Magic Moments

  I was driving through the heavy rains when nostalgia hit me. Mumbai rains, the marine drive, the Juhu beach and him. The past occupies your head in the most unexpected of times, and the memories tend to fill you with a longing for the days gone by. I was new in Mumbai then. Didn’t know a thing about surviving alone, managing finances, cooking, doing laundry or getting groceries. I thrived on street food, and office food courts. My roommate would urge me to learn cooking, some days pulling me off the bed to make the dough or roll the rotis. Thanks to her that I learnt many-a life skills during that phase, that are helping me even today. We would rush to the DMart after office hours for getting cheap groceries, use the local train to travel in the weekends and explore the city somehow tackling the heavy crowd. Colaba shopping, visit Bandra fort, Siddhi Vinayak darshan, Iskcon temple, Forum Mall, etc. But some weekends would be reserved for him. He would pick me up from my PG, and...

I watched TVF's recently released dramedy 'Yeh Meri Family' after reading a tweet about it. Then when I was in the second episode a friend recommended it to me just the moment I was about to recommend the same to her. Just like telepathy. Then, I knew this adorable story of a 12-year-old Harshu and his family in The Summer of '98 was a very special one. Being a 90's kid, I could relate to each and every detail in the series. The siblings' fights were exactly similar down to the very argument on who had to bring the clothes from the terrace and who had to fill up the water bottles and put them in the fridge. How often as kids, we thought our parents are so uncool till that moment when we realized otherwise!  "Papa cool dikhte nahi, Papa cool hain." Planning with friends, being the obedient one when parents fight, and sneaking around the kitchen to find something to eat- this web series took me back to my childhood and relive it all. ...

“What was it like to lose him?" Asked Sorrow.  There was a long pause before I responded: It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me—said all at once.”  ―  Lang Leav ,  Love & Misadventure When the intense curiosity to know you and your thoughts subsided, a strange calm descended upon me. You stare at the whiteboard long after you are done with noting down the lectures and derivations. And I do the same, very much aware of your presence just two hands away from me. I feel my breath, taking a rhythm of its own as if it were trying to synchronize with yours. I don’t bother the awry puzzle that my heartbeat has become. Maybe this is when things fall into place. How is it that we come across a person, knowing nothing about their story, but end up feeling so close that separation seems cruel, in just a matter of few days of shared space, and nothing else. How is it that we just know whom we can never forget how much ever we try, just through s...

It is human nature to dwell in the past, worry about the future and forget all about the present. I still miss the days spent in Hyderabad. I miss the study schedules, eating out, street shopping, and the city tours. I miss the roads, the townships and the metros. But I clearly remember that I just wanted the days to pass quickly so that I could return home, while I was there. And today I miss the view from the terrace of the ladies hostel we stayed in, the floral decorations with chalk, colors and flowers, the flower market, the abundance of curd during lunch hours, the constant ‘amma’ recitals by our wardens and so much more. One of the highlights of the hostel life in Hyderabad at Sri Kamali was queuing up for tea, puri and dosa during breakfast time, and then hurrying to secure a chair the very next moment. And conversations and complaints flowed unhindered during these hours in many languages at once- the most prominent ones being Telugu, Kannada, Malayalam, Marathi and...

In my early years of schooling, I lived with my grandparents. My father was posted in a quaint little hilly village famous for mining, which had no schools in the vicinity. His was a transferable job, and in those days he used to get calls for a transfer every few months, which made it difficult to have me in tow. It was during these years, that I grew addicted to stories. Grandma would spin a new story for every occasion- while getting me ready for school, making me eat balls of rice and veggies, and making me sleep. And Grandpa would fill in during the rest of the times, after coming from the office. He would open his ‘ gapa pudia ’ (a pocketful of stories) while Grandma was busy kneading the dough, cooking or doing other household chores. I slowly and steadily grew familiar with Panchatantra, Jataka Tales, and the folktales of Odisha. After about three years I shifted in with my parents, as my father was transferred to a town with a good convent school in it. My par...

 Source Life has bestowed upon me so many trustworthy and dependable friends. Almost in every stage of life, I have had a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on, and a soul sister to laugh out loud with. I have been lucky and blessed beyond measure. The role of my best friends has been crucial throughout my days of depression. I felt low and down for days, weeks and months. Someone was always there to give a hug and reassure me of my own worth. Someone was always there to scold me and bring me out of the self-deprecating and self-destructive behavior. I owe a lot to them. They are god sent. Nothing less. I treasure and cherish every moment spend with them, even the trivial occasional quarrels. She is my childhood friend. She has been with me through all life’s twists and turns. We did our matriculation from the same school. We dreamt together of making it big in life. We completed our intermediate education in the same city. We talked for hours over the phone in weekends. We...

Of arrivals and departures Of meetings and partings Of make-ups and breakups Of love and hate The deep ocean called mind Has it all. Of hellos and greetings Of laughs and cries Of tearful goodbyes Every poignant moment Is cherished with care. I think our memories make us who we are. Without them we wouldn't be able to identify with ourselves. Our past defines us; it creates our perception of the world. Memories play a part in giving leverage to our thought process, and the decisions that we make. On the other hand, realizing that we have forgotten a long cherished moment or a vital part of our lives is painful. We can't really realize that pain until we grow old and experience it. Being forgotten is painful too; realizing that we are no longer a part of the person’s memories. My memories are my treasure; my most prized possession. In earlier days I used to jot down events and experiences in my diaries, to keep a track of every to-be-re...