On the new year’s eve, I was walking with some friends around the party blocks along Queen street west, near my house. It was an hour or so before midnight but people were already drunk, yelling and acting funny, but nothing unusual. I’m used to this since I live just outside the nightclub zone.
Around the block were a couple of high-end night clubs. As we approached, we couldn’t but feel the difference in the clientele. A limousine drew in front of us and three young guys jumped out with bottles of liquor in their hands. They looked like teenagers, or perhaps in their very early 20′s. They discarded their bottles of liquor in the backyard of a house because there were some police cars ahead.
As I walked further, I saw four girls getting out of a taxi. They were drenched with makeup, wore shiny tight skirts and high heels. All of them were obviously drunk. Bunch of guys yelled cat calls at them from the window of another taxi. Some verbal exchanges ensued.
Then there were lots of police cars (which was what piqued our curiosity in the first place) at the corner. They had cordoned off the area and were expelling patrons from a nightclub. I felt really really old because everyone around me seemed to be barely legal teenagers or in their very early 20s. They were all obviously loaded and very fancily dressed. Why were they being expelled from the nightclub? Overcrowding? Alcohol poisoning? Drugs? Assault? No idea but anything could have happened in there.
The young bunch was drunk and wild. There was lot of kissing, groping, fondling, hands inside pants and what I would describe as “bedroom behaviour” going on. And for a reason, all the girls appeared drunk beyond control, and the guys appeared sober. Something was unbalanced.
I usually strive to deconstruct gender and dismiss notions of “a man’s job” v/s “a woman’s job.” Hence, incidents like this bother me. Why are girls expected to dress in minimal clothing, wear makeup, uncomfortable shoes, etc. while guys can dress conservatively? Clearly, stereotypical gender roles were at play here – a girl must act as a girl and a guy must act as a guy. Who defined that?
It left me with more questions than answers. What was so cool about this? Is it necessary to stoop so low to get sex? Does makeup really make you look pretty? Do you feel like a “guy” if you are leading a drunk girl to you car? But in a society that labels a girl a “slut” and a guy a “champ”, such things are inevitable, isn’t it? Sad.
Just before we left the scene, we saw a girl in a terrible state. She was barely able to walk in her point heel shoes and I bet she was cold too. She had a cellphone in her hand and was screaming “mom! mom!” while desperately holding on to something so she wouldn’t fall. We were about to help when someone came running to her.
Thankfully only a small portion of the population is involved in this gender-stereotyped nightclub culture. All this made me realise how immature and un-sustainable this “rite of passage” to adulthood was. Or maybe I am just getting old and I see reality differently.
Four years in Canada
Last week was my 4th anniversary of moving to Canada. Coincidentally, the other day, my blog along with 3 other blogs was featured on a website under the the post Canada has a future. In that post, the writer used the cases of the four of us to demonstrate how recent immigrants to Canada had not only succeeded, but also contributed to the enrichment of the Canadian society. This made me reflect upon my story.
In the conventional sense, perhaps I can be considered successful. In the past 4 years, I’ve finished an expensive masters degree, paid off my loans, found a partner, landed a job that I like and pretty soon I’ll be buying a house – looks glorious. That said, these four years have been far from perfect. I was stuck in a degree I didn’t fully like but finished only because it offered value for money. At one point, I was jobless, broke and had to resort to doing certain ‘jobs’ that I know my mother would disapprove. There were other events that I don’t want to write about here. Yet, I consider myself lucky when I hear horror stories of other immigrants – struggling with finances, facing language and race barriers, unable to adjust to the extreme weather, scared by the unfamiliarity, etc.
But forget about the material things like possessions and bank balance – these things come and go. If success is measured by inter-personal factors such as love, relationships, friendships, or societal factors such as respect, inclusiveness, equality, etc., then I do think I’m successful. And this success is attributed not to me, but more to Canada and Canadians.
There are lot of things that I still need to do and accept before calling myself a Canadian. While I consider myself sufficiently integrated in Toronto, the word ‘home’ still reminds me of India. I think that’s inevitable – afterall I’ve spent the first 25 wonderful and formative years of my life in Mumbai, India. I often wonder how I would have turned up if I had moved to Delhi, Moscow, Hong Kong, Berlin or somewhere random instead of Toronto. Would I feel at home? Probably not. Would I be able to live there. Certainly yes. I think I will be able to live happily in any society that is open to a certain degree. Living, afterall, is such a transitional thing. Aren’t all humans immigrants of some kind? It was only in the last few centuries that the concept of nation-state and boundaries was strictly defined. Prior to that, people moved. My ancestors probably came to India from Asia minor, humanity probably originated in Africa, I moved to Canada, its all random.
Four years back I made a decision before fully appreciating the consequences of it. But once I immigrated, there was no going back and I am very glad I went forward with it. I’m quite certain that it won’t be very long before I refer to Canada as “home.”
To put this in a cheesy way: Four years ago, I came to this country with only two suitcases of stuff and eyes full of dreams. Today, I have a home full of stuff and hundreds of dreams that have come true. Thank you Canada. 
Priyank
Looks like an array of kilns.
The Don Valley Brickworks is a former quarry and industrial site located in the Don River valley in Toronto, Ontario. Currently the buildings sit mostly unused while the quarry has been converted into a city park which includes a series of naturalized ponds. The Don Valley Brick Works operated for nearly 100 years and provided bricks used to construct many well-known Toronto landmarks, such as Casa Loma, Osgoode Hall, Massey Hall, and the Ontario Legislature. The buildings are currently undergoing restoration, courtesy of Evergreen, a national charity dedicated to restoring nature in urban environments. (Wikipedia)
Someone made an artificial little pond and setup a canoe in it. Probably abandoned after the photo shoot.
Brick Works Factory is off-limits and there is a barrier around it. But people have creative ways to enter it and the guards don’t seem to care. Afterall what would a couple of guys with cameras do inside an abandoned structure?
Switchboard. Reminds me of my engineering days!
My photographer friend wanted to go here and I tagged along. He was surprised and I was disappointed to find half a dozen people in that place already. Some were busy in photo shoots with models.
Holes in broken walls offer pretty views.
I can’t read Graffiti. The words usually don’t make any sense. Feels like a whole different language
Art supplies. The whole place is covered in Graffiti.
There are several ‘secret’ passages that open to new rooms. Although its nice to explore and take pictures, 15 years ago I would have loved to play detective and investigate here!
Some more machines.
This place must have been pretty busy judging by the size of it and the sheer number of kilns it had. A non-profit called Evergreen has plans to develop the abandoned buildings into a cultural centre with a focus on the environment. I’m not a big fan of such fancy “cultural centers.”
The big warehouse, probably used for raw material storage.
I’m fascinated by Sun rays and dust that sparkles in the Sun. So simple but beautiful. My friend kicked up some dust so that this picture will make more sense.
Area outside the kilns and heavenly intervention.
Tip: If you click on the images, the bigger versions that open are clearer than the pictures posted above. I think I used the wrong algorithm to resize 
On October 14th, a newly arrived Polish immigrant died at Vancouver International Airport after being Tasered by the police.
Taser is an electroshock weapon that is used by the police to fire a high-voltage electric shock at the victim in order to subdue his muscles. “Electroshock weapon technology uses a temporary high-voltage low-current electrical discharge to override the body’s muscle-triggering mechanisms. The recipient feels great pain, and can be momentarily paralyzed while an electric current is being applied. It is reported that applying electroshock devices to more sensitive parts of the body is more painful.” (Wikipedia)
Robert Dziekanski, a Polish immigrant arrived at Vancouver, Canada after his first international flight. Speaking only Polish, he was left helpless at the airport arrival lounge for over 10 hours. This left him frustrated, he turned violent, and was left dead when the police fired Tasers at him aiming to control the unarmed man. The whole incident was captured by an eye-witness Paul Pritchard on his camera.
While I strongly condemn the Taser incident there is something in the Canadian society that I think is worth appreciating:
- I respect Paul for handing over the video to the police in order to help the investigations. Note that this incident involved the police, who, were also the investigators of the incident.
- I respect the faith a common man has in the police and law enforcement officers here.
- I respect the fact that the police returned the video back to Paul, fully knowing how humiliating and embarrassing it would be – not just to the RCMP, but to Canada itself.
- I respect the freedom of press here and how the matter is being discussed openly and transparent manner.
- Finally, I respect the fact that the common here man believes that justice will be delivered, despite the police themselves being involved in the incident.
The video is here. Content warning.
Indeed, there are many things we (Indians) need to learn…
Image from CBC News
Ok, this isn’t about the Bigul (adjacent picture) that is played during army parades, I’m talking about Bagels – the donut shaped bakery products hugely popular in Europe and America.
Until today morning, I hadn’t eaten a bagel (I was a Bagel-virgin). I am generally fascinated by bakery products – cookies, muffins, cakes etc. There was this Bagel shop I passed by every morning and naturally I got attracted to it.
Previous week:
Toronto is usually laid back except for the morning rush hour which is very Mumbai style. So the maximum time I take to zoom past the shop was 3.2 seconds, grossly insufficient to see what was inside. Determined to investigate, last week I paused in front of it just to get a better look
“Hey there, good morning”, yelled the lady behind the counter in a machine-like tone.
“I’m just looking”, I said defensively. (Somehow I feed odd to browse or window shop)
She nodded and I started checking out. The smell was good (I’m talking about the shop, not the lady). There were round bread-like donut type objects of different shapes and colors. I looked at the price – “Single Bagel – $ 0.85.” Was it that cheap? Awesome!
Today morning:
Incidentally I woke up late today and couldn’t afford to eat breakfast. So I went to the shop and asked for a bagel.
“Bagel? Sure, what kind?” the lady said (another one today, this one had a thick Turkish accent)
“Ugh… any kind” I looked around clueless.
She simply stared at me.
“Raisin Cinnamon” I quipped (I am attracted to both).
Then she asked me something that I didn’t understand. I asked her to repeat twice. Finally she went to a toasting machine and pointed at it:
“Bagel Toast or no Toast”
“Aha! Yes Toast please” I was satisfied. She let out a grunt (probably thinking – ‘these, foreigners… can’t they learn anything before coming here?!’)
Then there was this Chinese girl in the subsequent counter. She was saying something which I didn’t understand so I presumed it was for someone else and I conveniently ignored her. After about a minute of shouting and yelling with gestures, I figured out she was indeed talking to me.
“What toppings?” (totally different accent)
I gave her the most puzzled look I ever sported. I thought a bagel was something like a cake or a muffin.
Re-framed.
“umm.. anything…”, I looked around to find an array of meat boxes and some green stuff in a corner, “Anything veggie please” (I had no intent of eating raw meat)
“Ok Lettuce? Tomato? Cucumber? What else?”
“Olives, Pickles, cheese – no not the slices, give me this shredded one” I said. This was getting confusing. What exactly was a bagel? a sandwich?
“And honey-mustard sauce, salt and pepper” I spoke like an expert.
“Here you go” she handed me a neatly wrapped pack
I proceeded to pay, but it was at the other end of the shop attended by a huge African girl.
The receipt read $4.10
“WHAT!!??” That was the scream inside my head. Thankfully I stopped converting everything to Rupees, else I’d have fainted. Externally, I just smiled at her while swearing never to come here again.
“No card, only cash” she said pointing to some obscure note on the counter. (She reminded me of Hidimba)
I paid, grabbed the change and escaped back into the crowd. Phew!
The first thing I did at work was to read what a Bagel was.
Wikipedia says: “A bagel is a bread product traditionally made of yeasted wheat dough in the form of a roughly hand-sized ring which is boiled in water and then baked. The result is a dense, chewy, doughy interior with a browned and sometimes crisp exterior. Bagels are distinct from the similarly shaped doughnuts and from the similarly textured bialys, primarily because of the cooking method amongst other differences.”
You may want to read the the (w)hole story, or bake one yourselves.
PS: This story is so unlike me. I generally don’t do anything unplanned, unresearched.
Before you begin, you must read Gabriel’s The First Ten Things You Need To Know Aboot [tag]Canada[/tag]. She He will address most of your curiosities in a matter-of-fact manner.
Update: Sorry Gabriel! I’ll remember it now.
Now I have been in this country for 8 months and 8 days (wow! how precise!) and it is interesting to note how my perceptions change (and ARE changing) as I live here. Agreed that I spent most of these 8.3 months confined to the business school in what they call the ‘York University’ (YU) campus, I am not as insightful about this place as some other newcomer would have been.
You might have read my initial observations about this place. While all of them are still valid, I have discovered something more.
For instance:
- ALL Canadians are confused about their history period. Once I was talking to a history major about this, and he had an easy answer – ‘I studied American (read US) history at college.‘
- Although the country is independent, they celebrate Queen Victoria day with vigor. Even the oath for new immigrants is a statement of allegiance to her majesty, the Queen of England (or is it Britan?)
- They have this funny obsession about perceiving themselves to be different from the US, but they really dont’t do the job well! For instance, cars are driven on right side of the road, but distances are measured in kilometers. Color is spelled as colour but the accent is very American. Call them escalators, not lifts
The free and open environment in ‘our’ Canada is like a mouthwatering delicious piece of stake that the orthodox setup across the border MUST finish. Hmm… why don’t the two countries merge? By ‘merge’ I don’t mean a peaceful union, but a hostile takeover by the [tag]US[/tag] Republicans. They will then be able to cast their religious, conservative and/or homophobic ideals on a wider territory. Yummy. As a side effect, more people will be under their rule, so the amount of moral sin per person attributable to the actions of the Republicans will be lower. (sometimes the engineer inside me strives to quantify everything… you know what I mean? (that is another over used phrase))
Now I have neither been to the US nor have I spent a long time in Canada, but I can already distinguish an American from a Canadian. Do you wanna know the difference? I think if you can identify people of Pune from that of Mumbai, you can easily spot an American among the Canadians 
I don’t expect any nasty comments from the Bush-land saying ‘who the hell is this smart guy’, simply because nobody reads this blog!
to be continued…/
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