Skip to main content


A Jar Full of Gratitude

Last year was pretty long for me, longer than usual. Though I accept change in my life as a good sign, too many changes usually put me off the track. I was whining, sulking, complaining, and crying; making myself and others around me miserable. And yes, I tried to keep a distance from my friends and family to hibernate in solitude (and think myself as Queen Elsa from Frozen!). Everyone around me was worried about my sanity and I was doing nothing to get a grip on my life. 
For a long time, I assumed happiness to be an ever elusive charm; a state of mind that can be attained after eating tons of chocolates and ice-cream. However, that state of mind was short-lived. As soon as the tub of ice-cream was empty, happiness evaporated and I was back to my whining mode. Of course I am not talking about the perils of being pseudo happy: the jiggling layers of fat on my belly that I accumulated to achieve the short-termed elusive state of mind!
During one such marathon chocolate-eating sessions,…
Recent posts

When I Met Harry

Harry came to my life when I was in the eighth standard. A bespectacled young boy with ruffled jet black hair, green eyes, and a scar on his forehead; a boy to fall in love with. Don't blame me as I was a teenager who wanted a spell of magic in her life and to run away to the Hogwarts. I hated being a muggle and aspired to become another Hermione Granger. I imagined myself boarding the Hogwarts Express and reaching Hogsmeade, going to that magical school, and learning to wave my wand. I had once written a secret letter to Harry on Valentine's day and later decided to keep it safe in my diary. When I watched 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' for the first time, I lost my mind (and heart!) over that young and extremely cute Daniel Radcliffe.  I remember keeping newspaper cuttings of anything and everything related to him. I still have them, safely secured in my old trunk. Well, that infatuation lasted for a couple of years till I graduated from college. And…

A Tale of Gastrointestinal Turbulence

If you have read my previous post 'The Peace Amidst Chaos", you can get a faint idea about my breakfast menu in Banaras. Apart from searching my inner self on the banks of the Ganges, I tried to satiate my otherwise gluttonous soul with pipping hot Kacchori, spicy Alu ki Sabzi, Tamatar Chaat, Samosas, hot Jalebis, and some soothing cold Lassi topped with Rabri at the famous Pahalwan's Lassi shop. Not to mention, my sweet tooth (with a cavity) craved for hot, crispy Jalebis. My soul was satisfied after the week long trip. My stomach was NOT. 
Sitting at the airport, I heard the first rumbling sounds in my stomach. It was past midnight. I was dozing off in my chair when a faint explosive sound inside jolted me back to the present. Brushing it off as my stomach's call for food, I tried to sleep again. Little did I know that it was a warning call by my stomach, similar to the ones given by a volcano before it erupts. The call of Nature, they say. 
As soon as I settled do…

The Peace Amidst Chaos

In my mind, there is always a cobweb of thoughts running in a loop: worries about my parents' health, anxiety over the work deadlines, fear about my future; the thoughts go on and on. So, when I decided to take my parents on a short trip to Banaras, I was anxious over charting out the travel plan and executing it to perfection. My parents, on the other hand, were initially reluctant and later very excited to go to the holy city for the umpteenth time. But the bone of contention between us was the travel plan itself. While I was stressing on early reservation and booking for the trains and hotel, they were thrilled over traveling by a bus overnight and staying at a place with bare minimum facilities. No prizes for guessing that they are more adventurous than me. Needless to say, I could manage to book the train tickets only.
Banaras has a charm that never fades away. Though I have visited the city a couple of times, I still look forward to roam across those narrow by-lanes and rev…

Love to See You Cry

The other day, I got a forwarded message on WhatsApp. I had a good laugh going through this image. I do not know about the authenticity of this news but Google came up with a few links related to this crash course on crying. You can check too (This New Crash Course will Now Teach Brides How to Cry on Their 'Vidaai') and thank me later for a ROFL moment!

While I am marveling at the entrepreneurship skills of that lady who came up with such an innovative course, I am recollecting the events during my 'Vidaai'. Yours truly got married in the year 2015. Let me tell you about the years before my marriage. I started staying on my own since I was twenty-two. The first time when I left my sweet home to go to the humble college hostel, I cried my heart out. Being the only child of my parents, I was a pampered and overprotected kid. Staying on my own was a liberating yet frightening thought. My parents were unhappy too. How was their kid going to survive on the hostel mess food?…

I am Not Sorry

I fumed over my cup of coffee. It was a beautiful sunny day outside but my day had not started on a happy note. To start with, I had a big fight with a man over a silly towel he kept on the bed. The plumber was taking his time to fix the broken faucet in the kitchen. I had to rework on the files sent to my boss yesterday and I was already running late for work. A nagging headache was the cherry on top. So, here I was staring at the ceiling, listening to the seconds ticking by, and holding a hot cup of coffee. The coffee was the only good thing in this morning, or so I thought. "This too shall pass," I consoled myself. 
After a grumpy day, I was back in my kitchen, making dinner. My favorite songs were playing on the laptop. I had decided to give a cold shoulder to the man in question. After all, he and his silly towel were the reason for my bad morning. The elephant in the room was a five letter word: SORRY. Neither of us wanted to budge and say sorry. Saying sorry meant adm…

A Walk Down Memory Lane

The train was crowded. "Eight more stations to go," she muttered to herself. It had been a month since she moved to this new country, much to her reluctance and Bruno's persistence. Everyone and everything appeared different here. She couldn't understand the language well, especially the accent. The road signs were confusing. People looked extremely busy in their lives. They talked fast and walked fast. A customary 'Hello, how are you?' followed by a brief 'I am fine, Thank You,' or a faint smile was all they could muster. She looked through the crowd. All heads were bent down and all eyes were glued to the smartphones. No, not everyone. One white head was looking across the window. A wrinkled face that decided to defy the trends set by the millennials. 
She reminisced about her old neighborhood and old town. There were no smartphones to restrain people from talking to each other. If your navigation skills were poor, you asked a passerby to help you …