in air and massive melodrama averted, our journey from hell commenced onwards.

After twelve hours, the highlights of which being a minor head injury acquired by my ferral-stampeding-up-and-down-the-aisle-toddler (the blood always makes it look worse than it is) and a drunk passenger emptying the best part of a bottle of wine into my hand luggage (goodbye clean nappies!) the whole ordeal was over. I didn’t even glance at the duty free (I must have been in bad shape!) and made a beeline with my leaning tower of suitcases into my parents arms and the chilly air of Heathrow’s arrivals lounge.

The first thing that struck me about England was it’s grey blandness. The sky was grey, the roads were grey, even the light was a murky grey. In contrast to the techi-colour vibrancy of India it was like I was viewing the world through the veil of a grubby net-curtain. I didn’t like it one bit.

img-20141108-wa0000

Still it was good to be back in the parental bosom where I could convulse in comfort with invaluable childcare assistance. My long-term health problem that had caused such commotion on the aeroplane was finally getting see to thanks to the wonderful NHS. Calls, offers of help and moral support were flooding in from friends. Maybe England wasn’t so bad a place to be… Before long I found myself in London with a new job, flat and even a cat.

I had heard of reverse culture shock as a phenomena before, but nothing could have ever prepared me for it. At first it was the little things. I missed my bum washer! You would never think that you could miss Indian toilets but when presented with good old English loo roll as opposed to a refreshing jet of cleansing water, my whole bathroom experience just felt unhygienic!

Then there was money – English bank notes just didn’t seem real and seemed to have this magical quality of disappearing faster than seemed possible. I checked and there was no mysterious hole in my purse – stuff really was that expensive. I felt like crying every time I converted the price of things back to rupees in my head! The rent on my new flat was more than six times what I had been paying in Mumbai, yet my earnings were not even twice what I had been getting back there – it just didn’t seem to add up!

At home I continued to cook Indian food for myself and my daughter. I sorely missed all my comfort street food snacks – vada pav, behl puri, pani puri. I just couldn’t go back to a British diet of bland followed by stodge with a side helping of dull. Still it was good to be able to get cheap tins of baked beans.

At work I found myself thinking in Hindi when I wanted to direct crew to move flight cases or fly PA. At the childminders and at friend’s and family’s houses I had to explain that if my daughter asked for pani it meant she was thirsty and dudu meant she wanted milk- not that she needed the loo (doodoo is slang for poo in England!). It was surreal being able to understand what everyone was saying all the time!

Crossing the road in the UK is a completely different technique, as is driving and travelling by public transport (more about that later). I found I had picked up other Indian habits as well that I just couldn’t shake – wobbling my head (my current Indian boyfriend hates this but I just can’t help it!), abruptness and directness in conversation and answering the phone (there is a great article by an ex-pat I met in Mumbai on this: http://idiva.com/opinion-iparenting/are-we-bringing-up-a-generation-of-rude-kids/25757) and neither me nor my daughter, could get used to the amount of layers of clothes you need to wear to combat our British climate!

Everyone noticed my difficulties adjusting – strangers as well as people close to me. The smell of curry at work had been commented on more than once. There had been a few road rage incidents. I found myself talking incessantly about India to anyone who cared to listen (as well as a few who didn’t!) I began to question myself – was I just making a big deal out of nothing? After all, I had lived in England for a large part of my life. Was I clinging on to my Indian habits, even obsessing over them, not to mention adding unnecessary quantities of masala into my food, as a way of conserving some kind of connection with the country I had fallen in love with? Was all this symptomatic of the fact that I had not wanted to leave? I felt like a different person to the one who had lived in England before – was this my way of maintaining and advertising my position to the world around me as an ex-pat even though I could hardly call myself one? Enough of the self psychoanalysis – one thing was clear – I missed India and my life there terribly and had big doubts if I was ever going to, or wanted to, adapt back to life in England. So what was I going to do about it?

Here are a few links that ex-pats returning home may find useful:

http://www.internations.org/magazine/14-repatriation

http://www.transition-dynamics.com/reentry.html

http://internationalhrforum.com/2009/08/17/reverse-culture-shock-or-why-do-i-hate-being-back-home/

http://www.newcomersnetwork.com/information/repatriation_the_difficulties_of_returning_home_and_reverse_culture_shock_on_re-entry_from_expatriate_life.php

http://www.internations.org/magazine/repatriate-issues-and-company-support-15343

http://www.internations.org/magazine/reverse-culture-shock-15346

http://www.internations.org/magazine/going-back-home-easier-said-than-done-15338

http://www.indiamike.com/india/india-for-beginners-f122/you-may-be-missing-india-when-you-t2404/