Think with body, mind, and soul..
Recently, Google Photos reminded me of pictures from my marriage seven years ago—right on cue as our anniversary approaches. I smiled at the screen, I remembered how I had posed in all possible styles, switching outfits, adjusting my dupatta, asking the photographer if the lighting was right. I had two albums made—one traditional and one …
Continue reading "Ageing Through Frames: A Gradual Shift in Perspective"
Khurda Road — the name reminds me of summer holidays, nani ghar, and the warmth of simpler times. It’s a small town in Odisha where my maternal grandmother lived. Being part of a coastal region, its air carries a gentle saltiness, the palm trees sway lazily, and the red soil glows under the sun — …
Continue reading "Where It All Began: The Inspiration Behind The Song of Our Bond"
Last August (2024), I was in Kolkata visiting my parents with my young one, who was 7 months old then. Being home with them gave me the perfect window to try something new, to learn a new skill, and I decided to learn to drive because, like Maths, driving scared me. So, I thought, it …
I recently watched a Turkish Drama series, Old Money, on Netflix, and I can’t stop thinking about it. On the surface, the story explores the clash between the generational wealth (old money) and the newly emerged rich (new money). At its heart, though, lies a love story between two people from opposite sides of the …
Continue reading "Netflix Find: Old Money- The Unspoken Chemistry that Stayed With Me."
Shantivan was a place where stories seemed to grow on trees, quite literally like the leaves on the ancient banyan tree in the town square. The town, famous for its “Festival of Stories”, attracted book lovers, dreamers, and wanderers who found themselves lost in its charm. A vibrant market thrived at the heart of the …
Noor was walking through the storm, or was she the storm? The sky was getting darker, and the wind picked up pace, howling like a hungry monster. It was April, and Rishra, a small town in West Bengal, was not new to these fierce storms, locally called Kal Boishakhi. Noor didn’t know how far she …
Life is non-fiction… or is it?Some of the wildest fiction is rooted in truth,And some truths feel borrowed from stories.Maybe life is both—a manuscript we live,and a tale we keep rewriting. Dreams spark in unknowing moments. When I was a child, I would stare at the stars and wish for so many things. One day, …
Morning at the Tripathi household began with the fragrance of incense, the sound of cymbals, and the low hum of mantras. Sunaina Tripthi, 50 years old, was known to be an ardent devotee and a person of great religious conviction. As she recites the mantras with her closed eyes, her fingers move over the rudraksha …
I’ve always called myself a hardcore tea person. The kind whose morning doesn’t kickstart without a self-brewed masala chai. Yet, somewhere deep down, there’s this soft, undeniable corner in my heart reserved for coffee. Because “coffee” isn’t just a drink for me, it’s a memory trigger. Each sip takes me back to a different phase …
Continue reading "An Ode to Coffee and the Memories It Brewed"
Dear World, There was a time when a man in khaki, with a jhola slung over his shoulder, would come to our houses on a cycle and ring the bell… tring tring. And somehow, we would always know that he is here. The Postman. He would hand over our letter and quietly leave. Wasn’t he …
Cerebration 