Aditi Mittal and going home

This week has been über busy, but let’s be honest, it’s always busy. Been going out every night, but the highlight this week was seeing Aditi Mittal.

Now, if you don’t know who she is, then all you need to know is that she is hilarious! Quite useful, given that she is a comedians. Forget laugh out loud, she is tears rolling down your face laughter.

I went with Carl, who I hadn’t seen for a few months, we didn’t even know what to expect from the show, but I do prefer watching comedy completely blind.

Forget laugh out loud, she is tears rolling down your face laughter

Haven’t had such a good laugh in ages!

I had grabbed front row seats, because why the hell not. If you go to a show, and the comedian decides to pick on someone, it’s more memorable if it’s you (or your friend).

Turns out that Aditi gets nervous before the show, so she came out and sat down and had a quick chat with us, which was lovely. That’s part of the reason I love being in the front row, especially at Soho Theatre, I’ve always had (or what feels like) a personal experience with the comedian. Apart from Hasan Minhaj. Bastard.

Back to Aditi, her show is all about the classical African/Asian problem. Seeking validation from the boss of the house. In her case, it’s her Mother. Aditi took us on a whirl wind tour of her life in Mumbai as a comedian and modern feminism in India. We go through the caricature of her father and why it’s all about her mother, who is also caricatured, can garner gravitas no matter what is going on. While some jokes may have missed the non-Indian audience, Carl was still laughing allowed throughout the show, so no problems there.

Ultimately, I got a night of laughter, catching up with an old friend and story that reminds us all the love within family. So go watch her Netflix special (that’s what she wanted plugged).

Home

Speaking of family, I returned home for the first time in years. I went back to Tottenham and visited the new Stadium. They call it The Tottenham Hotspur stadium, but I’ll only refer to it as the Lane. While it’s not the same as White Hart Lane, it’s an amazing stadium.

Bit weird to see a different stadium name
Walking down from Seven Sisters and sighting the golden cockerell

Dan Levy honestly deserves a statue in front of the stadium. It’s not just world class, its class setting. I’ve been to a fair number of stadiums over the years and most of them have been shit. Our home is other worldly. It has cheap alcohol, really cheap alcohol, decent food, you’re close to the pitch, it’s beautiful to look at, the sound resonates in the stadium and most importantly it’s in Tottenham. The walk down from Seven Sister is not that different from when I last came in 2017. It’s still pretty crap. It’s Tottenham after all. However, as you walk, you see the golden cockerel glistening in the light. On a brand-new stadium which rises out of the ground. A spaceship, given how modern it is compared to everything in the surrounding area.

The interior of the stadium, looking at the largest single tier in the world.

I’m not going to go into the details of Son taking apart Palace and seeing the first new player in ages (cheers Daniel) when Ndombele walked onto the pitch. What I realised is that I miss going to live events. I know that I’m writing here, on a very non-live format. However, seeing the football reminded me that sport is best viewed there. Not necessarily for the view, though mine was gorgeous, but for everything else that happens. Most importantly is the singing, in football at least.

I miss going to live events

The main takeaway from this week

Singing at a pub or at home is not the same. The roar of the crowd, where the sea of emotions ebbs and flows, is best felt and sent across to the team in the stadium. You can be nervous at home, abroad or surrounded in a Spurs only environment. It’s just not the same. If you are not a sport fan, think about watch a concert on YouTube vs being at one. It’s not even worth comparing. Being there there, if you catch my drift.

Gorgeous

I also miss how easy it is to escape at these events. No phone out and about needed. Just focus.

Podcast

Also just wanted to point out that I’m on a podcast called Chai Noon where myself and Kiran talk about our experiences of life and being brown.

Here are some links to find them:

Anchor: https://anchor.fm/kiran6

Stitcher: https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/kiran/chai-noon?refid=stpr

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/2NJPlT9cmhhnlmiSoQBTtZ

Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/chai-noon/id1478436904

RSS: https://anchor.fm/s/dc949a8/podcast/rss

Heading home from the game, maybe you should listen to a podcast next time you head home… Just suggesting…

Ten Years

Ten whole years. Okay maybe not ten whole years, but on the 06/09/09 I moved to the United Kingdom, to head to boarding school. To live a dream inspired by Harry Potter, but more so Spud (a legendary book). Back from 15 years of living abroad in the Commonwealth. It’s the day I moved to New Hall and met my best friends (and had some wonderful memories, a lot of stupid moments too), I then went on to study in at three different universities where I made some more great friends, moved between the UK and the Dubai; before settling back in London.

I love the UK

No really

What’s bizarre is that I love the UK. It’s one of the best countries in the world to grow up in. Sure, there are loads of problems, it’s not perfect; however, it’s my home. I am British after all. It’s home for the time being at least. And that’s the bizarre part. I don’t want to die here. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days here. I can’t I imagine being truly happy if I never leave these shores. Why? I would say growing up abroad has a lot to do with it.

One of my favourite songs to listen to is La Mer, though my favourite version is the Bobby Darrin version which is known as: Beyond the Sea. Apart from helping me along the path of becoming a hopeless romantic, it has always made think of the future and the yearning of what is beyond the horizon. I have never been one for dreaming of small little achievable goals. I dream big, because of my darling football club. Tottenham Hotspur. There’s a quote attributed to Bill Nic that I tend to base a lot of thoughts on: “It is better to fail aiming high than to succeed aiming low. And we of Spurs have set our sights very high… so high, in fact, that even failure will have in it an echo of glory.”

I dream big, because of my darling football club

Though being a Spurs fan has meant that most of our recent success have been stuck on my FM saves…

That’s the crux of it this, aim for the Moon, Mars, Jupiter and everything beyond; because if you don’t have the drive to go big, then you won’t even achieve the medium. That’s become of my own life mantra that, this is only life we have and I’ve got to try and achieve all the dreams I have; if I don’t try there’s no going back. It also results me over stretching myself and that I don’t always achieve what I capable of showing to others.

I have a good breadth, but not the greatest depth. It’s not as though I cannot focus, it’s just once I know I can do something, then I look for the next challenge. Doing something well and knowing that I can do it, means that I no longer care to prove that I can. That knowledge for myself, is good enough; unfortunately this system won’t be paying the bills. However, I believe that I’ve come into the world with my own riches. Chasing money won’t get me where I need to be, it will get me to the point of eternal poverty, to really butcher one thing Seneca was trying to say; poverty is not being happy with your current situation. That’s it for me, enjoy my circumstances. Know my privileges and make the world a better place. The aim is to just do live it. No hope. No try. Dream? Yes, but live those dreams.

Apart from helping me along the path of becoming a hopeless romantic

Talking about Beyond the Sea

Back to the UK. I love my pubs, the terrible nights out in Essex, a Geordie accent on a lass, arguing on how to say grass, making a fuss on how my tea is made, what is a proper queue, being able to shout ORDAH like Bercow, being able to chat to a bobby without fear of losing my life or paying a bribe, throwing abuse for 90mins at the footie, cheering on the home nations, having the Royal events to attend, able to speak freely and living on the greatest city on earth: London.

Yet, I am willing to give this all up, because I know that there are places out there that make you feel alive in other ways. London may be number one place to be, it’s the not the place I need to be right now. The dream is still to be PM, don’t worry about that. However, I do think that my destiny is abroad waiting for me.

Am I living the dream, in England? To an extent, it’s a dream. Jerusalem is being built among these Satanic Mills, but at the same time do I want to be living in this kingdom of heaven? I’m not sure. My eyes are always beyond the sea, where another kingdom of heaven lies.