Life-ing it up...

It was, by all means, an eventful year, lots of things in my bucket list were ticked and lots of things were added. I loved every bit of it, even the worse times because they were followed by some of the most awesome things. There were new trips, new friends, new books, new beginnings and a lot of new me that came about. Here's a small glimpse of the year that I'll see off in a couple of hours... 1. January: The new year was at its boozy, smoky best, and add to that both our birthday celebrations and it was a good start to the year. Early morning birthday cake surprise from S 2. February: Ha... I finally started dieting and stuck to it. It was salads and sprouts all the way, plus a mushy, cozy celebration of completing seven years together. Toasting to seven years together. 3. March: A stellar vacation with friends and S. Goa happened and fun followed. Sunset at Agonda beach, Goa  4. April: Another long-awaited road trip came to pass. Chakrata was a beauti

The stork visited us... There's a bun in the oven... and all the cliched sentences galore and what do I pick to break the good news about a baby to my darling, darling husband? 'Main tumhare bacche ki maa banne wali hun!'   It's 5.30 in the morning and in the middle of summer, I'm squatting down on the ground by the side of the bed with the pee-stick in my hand. S looks up bleary-eyed and processes my statement and breaks out in a loud guffaw. Heck yeah, jot that down as one of the best moments of my life. We've been trying for a while now and we knew the good news was coming any day now, but nothing ever prepares you for the moment the verdict lies bare. It was all things I thought it would be and yet very different from so many things I expected. Its been a ride since then, good and not-so-good but we've enjoyed every bit of it. The doctor visits, the weird food cravings, the throwing-up, the swollen feet, the tiny growing witnessed through ult

I wasn't done yet! Turns out, I had more than my fair share of heartbreaks in high school. A couple of years after my first sad poem, there was yet another tragic tale in the pages of my long lost journal. This was close to my sweet sixteen, I remember this one vividly. I learned a lot about the world then, the real world and that it had a s***load of difference from the world Archies, Veronica and Betty lived in. Years later, I would also come to know that the whole thing was set up by my own girlfriends. They obviously knew I had hots for the guy, a senior who had lost a year to join our batch. A bet was placed to fool the moderately popular teacher's pet and I turned out to be the classic nerd who fell for it. You would scoff, get a grip, girl, it was high school! It, however, remains an old wound. I trusted my group, I loved that guy.  Anyway, let me regale you by saying that in my early 20s I hunted up his number, called up, and blasted him with a climactic lecture. For al

If everybody hates Mondays and research actually shows that Mondays are the least productive days, then why don't we make Mondays as a 'Getting-used-to-office-after-weekend-day' .  We could just come to office as late as we can manage, loll around the work station, get used to the idea that there IS an office which HAS work which has to be DONE by US. We could then toy around with our files and folders, gradually get ourselves in the work mood and then start working from Tuesday. Isn't that fun? I'm full of such brilliant ideas, I tell you. In case you need some, do get in touch.

It was the best and most relaxed fortnight, in a long, long time. I was home after almost a year and a half. My beautiful, beautiful Dibrugarh. It was perfect at 22C and yes, I'm scoffing at the most unfortunate souls who were still steaming in Delhi then. When I de-boarded at the small airport in Dibrugarh it was blissfully drizzling. I could have almost cried with joy. Picture the usual monikers of green, fresh, verdant satiated, lush, cool, cozy, etc. Enroute to town from Mohanbari My ever mindful mother had brought a light shawl for me to wrap up, I'm not exaggerating, I did need it. I rolled down the windows and sprawled on the rear seat of the car, the cool air, the droplets, the rushing tea gardens did wonders and an album of memories filled me. You see, I get nostalgic very easily and quite often. It's a bit melodramatic at times but then I found out I was always so.  One rainy afternoon, I dug out an old journal of mine, from my high school years and read through

The routine stays the same everyday. I see myself doing the same set of things in its predetermined order. But any monotony that could have descended is easily kept at bay. How, you ask me, and I credit my girlfriends.  First, there is Anna who quenches the thirst of my love for two things: investigative thrills and period settings. Oh, how I love the scandalous happenings that unfold right in the middle of a ball, or high tea and ruin the prospects of a lady or the good name of that gentleman who desires her hand. She tells me all about it and in such details, oh my! The chivalry, the social mores, and the decided way of life in those times dictates how the detective will come to his/her clues and how they are to be interpreted. It is interesting and stimulating to see how secrets are revealed without the DNA profiling, CCTV footage, and the whole gamut of forensic props. Not that I don't like them, don't you read me wrong here, I love watching Rizzoli and Isles but then th

I'm bored like a poodle, I know that is as meaningless as it can sound but I'm so bored out of my brains, I cannot even seem to construct a decent sentence. I'm actually nodding with sleep in office while I think of something interesting to do (obviously apart from work). But the only thing interesting to me at this point is plain old CRIBBING and WHINING! The super awesome trips to Goa and Chakrata have just concluded and I'm down in the dumps. I hate certain situations in my life with much more fervour than I did, I find my work more mind-numbingly bore than I did, I'm weighing at least a few kilos more than I did, I'm looking several inches more plump than I did. In short, life after vacation is much more dull than it was before. If you want to envision me now, I have my eyes glued to my impending visit home, May 18 on the calendar. Thank God two weeks' worth of leave worked out. But, I'm so bored now, even the calendar and the

On the night of 7th March, my brain was furiously thinking and calculating possible scenarios. You see, the next day was Women's Day and my office had a beautiful tradition of  a gathering of female employees, they give us gifts, too. However, we are also asked to dress ethnic, or let's say, traditional. Therefore, this particular year 8th March being a Friday I had a hard time rewiring my brain to not think... DENIM! Also, it needed a lot of prep for a saree eventuality, I mean there's the eligibility criteria like waxed arms, proper accessories, right sandals, and of course shampooed hair to let it down. Phew! So much bother we women deal with just to dress up in a certain way.  Seeing this as his cue, my husband chimed in, 'Why bother... it's your day, just wear whatever you feel like.'  I was empowered, yes, the cliche being my husband's enlightening statement. Really, so much fuss on a day that's entitled to me... in fact all my term limits were my

A lovely, lazy afternoon shone with the young and bright sun of the summer's start. The nostalgic, empty courtyard of a house was a filigree of light and shade. While the husband was away in his notary office job, the lonely wife decided to shake off her torpor.  Someday at this very point of her life's story someone would write: everything was going well in their shared life until this afternoon.  She ventures into her husband's studio downstairs. She was, of course, strictly forbidden to enter this sanctum in the very beginning of their journey together. This trespass was eventually discovered and condemned. 'This is my space, my own... mine alone,' he shouted. 'There is nothing I have hidden here, no mementos of betrayal to you are stored. Just a place that is for me only.'  And right after that sentence ended she thought – not of the various conspiracy theories and probable reasons for that 'space' but about the existence or the lack of one such