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the quest for samosas

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It was a 14-hour flight from Dallas to Dubai, and I was flying in economy. I was both excited and terrified because the ultimate destination was Bengaluru, India, and I had never been to India before. This opportunity excited me. A 14-hour flight to Dubai followed by a 4-hour flight to India terrified me. It was a great privilege to have a job that afforded me the luxury of travelling to many different places and working with so many varied cultures and backgrounds. However, this had been a really busy period in time with people visiting me, trips for myself, the start of a new job, going through US naturalization process, applying for a passport, registering to vote, voting, planning the trip to India, etc. It was the final stretch before, I hoped, a lengthy period at home, sticking to routine, and spending time alone.   Arriving at Dallas airport, via the train and terminal link bus, I found the ‘bag drop’ section for Emirates and was asked to show my visa for India. I had checked wi
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father

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  At 06:33 it was still dark. Completely dark… and it would remain so for some time. The words that echoed through his head were those of his mother saying that she was being punished for abandoning her parents. She had not abandoned her parents; she had left the UK with her own family in search of a better life. Decades later, her own children had left South Africa in search of a better life. She felt this was a punishment and guilt was administered in large doses. Her youngest son now lay in the all-consuming darkness and pondered this, a topic that had interested and troubled him his entire life. It seemed that so many people entered into stagnation because they were afraid to move away, afraid to break with tradition, afraid to seek their own path. At the same time, it struck him how many had suffered, were suffering, and would suffer as a result of their families moving away. Having no children, it was easy to claim that he would simply be happy for his own if they had moved to a
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mac sabbath

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  I survived San Diego and the return to work, but the following weekend arrived with trepidation. I knew that Monday meant a very early start to take the train to the University of North Texas in Dallas to attend my Citizenship ceremony. I was starting a new job and knew that Wednesday brought with it a presentation that I had to give to our global legal team about artificial intelligence. Immediately after, I had to rush to apply for my passport. The day after that I was to give another presentation to an audience of around 300 people. Thursday also saw the arrival of a friend who I had not seen for a long time from New Hampshire. Therefore, it was a very exciting and active time, but it was a nerve-racking time requiring a great deal of research, organisation, patience, and determination.                     The ceremony went well and was an immensely proud moment for me. For many years, in my late teens and early twenties, I had looked to American literature, music, culture, geogra
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old town station

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  I type in your name to send you a note… I see that you are eight or nine months pregnant in your profile photo, and I find myself at a loss for words. There is no indication of when you were last online, of course, people tend to hide these things these days. So I don't bother to message.  I think of you often… and the night we met. The way you touched your belt buckle each time you spoke to me. When I asked why, you said it was to save your soul from being stolen by a ginger. You said it was a Spanish belief. It was wonderfully hilarious. In spite of your being Spanish, your accent sounded almost English, and I felt that you had a Scottish look. A few hours later we were kissing... kissing in the bar, kissing in the street, kissing in my hotel. We spoke about how it felt like more and like we had known each other for years. The next day I had to fly to a different part of Spain as my band was playing at a festival. Through all of the wonderful messages we were exchanging, you se
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unrequited love

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  Friday morning, 5am, I am awake. But it is not a bad thing. I am awake because I am excited. I fly to San Diego for the weekend, and yesterday I successfully passed my citizenship interview. San Diego beckons me as the place I first truly longed to be, to live, to see… and I still, to this day, would love to be self-sufficient, without the need for a physical office or company or reporting structure, to simply live and read and write whilst exploring the streets, parks, beaches, museums, and bars of the place. The world can be a better place if we can let go of old beliefs and traditions. Those traditions that put so much pressure on people. For example, everyone is raised to believe they must get married, buy a house, have children… and so people become depressed because they can’t find a partner or buy a house, or a couple can’t have children. Instead, we should be enjoying our independence, travelling, investing, enjoying life. We don’t need to buy a house… be a nomad, be free. We
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the last tycoon

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With Fitzgerald’s The Last Tycoon in hand, I saunter down to the swimming pool. It has been a day of meetings and walks and talks and swims, my watch tells me I have done enough, so I want to soak in the water and read in silence. The pool is always empty at this time of day. It is empty most times of day, but the chances of seeing anyone around 6pm are little to none. I arrive at the pool and one of my elderly neighbours is swimming. A great guy who always says a few words, very few, but he always waves and smiles. We chat a little and then he returns to his apartment. I settle into a corner of the pool, allow my limbs to float and muscles to relax, gather my book and read a few lines… a tremendous noise starts to approach me. Suddenly, four young women in their twenties arrive at the pool with alcohol, bikinis and tattoos. Far from being excited, I feel trapped. It seems they see me late and are surprised. I feel like I am spoiling their party. I feel like I am lurking, even though
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waving

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  I awoke thinking about her. A woman I met in Madrid who had moved from Thailand, she’d married a Spanish gentleman. She heard about the drinks that we used to have every Thursday night and she came along… immediately we connected. She was intelligent, funny, completely into the social disorder that we created, and she was also impressively talented. For example, she was a professor at university (in her spare time) to teach aspiring young professionals about business and the tech side of business that she was involved in. She was also devastatingly beautiful. I decided to send her a message before getting out of bed, but when I opened our chat I realised I had sent her one just over a year ago and she had not replied. Having realised this, I never wrote a message, I merely sent a gif of a silly creature waving. Alas, there was no reply. To add insult to injury, I launched my photos and went to ‘on this day through the years.’ Eight years ago today we had gone to Madrid’s Circulo Bell
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