40, Cheesy and Absolutely Unapologetic: 15 Realisations Before I Turn 40

Here goes another super-cheesy write-up because it's better to be full of cheese than bitter gourd. 

My 15 realisations at 40 (which I will turn on January 31st. Don't forget to wish me! Don't worry, I'll remind you too.)

1. Leather skirts don't last more than a day.

2. Some days, the child is childing and work is working. It's totally normal to overdose on sugar and coffee on those days.

3. Weight training did for me what 30 years of swimming, cycling and walking couldn't.

4. The best rooms are the ones filled with people who understand your silences as much as your chatter.

5. Not everyone will like you. Accept rejection with grace and move on.

6. Some days, your trauma has trauma. On those days, it's perfectly alright to stand in front of your cupboard and cry for no reason.

7. One or two girlfriends who understand your brain inside out are better than an entire army of friends.

8. You are your child's safe space, and they're going to start crying and screaming the moment they see you. Hug them for as long as the hugging works.

9. Coloured hair leads to more white hair.

10. Tattoos aren't just good for the soul; they make you look hot, too.

11. No one's life is perfect. One person's sadness is another person's joy, and vice versa.

12. Cherish your family every day because they're forced to put up with you every single day, no matter how crappy your mood is.

13. Accept your mood swings by simply allowing your body to go through the motions.

14. Eat less, move more.

15. Work smart, not like a donkey.

I'm not adding another 25 to this list because this is it! I'm not following a viral trend. This is just me being me, as always.

Children, the Original Agents of Chaos

You don't truly understand the meaning of the words "busy", "being pulled in all directions" and "scattered" until you try juggling a child and your daily routine, whatever that may be.

This morning, my son announced that he had to wear a vest under his uniform, and it slipped out of my mouth instantly: "You don't need a vest, you're flat as a chip." I chuckled the moment I said it because I was immediately transported back to 2015, to my ex-boss's living room, where she'd invited the whole team over for biryani and drinks. Her little boy kept going from one woman to the next in the room, whispering, "XYZ is flat as a chip." Now, I don't want to mention XYZ here and make her feel sad. What if she's reading this?

Children and their bizarre observations! It's an all-round struggle trying to turn them into civilised human beings. Throw in the demands of a job, the upkeep of a house and a partner, perhaps, and your plate is overflowing.

My little champion, for example, decided to rush to the bathroom right in the middle of breakfast preparation. So, there was a whole lot of running back and forth between the kitchen and the bathroom for me this morning.

Ah, children! The creators of white hair and broken bones.

The Year of the Septum Ring and Other Unfortunate Decisions

2026 — the year I tried my hand at a WHOLE bunch of things, including a fake septum piercing inspired by Chandra from "Lokah". And let me tell you, it failed spectacularly because every time I bent down to eat, the damn ring would fall inside my food. And that was that. Oh, and it was itchy.

In the battle between looking like a sexy wannabe vampire and eating food, I obviously chose food. Priorities, people. Priorities.

Other than my fashion bloopers, I also flung my heart wide open to the whole world, on all fronts. And apparently, I'm a bundle of joy. What a joy to know that! But let me reassure you, at this point, there is no joy. There is only a bundle. Two, in fact — my child and me.

2026 has been a year of greater acceptance and more overwork than any other year I've known. And now, my bones are officially broken. I'm not even kidding. I wake up like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame most mornings. Doesn't help that my child thinks I'm Vikram to his Betaal, because all he wants to do is jump on me from every possible angle — off the bed, midway through climbing a doorframe, from below the waist... the permutations and combinations are endless.

At this point, I've decided to be a small potato for the rest of the year and simply vegetate through these endless months of pouring rain. No adventures, no experiments, no pretending to be a vampire. Just me, my food, and a whole lot of doing absolutely nothing.

Tell me, how has 2026 been for you? What were your happiest and saddest moments? The highs, the lows, the unexpected plot twists — tell me everything in the comments below. 

My Face Has Officially Joined The Conjuring Universe

I absolutely hate, loathe and despise the monsoons in Chennai. Some days, I can barely walk, I have to abandon swimming completely, and my entire face starts attacking me from the inside with its never-ending flow of mucus. It's a complete nightmare! Worse than a scene from "The Conjuring" series.

My face becomes my very own Valak, scaring the bejesus out of me.

Take this morning, for example. I worked for an hour and then spent the next two holding my head because it felt like there was a gigantic, mouldy rock lodged inside my skull. All thanks to the never-ending flow of mucus, resembling lava bubbling away inside an ancient mountain. There were stars dancing around my eyes, too, and I couldn't figure out what was happening. Had my BP shot up? Was I hungry? Did I need to get my eyes checked again?

Ugh! Disgusting! The weather and the insides of my face. Both deserve to be reported to the authorities.

I'd like this weather to officially resign from planet Earth. Alternatively, I might have to resign my sanity. At this point, both options seem equally reasonable.

I've never drunk so much hot water in my entire life, and steam inhalations don't seem to be doing a thing. I'm avoiding tablets at all costs, and ooh, suddenly I'm wondering whether I should drink more lime juice. Would that help, I wonder?

Or perhaps I should just find a priest, a very powerful exorcist and a one-way ticket out of Chennai until the monsoons decide to get their act together.

All That Exercise for All That Eating

Honestly, considering the amount of food I eat, it's no wonder my personal trainer quit on me. One intense hour of weight training later (in fact, right in the middle of the workout), I'm dreaming of ghee-doused pongal topped with big, fat cashew nuts. Ooh, pongal, my dear old friend, whom I haven't eaten in countless months!

No. Instead, I did breath-stopping floor exercises this morning and then ran to the café inside my colony and stuffed my face with toasted carbs, buttery carbs and a laughable amount of protein.

Yes, I can never stop working out for the rest of my life. This is confirmed. I probably have an eating disorder as well — this is also confirmed, because I go through phases of starvation followed by mountains of food. So much food that it would put a sumo wrestler to shame.

It's a struggle all around: my love of food on one side and the heart-attack-inducing floor and strength-training workouts on the other.

I'll probably go for an evening walk today and hopefully not stumble into the Sri Krishna Sweets inside my colony to wash down all that exercise with some more food. Can't make any promises, though!

We Will Work for Food (And the Occasional Chocolate Cookie)

What happens when a rebellious child is forced to conform to rules from the 1800s? She whines, because she loves her food at the end of the day. And no money means no food.

In the words of my 8-year-old, when I asked him if I could sit at home and stare at his pretty little face all day long, he replied without missing a beat, “That would be lovely, Mum. But we'd surely die of hungervation, not starvation.”

Food is very important in my household. Food of all varieties, mind you — nutritious, junk, fibrous, sugary, cheesy and the mundane.

So, I think my son and I have our priorities right, which is: “We will work for food.”

This juicy, decadent, chocolatey goodness pictured here is what is keeping me from falling asleep today. What's to like about working days, honestly? Dressing up? Battling the rain? The traffic? No, no and no.

It's sugar in all its varieties — sugar-free, full-sugar, milky and decadent chocolate. Or, in other words, filter coffee with no sugar, accompanied by a dark chocolate cookie.

And that's a wrap on gloomy Wednesdays. I saved mine with a cookie. What are you planning to do?

A Mother’s Love, a Pile of Food, and a Midlife Crisis

Mothers, am I right?

Two kilos plus from all the kunafa chocolate stuffing, and she says, “You look lovely.” Turning 40 in exactly three months, and she says, “You’re still 39.”

Happy, sad, depressed, suicidally depressed — whatever the mood, mine just sits in front of me with a pile of food and listens to me rant.

And of late, I’ve become a big pile of whine. It’s not pretty. There’s a problem with everything, and I’m probably in the middle of a midlife crisis, a mental breakdown, or both.

But I’m done. I want to shut down from everything and take one nice, long nap. I want to wake up and do absolutely nothing all day, except swim, eat, sleep, and repeat.

There’s a soul-level exhaustion that even an entire bar of kunafa chocolate isn’t able to get rid of.

I want to sleep for 48 hours straight. Wake up, and go back to sleep again.

Enough is enough! I’m done.

The Almost-40 Crisis: Where Are My Superpowers?

Almost 40, and I feel like I'm still searching for my sword of power and my He-Man transformation moment.

To begin with, my mind and body seem to be giving up on me. Sinus attacks once every two weeks, sad, mopey thoughts almost every day, until I stuff my face with something deep-fried or sugar-coated.

I'm on a mini-vacation in Dubai with my brother and his family, and I'm in the middle of a bad sinus attack that started yesterday. That's more than 24 hours wasted in the middle of a tiny, five-day holiday.

Time and health truly wait for none. They're like the pooping pigeons and the occasional head-scratching crows you encounter in the middle of your morning walk.

But you wipe it off, or duck and keep walking.

I think my New Year's resolution is to stop being such a cribby cribber and actually take action with the two seconds of time I have left at the end of every maniacal day to do something for myself.

As always, keep thulping sugar in moderation and keep moving forward, with or without sinus attacks mixed with sad, mopey thoughts.