Life… from a See- Saw!!

234 days! It’s been 7 months and 22 days to be precise! Woah! Who would have ever thunk (blogger’s licence) that my life would have changed so drastically? Certainly not me!

Have you ever led a life where Time went by rather slow and the monotonous, mundane days were so predictable that you could find time to listen to the ticking of the clock? Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Have you lived in a place where you could listen to the Sound of Silence? It is a delightful melody of moments spent in reflection and the freedom of being still- unhindered and unrestricted!


Have you been to a place where you gazed at the sky and watched the horizon turn from a shade of blue to an optimistic hue of orange, making your eyes dance in awe of the splendour of the Lord’s magnificence and majesty?

I certainly have!

I now hear the rumbling of the local trains as they pass by me in haste. They have no time to waste; they have a purpose of reaching each station on Time (with a capital T as it commands respect) and swallow the commuters in its belly. With a resolve and persistence that is hard to miss, the local trains of Bombay can give us all lessons in commitment, reliability and relentless energy. Impressive indeed!


The pace of Bombay is hard to miss, pounding and thumping into the lives of millions who have inhabited this island and transformed it into the Maximum City. The pulse of Bombay resonates in the local trains that not only connects the entire city but also unites the hearts of diverse populations and communities striving to make a mark in this magnanimous city.

The people in Mumbai (forcing myself to call it Mumbai and not Bombay) are warm, friendly and have a helping attitude. To add to this, what I love about this city is that people do not interfere in other’s lives.  They can… but they choose not to!

7 Months and 22 Days back, I got married. The jump from being Single to becoming Double has been surprising, remarkable, complex and puzzling to put it mildly.


My journey from the hills to the seas has been colossal and momentous. From the chirping of the birds to the rumbling of the trains, I have come a long way. I have been privileged to be part of two different worlds to create my own. It’s a see-saw kind of life- the perspective changes depending upon whether I am gazing above or glancing down.

The metamorphosis has begun!

Watch this space for more 😊

PS: After a long wait, I finally got myself some time to blog! One word at a time.

I feel free.. 🙂



In the Land of the Lala…

It’s monsoon in the hills!

While the torrential rains, gloomy weather and the cloudburst looms largely through the vast expanse of the sky, there is sunshine in my heart which is hard to miss.


Have there been times in your life that you have visualised to such an extent that when it actually happens, it feels so surreal and trancelike? Almost like you are there and yet not there? Like even though it’s happening to you, is it actually happening to you?

Serendipity to put it simply…

I am so habituated to having life throw bricks and stones, lemons and melons (also dirt and muck) at me that even when it throws anything good, I duck as a natural response.

Does this sound familiar or am I the weird one out here?

The odd one out! Not that I mind being one but..just saying…or just asking?

Life never ceases to amaze me or to even amuse me for that matter! The girl who, until now, was nestled in her own little cocoon of books, work and few people who mattered to her suddenly has the vast and limitless skyline of her cherished dreams and hopes gazing down at her lovingly. Waiting to be fulfilled…one wish at a time!

Almost like that shooting star that appears out of the blue and leaves the gazers gasping for more as they fix their eyes on the horizon and secretly make their wishes, waiting for them to come true.


I have begun a beautiful yet daunting journey- a journey into the zone of new unknown, which is mysterious, baffling and bewildering in a nice way. It’s a trail that doesn’t fail to unravel parts of me that I never knew even existed!

It’s a voyage that has the capacity to bring out the best as well as the worst version of me- my most amiable and endearing self to the most vulnerable, exposed and raw, uncensored self. The latter is a heady mixture of being refreshing as well as terrifying for me, opening windows to my soul that until now were closed and some that I didn’t even know were there. But it was there, playing hide and seek and refusing to be found. Still they survived in the dark corners and lanes of my heart.


What’s more appealing is when I don’t need to do this alone (which has been the scenario until now) and another person joins in to uncover, to unearth and to bring to light that which was hidden until now.

It’s almost like someone is showing me a mirror to the inside of my heart and doing the job of a microscope- seeing through the dreams, the hopes, the knots, the messiness, the grime and everything in between.

And acceptance is assuring..a very big thing at that!

Welcome to my world which although right now is looking like a page from a novel, is anything but fiction!

What do you do when dreams come true?

Do you rub your eyes or do you exclaim ‘I have no clue!’

I don’t know about you

But I am still gazing at the skies,

As the winds of change make me wise!


Adulting Unofficially

The writing itch has begun again. After several days of ‘Not today, I’ll write tomorrow’, I cannot restrain the flood gates of my soul any longer and I must write and give vent to the embers burning within me.

A simple novel that I have started reading screams for my attention in the background.  Each line of the tale resonates with me and it’s almost as if the author has drilled my skull and dug out my thoughts onto paper.  Quite similar to the cotton candy man spinning away the pink strands of threads to make a blob of fluffy candy out of nothing.

To put it simply, the story is an echo of my real life situation at the moment and it couldn’t have come across my path at a better time. I am almost tempted to switch off my laptop and to satisfy my id (The pleasure principle.. check google for what this means if you are blinking) but I dare not! Not again! I cannot take this risk anymore! 😉

There was a time when nothing in my life was worse than being forced to take up Physics as a subject by the school principal (apparently we were too young to decide to drop Science in Standard 8)! Alas, what I knew in standard 8 about my pitiable understanding of the subject was what I had known about myself all along- Physics was not only beyond my comprehension but it was also very cruel and insensitive to me.

Like molecules in the air, these dreadful physics problems didn’t spare me even in my dreams while I secretly wished to get dreams of SRK dancing with me to ‘Hogaya hai tujhko tho pyaar sajna..’  But as things were meant to be, forget the reality, even my dreams used to let me down!

I would sincerely like to thank my Physics teacher for getting all the fundamental concepts muddled up like bhel puri being tossed in a grimy vessel; for throwing my brain cells along with tomatoes, onions, green chillies and a dash of chutney to make my senior school life miserable, to say the least.

It was due to her stupendous knowledge of her subject that made it possible to ruin my once-upon-a-time ambition to become a pilot. Not that I was serious about this but since I was fascinated with flying, ‘I want to become a pilot’ used to be my standard response when annoying grown-ups would ask a 5-year-old mini-me.

Mini-me  version at 5

Fast forward to the present time where my greatest tormentor Physics pales in comparison to the barricades hurled at me each day.

Where bombs and bullets come in the form of unexpected situations and I can’t even hide under the table or behind the sofa.

Welcome to Lala Land! NOT!

Have you found yourself in places where you have no clue how you landed there in the first place and the more you seek a way out, the more lost you feel?

Almost like a maze…

-Where shadows of doubt creep into your being and all you can do is to prod along.

-Where you cling onto the fragile thread of faith when all that within you is screaming to be rational, realistic and reasonable.

-Where you want to run away and yet be there at the same time.

-Where you hope against all hopes and yet there’s only traces left of it.

-Where you want to speak out and yet have this urge to remain still.

-Where lessons learnt in Literature classes makes more sense than ever before.


I guess life plays peek-a-boo with all of us..

And while I usually like the thrill and anticipation that comes along with this game of hide and seek, there are times when I don’t want to just keep waiting; when I want to give up and say ‘I have been here all along and you still couldn’t find me!’ or ‘How much more do I need to wait until you find me?’

I draw the curtains aside and peep through the window. I gaze at the view in front of me. There is no sunshine or rain and the sky is overcast.

The kind of day where it’s hard to say whether its dawn or dusk.

It’s time.

It’s time to return to the book I was reading.




The Goa Chronicles

The last time I visited Goa was as a ten year old girl, whose memory of Goa was limited to spending time at beaches with family et al. I particularly remember wearing a burgundy summer dress and splashing about at the sea shore, giggling with my sister about something and playing a prank on a relative.

After precisely xyz years (yeah…this is a deliberate attempt of concealing my age), I got the chance to visit India’s smallest and happening state once again!

And…O boy, what joy!!

Reaching Goa was a daunting task in itself what with the Cauvery issue playing spoil sport between T&K. Since tickets of P and me were booked in advance, there was little we could do in terms of changing travel plans.

Our initial itinerary was to take an overnight bus to Bangalore, head straight to the airport the next morning and to fly to Goa. But alas, the Great Cauvery Controversy happened and we were forced to think about other alternatives just to reach Namma Bengaluru.

And the only other option left was to take a train from Coimbatore to Bangalore. I have always disliked the route from Ooty to Coimbatore; this road has the nerve to actually make me feel unnerving, leaving me with queasiness and a strong sensation of nausea.

The irony of life is that what you fear has an uncanny way of confronting you on the woosh *facepalm*(Self-fulfilling prophesy anyone?). I can say with confidence that I have almost got accustomed to it and yet it doesn’t fail to leave me dumbfounded. Every.single.time.

Anyhow, on reaching the Coimbatore railway station, we came to know that our train was delayed by two hours or so. P and I used this time to eat some rolls that were made by Ma while chattering away, oblivious that someone was actually listening to our conversation. A passive listener who was keenly listening to our jokes and comments until P remarked something about the Trump-Hillary presidential run and she emerged suddenly and exclaimed, ‘Yes, the US elections will be having an impact on the entire world and if Trump does get elected, then jobs in India will be hit severely as well.’

P and me looked at each other. For a moment, we were taken aback and yet amused by this silent intruder to our conversation. She was a Mallu lady (Disclaimer: No offense to Mallus..I absolutely love them) who felt it was her right to express her point of view even if that meant speaking to complete strangers and giving her expert gyan. P and me struggled to squash our chuckles while trying to give her a serious look, pretending to listen while she rattled on and on for the next few minutes until it was almost time for the train to arrive.

The next morning the train reached Bangalore at around 7:30 am. I was finally in Bangalore (yaaay) and it felt like an accomplishment travelling from Tamilnadu, almost like how it feels when you can touch your nose by the tip of your tongue after several unsuccessful attempts.

On reaching B’lore, we made our way towards a friend’s house (one of P’s close friends to be more precise) to freshen up before we could make our way to the airport.

0.jpgThis is the view taken from S&J’s house.

It is heart warming to see how people who you hardly know can make you feel at home. As if this was not enough, breakfast was waiting for us at their table with S’s mother waiting for us so that we could eat together.

S’s mother was a strong lady who knew how to take care of herself even at the fragile age of 85. She felt thrilled sharing her perception of the world with us and I was delighted to just listen to her.

Ah…The things one can learn when we just step out!


The air in Goa was filled with anticipation and thrill simply because we were in Goa..who wouldn’t be excited?

1.jpgGoa: where the seas and the skies gaze at each other

I must say that Travel does strange things to me. There is something magical about getting pushed out of the monotonous routine and to step out of one’s comfort zones; to throw yourself willingly at random, new situations and discover facets of yourself that you never even knew existed, or those that were hidden somewhere in the deep, dark walls of your soul.

On reaching Goa, we checked into a hotel where we were treated as VIP guests and given a warm welcome again thanks to P’s contacts (So this is what a slice of royalty feels like?). We had come to Goa to attend a workshop (Yes..I can see you rolling your eyes) but primarily chose Goa for the refreshing getaway that we so desperately needed.

We had an entire free day to ourselves before the workshop began.

The plan was to visit to the usual touristy places that day although the highlight of that trip was the insights I got from Antony- our cab driver. He was a blabbermouth waiting to open his mouth if only passengers in his cab would venture to strike a conversation with him. Obviously, we were the daring type!

It was interesting to view Goa from the raw perspective of a localite who was straightforward in his approach and yet didn’t fail to make us laugh with his wit and humour. Antony was impressive what with having a view about everything under the sun: Be it the economy of Goa or the contrast between North and South Goa; the scope of job opportunities in Goa or the best type of fish to eat; the casino of Goa which he referred to as the ‘Money laundering machine’ or even random things like his experiences of being a driver in Ooty several years ago where he almost met with an accident and then decided to flee to Goa!!

Besides this, he also took on the role of a guide as we visited the conventional, historical places of Goa.

2.jpgFort Aguada: remembered fondly as the place where the 3 buoys of ‘Dil Chahata Hai’ sat and introspected about Life with a capital L!

3.jpgUNESCO World Heritage Site: Basilica of Bom Jesus

4.jpgThe Sé Catedral de Santa Catarina is the cathedral of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Goa

5.jpgThe interiors


The Mangueshi Temple: Apparently Lata Mangeshkar

derived her surname from here.

7.jpgDolphin spotting in Goa: We spotted everything apart from the Dolphins!! 😉


Do you see a black blob beyond the anchor? It was not a usual boat or a ship which left P curious and she innocently pointed her finger at it and asked our boat buoy, ‘Woh kya hai?’

To which came the prompt reply, ‘Woh anchor hai!’

She looked at him bewildered for a brief moment and nodded her head slightly until realization struck her and there were peals of laughter.


From the sophisticated luxuries of the resort, we made our way toward Anjuna in North Goa where arrangements for our accommodation were already made close to the area of the workshop.

As we entered the room, memories of my PG days in Bangalore flashed in my mind and I looked at P and gave her a grin. She smiled back and rolled her eyes. We had landed from the lap of magnificence to a mediocre room that claimed to be ‘a luxury hotel.’

9.jpgThe view from the balcony

Sunil was the caretaker of this place who had sharp, green eyes that reminded me of a cunning cat everytime I looked at him. He was the usual Goan chap who spent a lot of time daydreaming while he was sitting at the ‘reception’ area. If he was not there, then he was at some beach party at Anjuna that didn’t require entry fee. (Hint: These were rave parties..cos there’s nothing like a free lunch…ha ha).

With his flowery shirts and causal demeanour, he represented some of the traits of the typical Goan people: the extremely laid back life, gold chain on the neck with a combination of wearing shorts and bathroom slippers, driving at 20 kms per hour, and the oh-so-famous Goan accent: this one cannot be missed neither ignored! It screams for attention and even the minimalistic observer cannot overlook the Goan accent.

10.jpgThe road that leads to the ‘luxury’ room

The workshop began with the usual round of introductions and us being at our best behaviour considering it was our first day. I have always cherished being a student-student (if you know what I mean) and sitting on the other side as a student felt exhilarating! Some things of student life hardly change, like the fact that I used to never like sitting in the front of a class back then and I made sure that I was sitting in the back row through the five days of this workshop as well.

There is a sharp contrast in the dynamics of any group with the behaviour of a group on the first day and the rest of the days. Nevertheless, there were some enthu cutlets in this group who made sure that we had our share of entertainment from day 1 itself.

What I absolutely loved about this trip was that there was no fixed agenda of what needed to be done each evening once we were done for the day in terms of the workshop. Random ideas used to be discussed in detail, with each participant expressing their plans and attempting to convince the rest to join them..ofcourse, not all would agree and there would be a chaos of sorts which I had begun to look forward to.

P and me being very accommodating used to be open to all ideas (we are very cooperative like that.. 😉 ) and it did land us in a lot of last minute plans which eventually led to having some of the most bizarre, wonderful and unusual experiences.


             Few participants of the workshop

12.jpg                                                  At the workshop with my huge mug of coffee ❤


13                   Selfie time with the drama queens


14.jpg                                                                           Random plans on random evenings

15.jpgCaptured in front of the shacks at Baga beach area

16.jpgCalungate Beach

17.jpgSelfie in front of the statue of Titos at the famous Titos Lane, Goa

18.jpgThe entire bunch of mad people at the workshop

Finally, let’s talk about food before I end my blog!

I was absolutely thrilled to try out something new in terms of sea food (which was in my long pending bucket list). So, when in Goa, isn’t it the perfect place to try some seafood?

I tried squids (Calamari) and shrimps and was ecstatic on trying something new. I later realised that I was allergic to them as few red, itchy sores made their way on my arms. Never mind: it was worth every sore! 😉

Also, fried ice cream which was divine!

19.jpgYum yum

Have you ever thought about how your behaviour tends to change when you are in a place where no one recognises you? It’s liberating, captivating and cathartic. And I guess, this is what the true meaning of a getaway is: to actually get away from the usual routine of life, and the sea of familiar faces, places and counselling cases!!

And as I attempt to come back to my normal life, the skin allergy and the itching sensation make sure that I invariably end up thinking about Goa all over again! 🙂


The middle of the road…

So, how do I begin my blog this time?

Beginnings are hard and allowing my thoughts to flow smoothly is like asking for a moment of solitude in a busy marketplace.

As clichéd as it gets, I like the sound of rain gracefully hitting against my balcony window while I attempt to write this and the spectacular view seduces me to leave everything else and to intently look at Her-Nature at its best!

So after that brief interlude, I’m back at my blogging desk.

I have been contemplating as to how I am perceived to be a certain way by most people- chirpy, talkative, opinionated and an enthu cutlet- all those usual symptoms (did I just use symptoms) of being an extrovert. And then there are those who would vehemently argue that I’m this lady with attitude, who appears to be lost in her own lala land, snobbish and who chooses to be aloof and distant-the impression of misunderstood introverts.

Both these notions are true and false at the same time! Sigh.

Let me give you a few examples:

I like to talk but I like to listen as well. I can talk with someone for hours face to face but making small talk seems burdensome.

I prefer to have one on one conversations than those fish market scenarios that are typical representations of socializing in groups. So when in a group, I rather listen to what people have to say than to yap along but if there is a lull in the conversation, I can step up and avoid that awkward silence.

I am perfectly content and comfortable being surrounded by books novels, wearing baggy sweatshirts and pj’s and do not feel the need to venture out or to be social apart from what my work demands from me. However, once I step out, there is no looking back and I can actually enjoy myself.

When I am outside, I like to savour each moment with the person rather than being glued to a machine or a gadget. I rather socialise for real with people than to waste away our bonding time getting that perfect selfie or that flawless picture (with all the editing tools) and have pictures of me tagged in social media.  I promise I will look at you while having a conversation and will not make you feel low-grade by giving more attention to my phone. Pinky promise!

I am open to the idea of meeting friends and making social plans but when it’s all over, I need silence.

I cannot stand phone conversations what with the conversations ranging from ‘What did you have for dinner?’ to ‘ gotto tell me’. So if I have a phone conversation with you for more than the time that it takes to make Maggi, you should know that you are indeed special. (I can barely think of 2-3 people who fit in this list!) Birthday calls, are of course an exception to this rule! 😀

I like spending time with family, friends and folks and yet I am extremely conscious of my space and the concept of boundaries in relationships.

While it thrills me to give a joy ride to friends and folks in town, I also delight in taking Bluetooth (yeah..that’s the name of my car) zipping through the town and going for a long drive all alone. Just me and Bluetooth..

You get the picture right?

Apparently, there is a fancy name and label for this too …and I am told that such a personality has another name which is the Extroverted Introvert.

Basically neither here nor there…the middle road of Personality traits with a capital P!



For all those who are wondering where I have disappeared, let me remind you that I was on hibernate mode and no..I’m not back with a bang..I don’t know when my next blog will be!! 😉

Vote, gloat and something more…

Imagine a night person like me getting up as early as 6:15am in the dreamy, sleepy town of Ootacamund, forcing myself to get out of bed just to vote!

Well, the determined side of me didn’t want to budge this time since the last time I couldn’t vote despite filing all the papers and doing all those horrendous requirements needed to be done  just so that I could feel like a ‘responsible’ citizen of India.

And this time, the experience was no less dramatic. I headed for the polling booth in confidence, clutching my voter’s id card and assuming that nothing could stop me from casting my vote this time! Moreover, my plan was to vote early in the morning (instead of waiting in a long queue) and come back home early so I can return to my warm and faithful bed that was waiting for me. How naive of me to think such a thing…such audacity!

I was one of the first few people to land at the polling booth and I was feeling pretty smug about it. I saw a few supervisors armed with guns for security purposes making their way after I had reached the polling area. They stood in front of the polling rooms, yawning and looking so disinterested, and adopting a style of Hitler, attempting to shoo away people to maintain a certain distance and reprimanding people for carrying mobile phones.

Technically, the process of voting seems fairly simple: a week or two prior to the scheduled date of voting, the area Councillors need to hand over the voting slips to each of the residents of their area in their homes. On the date of voting, our sole responsibility is to be present at the required ward and have our voter’s id card along with the voting slip. By showing these two documents, one is required to step inside the polling booth, cast the vote and come out feeling triumphant for being a part of the greater whole that a country as populated and inhabited as India is!

What actually happened is a different episode altogether and when I recall these events now, it doesn’t feel any less than real life drama culminating into a combination of annoyance, comedy and frustration of sorts.

We were not given the voting slips in advance as a result of which we ended up searching our names, flipping through numerous lists, running my finger through all the random photos just so I can get a black mark on the same finger! While fervently searching for our names (Read: my parents and me), I came across the photos of everyone who I wasn’t searching for: few ex-neighbours, a frail aunty who loves down the road, and other acquaintances. After some more flipping of sheets and scanning of photos and names, I managed to find the names of my parents in that wretched list. Woohoo…one task was accomplished as my parents cast their vote within a few minutes of finding their names.

Now for the enormous goal of finding my name in that list! I skimmed through various lists old and new…and lists of lists but in vain. The glum look on my parent’s face revealed that they were beginning to lose hope and were hesitant if I would be able to actually cast my vote this time as well. Being the adamant person that I am, I told them that come what may, this time I am going to vote and nothing is going to stop me from doing this even if that means harassing the Councillor who seemed to be in a confused state of mind himself!

After going around to and fro, I was told that my polling booth was in a different area and I needed to search my name in those lists. I was exasperated by now and confronted the officer by expressing the sheer irresponsibility of not doing their duty and keeping the public misinformed before heading out to my actual polling booth.

We took the car and zoomed towards my ward. On reaching there, we again started the process of flipping through random photos until another volunteer told me that my face seems familiar and probably my name would be in the list that she was holding. It gave me a ray of hope that I might actually get to vote after all! I grabbed that sheet from her lap and began the entire procedure again until I finally came across someone who looked a lot like me…on second, third and fourth glance, I was convinced it was me!

Yaaaaay…never was I so delighted to see my name and photo ever on some sheet of paper before! I took my voting slip and headed towards the polling room, grinning from ear to ear and feeling victorious almost as if I was holding the Oscar rather than a trivial piece of paper. Ma and pa were in high spirits too on seeing me with the voting slip in my hand.

The last leg of the voting process involved waiting in a long queue since the crowds had become more in number considering the peak hours. I stood there patiently, amidst random women and another queue of men standing parallel to me, each getting their turn alternatively.

Mosquitoes buzzed around me while I inched my way gradually towards the polling booth. It took me less than ninety seconds to sign against a document, cast my vote and get out of the room from a separate exit.


I felt on top of the world.

The black mark on my finger was not merely a black mark…it represented all that I had to do to make my finger look ugly deliberately. On a serious note, the implications of this was how we tend to value anything that is difficult to obtain and we have to consciously make a choice if we want to go all the way or give up on the way.

I chose to go all the way and it sure was worth it.


I’m not sure if my vote will make any difference to what is happening in India and the complexities of the politics here. But it made a lot of difference for me in terms of pursuing something and not giving up in a third world country where the chalta hai attitude is the norm.

Lesson learnt: Vote, gloat about it and learn something from it!


PS: On a completely different note, it is the Flower Show weekend here in Ootacamund. While people from different parts of India have flooded the streets and the narrow roads with ongoing traffic, inching their way towards viewing the different varieties of flowers, I am writing this blog post away from the crowd, immersed into this world of venting out my emotions- one word at a time!

And as nightfall approaches and the people fade away, the backdrop of the dazzle of lights with the sight of all those flowers is splendid and breath-taking! And that is where the actual magic begins..



Sigh. It’s funny how I think I know myself only to be rendered speechless time and again… and then some more!

I am a ‘things-to-do’ list girl- the kind who makes lists in memos, diaries, scraps of paper and finds a sense of fulfilment in deleting/ scratching off/ tearing apart once the task is done. O boy, what joy!

I don’t have it in me to be laidback when there are things pending at the back of my mind and a million thoughts racing against one another, demanding my attention. This is not to say that I don’t know to relax. In fact, it is quite the contrary.

I am such a biggie in the idea of enjoying each moment and being in it that I prefer doing all that needs to be done and then chillax if you know what I mean. There is nothing more gratifying than to fight your battles each day and then to reward yourself for it. Be it watching a favourite sitcom, reading a book after a long day at work, baking something at random, relishing food at my own pace, having some time of solitude and contemplating about stuff or just lazing around and doing nothing in particular.

To give an analogy of food, if I am served a plate of tasteless veggies and a portion of something that I really like, I am the type who would swallow the veggies first and then would savour each bite of that which I am waiting to have all this while. Of course this was much easier when I was a little girl as I would conveniently dump the veggies on to ma’s plate when the host wasn’t looking 😉 and then gobble down all the tasty stuff remaining on my plate. Clever huh?!!

But then I grew up and became an adult (or so I like to think) and being an adult has its own complications.

This habit of completing a task once started is not limited to work alone. While reading a book too, this principle applies. I don’t have the heart to return a half-finished book to the library. So it sits on my book shelf for ages until I return it to the librarian after a couple of months with a guilty look on my face.

In short, I like endings that are complete and not abrupt.

However, in the context of relationships, the concept of closure is messy for me.  While I try and manage some areas of my life to have ideal endings, it gets weird when it comes to some of the things that matter most.

Being the blabber mouth that I am, I sometimes wonder why it becomes so difficult to express what I truly want to say. Is it because of the fear of being too vulnerable? Exposing all my raw emotions and feeling bare? Not getting the expected response in return?

Or is it different permutations and combinations of all the above scenarios in varying degrees, with different people at different times?

And has anyone completely understood the language of the heart?

Whatever the case, one thing is for sure: there is always a certain amount of unfinished business left irrespective of the closures I’ve had.

And that’s okay..



It reminds me of a train chugging away in all its glory, slowly disappearing into the tunnel and making its way to its destination. Long after the train is no longer visible, the rumble of the train resounds in the walls of my heart, making me ponder that closures leave a trail of closed chapters and the anticipation of new beginnings.

And a zillion ‘what if’s’ tugging the strings of my heart!



Time please?!!

DSC00428.JPGThis is my first blog of 2016 and every time I begin to wonder about the extent to which my laziness can take over my yearning to pen down (or type) my thoughts, I am marvelled at my ability to procrastinate even the things I enjoy doing. Yes, I do have it in me! 😉

My childhood days were filled with a lot of outdoor games not to forget the familiar game of running-and-catching. There would be one Catcher whose sole purpose was to run behind the others and catch them so that they could become out. Whenever any of us would get tired, we would keep either the left or right hand on our head and exclaim ‘Time please!’

In the same way, I had been contemplating to take a break from the rigmaroles of life and live each moment as it comes. I am glad I plunged into that despite it being a conscious decision (Oxymoron..very much intended)!

Looking back, 2015 has been a year of the unusual, bizarre, uncommon, remarkable and significant. I have done things that have surprised me at every level. I have always been a strong believer in taking life one day at a time and that is something that is not going to change. Yet 2015 has been the year that broke all boundaries and I deliberately pushed myself out of my comfort zone.

I resigned from my comfortable job, volunteered at an NGO, travelled a little bit, updated some of my professional skills, attended meaningful weddings of people who actually mattered to me, spent lots of quality time with my sister and most importantly, celebrated the birth of my nephew and relished in the absolute delight of being The Maasi!

Be it singing silly songs for him or changing his diapers, being a Maasi is like getting all the perks of being a mum without any complications of being a mother (Read: pregnancy, delivery, insomnia and the like)! It’s something like having the cake and eating it too.

Also, it is the absolute pleasure of not being the youngest in the family anymore and having the satisfaction of cooing along my nephew and imitating his adorable expressions. And calling him names that only I can call him (and no one else..I am quite possessive like that ;))

I’ve observed closely the day-to-day routine of a house that has a baby. It’s incredible to see how the schedules of everyone changes and begins to revolve around the activities of the infant. The notion of Time is conveniently ignored as a small lump of flesh takes over and begins to dictate over the all the members of the household. As if this was not enough, this potli of joy takes a slice of everyone’s heart as well and permanently takes residence in the walls of your heart 🙂

Having conscientiously fulfilled the demands of life one after the other whether it was completing schooling, pursuing graduation, then post graduation and then starting work, it’s been an exhilarating experience of deciding to take an interlude- pushing the pause button that has been gratifying and heart-warming in every way.

I feel blessed to be a part of a family where I am me and I don’t feel the need to fit in. I feel overwhelmed to have folks who encourage to me to pursue my dreams, my choices and my quirks. At the professional front, I am grateful to the Lord for giving me opportunities that I can choose from whenever I am ready to resume from this break.

I am treasuring the time that I have now since I know that this too will pass away.

You know that feeling when the first rays of the sun wafts through your window and instead of jumping out of the bed, you snuggle into bed with a lazy smile on your lips? Well, that’s how my days begin these days and .. I’m lovin’ it!! 😀

Lingering in the Distance

She gazed at me with those eyes

Giving me a glimpse of her soul,

A peep into the future

That could be Mine to cherish forever.

Those eyes revealed all

Oh, if you just cared to look,

Beyond the walls

And the veil of smiles

That she so painstakingly took.

She reminded me of the sunshine,

The first rays of hope and optimism

Brewing from her lips;

Although there was a torrent of melancholy

deep within her soul.

She knew she was complicated

A personification of an unpredictable book;

Unravelling the story of her heart

Was the most appealing of all!

I broke down her walls

Little by little,

Brick by brick,


She began to trust

Once again..

I was her Universe

Her planet revolved around me;

She knew this,

And she knew that I knew!

Time has its strange ways

And the delightful days did come to an end;

I started taking her for granted,

While she gaped at me

Baffled and confused..

..Her eyes implored me

Asking a million questions

With one fleeting look,

I stared at her

With a daft, daft expression!

Little by little,

She started making her Wall again

And climbed over

The other side.

I breezed past her

And smiled at her

Like there was no history between us;

She gave me

 a shadow of her smile

and a poignant look.

We still share something today

A journey of

an Uncomfortable Silence.

1 (2)

Blog at

Up ↑