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On top of the world!

I am not big on vacations. Why? Well, given the 'workaholic' bug that's bitten the husband and I, wherever we traveled, we ensured we were connected to the Internet. At least one laptop accompanied us. We could give up sleep and sight-seeing but never skip on checking our emails. But enough was enough! 
We deserved to travel without any interference of the world wide web and hence, a plan was hatched to visit London, Belfast, and Edinburgh. Given our initial enthusiasm and panic that we had 10 days of holidays ahead of us, we over-planned! Hehe... 

Fortunately, we covered a lot. We walked a lot. We ate a lot and drank a lot of tea. And now that I am back, I feel I have missed out on a lot too. Blah. But if you ask me what was the highlight of my trip? I'd pick the London Eye over the Harry Potter Warner Bros. Studio Tour. This humungous giant wheel, held by two huge steel beams has some spectacular views to offer. Don't believe me? This picture says it all...





P.s:…
Recent posts

Friend found!

For the husband and me, it was love over a couple of phone calls and reading to-and-fro from our blogs. It was the serious kind of love where a sense of duty and commitment, respect mattered most right from the start. Our dating days were spent more on trying out new cuisines, traveling for long hours to see each other, browsing different sections in bookstores or aimlessly walking around hand-in-hand. We had long decided we were meant to be. And we believed in letting each other be.
What I am trying to say in the above-mentioned paragraph is that my then boyfriend never saw me as friend-material. I was always his girlfriend, his lover. He had his set of friends and I had mine. These two sets never met and we like it that way. So we never walked through a phase where we had to evolve from friendship…really.



However, yesterday, on the first Sunday of August, i.e. friendship day, he sent me a WhatsApp message. It is an image which says, “We are best friends. Always remember that if y…

No, no one is really 'very' BUSY!

In the last 5 years, I have moved back and forth from my hometown for work. I am finally back. Why am I saying is because with my coming back, my relatives far and wide, while not sure if they are happy to have me back or no, they definitely want to meet me. And I don’t want to. So what do I say – I say I am very busy. So much so that I really have no time to pick up the phone to make a call. I am so busy that I live between office and home.
I have kept up with this excuse for a long time now. I have canceled meeting friends, family and even going out because I am too busy. But am I too busy? No. Yes, I do have a huge, never-ending list of things to do, but I put them on a backburner because I like to think I am too busy. In short, the idea of being ‘too busy’ is a farce. It is an excuse we use in abundance.
Constantly telling ourselves that we are busy is in a way training our mind and body to believe it. It causes us to overthink, leaving little or no space for thinking about ourselve…

When the sea saw into my soul

There is something about the turbulent sea waters, crashing and breaking in waves on the multitude of rocks lining the shore. The ebb and flow of the water, albeit choppy, has quite the opposite effect on me – it calms me and soothes my frayed nerves. The salt in the air acts like a sponge, absorbing the grime of drudgery from myself, leaving my pores empty yet alive. With the sea spread out in the front, it asks me nothing as it lets me be. I am a mere being, watching, unable to fathom this unfathomable being, simply a spectator of no consequence.
It accepts me as my mediocre self, the average person, not expecting anything in return. The camaraderie we share is unique yet commonly common. The sea holds no prisoners and frees me from my derelict soul.
It gives me no direction, only hope that change is meant to be. That I cannot stop its flow nor the flow of life. I am to be as it is to be. It tells me no tales, makes no promises. But it takes from me what I must give in order to reliv…

Dark is beautiful

In my childhood, the basic difference between my sister, my cousin who lived next door and I was this – she was the darkest among us three, my cousin is the fairest. Years later when he tied the knot, his wife too was fair. But being fair was not their reason for marriage. However, in my sister’s mind, being fair was important, at least as a child.


When my nephew was born, he was fair and he still is light-wheatish if not fair. My sister, all of 17, placed the baby’s hand in hers and exclaimed – he is white compared to my dark color. For her, being dark meant being told what colors not to wear, what to do and what not to do. Typical Indian household, isn’t it? Recently I watched this short film Light and Lovely courtesy Facebook, and it instantly took me back to my childhood.
The Fairness cream campaigns were mesmerizing to us. It made sure we believed that fair is beautiful, acceptable and of course the best. In maybe the littlest ways, it did undermine our confidence and our sense…

Uber tales Part II - The Fraudster

In a little while, the cab driver volunteered information about his personal life. He belonged to a staunch Brahmin family in UP and his father worked with the Vishwa Hindu Parishad, and how his family was well-known in their village. As the only son and no other sibling, they had many expectations from him. They were even looking for a suitable girl in the village.
Thinking his life was sorted, I congratulated him. But here is where the problem lay – he had a girlfriend in Mumbai. He began by saying that even though he is a Hindu, he never felt attracted to Hindu girls. His girlfriend was a Muslim. She lived in a far-off suburb of Mumbai and was a school teacher.
Now, to me, this seemed okay. Boy meets girl in the city and falls in love. Religion plays obstacle. He further added that he had met her sister and that things had progressed between them. However, if his parents found out, he would be an outcast and it would kill his parents. So I asked him what he planned to do. Appare…

Uber tales Part I - The Maniacal Laughter

I love to talk, so much so that people have interrupted me and asked if my tongue pains because I talk so much. No, it doesn’t. In my defense, I’d like to say that I always have a story to tell. Typical Bengali trait, I am not denying that. I think this is a good to have ability that I can strike up a conversation with anyone and everyone. In fact, the husband claims that its that ‘look’ on my face – talk to me.
All jokes apart, I have had some interesting conversation with cabbies, i.e. cab drivers driving the iconic Kaali-peeli taxi, Uber and Ola. But why do we talk? Well, why not… You are travelling together for a considerable amount of time (even 5 minutes’ count) so why not talk to kill time? Also, I find it easier to talk to strangers. If they judge me, it won’t matter. We might never cross paths again. But at times, conversations can get freaky!


This happened with a Uber driver. No, he did not cause me any harm. It was what he shared. In fact, things got so weird that I actua…

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