My Diary Pages

The Holy Ganges 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

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

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 m

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 hel

I never believe in new year resolutions and can not keep them anyways. But I try to maintain a to-do list in a notepad, a list of things on the personal and professional fronts that I want to achieve. I call it my own bucket list or wish list to make it sound fancy. Please do not confuse it with the wish list I send to Santa on Christmas or the bucket list of activities to do before I die. This wish list is closer to reality. For example, I remember this particular bucket list from the year 2014 when I wanted to stay on my own in a rented apartment (I was staying at a hostel before I moved into the apartment), get a driver's license and buy a two-wheeler, invite my parents for an extended stay at my place, join swimming classes , search for a job I like, and look after my finances responsibly. These wishes might sound mundane but they played an important role to boost up my confidence- the confidence to live alone, drive across the city, meet new people, and confront my inne