slice of life

Best friend calls and we discuss the 'writings'. I am indebted as an honest feedback is what I was craving and I receive just that. She suggests 'Parenting' to be the next topic and I say a confident 'Yes' but in my mind I am dilly dallying. Parenting is vast. Who can claim to have perfected this art which follows a lot of science. Myself a new mom or a new age Mom who is exposed to a deluge of information, experiences plethora of emotions every day, ranging from sheer joy, dew eyed with a choking throat being floored by her antics, panic and an overwhelming feeling over her so called tantrums, which is actually her way of communicating which the 'know all Momma' desperately fails to understand! Yes, parenting is fulfilling since that's the way to give back to life and no doubt, challenging ( to describe it in really mild words)! You jump along with your kid into the next phase and a new challenge awaits along with the exceptional euphoria waiting ...

Engrossed in the 'The Power of Habits' by Charless Duhigg at one of the popular coffee shops, which is generally quaint, inspite of people walking in and indulging in their work or simply catching up or just enjoying their cappucinno, my attention gets wavered. A gentleman decides to pace up length and breadth of coffee shop with his better half that is his mobile phone glued to his ear and talking at the top of his lungs, just like he would do in his private office chamber. I try to focus on my insightful 'read' but then his high decibel energy doesn't let me so I decide to wait till he finshes his carefree loud business on phone. Where is all the humility gone? Since the entire nation is currently shaken with the dangerously escalating child rape incidents and the consequent ordinance of death penalty to the accused, I switch on the Television to get some insight but the very prominent news channel is submered in some inaudible debate since all the panelists ...

An early riser, with my cardamom tea in hand, I behave like an addict, showing all typical symptoms of restlessness, involuntary shaking of leg in anticipation of morning newspaper. Yes that much is the addiction! Those just few minutes of steaming tea, crisp newspaper with ink still fresh, sure makes a heady mix. After quickly glancing through the headlines and other news on front page, I hurriedly search for the Amul ad of the day, the utterly butterly girl. The day almost looks incomplete without having a look at this creative masterpiece. I can vouch that even if you skip headlines or even the worthy editorials, the Amul ad tucked in a corner is sure to give you a complete and most sattirical view of the latest news which is the flavour of the day. The chirpy cute like a button, Amul girl, with her signature blue hair tied up in half  pony and dressed in polka dotted frock, no matter how deep the sattire is,  certainly brings a smile on just woken up face. But not to...

Real men don't cry, not at least in public! Is it a myth? Pictures of a profusely wailing Steve Smith, the ex-captain of Australian cricket team, splashed across media, contradict this theory. The young and wise man has been the captain of one of the most robust cricketing teams, a very responsible position. So what makes the tears and emotions flow down his cheeks, the passion for the game or the invincible desire to be the winner by hook or by crook or simply the monies... What! I am writing on cricket, a game whose techniques I don't understand very well. Although simple nuances like a cover drive or a fine leg or a silly point or a long drive, I am well aware of and for this I have to be gratuitous towards male members of my family as cricket matches have been the staple on Television and the dinner table discussions used to be serious technique ripping talks often laced with the admiration for the finesse a particular legendary cricket player manifested. Yes, helicopt...

"You are a Bengali?" hmm nope! used to be my curt reply in several conversations started with complete strangers, thanks partly to my extrovert nature and partly to my inquisitive profession. But a subtle connection was certainly there, as my fondness for this cultural and sing song community was apparent. Be it KC Dass Roshogollas or Luchi aloor dum combo or the flavour of the season with heart warming voice Arijit Singh or the extremely versatile actor Konkana Sen,  the bangla talent and flavours inundate the senses. May be these are just a few popular names. Literature, music, art have always been strong bengali traits and interestingly, these still flow in a Bengali household. The most culturally rich state is an uncomparable talent pool. The battle which ensued (this can also be a topic for a war between two states? I thought only rivers were the contentious issues) as to where the sweet snowy roundels that Rashogulla is, actually originated, Bengal was a clear favor...

It's been more than 10 years that I was asked by my mentor editor of local weekly to write the frontpage article on Women since Women's day was just around the corner. Not exactly able to recall the entire content of that article, I discreetly remember the punchline which was 'Every day should be a Women's Day'. This was much before every unique or a dedicated day was largely celebrated in real life than virtually! Later as a tech journalist, Women' Day used be a frantic day with the stories of women achievers in the field of technology to be given prominence. Having interacted or interviewed several of these women achievers, a proud feeling definitely used to creep in.. So the buzz around Women's day has again started and since this is the age of viral videos, I came across this clip where young women talk about 'uncelebrating Women's Day' as every day should be a Woman's Day.  Also in that campaign, patriarchy is challenged and a few very...

Those rather cold yet very delectable off white idlis in her tiffin was the reason for my fondness for this tall and dark but very attractive south Indian girl or her intelligence and top academic position in the class is something I can't be sure of. She was my best friend till class IV. Apart from being inseparable throughout the day, lunch break used to be very special and worth a wait for both of us...her tiffin alternating between white button like idlis and soft brown dosai, the taste and aroma of either of which I have not forgotten till now, used to land in my hands whereas my peas pulao or aloo ka paratha used to be her favorite.  Surprisingly my favourite non staple still remains idli and dosa and end up eating these two invariably when going out for a quick bite. Wherever I have taken a bite of these two legendary food items, my taste buds instantly go into a throwback mode and start reminiscing that aroma and taste found in my first best friend's tiffin. Having tr...