1. Happy Diwali to all! I am a little late to the party as the official date was yesterday. If my father was alive, we would have celebrated by sharing a savoury treat followed by something sweet. When he was well, he used to make us a big batch of karah prosad (made with atta flour, sugar, ghee and nuts though my father preferred to use semolina). My earliest memory of this sacred sweet is receiving a dollop of it on a square white napkin at the end of services at the local Sikh gurdwara, the melted ghee quickly soaking through the thin paper as I scooped it to my mouth with my other hand. In India, this is served directly into one’s cupped hands, sans napkin, honestly the best way to consume it. This was followed by the serving of langar, or community kitchen, a non-denominational practice that feeds much of the poor in India.
2. The winner of the Booker Prize will be announced today. I have read five out of the six shortlisted books so far and have ordered the final book (The Disappearers by Marlon James), likely to be the winner, to be read after the fact. This is the closest I have ever come to reading an entire shortlist. To be fair, the long list for this prize got everyone scrambling (I have three unread books from that list, not included in the final picks). I have stacked my short list (minus one) in order of preference from bottom to top in the picture below, my number one pick being May We Feed the King by Rebecca Perry. I can’t tell you how much I loved this book. I am hoping for more prose from this writer. The favourite to win is either The Disappearers or John of John, both previous Booker Prize winners. Douglas Stuart is a wonderful discovery, though I am a little late to the table. I will circle back to read his 2020 debut, Shuggie Bain, winner of the Booker that year.
My favourite category is the International Booker Prize: “Taiwan Travelogue, written by Yáng Shuāng-zǐ and translated by Lin King, has won the 2026 International Booker Prize, given annually to an outstanding work of fiction translated into English and published in the U.K. or Ireland.” I have this book in another to-read pile.
3. We watched the documentary Holding Liat last night, available to rent or buy from Apple TV Store. I highly recommend it, an inspiring example of compassion, grace and courage in the terrible aftermath of October 7th, 2023. It has been nominated for an Oscar under the category of best documentary. Here is the preview: https://youtu.be/77GmvT24zUw?si=f4PuZTocEMZLlDF8.
4. Change is so dang difficult, especially when it involves loss. Because of the nature of my work as a home care physiotherapist working with the elderly and adult physically handicapped in the community, I have long had the attitude that aging is a long, slow series of losses and adjustments. The easy response is to perhaps roll with the punches, accept what you can no longer do and buy the gadget that helps you put your socks on or reach and grab the twenty dollar bill you dropped on the floor, to stop climbing ladders, to consistently sleep on the shoulder that doesn’t hurt, to pop the OTC analgesics. I have been in this spiral lately, preparing myself and duly horrified, for the disability that comes after a lifetime of overuse injuries and heavy lifting. My go-to person, a local chiropractor extraordinaire, who happens to be married to a former colleague, takes away the pain and restores my function every time, with long periods of respite in between. Lately though, there have been shorter and shorter respite periods in between. I have never considered myself to be a good physiotherapist, at least not in the practical, clinical sense. In fact, I am more likely to refer you to someone who could do the job better than to try to tackle your pain. Not to mention, I am physically no longer able to apply anything resembling manual therapy (been there, done that, still feel the burn). Despite knowing I suck as a physio, I decided to problem-solve my own pain rather than source it out to a private clinic. It’s not that I don’t believe in them, I do. It’s just that I am too quick to call bullshit when it comes to the exercise programs they dole out, knowing they won’t work for me. All this to say, I have come up with my own home exercise program and lo and behold, it is actually working. So now I am thinking, maybe I don’t suck as badly as I thought and even more importantly, maybe there is hope for me yet.
5. Lately, I have been considering researching and joining some senior’s exercise classes like tai chi and chair yoga and gasp, aqua fit classes (I am not a water person and I am even less of a bathing suit person). There is something very zen about invisibility as one ages, about being one among a sea of people who have lived a lot of life experiences and no longer give a fuck about what anyone thinks. That being said, I was taking up a lot of space with my gigantic work back pack in the elevator of a senior’s residence the other day when the very tall, male PAB I had jostled into a corner remarked with a big smile, “I love your hair! It is the type of grey that glistens gold.” Glistens gold! Did he mean silver? In any case, maybe I am not as invisible as I thought.
Not my hair, by the way.
