Personal stories
Saturday evening out. Yay. Oh, legs aren’t waxed. Fine, jeans it is then. They hardly fit now. Remember? Ugh. Never mind. I’ll borrow the husband’s black jumper and that will cover everything. Ah, so casual look then? Yep, not washing my hair. I’ll slick it back and wear pink lipstick. It’s anyway rainy and muggy … Continue reading Black jumper
I had hoped to have written a book by now. And be on a television interview. Be a CEO (of an unbeknown entity). And a celebrity. The wishes didn’t really add up. But it didn’t matter. They were wishes that kept future-gazing interesting and worth indulging in. Here we are. Tired, at the end of … Continue reading 16 years
That first one of Maggi in the school tiffin box. Cold and lumpy. It had a unique taste of its own. The one that Mata ji made – on afternoons while mum and dad were at work. I insisted too much and she gave in but it always tasted really weird. I think she ‘secretly’ … Continue reading Maggi memories
It used to look different. We had a cemented thada (patio) that was nice and cool to sit on on hot summer evenings. It used to become a family and neighbours hub at night when there were long power cuts. During monsoons it used to be a hub for flying termites because they were attracted … Continue reading 533
When a dining table was too much of a luxury, the old newspaper was spread on the bed ahead of every meal. When there wasn’t a cleaning spray and tool for every surface in the house, old newspapers and dish washing soap were sufficient to clean the cooking area every day. It also did the … Continue reading The old newspaper
Fuchsia 