The certain dawnings of life

I went for a three day retreat to this hill station called Mt. Abu in Rajasthan, India.

We stayed at this exceptionally beautiful property, The Palace Hotel- Bikaner House. Which happens to be owned and run by one of my uncles, from my mothers side of the family.

Though my mother had spent a reasonable amount of time there, and though my parents got married at that place, I never before had the opportunity to visit it.

Believe me, it is one of those places you just cannot forget. The road climbs up the slope to where the palace is situated, with flowers and creepers springing up along the side of the road. You wind your way up to the huge palace building with it’s tennis courts, which happen to be the highest in Western India, huge grounds along with a lake at the base of the hill. The towering coniferous trees seem an anomaly in the dry deserts of Rajasthan. All in all, the entire environment is one which calls for people to have a silent get away; tucked away in one of the quite corners of the huge estate with a book and a glass of wine, champagne or beer, at any time of the day, enjoying the magnificent views of the hillside.

Though, this may have started off as a description of my three day holiday, this is not about that, it is in fact about of the of realisations that dawned on me while I was staying there.

I met this uncle of mine, properly, for the first time this time, and I really hope it isn’t the last. He happens to be one of those people whom you just love being around, you could spend your entire life with them without getting bored for one second. He’s annoyingly intellectual (a quality I absolutely love in people), but doesn’t make a huge show of it. He’s obsessed with working out and has a six pack at the age of forty (yes, he is inspirational), and he’s just extremely fun to talk to. Personally, he is one of the people I wouldn’t mind spending lengthy amounts of time with. His wife is a beautiful human, who despite everything remains humble and down-to-earth, one of those pure souls you don’t happen to come across very often.

So anyway, last night, when the fact that I have to leave this beautiful space dawned on me, I couldn’t help but feel sad. I haven’t felt so at home at any other place for a very very long time; because once in a while you come across certain spaces that somehow manage to have the same sort of frequency that you have, something that just feels in balance for no actual reason.

These spaces, when brought together with the correct kind of people, happen to make for the most beautiful memories that happen to strike the right cords in your heart and soul, and this exactly what I experienced in Abu.

It was pretty much the same feeling I experienced when I was leaving Bombay last year. Great spaces+Great people= The most beautiful of memories

On my way back home, I felt the urge to cry as I left those mountains behind me, left those spaces, left those people, with the lurking shadow of uncertainty because I have not the slightest clue of when I’ll visit those beautiful spaces again or when I’ll meet those people again, because the relationship which brewed between us is something I want to cultivate and take the lasting memories with me to my grave.

Maybe there is something miraculous in store for me, I just want to be ready to receive it.

Sculpture 1/3

You know how, when you have nothing to do, you just kind of manage to find yourself involved with a lot of things, and just somehow manage to sign-up for everything that comes up? Well, that is exactly what I did when I signed up for a sculpture workshop for three days.

Today was the first day, we tried to feel the clay in our hands, tried to make it one with ourselves while making spheres and cubes out of it. By ‘we’ I mean a group of kids, with maybe two fifteen year olds, a lady in her forties and the graduate student who was teaching us.

At first we imitated an empty bottle, it was rather slender. I reduced the height by half and doubled the breadth so it didn’t look exactly like the object, but it was still a pretty good imitation. The second task was when things went out of hand for me. We had to create a face, like a legit 3-dimensional structure of a face. When the girl who was teaching us did it, it looked to simple, and I thought I’m going to ace this session, but as it turned out, I couldn’t even get the shape of the head or rather skull right. When I went on to do the detailing, I ended up making the sculpture look like a horrendous piece of art, and having studied art philosophy, I knew that my work would be classified as ‘bad art’, and that’s why not even as art in many art theories.

I was sad, because even though I’m lazy, I’m a perfectionist. I like things when they’re the way which looks the most appealing to an onlooker, and something I made myself, I really did want it to look appealing. There was another girl though, one of the fifteen year olds, who was very good with her work, and I hated it because I wasn’t. I’m not saying this in a derogatory manner, I was just jealous that she could do something and I couldn’t; but then I kind of managed to hold my mind before it wandered off too much, by telling myself that not everyone can be good at everything, and that probably that girl couldn’t play a sport to save her life, so was a pathetic dancer, or something like that. I know that it’s not correct to put some person down, and to judge them, but I’m sorry, I was feeling bad and so I thought of all this in my head while my hands and my outward composure was still trying to figure out who to make that face correctly.

I also managed to find myself a Russian professor, I went to his very house for this workshop, and we decided that I could start soon, maybe from the eighteenth and then could continue it online since I would be out of town. Hopefully that will go off better than the class, because I do think  I have a mind for the more intellectual aspect of things, not the labour part of it. This was another thought that I had while making the bottle.

When I was walking back, yet again I found myself thinking how slow and monotonous life in a small town or city is. There’s nothing much you can do to enjoy yourself, at least I couldn’t think of anything, but maybe that’s because I have no friends here. Life is always better with friends.

So anyway, this sculpture workshop was the highlight of my day, so you can see how truly uneventful my life is.

Oh, also, I made chocolate-peanut butter ice-cream today, along with waffles and a great omelette. Life is good when food is involved.

And again, my right big toe is hurting like crazy because that stupid pedicure girl cut my nail way too short.

Another great highlight to end my post on, well, Ed Sheeran is going to be performing here in November! I’m already super excited for it, I missed his last concert and cannot miss this one. So yay! Looking forward to November now, and will also most probably go for Nh7 this year so yay again!

Anyway, going to leave you on the hopeful, happy note.

Today I went to the hairdresser

I wanted to do something new, so I thought of colouring my hair. I mean I already got inked so that was ticked off the list anyway. Being back home form college, and not having to spend my allowance on things like this just made me feel as thought it was the right time.

It was not the right time.

Don’t worry, this isn’t going to take a dark turn, nothing extremely emotional or nerve wrecking happens or rather, happened, save the fact that there wasn’t enough time for me to get my hair coloured, and the lady told me that I should get deep highlights instead because my hair already looks coloured. I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing now, but because I try to look towards the sun and let the shadows fall behind me, I take it to be a good thing.

So anyway, I went on and got a pedicure done, because all the barefoot dancing for over a month had made my feet look like raw jute, and because I still wanted a little change, I got my hair cut, only slightly because I finally trying to grow it out.

Though it may seems like it, but this story is not about me. It is about a realisation I had while I was sitting there at the salon.

There was a new hire there, actually two, one did my pedicure for me and cut one of my nails too small that it hurts a little now, but I couldn’t get myself to really complain about it because she was so young, and just learning. So instead I smiled at her when she asked me if the pressure was ‘okay’ while she massaged my feet and legs. It was the first day for the other new hire, again a young girl, who hadn’t even been given her uniform yet. She, along with my usual attending lady, went on to blow dry and style my hair (I don’t understand why I try because my hair just never manages to settle, haha embodies me a little I guess). So another things you need to know about me is that I don’t really talk a lot, not until I have something concrete to say, I’m not against small talk or anything, I’m just not good at it. So anyway, these two women went about doing my hair, which took almost like and hour to settle, and this whole time, they went on talking about their lives and I just listened to them, no interjections.

They spoke about the different places in this small city, the families they came from, how this was their first job and the older lady had just settled here because she liked it. It got me thinking about how fortunate I was because I had the opportunity to go see the world, explore different cultures, visit places I would never have thought of visiting. It made me realise the privilege into which I was born. I had lived in a different city for most of my teenage years, I had studied in a private residential school which a totally different city, I was now living in another city and was doing my college in a completely different city. Apart from this, I had the option to travel within my own country as well as different countries. These people here, had lived the entirety of their lives in just one place, and I found it so difficult to wrap my head around that idea because even though a city or a place keeps on changing and evolving and nothing is really stagnant, the chance of change is so much greater when you move out into the unfamiliar, you grow so much more, you meet so many different sorts of people, your circle of life experiences increases and at least from my perspective, you live a more fulfilled life and feel a lot more alive.

Their lives were just home, work, and back home again, with maybe going out once in a while to the same restaurants they had been visiting since they were kids. I couldn’t have been able to live that way, it’s too suffocating for me, but then again, that’s just me. There are so many people who feel a lot more happier in the familiar and that is again just there own perspective of looking at things, and their life experiences, though not varied, still happen to be those very defining moments that make them who they are. I just think, there’s a lot to be learnt from every single person in the world and every single place in the world, that is why, I value the ability to have the option of being in constant change and travel in the highest regard.

So yes, these were the thoughts that were going on inside my head in that one hour when the two ladies tried to style my hair and talked, and I just sat there expressionless staring at my own reflection.


P.S.- I will be back there in a few days, because I am still looking for a change, for the change that is the few strands of my naturally coloured hair.

P.S.- She loves you

She would see you everyday, in the hallways, on the field, laughing with your friends, who now, were her friends too. Every stupid, funny, annoying thing you did, somehow made her fall in love with you even more.

She would wait for you to be around, to come over to her and say “hi”, to look her way and smile, or play with her hair while you towered over her. She loved those moments she found with you.

She couldn’t help being attracted to you, even though you were a year senior. All of your peculiar habits were exactly why she loved you; but the longer she was around you she realised how indifferent you actually were towards her.

You didn’t really care about her, at least not in the way she thought you did. Those small mannerisms meant nothing after all. She thought you felt a little something towards her, but maybe she was wrong.

Instincts don’t fail you, do they? Well, maybe with her they did.

She still felt that you did feel for her, but maybe just masked it very well. They’d told her that you was shy, but she felt ignored, like you didn’t really want to talk to her. You made her feel like she didn’t have any substance, like she wasn’t good enough for you.

You made her feel unimportant, left out, while you immersed yourself in conversation with the other girls around. You played with their hair now, concentrated on what they had to say. You might not have realised, but you were slowly shattering her spirit, because this was the first time she allowed herself to feel love for someone again after a very, very long time, and though they say love is beautiful, love is actually very hard, and ugly, and filled with grey skies that pour down tears, which sometimes breaks open to give way to the filtering sunlight.



Light filtered through her curtained window, she was lying awake, before her alarm had gone off. It had been one of those days, when she just hadn’t been able to sleep well. Days like this were becoming common to her now, especially after the accident.

Two years had gone by since that day and though there were times when it felt like something from another lifetime, there were days and more often, nights, when it would all come gushing back like water from a broken dam and in which she was slowly drowning, trying her best to keep afloat.

As she lay in bed, with the cold winter sun warming her body and Cleo her beloved cocker spaniel sitting curled up at her feet, she thought, rather hoped, like every other day, that they would be proud of the woman she had grown up to become. For just another moment she shut her eyes and tried to picture how today, Thanksgiving day, would have been like had they still been there. She saw her mother busily cooking away in the kitchen laughing at something dad had said as the aroma of pumpkin bread, sautéed asparagus and onion filled the house. Her younger brother teaching Cleo some tricks in their backyard; he would have been twelve.

She opened her eyes, fall and winter had to be, hands down, her favourite seasons, because come on, who doesn’t love holidays? Smiling she got out of bed, muffled Cleo’s head and went to the kitchen to prepare some herbal tea for herself, she was trying to keep fit with all the exercise and the healthy eating.

Kaira, at the age of twenty-three was more mature than most people at thirty. She owned a big house in Madison, Wisconsin. Had a decent job as public relations and fund raising manager for a well-known company, had experienced things which many people were fortunate enough to not have and had managed to pull herself out of denial and depression, to make something out of herself.

Two years ago the most terrible thing that she could have imagined happening to her had happened. Her parents and brother were caught in a terrible accident when their car skid off the road during a snowstorm. Her mother and father had died on the spot while her brother was taken into surgery but wasn’t able to survive due to excessive internal bleeding in his brain.

She was only twenty-one at that time, just out of college, ready to take on the world. This couldn’t have happened to her, it was something you saw in movies and read in books, it never actually happened to people, God couldn’t actually be so cruel, could he? But it happened, she hadn’t known what to do at that time. She had cried day in and day out, boxed herself up, shut everyone out. She refused to see a therapist. Some days were better than the others, she would force herself to do the things she had previously enjoyed doing.

Go for a run.

Attend music concerts and shows.

Read books.


Meet friends.

Go hiking.


Slowly, all of it helped her grow out of the spiraling cycle of hollowed feelings and depression that her life had become and she grew into a better version of herself, someone she never knew existed.

She had become confident of herself, from the way she looked right to the way she felt; from her physical appearance to her convoluted personality. She could read people, figure out how they felt, understand them. She had the most charming smile, the sort that could light up your day. Her deep brown eyes were pools of mysteries that you would be intrigued to solve. Her calm and welcoming face could make you forget all of your worries. She was a beautiful person, who, just like so many other people around the world, was trying to leave her mark. She had her own demons which she was trying to conquer and hopefully, someday she would.

The message in the bottle


“I never want him to be sad or low. He made me happy, still does. He is a positive person, full of life, a little complex, but he really did understand me. He could see through me, or so I thought at least. He used to give me hope, made me laugh. I was sure he was the one for me, but he didn’t. He loved someone else, someone who never valued him, she had everything and he was crazy about her.

Why are we like this? Why do we believe that there is this one person out there who we are meant to love? How many times is this love reciprocated?

He knew why I was feeling the way I was, no one else understood. I needed to tell him, I needed to tell him that I loved him but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him because he was in love with her, he was truly, madly, deeply in love with her.

I just wanted him to be happy, couldn’t see him so pulled down, depressed and disturbed, though I was in the same place. I could cope with feeling this way and though I knew he could too I didn’t want him to feel like that to begin with.

We led different lives, I might never get to meet him again, but I still just wanted him to be the cheerful, happy-go-lucky person that he was.

He made me happy. He made me feel like maybe there was hope somewhere, all because he was so hopeful, and if he loved her I would be fine with it, or try to be, as long as she made him happy.

I’ll be there for him because I know that I can’t ever forget him.”


A tear rolled down his eye as he read the message in the bottle.

Ice-cream Insight


When the chocolate chip ice cream just starts to melt is becomes this ugly heap of melting brown liquid with chocolate chips jutting out at weird places.
If someone was to judge ice creams based on what they look like, I’m sure only a few would pick the chocolate chip, but as far as taste goes, I think it’s the best.
So you see, those who give too much importance to the appearance tend to lose out on some of the most wonderful people and delightful things.
Be liberal and learn to love and accept all.

Do comment your favorite ice cream flavours.

No harm in dreaming


“leave your broken windows open
and in the light just streams
and you get a head, a head full of dreams”

-A Head Full Of Dreams//Coldplay

Twisting and turning, she perspired all over. The blanket that covered her had become her cage, confining her to it. It had become a net in which she was tangled, unable to escape. It had become molten tar, like quicksand, drowning her.

She awoke with a start, it was the middle of the night or rather very early in the morning, around 3 am, and she was in her bed, all safe, in the comfort of home.

“It felt so real though”, she said to herself, sitting up in her bed and staring blankly ahead. She poured herself a glass of water and then let herself fall slowly into the arms of sleep.


The sunlight filtered in through the curtains, the sound of the birds up and about could be heard accompanied by the rustling of the leaves blown by the slight breeze of the morning. He woke up with a smile on his face, still trying to place the contents of his room as he shifted his focus from the setting sun and lapping waves of the beach to the huge empty wall of his apartment. “Been a long time since a slept so soundly”, he said to himself as he lay in bed still trying to grab hold of a few pieces of his dream so that he had something to fall back on in the cold, hard days to come.


“It really was very vivid you know”, she told Zephyr, her cat, as she prepared her morning coffee “it felt like I would die then. He tried his best though you know, to try and save me, I woke up just as he stretched his arm out to me. He was nice, whoever he was.” She shrugged and looked towards Zephyr who was busy cleaning herself on the table. “I know you care, you just don’t show it, I know, I understand.” She smiled and stroked her affectionately with the mug in her hand.


“I wish I really did know who she was you know, she seemed wonderful.” He said to Andy as they made there way downtown. “Well, you know they say that you only see the faces you’ve already seen before, in your dreams. So maybe you have seen her somewhere. Don’t think about it so much, it was just a dream after all.” “A little too real for a dream”, he thought, but made his way without saying another word.


“Maybe someday I’ll find him”, she thought.


“Maybe someday I’ll find her”, he thought.


After all, there was no harm in dreaming.

Someone like me

I’ve been trying to figure out what sort of a blog I should have. I mean, I haven’t been around here very long but in whatever little time I’ve spent here I come across a number of interesting blogs, each having something unique and special about it. I’ve come across travel blogs, gardening blogs, cookery blogs and so many more which have left me astound. Being around such people and visiting a nook of their lives made me think, “What part of me is interesting enough to be let out into the world?”

There are a number of things I enjoy doing, for example reading. I love reading and if I do manage to get hooked onto a book I finish it as fast as I can; but what I can’t do is write about a book I’ve read on a blog, because I’m not that sort of a person.

There are a number of things that amuse and attract me. I love food, but I can’t write about it, one because I don’t have the caliber to become a food blogger, and second because I can’t eat a lot. (okay, I agree I’m a weird sort of a person)

So I don’t frankly know what this place is going to be about nor do I know what sort of people will view my blog or even appreciate it (I hope they do), but I want this to be a comfortable place for everyone to put their views forward and enjoy going through the little insignificant things I post, just to add a little bit of something to their day.

I would want someone to randomly stumble upon my blog, someone who’s a little bored, someone who wouldn’t mind giving a read to a small piece of writing, someone with a cup of coffee maybe, going through the internet late at night or in the afternoon. Someone who might help give direction to the rambling thoughts in my head. Maybe someone like me.tumblr_static_tumblr_static_2e5m94uipc5c4g4c80kgo84ck_640


Getting started

“All you have is now.”

I was reading this wonderful book today, and it was during the course of reading that this thought plonked itself into my head. So when I realised that nobody knows how things might turn out tomorrow, and all each one of us has is “now”, I thought, “Why not give blogging a try?”

Writing has always been something that I’ve enjoyed despite not having mastered the skill. I have been drawn to reading and writing since childhood, I read my first ever “book” at the age of, maybe eight, an Enid Blyton, and went on to writing one-page-long-stories by the age of nine, and never really stopped. I’m aware that this isn’t much to boast about because people might usually start off at a much earlier age, but the idea that I wanted to put across was that I enjoy reading as much as writing, maybe a wee bit more.

I’ve always wanted to be able to read more about what’s “really” happening around the world. I mean, sure I’m quite interested in politics and how the world runs and stock markets (okay, maybe not so much of that), but there are people out there, who, maybe like me, have nothing much to do with all the free time on their hands during the summer, and just “need to know”, to “keep things interesting”, to maybe “learn or read about something totally new”, and that’s the sole reason behind this blog.

I’m an amateur as far as writing goes, especially when it comes to the social forum, but want to improve and read more.

I need to steer myself into a finding my “proper haunt” (okay that’s me quoting Heaney right there) and I assumed that if I get involved with this community, I might get some help. So I honestly don’t know what I’m going to be writing about (I’m sure not many people reached this far into this article, but those who did, I’m grateful), so please do bear with me. It’s my nature to write about all that affects me in any sort of way. I’m certainly not very humourous, so my feed won’t be very funny (sorry for that). This is honestly the first time I’m doing something like this and I hope that it won’t turn out to be my last.

So that’s a little about who I am, and for all the cliché points; I’m a cat person and I love drinking coffee.

Glad we met!

Hope to keep in touch!