Miles Away

December had come. 
Winter Break was the dilemma. 
“Storm’s ahead. Stay safe.”, they said. 
She was miles away from home. 
Before the storm, nostalgia hit her. 


A world inwards


There are those of us who believe that the universe always conspires.
Conspires to hold you back.
So, they try to fight it with all the might.
With the gadgets, the shacks, the roads and apps.
A constant struggle, day in and day out.
To prove that we’re above it, right?

Slowly the pain amplifies, the soul aches and body cries.
But we still continue to fight, with all the remaining might.
The cycle continues till the end of time.
And then again, another fight.
But few of us get pass through this fence.
They break the norms.
They break the code.
And, all that the world would term as ‘common sense’

They journey into a different world.
A world inwards.
With the trees, the ripples of sea and the mountains that see.
With the breeze, the tides and moon light.
With the sun, its rays and the warmth inside.
They take it all in.

They smile, they feel and a different universe they see.
They whisper to it,

” I am you and you are me”

– Words by Hardik Nagar
(Who blogs at That Indian Minimalist. )


Hear me Roar!

With every new sunrise, the voices turned into whispers and further, into silence. 
Hit by the notions of normal and tied by the demons of self doubt.
 Until one night, they stood up with their stumbling legs. 
The silence broke and the voices roared.
Roared loud enough to create echoes.
Roared loud enough to attain freedom.

Today is about Wanderlust.


My head is in the star studded sky,
My feet on those rough rocky hills,
I can smell the beach side summer in my hair,
And my mind is on the map.

Today, I am into wanderlust.

By bike, by horse, by word, by foot, I wander.

(Also, today, I am inspired by my Instagram love, @robinmay)


Endearing Tiny Human.

“What is her name?”

“Sangam. Her name has a story. Her God Father was at a place named Triveni Sangam (confluence of the three rivers, Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati) when he got the news that she was born. It seemed fitting to name her so.”

And since then, she’s been called the most endearing tiny human by everyone who has ever met her.
This is for Sangam, on her birthday as she spreads joy and nests in everyone’s heart. 
Happy Birthday, Sangam :)

Homeward bound.

Homeward bound

Home is that shade under the banyan tree.
Home is ripples in the water of the pacific.
Home is between snorkelling and para-sailing.
Home is the midnight silence or the morning cheer.
Home isn’t a place where you set your feet, it’s the place that’s engraved in your mind even after your footsteps fade away.
Home is not a place, it’s a sense of being.


It’s a Foodie Affair.


In this 28 lands and 7 union territories country,

If you are Bengali brought up on your daily dose of Hilsa and Bhat, you might just jump at the thought of Makke di Roti and Sarson da Saag.

And if you’re a North Indian, the thought of Idli–Dosa breakfast might be appealing.

That is what is special about this Indian cuisine;

it’s so welcoming to the tongue that we don’t jump out of shock, but rather out of happiness at discovering yet another palatable treat.

At discovering yet another reason to continue our affair with the food.


You have a choice.

The choice

You know it, that each one of us has only one life to live.
(Yes, YOLO and all that.)

Then isn’t it rather tragic to find men and women, with resources available to change the world,
talk about what’s going on between the neighbors daughter and the guy from the 5th floor;

men and women, with geniuses capable of creating anything artsy,
using it for the daily routine desk jobs;

men and women, capable of independent thought,
narrowing their minds to accustom it to society’s popular ideas;

men and women, capable of greatness,
wallowing in mediocrity;

men and women, capable of self-expression,
slowly dying a mental death, every day, every hour?

For you, life can be a succession of glorious adventures worth narrating.
Or it can be a monotonous bore.

You have a choice.
What’s it going to be?

[Credits: This post has been inspired from Neil Gaiman’s answer to one of the art students
about pursuing what they love, in one his interviews]

PS: There’s a happy moment for me today, as my photographer friend here,
decides to choose to do what she loves and quit the monotony.
Happy Freedom Day to you, my Phalle :D