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?
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.
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…
Juhu Beach
Last evening I was overcome by an urge to eat chana masala, the buttery over-spicy type, all covered with raw mango chunks and unidentified (but delicious) stuff on top. The Juhu beach variety. And while at it, bring on a naariyalpaani as well. Why not I asked myself (and oh…
Quoted In Mail Today: Ignore The Abusers And Keep Blogging Ladies – Harassment, Inacceptable
Mail Today carried a story today on women bloggers and the problems we face in blogging. Yours truly has been quoted alongside a number of promiment ladies on the blogosphere. (Click the image below to see the full story) Some of you may recognize the trolly character I’ve mentioned in…
I Style! – A Cat Lands On Her Feet
These shoes belong to a media professional. She was hurrying to work two steps ahead of me on the railway bridge (if you don’t recognise the thread on the floor, you ain’t a true Mumbaiker!). But she stopped long enough to let me take a photograph of her feet and those…
Muse
Are you my muse? Or am I yours?
I am the velvety slumber that lets you meet your imprisoned self. I am also the jailer of that prisoner.
Material Girl
As I step out, Madonna’s ‘Material Girl’ plays in my head. I’m going to own a diamond. But this time, no boys are lining up to pay.
Roadkill On Memory Lane
Did you ever hear the call of memory? That screeching wail of nostalgia, like tires on tar and you couldn’t help looking back, wondering if anybody died
and realising it wasn’t you?
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?