Pushkar diaries – Town of the Gods

Someone really wise once told me – What is life if not a lot of stories merged into one? The ones who are truly living are living stories of mini-stories of stories. Some like creating their storyboards at home, unlike me. My stories need to come from vast-lands and mountains and oceans spread across the world.

But reality is more critical than stories. So when you’re in a profession you love but hate only because it requires you to work almost all the time, you take mini-trips and make mini-stories. Most of my recent weekend travelling has been to the twin cities of Ajmer and Pushkar, well known across the Country both for their religious as well as cultural significance.

A 2-hour drive from Jaipur, Ajmer is just like any other town, crowded and dusty, but with the fortune of being home to the Dargah of Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti ji Sahab –  sacred to people of all religions. Adjacent to Ajmer, a pleasant 20 minute and two hills away, lies the dinky town of Pushkar. Also home to the only Brahma Temple in the world, Pushkar is frequently visited by pilgrims from across India.

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The Pink Dusks at Pushkar

Apart from being the teerth-raj, Pushkar is also a vegetarian and budget-travellers’ dream come true. For ages, this small town has attracted enthusiasts from across the globe – quite evident when you walk into the town. The city has also adapted itself to become Global – slowly metamorphosing into a city that hosts multiple cultures and along with it multiple cuisines.

Being the Temple Town, alcohol and non-vegetarian food is strictly prohibited in Pushkar. Quite honestly, disappointed me a little the first time. But I was pleasantly surprised to see stalls selling lafas and falafels all over the main bazaar. Foreign fruits like avocados and dragon fruits are a common sight. Indians have a very strong capability to adapt themselves into what the situation demands and that is exactly what the people of Pushkar have done. To cater to the taste of foreign traveller, who is often looked upon as someone who would enjoy their wine and steak, Pushkar has translated itself into a vegetarian haven of sorts that has something in store for everyone. It is not hard to believe that some foreign travellers come to Pushkar and chose to spend their lives here.

My tryst with Pushkar has proved to be pleasantly delicious. I feel it is only right that travellers know of these hidden gems that produce some of the most amazing comfort foods I’ve eaten. Hence, I am penning down a few that really impressed me. Now I’m not a staunch believer of fancy eating, so you may not find your goto cafes with amazing cold-coffees and pancakes (that do exist in Pushkar), but these are places that have what they call the soul food.

1. Babaji Ke Chawal: You’ll find him standing next to his thela with his masala chawal and curd rice on the main temple street market near Narsingh Ghat. The taste of his curd rice can only be described as magical. At Rs. 10 per plate (dona) Babaji is not just the love of the tourists but also the local lunch guy. We were lucky to taste some before he ran out, so make sure you find this guy before the sun sets. MUST EAT CURD RICE. ok. peace.

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2. The International Lafa Guy: Ganga restaurant is not really a restaurant but a giant tawa surrounded with exotic vegetables and mediterranean dips that are supposed to entice you to eat their famous lafa/falafel. One of their guys invites people to eat in sixteen different languages! Talk about talent.

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Avocado-Potato-Cottage Cheese Lafa 

3. Sonu Juice Shop: Tired of all the shopping under the direct sun? Head over to Sonu’s to savour over hundred varieties of shakes and juices. Trust me, this guy does not disappoint.

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Source: Google

4. The Tibetan Kitchen: Yes, you will find the most amazing tibetan food in the heart of Rajasthan. A humble, quaint, peaceful cafe, tibetan kitchen is a must visit if your’re a fan of the mountain food like I am.

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My love from Ladakh : Thukpa

5. Mohan ki Chai: Indians are tenacious tea-lovers and this guy has cashed in on the fact. But I’ll give it to him for serving one of the most soul-touching teas. And God bless for Kulhads!

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Ever so famous – Chai ho to aisi!

6. Radhe Ji Ki Dukaan: Sugar is sin and sinning is good. Do not leave Pushkar without tasting the globe-famous malpuas. Personal tip: If you want to really eat it, look away while he’s making it.

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He posed for me!

May the travels never end, nor does the food and neither will the stories. Till next.

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Pink Blotch of Love

I think summers are overrated
I feel love stories are outdated.
At times with words I slaughter
I drink whiskey like its water.
I didn’t know magic
Till your fingers touched my soul
I didn’t know hope
Till your whispers filled my heart’s hole.
I am a never, a poor with wander lust.
I am a lost, a shineless star of dust.
You’re a sparkling ripple of clear.
You’re the glory of a phoenix tear.
I am the sleepless love of the bed
The woe of pale mornings unsaid
You’re the Goldkenn that kinds crave.
I am only looking to be saved.
A pink blotch of love is still on me.
It’s ugly, used, dip in a sad plea,
But If you want you can have it for free.

Why Aishwarya’s purple lips matter

 

God made women and men. While he made all of them alike – two feet, two eyes, one head – He also gave them the desire to be different, become unique. The concept of decorating their bodies must have been an experience for humans when no clothes existed. There are references that suggest that the humans in medieval era used to stain their lips with berries. For dinner and desires?

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Recently, the media, glitterati, the internet…all  went gung ho about Mrs. Bachchan’s lips. Opinion polls flooded the market, zoom-ins flashed on prime time and needless to mention, trolls were involved. Some had a good laugh, some thought it was brave and some outrightly upset about the ‘fashion disaster’. Aishwarya Rai Bacchan’s lips had caused a frenzy, like it was supposed to.

There are so many tangents to this happening, or none at all, depending on how you see it. For the normal, bored mortals, it’s just, just, just another thing. So what? Who cares? Or it could be so much. She represents not herself but OUR country. She has absolutely no fashion sense. How could she? Why did she?

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Aishwarya Rai and her purple controversy

For me, it was strange at first. It is no hidden fact that Mrs. Bacchan is an art of God. Some human beings are born beautiful, really beautiful. To see a blotch of purple on a pretty face takes you aback at first. I am no fashion expert but I think a shade of dark pink or a mauve could have certainly made her look perfect. But once you really see her walking down that red carpet, blowing off kisses, you could imagine her telling you in your face – proper is cliche and I am not cliche, at least not today.

Which brings me back to my earlier observation. Us humans have used lip colours for centuries to express ourselves – be it Queen Elizabeth with her white face and red lip stain or George Washington who complemented the lip colour with a powdered wig. Women who wore lip stain in greek empire were assumed to be prostitutes while men and women who wore lip colours in the Roman empire were treated as upper ranks. Queen Elizabeth II commissioned her own lipstick shade to match her coronation robes at the 1952 ceremony. The soft red-blue was dubbed “The Balmoral Lipstick,” named after her Scottish country home. Divas and their lipsticks have often stirred societies. No wonder the purple got us running and wailing all around.

"From The Land And The Moon (Mal De Pierres)" - Red Carpet Arrivals - The 69th Annual Cannes Film Festival

Photo by Pascal Le Segretain

For a global star like ARB, the pressure is immense. Even if her statements say otherwise, of course she is concerned about what people say. But that is exactly why she should do this more often. Her lip colour is not just breaking the internet, but also breaking the standards – the expected – the cliches – the compulsions. May be she does not realise it yet or may be she does. For an average Indian girl, an Aishwarya wearing purple lip colour at Cannes is as good as a Trupti Desai praying at Haji Ali. They’re both breaking norms and making us free – of standards, of acceptability, of being conventional. Decades ago, Sally Ride proved that little girls could be astronauts. Sara Christian became the first Nascar driver. Belle Benchley became the first ‘zoo lady’. Garda Taro became the first woman known to photograph a battle from the front lines and to die covering a war. And there was also a Lucy Stone who was the first woman to keep her last name after marriage. Melba Tolliver, a WABC-TV correspondent, made national headlines when she wore an afro while covering the wedding of Tricia Nixon Cox, daughter of President Richard Nixon. All these women, and many, many more, have made contributions to our empowerment in one way or the other. And we’re not even talking of the Florence Nightingales and Maire Curies of the World. We’re talking of women who have brought changes – embraced the ‘firsts’.

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All these women have given the women of today something or the other. The fact that I can work and have no compulsion/ache to get married is a gift given to me by mother. She broke barriers in her own little town and became a role model for me. “Be successful, marriages keep happening”, were her last words to me. Aishwarya has, willingly or not, allowed girls like me to wear bizarre lip colours. Now you may call it a fashion blunder, but I think of it as breaking a stereotype – the more they’re broken, the better it is. All these rules that we live by, they were all made by people (certainly cruel ones) before us. It is important that we take a step ahead, think about why we do what we do. Why is a red lipstick norm and a purple one a disaster? Maybe, just maybe, if Cleopatra and Marilyn Monroe had adorned the lilac instead of crimson. Would we feel the same?

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She Judges You.

The kind of pressure celebrities deal with, I feel ARB had two choices – stick to the basics, look like an angel out of the sky, smile a here and a there OR create a ruckus. Feel empowered of her own beauty – enjoy being different and disobedient. Whatever it was, I am only hoping that Aishwarya’s purple lipstick at Cannes gave slight happiness to all the rebellious hearts around the world – like it did to mine.

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Up in the air Shenanigans

Has it ever happened to you?

You’re sitting in a flight. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, with sleeves rolled just where you want them to be. He caresses his dark hair with his fingers – long, slender fingers. He’s reading through the sports section (hmmm, maybe he’s a sport fan). He skips the IPL part (oh I already like this guy). He says no to the dreary sandwich (good I could have had that extra candy). His shoulders are so shepherd-ly, you start wondering what it would be like to plop your head on them, firm but comfortable…reliable. Bloody oestrogen!

You destroyed me, Google. 

There’s also a big guy with his Chinese girlfriend(they were talking about China and her hometown). He ate her sandwich too. The gujju aunty who just cannot stop talking.  Pleasant surprise is the absence of gujju food though (night flight got me lucky).

The white shirt guy is now resting his head on the seat. Hot guy. Hot flight guy whose shoulder I could really use right now. What else could I use right now? Coffee.

I always text my loved ones a happy see you on the other side message every time I am flying. Who knows, right? Although, flying is a really exciting thing for me. I just keep admiring how much we have achieved as humans.

Turbulence. More Turbulence. Nature seems to be yelling at us. But I think we shall make it this time. If we don’t, well what the heck right? I’ve had a good life.

And if we do, I promise to publish this. And talk to the white shirt. Damn the shoulders.  And smile. He’s got a cute smile.

See you on the other side.

Edit: Did not die. Did not talk to him. Sanity got the best of me. 

Young and Free...maybe.

To every 26 year old who is remotely like me

Stories inspire me. And if you’re anything like me, your daily cup of coffee is also your getaway to a world of stories that are either inspired or a product of your imagination. I believe we are all living our stories, and mine’s on its 26th chapter.

Everyday, I feel the need to share some of the experiences/learnings of my 26-year old self. It could be the love that I have for myself, or the unverified fact that my short life has given me learnings of a lifetime. So i’m shaping into words my great learnings and how a 26 year old could use these to keep the mid-life crisis at bay.

Work Matters : When they were designing the cycle of life, they put a very large part into this aspect called ‘earning’. People who are still struggling with what they want to do in life scare me. At 26, you ought to be, you must be sorted with what you want to do. Your dream job may be working as a wine-taster, or even better, becoming a pizza-roaster, but you need to have a serious career. What’s more important – try to work with your passion. Understand, put time, take advice, search over and over until you find what you’re really looking for. It’s never too late to start doing what you actually love doing since what you wouldn’t achieve with time, you certainly would with self-satisfaction. Also, do not restrict yourself to job titles. Do not ever restrict yourself when it comes to work. Come on time, leave on time. Learn as much as possible, it will always be of help. That said, always put your dignity first, no job will be as important as your self-respect, ever.

Experiencing beyond breathing : As Indians, we’re illogically over protected. We don’t want to cross the lines drawn in the influence of ‘Log kya khenge’ syndrome. We’re better at breathing than at experiencing. Plus, you need to have a collection of memoirs of life to share with your kids. Wouldn’t it be cool to tell your kids, “when I was 25, I spent all that I had and solo-tripped across Europe”. While in college, I freelanced across industries to understand my interest areas. 26 is a good age to break them barriers. Go beyond your imagination – learn, laugh, live to your heart’s content. And come back a changed person.

Staying Alive : As a 26 year old, this is most important. The urban lifestyle is killing us with every slice of that cheese-burst pizza. At times, I feel lucky to have access to fresh, (hopefully) organic food, as compared to the genetically modified supplements of the west. Your body will talk to you if you listen. I have had my own share of spicy pav-bhajis and greasy chola-bhaturas, but I can say this – one day, you’ll be sorry. It’s harsh but it’s the truth. So, my advice, listen to your body, and not your heart, when it comes to food. Add a lot of fresh fruits and vegetables in your diet and eat dinner before 8. Thank me later.

Love is not a game : It really is not. Modern dating makes me want to punch myself in the throat. Swap left, swap right. Really? I may be old-school, but love should be as heart warming as an old book. I wouldn’t say that 26 is when you should’ve found real love, but it surely is the age to start looking. My experience says that a good partner helps you become a better person, every single day. The smiles that we lose in the stress and monotony of life, that one person will make up for it. Plus who likes to life their life without a pinch of drama?

Learn to live alone : Our lives are supported by so many instruments – living and non-living. Just as that hardworking gardener works on keeping your grass green, your refrigerator keeps your coffee cold. If you’re as privileged as me, your food gets cooked, your bed gets made, your cars get cleaned, your floors are wiped, your dinner is served with little or no interventions. You have really nice neighbours to help you out when you lose your keys or good friends who get drunk with you when your heart gets broken. But, I believe, it is extremely important for every 26 year old to learn how to live alone. With personal experience, I can say that an encounter with yourself in the alone is incredibly interesting. Try going to a cafe and sitting by yourself. It would be awkward at first but it will really help you in getting in touch with yourself, along with a reality check on your confidence. Knowing how to do things is an asset that every young person should equip him/herself with. Learn to cook, clean, wash and be independent – you don’t have to like it. Plus, that easy peasy recipe of spaghetti Arrabbiata could really come in handy when you are trying to impress that special one.

Find a goto thing : It could be anything but cigarettes and alcohol. I believe that once a person finds out his/her passion spot, they become wiser, they make better decisions for themselves. The trick is to do a lot of things and then discovering what really makes you happy. For me it is food, or travelling, or travelling with food. Good food is my ultimate source of joy, and so is experiencing a new place. For you, it could be music or books or coins or sleeping – anything that gives you complete happiness, rejuvenates your soul – makes you feel more alive and kicking than ever.

Learn to smile, and forgive : Forgiveness is a powerful virtue. Smiling is the best weapon. You feel as unworthy as a tiny speck of sand after your boss gives you an earful, come out the door smiling like you’ve conquered the world. It would be hard, but equally worthwhile when your colleagues would assume/tell you “maybe he’s got a promotion” or “what a lucky ass!”. Same goes with forgiveness. It is something you, and only you possess. Try it sometime, will leave you feeling lighter and nicer. Plus good karma.

Mostly, don’t let anyone ever tell you how you should be. I know, it is ironical, given this article. What I mean is – listen, understand but do what YOU want. One life, right?

Modi – The Man, the Mantra & the Matra

Some years back, when ‘social’ in India was in its teens, grasping and grabbing every eye and ear along the way to its tumor, in one sneaky corner, hid an agenda, so potent yet so silent that none of the drumheads noticed it.

Politics in India changes every day yet stays the same. These are men & women (hardly) who decide the destiny of our Country, yet most of them don’t even know how to write their names in ink. It’s a clan of pseudo-intellectuals trying to solve the unending mystery of a democracy. More than 1.2 Billion people (increasing by the minute) to listen to, who wouldn’t want to turn deaf?

Then at times, the country twists into a paradigm shift. Lines are crossed, people enraged beyond control. It happens mostly when there has been monotony in the ruling Government. One word yields hurls of abuses by the chaiwalas and the mazdoors, ultimately knocking the doors of the middle class and their ration, proceeding swiftly towards the A-classes and the Sunday brunches suddenly become all too ‘mehenga’. ‘The Government is in trouble, bro’.

Like a true Indian mother, who finds her way into mending the most broken of clothes, one tends to find solutions. Here comes into picture the ‘social’, ‘intellectual’ and ‘religious’ cult. They say, we listen, we absorb, we vote.

Now this is not the hardest code to crack. But as they say, timing is the most crucial aspect in Politics. One man saw it coming, long before others woke up from their slumber. He had three hillocks to conquer – the social, the mindful (eh!) and the religious. If you’ve read carefully, you’ll know we’ve reached where we started.

So, the gentleman realized the importance of the transition of ‘social’ in Indian societal architecture. He knew it had to be web, he knew it was his only chance. He prepared a four-letter mantra and started feeding it into the brains of the young suffering from the adversities of a hard economy and a witless Government. It was all they saw hope in. ‘Modi’ had become their only light. There were watches, badges, bags, tees, mugs, mobiles, bands, skins, humans, undershirts, overshirts, midshirts, brainshots and much more to my and your liking.

As they grew, so did the chant. The virus had slowly swept the entire Internet. Till date some of them don’t even know what Modi means. The controls and Vs of keyboards slowly started fading and losing their importance as fingertips befriended them and practice never failed.

The Social was conquered. What remained were the thinkers and the saffron-greens. Saffrons were friends, friends trust easy. Greens were exasperated with digression, searching for alternatives in their hearts; they would always be the gambler’s fallacy.

The grey matter caste would defy the brother at chance. They’re sheer loners, drifting as their interests varied. So he borrowed their cloak to look like one of them and decided that here’s what he could be the best – A social phenomena, wrapped up in a multi-faceted charisma of secularism wearing the thinker’s hat, gambling with all his might to feed the curiosity of more than a billion, along with his own.

With just days left to the battle of 2014, the suspense has reached its epitome, the ‘janta’ struggling to decide between the rights and the wrongs. The mantra has no doubt hit most of the matra. He knows it has worked better than his expectations, skimming his overestimation of the heads of the Aam. I know for one, if Modi is not going to be a DDLJ blockbuster, it is most definitely going to be the ‘Chennai Express’ of our times – no romance, no Gods, only one man, defying all odds.

[An older posts, of course we love our Prime Minister]

Kashmir

Chinaar & my cup of Nun Chai

As I sip through the last of what remains of my Nun Chai reserve, streams of thoughts flow through my mind – from the glittering streets of Paris to my childhood spent in green meadows of Batote.

Sometimes, I hear people saying – “I hate travelling, it’s too much of a hassle for me.” The thought really surprises me. Aren’t we all travelling to the end? Some choose to tread through the much-taken, skewed and really crowded lane towards the light with the customary milestones in between – school, graduation, employment, a strange wedding, a kid, more kids, investment, retirement, ailment – the ent. But some choose the lane less taken. It may be the same but it is done differently. The eyes are different, the wrinkles are weird – and usually, they have more to talk about.

I have a great boss. She often says, experience enhances a person. Experience could be anything, as simple as trying a new ice-cream to as complex as trying a new gender. I feel people also enhance people, for better or for worse. My life has been the best of the lot in my opinion. Before you ask me to gulp a sip of humility, why not experience it with me?

The one with the hills: Mom, rebel. Dad, wise. Marriage arranged by love. She was 30 when she got married. The first in her town to become a post-graduate. A lovely town in the state of J&K. My Dad was searching for someone to share his loneliness after his first wife had passed away. He told me she was like a breath of fresh air one moment – and a fireball next. His search was over. They got married and she forced him to settle in Srinagar. She told me how she would go to Hazrat Bal and cry her heart out for a child. Her prayers were answered – she spent 8 months of her pregnancy in Srinagar. They often used to tell me “You have the blood of the Dal, we took you out of Kashmir but couldn’t take Kashmir out of you”, when I complained of haak-cravings.

The one with the Ek-Tho: I was born in Delhi in the month of February, 1990, when terror and turbulence struck the Valley. My parents then moved to Jammu for a while. My Dad was awarded with a transfer to Patna after a spat with his boss. I do not remember much of Patna except our 5th floor apartment where tamarind trees would wrestle with our windows during dark, rainy nights of power cuts. I also remember Family friends feeding me aloo-bhaji with roti and chai (weird!), the then-too-spicy litti chokha and my neighbours homemade stick dolls. My tryst with education started in the St. Karen’s convent school. Pretty sure that is where I started getting my way with words.

The one with No Nawabs: We moved to Lucknow after spending a good four years in Patna (yep, we had the accent). I spent most of my childhood between my school (City Montessori, Gomti Nagar) and home in Indira Nagar. My food memories of Lucknow are enriched with lots of Handi mutton (bless the local handyman) and basket chaat in streets of Hazrat Ganj. When I was 9, I got selected for a CISV summer village camp – the youngest student to get this opportunity. My parents were keen but finances were not. That is when Mrs. Jagdish Gandhi offered to help, along with my Mother’s dream of gold bangles. Anyhow, I managed to reach the land of Americans to live with kids of 16 different nationalities for the next 2 and a half months. First piece of pizza, hatred for chocolate, first ferry ride, first beach, first crush – I owe the beautiful state of Maine a lot. By the time I was back,I was a ‘World Citizen’, I had developed a love for food and a weak american accent.

The one with the pink: Lucknow was unforgiving. Dad met with an accident and we had to take him to Delhi for treatment. In the process he would lose 90% of his liver, which we would come to know of four years later. Between extended family feuds, Dad’s health issues and the ever-lasting night power cuts, Jaipur seemed like a friend in waiting. Lush green with broad roads, clean pavements, ‘pyaus‘ everywhere – very different from what I had imagined – going to school on camels in the scorching desert heat. My switch to CBSE from ICSE was so cool, I was the new geek in town. Between awkward teenage crushes and wearing lehengas to birthday parties, life just happened. I got my first taste of feeling like a star when I topped my X boards. For anyone, anyone in their life, the best feeling is to see their parents genuinely happy. That look on their face – we did not goof up our kids, it’s invaluable. They really did not goof us up. A mediocre end to my school life in a girls school was more challenging than the entire rest. I learned more, and became more. Winning personal battles made me stronger, and wiser.

The one where it all got bad: Reluctance gets the better of me even while I write this. This happens to us Indians, I feel. Since childhood, we get trained in the ‘move-on’ course. See a mother hitting her child, move on. A seth treating his employee bad, move on. People littering on the street…people peeing on the street…huh…move on, bruh! I guess it makes us stronger and ignorant. A friend of mine often tells me, “you’re an old soul in a 26 year old body”. May be she is right. As a kid, I knew all about the household finances. I knew my parents had major issues. I knew life was hard.  I kind of wondered and worried about my parents since I could see how young my friends’ parents were. I never had a fairy tale, blissful in ignorance kind of childhood, but I was treated fairly. I was loved and my accomplishments were cherished. But, I was also made responsible. My father sent me to the bank when I was 11 years old. My father thought me how to drive by the time I was 13. He taught me simple lessons of life – make a budget, jot down your finances, stick to your goals, marry late (Ha!), learn to be a loner – there is only one good friend in life, rest are phases. My stubborn mother forced me into engineering and I happily did. A smile on her face would mean the world to me. In the first year of my engineering, my Dad passed away. In the second year, I lost my Mom to cancer. Life changed. Everything changed. Galaxies changed.

The one with the green grass: For a 20 year old, the world is a tough cookie to crack. The many, many trips to banks, the police, the courts, the lawyers after the incessant trips to hospitals are bound to break your soul. As the elder one, I also had the responsibility of preventing my little brother of going into darkness. Death is the saddest thing ever known to human kind. I tell this to all my friends who have a hard time understanding their parents – they are the most precious assets, everything comes later. The biggest setback for anyone is losing their heroes. I remember, one of those curling-up-and-crying-in-your-pillow nights, I wondered if it could get any worse. I thought, no, it really could not. The worse has happened. Rock bottom. Only way left is up. I joined AIESEC a month later. I could write ballads appreciating this wonderful organization. For me, it really did change my life. By the time I was in third year, I knew I wasn’t going to be an engineer and I knew what I was going to be. My experience as a freelancer in event organising, content writing, social media management, video editing and graphic designing gave me a real life crash course on digital marketing. Work, college and life got me going.

The one with the now: A sneak-peek experience, the above doesn’t say a third of my drama story. My now is a picture-happy scene. I’ve always been some one who always wants more. That’s how it should be. I never cease to dream, be it my career or my personal life. I have had the privilege of working with more awesome people than I can count. And I’m still left with a 3/4th more to go. I am a staunch believer of experiencing than doing. 5 years after my Mother passed away, I collected all of what I had and spent it on a trip to Europe – Solo. So many fabulous (some not so much), glorious moments live inside of me – my own treasure of memories that I can pick up and savour with a sip of my favourite nun chai.

 

 

The Sun & Rain Dance

The art of separation;
The beauty of its edges.
Truly defined by the sun and the rain.
Him, fiery yellow and stubborn
Her, delicate elixir of life
His shadow makes her blush in colours magical.
Yet they never meet.
He boasts of fire, she gleams of joy.
His power paramount, he thinks he can destroy.
Only the rain knows how to seduce the mighty sun.
Only the rain knows how to kill his fire.
They know the art of separation ;
They sure as hell know the art of desire.

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