When someone asks me what I usually do when I am sad or angry, I would say: “Cleaning the bathroom while crying my eyes out!” It was a joke. Well, actually, half a joke. I do find comfort in cleaning, decluttering, or tidying up anything I could think of (not only the bathroom!), especially when
Losing ‘Someone’ A few years ago, when I was nursing a vicious heartbreak, I stumbled upon a mother-daughter dialogue in a young adult novel. They were arguing about the daughter’s boyfriend. I couldn’t remember the title and the exact conversation, but it goes more or less like this: Daughter: But he is my WHOLE world!
This was the thing that didn’t go as planned: we’re supposed to reach Munich, Germany, in 8 hours. It was Friday afternoon—the first day of our 21-day road trip in Europe. We were supposed to pick up our rented car earlier at Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam, but we went into some last-minute frenzy and arrived a
It happens. There are things we might lose during our traveling journeys–no matter how carefully we guard them all the time, no matter how cautious we are. There will always be something that slips through the cracks, they say. And just like everything else in life, when you lose something so dear to you, there’s this certain
Yes, they hurt. But no matter how much they hurt, I realize that my previous relationships–even when they didn’t work out the way I wanted them to be, have taught me some valuable life-lessons, and I won’t trade these with anything. There were times when I was young and didn’t know any better, but looking back
I guessed it was around 9.30 pm. I had just refilled my glass with another dose of gin and tonic, then stood there near the pop-up bar for a while, examining the room while adjusting the green snake around my neck. In front of me, Gods and Goddesses–as well as Devils of all kinds–were dancing
“The tragedy is not that you’re gonna die this way,” my mother had said to me once, “it’s that you live this way.” [The Long Run by Mishka Shubaly.] I fall for words. Words of all kinds. Flirty texts. Random questions. Stupid remarks. Retarded emoticons. I fall for words so much, to the extent that
I remembered one sunny afternoon in Delhi’s Khan Market. I was inside a small bookstore–looking for some Hindi poetry books for Ollie. The room was packed with books, starting from the floor all the way to the ceiling. Books were stacked here and there. I needed to walk very carefully to avoid collapsing those book piles.