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My Romance with Shahrukh

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His characters might have leaned towards the grey but they sure had the innocence, the goodness and the confidence to obtain love.

Circus! The boy-next-door! Messy brown hair, the dimple and the eyes! A boy I fell for. A TV actor who was a tad different.

Then Deewana happened. I was surprised. He had come to the big screen. Then Raju came and stole my heart. Malaria or loveria whatever you want to name it...the silly acts of romance to woo the girl is all, I, a kid needed. Those were the days when we just had the National Television. Durga Puja was the only time of the year, Baba used to allow us to watch Bollywood movies by renting video cassettes from the local parlour. So my romance grew slowly and drove a steady path through the next few movies.

Bam! Baazigar! Who can think that you can fall for the con guy? A hero, a villain, the protagonist? Who was he? The ambiguity was more alluring than the acute need to put him into a defined box. Then rolled out one movie after another an…

The Shutter Story

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A photograph is just a moment captured. It is alive in its stillness. Be it a place, a person, an emotion or an event, a photograph is the only way to cling on to it, physically or otherwise.

Our friend who furnishes photographs for our articles is, by profession, a wedding photographer. But as any creative space cannot be constricted within the confines of common understanding, so is hers too. Her shared album of photographs is an alluring array of instants that exhibits existence in its entirety.

It was on a leisurely evening as I was going through her album, I perceived, almost impetuously, the potency and the promise of a photograph. What is a photograph? Just a moment captured. A tick thought beautiful and worthy by the photographer and turned into truth. The little while, as a matter of fact, exists only through the photograph. The link to the past and the license to the future. A medium that enables you to travel through time.

Take a look at this photograph. It encapsulates th…

Durga’s Homecoming

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A new journey begins for a new Durga designated to vanquish the new Asura, more appropriately, Asuras.


After a precious interim of ten months, my little Durga was coming home. The joy was immense as was my anticipated relief. Through all my years, I never missed the opportunity of being in the proximity of the unique festival, the Durga Puja. Its exuberance overwhelms me every year and I respond to it ecstatically. But that year, it didn't even seem that the celebrations were going on. It didn't depress me though, for once, as I lay in bed away from the festivities that fostered the Feminine Energy of existence.

Such was her captivity. No lesser than the one Maa Durga exercises on her devotees, I pondered. I could feel her twisting and jabbing in my belly. Little could we wait to see each other.

According to Hindu mythology, Durga is created by the Gods to slay the evil demon, Mahishasura. She was born with astounding beauty and power, empowered by the collective strength and …

You’ll be happy if you know it

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A conscious endeavour to foster happiness can help you make a habit out of it.


I had seen a photograph of my friend’s daughter. She was right in the midst of greenery, kneeling down and lively in the lap of nature. Her wonder-filled eyes and infectious smile seized my second. Unknowingly, I experienced the happiness that the instant eternalised in itself. I felt it. I wished if only I could hold on to that happiness or engage with it as effortlessly as the child did.

The absurdist author, Albert Camus, wrote, "You will never be happy if you...search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life."

But we are incorrigible. Each of us is in pursuit of happiness. Few realise, it is but a function of our will. Some claim to have found it in their own bitter-sweet ways.

The other day, I heard my daughter singing full-throated, the insanely-popular Pharrell Williams song, 'Happy'. She was rehearsing her Zumba moves for the up…

An ‘August’ Affair!

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Engaging your child with artwork can be more effective than you ever thought. It is emotive and expressive at the same time.

August was an assault of activities. We were moving. To pack my world into boxes and bags was itself a challenge. More daunting than the previous time. On top of that, it was vacation time for my kids. With an explorer on the loose and a terrific toddler in tow, working my way through was barely feasible. I was running out of resources to fittingly engage my little one when a proposal popped up to my rescue.

I was wrapping the goodbye-gifts for our near and dear ones. I called my son. I asked him if he too would like to make ‘little somethings’ for whosoever he wanted. Just tokens of love to be presented before he parted.

He considered the suggestion for a while. After all, it meant relinquishing his extraordinary exploits in favour of sedentary and organised occupation. Somehow he seemed convinced. I think it gave him a sense of importance. Little did I gather t…

Unfamiliar Friends

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There are many friends around us. We are unfamiliar with them. Let’s unravel them to appreciate their importance.

As I was browsing through the chapters of my childhood, one of them stood out. "Friends." Perhaps due to its peculiarity and distinctiveness. Coincidence, if you may call it, around the very same time, the celebrations of 'Friendship Day' were going on in full swing. My daughter was coming home every day, almost for a week, with 10-15 friendship bands and rings! Happy to have so many friends and hell-bent on making more. Good for her, I thought.

My chapter on friendship is, I must admit, a little different. Of course, it includes my friends from school, neighbourhood, college, tuition, university and so on and so forth. But it reaches beyond that. It is inclusive and expansive in its own way. It nourishes and nurtures itself out of every life experience that it encounters. And before I sound poetic and redundant, I’ll try to explain what I intended.

I wou…

Chapters from Childhood

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When did you last visit your childhood?

Last Friday, I went to an exhibition. I had read about it in the papers. It promised fun and nostalgia but with a difference. Conceived and created by an aspiring artist, Aahel Iyer, it was called the 'Playschool'. What a memory-inducing name, I thought!

The moment I entered the hall, a splash of colours, bright colours dazzled my eyes. I’m sure you’ll agree that colours have their own way of affecting the mind. Mine was immediately swept away from the subtle shades of my present to the effervescent and energetic hues of my childhood.

There were quite a few interesting installations, coloured art pieces and impressionistic presentations, if I may call them, in the exhibition. I was very keen to know the story behind each one of them. A tag, which included more than just a name or a title, was attached to every exhibit. The purpose, I believe, was to offer a vignette of that particular memory of the artist.

Another thing that intrigued me…

My Dot

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I am happy the way I am. I will not let others decide how I should look or appear.

"Badi mushkil baba badi mushkil
Gore gore gaalon pe hai kaala kaala til" ~ a song from the movie Lajja, (a 2001 Bollywood drama) in which Madhuri Dixit had performed.

I am a big fan of Madhuri Dixit. Her distinctive dance moves and animated expressions seriously make many skip a heartbeat. This song from the movie Lajja, is even more special. Because there’s Me in it somewhere.

My parents were ecstatic to have me as their firstborn. "How gorgeous she is... and her dot... the most heavenly brown that can ever dwell on an earthling!" Conch shells were blown as Baba picked me up towards the slit of light from heaven to declare… "She is a princess, born to live happily ever after!" The breeze slightly ruffled the curtain to ratify the blessing that imprinted itself on my heart.

Well, that’s the dramatic start that my dot had! Adorable, in the eyes of the happiest parents on ea…

Mango fish and a cook's heart

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The kitchen coming alive is half the fun in cooking

Have you ever felt the joy of being able to cook up something delicious? If you have, then you are no stranger to the alluring sizzle and warmth of your kitchen.


There are hundreds of no-cook recipes that let you sit at your dinner table with all the ingredients and munch on. But then you would be missing out on the heady aromas and tantalising sounds coming from a busy kitchen.

I was craving the warmth of mine the other day and decided to go with ‘Mango Fish’.

My native cuisine is Indian, and its spice history is no secret. But what I love the most is how it celebrates the ingredients. Contrary to popular belief, it is not about the curry powder, a colonial concoction alien to its custodians.

In this recipe, unripe green mangoes, plucked before they turn into their sweet avatars, lend it their tang and name. Pomfret, a flat-bodied sea-fish, is ideal. But you could use catfish or prawns in its stead.

At the end of it, as you sit dow…

May-craft with my son

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Making a craft with your child is a meaningful way to engage him...and much more...

It is always difficult to spend quality time with your kid. I make sure, I never miss one such possibility. I usually take up a tiny project with my son every month. I plan it so as to distribute the activity almost through each day of the month. This allotted task gives us a new topic to discuss and work on, together.

My takeaway. The happiness and enthusiasm that fills the tender one during the conversations that go along with the creation. My son was actively involved at every step… his ardent love for this simple craft (that) filled me with a sense of accomplishment. Our May project was to fill a glass jar (a long-forgotten gift from an old friend). How should we fill it was the main challenge the two of us faced. A two-day long rigorous discussion followed. It looked like a professional team doing a much-needed requirements analysis prior to a project. Of course, it was mellowed down to match up to…

Oxygen for my soul

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Impromptu plans with friends provide a breather amidst life’s crushing pressure.

The other day, I was supposed to meet two of my friends for shopping. One among us took the meeting time a little too seriously. She was there on the dot. Frantically, she kept calling us as two of us were travelling together. My travel buddy kept reassuring the restless one that we were just about to reach. Actually, we were far from the destination. What a smirk she had each time, thinking she had narrated a convincing tale! I sat and wondered how much was being bought of what she sold that day.


Oh, by the way, did I tell you what prompted us to shove aside our work and arrange for an almost impromptu coming-together that afternoon? The pursuit of some perfectly-fitted, voguish good-to-go-with-almost-anything blouses. Yes, you read that clean. A blouse is an upper garment that accompanies and complements the traditional Indian garment called the saree.
The mentor knew which style, pattern, colour...textur…

Jet in the sky

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Happiness is simple. Live the moment to make a memory out of it.

A bright sunny day. Strapping up my touristy spirit and bitten by the explorer’s bug, I was strolling down a lane in Zurich. Looking here and there. A camera in my hand. The lens of my eye and that of the device mostly collaborated to capture the quintessence of the captivating city. But hey, my vision always dictated the other! It had to sacrifice holding on to prominent spots and landmarks in favour of embracing indigenous life.

Every blink offered an image that mesmerised me. Suddenly something happened. By happenstance, I looked up. I saw a beautiful white trail of a zooming jet plane in the sky. No, not just that but everything about it and around it. The contrail against the aqua blue sky framed by cumulus clouds did something to me. It made me smile. I clicked it.


And the most amazing thing is that every time I look at the photograph, a gust of fresh air invigorates me. Even today as I share it with you, I feel li…

Our Story

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A blog was born to share the quotidian tales of life. Tales of your lives and ours.

Randomness struck us as we bonded, not on the first day of the primary, junior or even senior school for that matter, but in the 11th grade with only a mere one and a half years left to step out of our second homes. Two shabby, squeaking benches, one behind the other, was the space that metamorphosed our experiences from the general to the distinctive. From sharing lunchboxes to sharing lives, all extempores coagulated to form that envious rainbow, which, sadly enough, disappeared once the conducive conditions were lost. Hardly did we realise how time raced us through its course as we shifted from pulling each other’s legs, mimicking teachers, enjoying moments of unadulterated fun to writing absurdities and absolutes in our precious slam books.

Sparks produced sparkles, and once in a while, we paused, pondered and decided to proceed….We ventured to discuss and disclose the quotidian tales of life. Yours …