Tag Archives: Lifestyle

Revolutions And Resolutions

Feel loved, feel happy, and feel good about yourself. Go, flaunt that list of books you have read, share the movies you watched, post those travel pics of yours and the life recaps, make that resolution (well, again), dance your way into the new year or sleep your way into it, arrive gracefully waltzing or embarrassingly tripping, in your senses or completely sloshed, be loud or quiet, take in the morning sun or bathe in the moonlight, cherish the moment with your loved ones or savour your solitude. Do whatever the hell you want, whatever brings you happiness. Be upbeat, be unapologetic!

Silver Surfer: We never get to go home!

We’re all stars, in our own galaxies. And at the heart of each star that now so brightly twinkles, is a passionate fire that’s feeding on it. The fire that burns, makes it a star. The fire that’s not going to let up until it consumes it completely. The star wants to show gratitude to the people it loves, but now all it can do from afar, is burn a little more and twinkle a bit brighter. Such is the life of every star. It burns, it shines; it cools, it dies.

The Still Life of Oranges

Sitting cross-legged, basking in the dappled sun, sunlight falling on, off leaves, spilling, splashing, us peeping out the balcony bars, teeth sunk into the tangy pulp of oranges, spitting out the small pips, smelling citrus and reading the book in front. Orange, the colour and the fruit. Scents and images often stir sensibilities and evokeContinue reading “The Still Life of Oranges”

खत, Chitthi: The lost “art” of letter writing

There was an entire emotive experience attached even to letter reading. The agonizing wait, the anticipation, the excitement and the satisfaction. The thrill of tearing the envelope open, pulling out the letter and carefully unfolding them, passing them from hand to hand, the tendency to peek and huddle while one read them aloud. The touch, the texture, the scent of paper and the ink used. The papery smell, at times musty and damp, at times dry and dusty, weather worn and bearing traces of their journey.

Turning 31, on the clock!

Mine is usually a quiet neighborhood. The bell strikes for the third time like a huge hammer on a gong and I finally bolt out of bed, eyes still shut and crusty, head heavy and mind dazed. I hurt my toe as I fumble my way to open the door, let my maid didi inContinue reading “Turning 31, on the clock!”

Something beautiful about the people I do not choose

There’s something beautiful about the people I do not chaseThe people who find meThe people I am not looking forThe people I let go, the people who stayThe people who think of meThe people I am unmindful ofThe people who like my companyThe people I do not make much time forThe people who have meContinue reading “Something beautiful about the people I do not choose”

Summer Mornings, the Days of Old and Old Spice

Crusty eyes that woke up to childhood summer mornings always had a lot to look forward to. Out the frosted window, wind and wishes, cheeping birds, a heart full of small fluttering desires, the setting moon, the breaking dawn, things to do, always the same, always full of surprises.

Words mean more at night

Some among us are in the habit of stealing nights and words, sounds and silences, people and places. We cannot always help it. We bottle them all in and stow them away in the cabinets of our memory, where forgotten they lie ageing like fine wine, only to be taken out and sipped on cold and cruel days, when its warmth stirs our soul.

A dog who wasn’t lost

For more than their dribbly eyes or droopy mouths I love dogs I love dogs, for more than their dog ears They are uncomplicated Yes, a bit conflicted But always uncomplicated They know how you feel Even if you don’t want them to You always get to know how they feel They let you knowContinue reading “A dog who wasn’t lost”