Profiting by our enemies

There is a famous Sufi Proverb, which goes something like this:

Pick up a bee from kindness and learn the limitations of kindness.

In a speech Abraham Lincoln delivered at the height of the Civil War, he referred to the Southerners as fellow human beings who were in error. An elderly lady chastised him for not calling him irreconcilable enemies who must be destroyed. "Why, madam," Lincoln had replied, "do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?"

It is natural to want to employ your friends when you find yourself in times of need. The world is a harsh place, and your friends soften the harshness. Besides, you know them. Why depend on a stranger when you have a friend at hand?

The problem is that you often do not know your friends as well as you imagine.

When you decide to hire a friend, you discover the qualities he or she has kept hidden. It is usually your act of kindness that unbalances everything.

Ingratitude has a long and deep history.

Men are more ready to repay an injury than a benefit, because gratitude is a burden and revenge a pleasure -

Tacitus (one of the greatest Roman historians)

In 1971, during the Vietnam War, Henry Kissinger was the target of an unsuccessful kidnapping attempt. In private, without informing the Secret Service, Kissinger arranged a Saturday-morning meeting with three of the alleged kidnappers. Explaing to them that he would have most American soldiers out of Vietnam by mid-1972, he completely charmed them. They gave him some "Kidnap Kissinger" buttons and one of them remained a friend of his for years! This was not a onetime ploy: Kissinger made a policy of working with those who disagreed with him.

Without enemies, we grow lazy. An enemy at our heels sharpens out wits.

A little story:

In the mid-ninth century, Michael III assumed the throne of the Byzantine Empire. His mother, the Empress Theodora, had been banished to a nunnery, and her lover, Theoctistus, had been murdered; at the head of the conspiracy to depose Theodora and enthrone Michael was Michael's uncle, Bardas.

Michael was a young, inexperienced ruler, surrounded by intriguers. He needed someone he could trust and his thoughts turned to Basilius, his best friend. Basilius, the head of the royal stables, had no experience whatsoever in government.

Basilius learned well and was soon advising the emperor on all matters of state. The only problem seemed to be money - Basilius never had enough. Michael doubled, then tripled his salary, ennobled him, and married him off to his own mistress, Eudoxia Ingerina.

Bardas was now head of the army, and Basilius convinced Michael that the man was hopelessly ambitious. Basilius poured poison into Michael's ear until the emperor agreed to have his uncle murdered. During a great horse race, Basilius closed in on Bardas and stabbed him to death. Soon after, Basilius asked that he replace Bardas. This was granted.

A few years later Michael, in some financial straits, asked Basilius to pay back some of the money he had borrowed over the years.

To Michael's shock, Basilius refused.

A few weeks later, after a night of heavy drinking, Michael awoke to find himself surrounded by soldiers. Basilius watched as they stabbed the emperor to death.

The End

To have a good enemy, choose a friend: He knows where to strike.

- Diane De Poitiers, Mistress of Henri II of France.

Know how to use enemies for your own profit. You must learn to grab a sword not by its blade, which would cut you, but by the handle, which allows you to defend yourself. The wise man profits more from his enemies, that a fool from his friends.

- Baltasar Gracian

Do Barbies Celebrate Birthdays?

Almost 25 years ago, I celebrated my Barbie's birthday. My mom used to tell me stories of how as a child, she used to play "wedding" with her dolls. With her friends, she'd celebrate her doll's wedding, they'd sing songs, dress up, and then the girl with the male doll ( Ken equivalent ) would take away the female doll - for good. That story always broke me heart ( it kind of does now too ) and so when asked if I wanted to do a "wedding" for my Barbie, I declined the offer. Instead I thought it'd be a good idea to have a birthday party instead. So on February 19th 1987, I had my Barbie's birthday party to which I invited my frield Rolla. Rolla, not only brought gifts for my Barbie, but also brought along her Barbies. My mom baked a cake, my dad carefully iced the cake and my grandfather sat watching so eagerly at what was going to take place.
25 years later, I asked my daughter if she wanted to have a little birthday part for a doll of hers. It's a baby doll and she loves it very much. So remembering my special event I thought she'd be interested too. But just as I was turned off at the idea of having a wedding party for my Barbie, my daughter stared back at me with the most confused look and said "Mama, dolls don't have birthdays" and carried on doing what she was doing.

My Trip to the Brothel

On Wednesdays I work closer to the city so after work I drive about 5 minutes further west from where I work. After finding street parking with great difficulty, I make my way up a steep flight of stairs dodging red-faced customers making their way down. As I enter the foyer, at the reception there sits an overweight owner, giving out numbers to customers. Behind the owner in an "L" shape sitting room where about a dozen girls - dressed in white lab coats - sit waiting to be called. He calls them by their names and they come strutting towards their client and lead them into a private room, about the size of a stall -and the door shuts.

Yeah, sorry to break the soundtrack, but I only go to get my threading done at a well known esthetics "joint" in Montreal. I am going to keep the name anonymous as I definetly plan on returning there! Well, this place is family owned and they have about three locations. At one location the lady owner sits with her younger son - about 22 years old who always seems so awkward being there. At the second location sits the "dad" who probably buys 3 or 4 XXL sized clothes. He is huge and always seems to be in sweats and honestly in the past five years I have never seen him stand. When he asks me "what are you here for?" I always just say "eyebrows". At their final location sits their older son, who once told me I hadn't taken off my sticker from my new jacket. As I looked down I saw a 10 inch vertical sticker on my jacket with "L" and "Gap" written all the way down. sigh.

All the girls who work at these locations seem so terrified of the owners. One even told me that "we are not allowed to have conversations with our customers" when I tried to chat it up with her. I mean what do you as someone is just going at it on your face, being that close you feel like just talking about something.

There is different music there all the time. if you go before noon, there is Sikh religious music.







Go any other time during the day, you'll hear famous Bollywood tracks playing. Go during any festive season - Eid, Diwali, Holi, Lodhi etc. - you hear tradtional tracks.



So as these girls are like inches away from your face, making sure they leave no scars, they are singing along to their favourite tracks. (But they are not allowed to make conversation)

Some will even talk to you while they are "doing business" but as soon as they are done, and you are getting your bag and jacket together, they walk out so quick and so quiet almost making you feel like you insulted them.

Customers pay at he reception. By the time you arrive at the reception, the owner already knows how much you owe. And then comes the point which inspired me to write this today. You turn around to give some change as tip to the girl. First it takes you forever to recognize the girl from the dozen sitting there. Once you do, she takes the tip from you with complete innocence and (almost) timidness and occasionally they just open their pocket of their lab coats a bit wider and ask you to just drop it in their pocket!

And then I make my way down every Wednesday. Watching the hurried customer pass by me on their way up as I hurry back my car with my red face.















that turning point



Ayesha ( my four year old )





I watched from the corner of my eye as she giggled to herself while looking at her doll. She then picked up the doll and  snickering to herself walked over to my bed.

"Mama, pata kia hua, voh Chloe hai na? Voh Chloe bohut funny hai. Dekhein is ki moti ko press kerein na to dekhein dolly kehti hai I love you to jub hum oopar jaa rahai thai na school main, to Chloe bhi keh rahee thee mwah mwah I love you I love you. Daikha! voh bohut funny hai!"

Translation:

"Mama, guess what, you know Chloe? Chloe is so funny! See if you press the stomach on this doll she says I love you so when Chloe and I were going upstairs at school, Chloe started saying mwah mwah I love you I love you. See! she is so funny!"



 She said this and just wandered off. This was her first doll ever, my cousin Muneeb gave it to her the first time he saw her and it holds so many memories. Today was just a huge turning point for me though because up until today she had never had a vivid reminiscence of such a sort. It was almost like for the first time ever I saw her think out loud and then share a little story related to it.

Time flies. 

when things just go wrong

There are days when Murphy's laws are in full swing. Everything and anything that can go wrong goes wrong. Like Alanis's song, ironic, you go to the cafeteria to look for a fork and all you find every single day is a pile of spoons. The day you need a spoon, there is only a big pile of forks. Or the one day you are running late, there is a traffic jam at an intersection which rarely sees more than three cars at the lights. So that is how your day can turn really crappy.

Then there are days when you are Murphy for someone else. Hunh?! I will explain.

Last Monday, while arriving at work, I probably made this other lady go totally insane. I was in front of a white Ford. A middle aged French woman seemed rather rushed. As I pulled over to the turnstile, I realized my pass was in my handbag which was on the back seat. I reached back to take the handbag and feeling the strap tighten around something I realized a strap was stuck under the car seat's arm rest. I yanked on the handle which caused all the contents of the handbag to fly everywhere. Embarrassed, I looked in the rear view mirror, to my horror she honked at me right as she gave me the look of death.  I was not going to step out the car to get my pass from the back seat. So I lowered my seat as far back as possible, undid my seat belt, heard another honk, rolled over to my side and reached to my handbag. Grabbing my pass I sat up straight, moved my hair from my face, swiped my card and drove ahead. As I inched forward, I felt her vibes caress the back of my neck.

Like that wasn't enough humiliation for a day, as I parked car, I notice she had pulled in right next to my spot. I gave her a super embarrassed, super cheesy grin ( eyebrows raised an all ) an was greeted with a condescending roll of the eye. She huffed and puffed her way out of the car and I slowed down what I was doing to give her way to get ahead. Instead of following close behind, I took my time, rearranging my handbag and then slowly began walking towards the elevators. I couldn't believe my eyes! 15 minutes later she was still at the elevators! Although I felt it was more to her horror than mine that we were together again.

She decided to take the stairs. I decided whole-heartily to wait instead for the elevator. Carrying her bags most awkwardly she began her steps up the long metal stairway.

She had barely reached the third step when the loud bling of the elevator broke the silence. I hustled in, waited a few seconds, thinking she may join me, and then pressed the Ground Floor ( RC ) button. I walked out and made my way to the other set of elevators. As I work on the 24th floor, taking the stairs never is an option for me.

I had been waiting about half a minute when I turned around to see the same lady joining me at the elevators. It seemed like a long day already and I hadn't even reached work yet! In the next 10 seconds the elevator door opened and about six of us stepped in, including the lady. As the elevator door was about to close, a guy forced his way in followed by a couple other people. It all happened in a rush, like a really fast scene in an action movie going super super slow. And didn't even realize how fast my arm pushed back as my elbow nudged the coffee the guy behind me was holding as the coffee sprayed all over the lady's white suit jacket.

I froze in silence as the lady swore her mind and heart out in french, getting most of the earlier frustrations out, all at the poor guy who's coffee I had nudged.