Things It Never Occurred To Me To Wish For
I made a gameplan for my life at 17. Nothing went according to that plan. Most of all, I didn’t even think to wish for some of the bounty.
Home & Identity
Finding home & a sense of belonging within shifting identity politics of geography, region, language, politics, ideologies and culture.
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A Grey Hair Or Two
I found my first grey hair last month. I started screaming. I don’t know what surprised me more, the grey hair or my reaction to it. I always thought I’d age gracefully. I always imagined that I wasn’t vain. I guess I had also assumed that I would be doing…
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I Say I’m Fine
Rambler raises an interesting question in the comments. I have been pondering this. You know its interesting at the brink of relationship, twenty somethings like me, really have this question. Men have always been known to not trust women, and women on the other hand trust men, but in this…
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13 And 30 On The Beach
I’m back from my week-long break and I’ll write a more detailed post in due course of time. It’s been a week full of experiences (traveling to another place always is, isn’t it?). I still have to sort out my thoughts, shake the sand out of my shoes (yes, there…
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Ideart: Peacock
I painted a peacock (India’s national bird) on a purple cotton top. This is my adventure into wearable art.
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Not According To Plan
I wasn’t a cool kid or a hip teenager. But I had a plan. A decade later, I look back and wonder, how did things turn out so differently?
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The Game Plan (The Perfect Life)
I had a game plan for the perfect life. I made it when I was 17 and it spanned to my 48th birthday. It factored career, finances, relationships & creativity.
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Three-Quarterly Review
While everyone in the accounts departments sits heavy on numbers and does a stock-taking quarter-by-quarter of the year that was, it occurs to me to do the same with my life. Except this is a three-quarterly review. Of my 29th year. I’ll be 30 this July and it’s an odd…
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Office Space: A Different Home
I spend most of my waking day at work. It is my home and the holder of my identity. How can the space not be important?
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Butch, Not Gay
When I was a kid, the apartment two floors above us was occupied by two ladies. They were both teachers. One of them was tall and stern-looking. The other one was short, roly-poly and generally jovial as you would expect someone of such a build to be. Both of them…
