Closure

Perhaps the questions in my head towards people, life situations and work grew by the million after the abrupt passing away of my young husband. It's true that no one owes you anything. But clarity at times needs to be repeated more than once. It's just a humane way to end things. 

Try and try your very best to not give out mixed signals. Be clear in your intentions and your communication, however direct, brutal and honest. 

An old friend I recently met told me, "You were much more stupid in your 20s, than you are now. So always keep your guard up and continue to take well informed decisions". 

The thing with feeling sad now as an adult is that you can no longer bawl your guts out and eat all the icecream in the world. Instead, you bandage up and keep moving forward, pretending everything is peachy. This is right and wrong.

It's right because as an adult you have work, children, family and your own health to take care of. It's wrong because you can always feel the hurt around the corners of your brain and one day it will all blow up on your face.

Accept shitty situations and people as they are. If your questions remain unanswered, that's your answer. 

Move on and keep the faith that everything will turn out A-OK in the end because, "picture abhi baaki hai mere dost", as quoted by Om Prakash Makhija in Om Shanti Om.

Of course, I had to end with a soppy hindi movie dialogue because life is soppy and messy. Let's accept that too! 

Pancakes

Made awesome pancakes last night,

And devoured every bite,

If it's Gaajar Halwa season,

Why is it that the weighing scale goes up for no reason,

It's cruel that's it's winter,

Chennai's pleasant winter,

And we still don't get to eat,

A mountain of sweet treats,

Minus the fear of piling on the pounds,

Yet those delightful thoughts, 

Never seem to end,

Sugary delights always make my heart and mind bend,

Sugar, the white drug of this generation,

It certainly has me in a fixation,

Made awesome pancakes last night,

Perhaps I may make them every alternate night. 

Flat Abs

Flat abs are a beautiful thing to have,

But it's no fun to eat a double chocolate chip cookie in half,

Have you tried two bowls of spicy Sri Krishna Sweets chips,

And you don't need dips,

Because that flavour bomb really hits you,

As your brain tries to construe,

What Srikant Tiwari is going to do next,

In the Family Man, that will have you feeling hexed,

So perhaps I'll never lose the last 3 kilos,

Or is it 5 kilos,

I've lost track,

And the last few kilos, I just haven't been able to hack,

I accept defeat,

In the face of deep fried goodies and sugary treats,

I'll always be just a little round,

Because bowlfuls of comfort food, I'll always hound. 

Online Homework

Online homework, the biggest man-made catastrophe,

My 6 year old and I failed disastrously,

Trying to complete one that came in last afternoon,

The words on screen made him swoon,

A shaky lip,

And a twist to his baby hips,

Yet, the homework remained undone,

Repeating each letter and word 100 times together, was far from fun,

Who knew a language could perplex my boy this much,

The laptop he attempted to clutch,

Letters and words pronounced all wrong,

We kept at it for very, very long,

The first homework in his life,

That caused him so much strife,

Conquer we will, this language,

We will surely unpack this baggage,

Online homework, the biggest man-made catastrophe,

My 6 year old and I will try our best to not fail so disastrously.

My Not So Little Bean

A cross between a grandfather and a baby,

My little bean grew up in the midst of all things crazy,

Life and death,

He's seen them all in one breath,

His humour is dark,

His chatter is always on mark,

A hug can solve anything,

Is his motto for everything,

He cuddles and squishes heads with his bare hands,

His love and his anger, all grand,

There's no balance to his actions,

Once he's made up his mind, he doens't give in to distractions,

Stubborn and playful,

His emotions are as wide as his toys, that you can find in trayfuls,

A cross between a grandfather and a baby,

My little bean grew up in the midst of all things crazy.

Forgiveness

I've seen quite a bit of the world at almost 39. I've experienced strange opinions, people and situations. The commonality I draw in all three, is to forget and forgive. Life is really fragile and unexpected. One moment I was walking up a hill in Raheja Vihar, Mumbai and the next I was rushing to Bombay Hospital to bring my dead 35 year old husband's body back home.

A lot has changed in these 4 years. Cities, people and my life. I'm still kept on many people's speed dials the moment a young spouse, sibling, nephew or niece pass away. I'm that girl now, the one who is an expert on death. Not really though. You learn how to handle your grief and mood better, with time. 

In the same light, people also suddenly assume they can advice you on everything and nothing. Honestly, the only thing you can do is ignore it and walk away for your own peace of mind. I no longer cut people out, because one minute you're alive and the next you're dead. So there's no point holding onto grudges 

Stay calm in the face of unsolicited advice. Whether it's career or personal advice. You know your skills best, you know your family and close friends best. And the ones who run, were never meant to stay in the first place.

There are numerous faces that come to mind now, when I was exploding my widow brains out of proportion. And the good news is, they all chose to stay.

So that's all you can do. Be authentic, not a people pleaser. Be vocal, yet polite. And those who are triggered by you, will anyway step aside. 

Coming back to opinions now and unsolicited advice. Treat it like a fart or a stray dog barking endlessly. Take what's relevant and flush out the rest. And forgive those who natter, just for the sake of nattering. It's simply a childhood trauma or an adulthood insecurity that they are projecting onto you. Let it go and move on. 

It's time to give a Ted talk or write another book. I can feel either one of these happening now. 

The moral of this very true life story is, don't allow a trigger to trigger you, unless you're super duper triggered. And even then, take 20 steps back, take a deep breath and ponder about how this will really make a difference to your life in the first place. You'll realise nothing is truly worth it, except your own peace of mind. So safeguard it, inside an airtight vault. And you're good to go. Forever! 

Boundless Energy

Boundless his energy,

From one game to the next, he plays endlessly,

Minutes turn into hours, 

His energy keeps gaining special powers,

Endless the chatter,

You can't beat his natter,

As I recover from one crazy game,

He's already onto the next, like a growing flame,

He's happiest at home,

Or inside large play zones, where he loves to roam,

The crazy almost seven,

They say these years are heaven,

I wonder which heaven has endless games,

Loud baby chatter, mad running and boarddgames,

I'm beyond exhausted by the end of the day,

Hopefully these crazy years are not here to stay.

Toxic Positivity

Recently someone called me pessimistic and told me that I must look forward to the new year. That's the thing about toxic positively. We don't have to celebrate the shit show our life displays at times and keep taking it in our stride.

On the contrary, it's good to grieve and see the mess that it is. Acknowledge the situation, accept it and move on. When a person vents, allow him or her to vent.

It's not sensitive or appropriate, to look him or her in face and say, "Oh! But a 100 people would want to be in your shoes." Really? Who wants a dead husband at 34? Any winners? No? That's what I thought.

Of course I'm pessimistic and wary. Life has challenged me and challenged me, until the point I've wanted to give up. I wake up every morning and keep at it, not because of courage or strength. Because I simply have to. And that is that. 

So anyone who tells you to be toxically positive, the next time you vent, simply hang up or politely smile and nod. No one understands your struggles except you. 

Perhaps this is yet another lesson for me, to not vent with all and sundry. It's a waste of time and effort. It makes you feel even more misunderstood.

Peace! ☮️

Timing

Just as I was wrapping my head around being a mother, was the time I lost my partner of close to 13 years. The timing was horrible. 

I felt like a resident of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, taking a nice early morning dump. But instead of enjoying my morning session, an atomic bomb was dropped on my head.

Perhaps my 2 year old had to grow up very quickly. I could hardly be human, forget parenting. It completely took a backseat as I focused on rebuilding the broken pieces of our life.

I worked just like my late husband would had he been alive - relentlessly and without a break. Within 2 years, I was rushed to the hospital for breathlessness and fatigue. That was clearly not a good plan.

And so I decided to course correct. Now, I work and parent, juggling both like a headless chicken. Mother's can never have it all, especially working mothers. We have deadlines to meet at work and tests to catch up with in school.

My weekdays are all over the place. I have no idea when it begins and when it ends. The weekends just fly by, before I can breathe in a warm glass of cocoa. 

I also try to stay in shape and kill myself in the process. What a tiring life this is. I hear menopause is just around the corner, or is it a decade away. Time will tell I suppose.

Send sugar free chocolates and prayers, my child and I need them. 

2025

What a bummer of a year it has been,

From where do I begin,

Underwhelmed, disappointed and shocked,

These were the emotions that flocked,

Unsolicited advice being the most annoying of the lot,

Let me write my own plot,

I've done it so far,

And got this far,

So please keep your wisdom to yourself,

In the far corners of your own brain's shelf,

4 years of single parenting,

4 years of lamenting,

Whether I'm failing with the biggest job role of my life,

Perhaps this feeling of strife,

Is simply a waste of time,

He is at his prime,

Utterly naughty and full of ideas,

A saint and a thug,

All rolled in one,

No longer a little bun,

Here's hoping for a better 2026,

Where everything would eventually click. 

The Maniacy of Human Love

Remember Geet and her changing personalities in Jab We Met? Her cheerfulness and sudden moody withdrawal, all thanks to Anshuman. That's the maniacy of human love.

You can move mountains for each other. Change cities, change jobs, leave home - all for that one person who feels like home. That's love. It's all in or nothing.

Half-hearted, half-baked swiping left and right is an illusionary world created by tech geniuses who are now minting money out of people's loneliness. 

I do see traces of that love even now within family. Can another human being behave the way I did for my late husband and vice-versa? Time will tell I suppose.

While technology has connected a lot more people much quicker into our lives, the sad reality is that once the butterflies stop fluttering in both tummies, either one or both are ready to eject.

Where have spines gone? Along with the willpower and the perseverance to have hard conversations? Dead, along with my late husband. 

We all deserve a chance at love, but the question is are you willing to put in the work once the chole has gone cold? Will you reheat it in the microwave and fry fresh puris or bhatures to be devoured with that re-heated chole?

I know, I will. Waiting for someone to fry those bhatures for me now and we're good to go. 

Love. It's a warm mug of hot chocolate on a rainy day. A mother fighting through her PCOD pain to get her child ready for school. It's a grandfather popping in and out of your house at all odd hours just to see what his grandson is upto. It's a cousin buying you a superhero figurine from an obscure mall, having zero knowledge about superheroes.

Love is all around us. All we need to do is breathe and soak it in. 

The Ups and Downs of Single Parenting

Being a single parent means getting all your child's love in the place of two. It also means having to double as both parents. When my late husband passed away four years ago, my son Riaan was two years old. 

I often wore his father's clothes and footwear in those early days of his demise. And Riaan would question, "Why are you wearing Baba's flip-flops?" I would confidently answer, "Because I am Baba now."

Four years later, I can tell you, it's never wise to replace a parent. If you're the mother, be the mother. If you're the dad, please be the dad. One parent can never take the place of the other. I can never become a man, even if I pretend to be. Not in this lifetime anyway.

When I started taking Riaan to playzones after his father's passing, he would watch other children playing with their dad's and look visibly upset. That's no longer the case. 

Does he miss the absence of his father now? I'm sure he does. Perhaps it's a conversation to be had for his later years.

For the time being, he has wiped out all memories of his father, probably because he feels cut up by his sudden demise. He cracks morbid jokes on death and moves from one day to the next.

I try my best to compensate for the loss of his father by throwing myself at work and showering him with enough and more material goodies. Even then, I know it's still not enough. 

Some days I'm absolutely fried. On other days I'm at peace. But I know this is a battle that I cannot win. I can never take the place of his father and he will never experience his biological father's love. 

It is what it is. And the faster he and I can accept this reality, the better. 

Single parenting or any parenting for that matter is not for the weak hearted. Bringing a child into this world means ensuring that he or she makes something of himself or herself in this world. Only then can you go upstairs in peace.

The Beauty of Mortality

I'd choose to be a fragile, hormonal human over being a hot, sexy vampire who lived for centuries on end. Death, makes you value the life that you had, the love that you received and the love that you're capable of giving.

You realise how large you heart is and how much will power and determination you have to make things work. It makes you look at life with different lens. You're suddenly bolder, braver, more vocal and unabashed, because you've personally witnessed the fragility of life.

Your personality is split in two. One before the death of your loved one and, the other after you witnessed your loved one passing away. Both lives are equally fulfilling. One created wholly by you and the other complete with those precious memories which can only be relived in your mind.

You're young, yet you're old. Always on the verge of sanity and insanity. Flirting with happiness, still a little sad. It's like eating ven pongal. You can taste the comforting ghee and yellow moong dal in every bite, even if you can't see it. 

That's death, the lingering taste of ghee mixed with dal. It walks along with you every step of the way, reminding you of everything you've overcome and everything you're yet to create.

Embrace mortality. Drop some white chutney into that mix and you're good to go. Every day. 

Human Empowerment

My grandfather has been my role model ever since I was 4. I think it's safe to say that this family has been born with a silver spoon all thanks to the hardwork of that one man.

We lived in a sprawling house in Trivandrum with an even bigger compound. We were surrounded by trees and shrubs on every side with every imaginable animal possible inside our backyard. 

From a very young age, the subliminal message that I received was, hardwork is the only pathway to acquiring all the material possessions your heart desires. At the same time, never brag about everything you've achieved - professionally, personally and materialistically.

He was quiet about his achievements and loud with his affection. More a friend than a grandfather, I couldn't imagine a day without him. 

So when people ask me today if I'm a feminist or support female empowerment, I chuckle. As a human being we should empower each other. And one sex cannot survive without the other. History has shown this to us time and time again. 

So why do we still send silly memes and forwards on one gender putting down the other? I simply don't get it. Therefore, I choose to no longer be a part of this debate.

I'm a single mum, to a 6 year old boy. I idolised my grandfather and appreciate all the women in my family who've stayed at home to raise children. 

Women empowerment is redundant. Let's start thinking about human empowerment and how we can pour our creative and intellectual energies into bigger and better things. 

Jiggly Bits

Own your jiggly bits,

Every single inch of it,

Be proud of your thoppai and those birthing hips,

That grew your child, with a little help from potato chips,

Own your flab,

As you bite into yet another chocolate slab,

Fat kids will always be a little fat,

However much you pretend to be a gym rat,

God made the world round, along with you,

The fat is what fights flus,

And gets you back on your feet,

So just eat,

Minus the guilt, 

Simply accept that this is how you are built,

Own your jiggly bits,

Every single inch of it.

Food and Workouts

Broke my trainer's heart,

By telling her I eat a handful of chips each night, she instantly made me do 10 more squats,

I eat two pieces of dark chocolate too, 

I confessed, she increased my dumbbell reps by two,

Excercise and food don't go hand in hand,

We have to turn our taste buds bland,

To have washboard abs,

Grinned like a Chesire Cat as I wrote those words, for at present I have only jiggly flabs,

Filled with chocolate and oil,

Despite all that toil,

It is what it is,

I love food and food loves me, without something edible, my brain goes fizz.

Beauty And The Beast Can Never Be Rubbished

I think I was 21, when an older cousin, very rudely announced to me, "Real life is not a movie Gayatri. You cannot do such things." Honestly I still hate her now as much as I hated her in the moments that this sentence tumbled out of her ghastly mouth.

In my head, I'll always be 21. Who cares that I'm hitting 40 in less than 2 years. Forever young, is always the way to go. 

This morning though, that illusion burst in my head, all thanks to a dreadful Instragram reel that I saw. It revealed the real story of The Beauty and the Beast. I wish I had never seen it and I wish someone poured acid in my eyes, as I watched it.

The greatest fictional love story of all time, rubbished in less than two minutes. Whoever made that reel has all my curses. My entire childhood and adulthood's idea of romance was based on this iconic tale, as old as time.

I've seen the cartoon 50 times, the live musical once and the movie twice. In those few minutes, my not so favourite cousin's voice echoed in my mind. My heart didn't break, but my spirit certainly did.

This just cannot be. Gaston could not have been Belle's first love. I just cannot believe it. And so I choose not to.

I'm happy to live in a world filled with fairy tales, hot chocolate and crazy little boy play zones. Of course life is a movie if you want it to be. Take charge of it and burp out pixie dust along with unicorn flavoured poop. 

Now that that's settled, let's quickly move onto bigger life problems now. Next! 

Find Your People

The world is full of psychos, ourselves included. It's very important to find your bunch of psychos and stick to them. Those bunch of special people who've figured out the cuckoos in your head and don't flinch, get scared or run away. Those people are keepers.

Let the rest run. There is no such thing as an "almost person", "could have been", "almost happily ever after". Just no. This is not a romantic comedy with Adam Sandler trying to make Drew Barrymore remember their life together every single day, aka 50 first dates.

Those things exist only in the movies. Very sad realisation. But I've at least realised it now, close to 39 years later. In real life, romance is your mom-friend telling you in detail, the homework to be completed during the pooja holidays. Your mother pinging you 10,000 times a day asking if you've eaten. And your father investing in the mutual funds for you. That's real life. Solid. Constant. Steady. 

Let's not forget the siblings and their spouses, who also pamper you shitless and make you feel 10 years old, all over again. By you, I mean me, of course.

Go and find your people. And drink hot chocolate after you drown yourself in a bowl of luscious butter chicken. 

For everything else, there's HIT workouts and weight training. One minute of those bone crushing workouts and all your sadness will fly out the window, like it never existed.

Peace! ☮️✌️🏳️🕊️

Fluctuating Scales

The last two or is it five kilos,

Keep going up and down, like a blow,

To the ego, this proves that the metabolism,

Is on a perennial break, like a beautiful illusion, almost a prism,

That keeps you hoping against hope,

Almost like gripping onto a slippery rope,

As I popped luscious butter chicken,

With makki di roti for lunch, and then dessert after dessert, like I was grief stricken,

With the seasonal flu,

Not all grief is of the mind, some are of the body, that make us feel blue,

And so I ate,

And I ate,

Like I'd never seen food,

Each morsel lifted my mood,

A chocolate brownie, followed by a Biscoff cheesecake,

That ended with some pakodas and tart, today I'll take a break,

Back to the grind,

I've made up my mind,

It's a Monday morning,

There's no time for mourning,

Breakfast has been skipped,

The mouth will be closed and I'll remain tightlipped. 

Overcome

I think we're all in pain,

The least we can do is try to stay sane,

Fight those demons we must,

We certainly should not combust,

Mind over matter,

Even if you feel like the mad hatter,

Chocolates and weight training work for me,

It gives me the courage to free,

Those rabid thoughts,

Throw in a couple of squats,

And there's no time to feel sad,

Every drop of sweat makes me feel glad,

Strength begins on the outside,

Only then can it trickle inside,

Stay kind,

And just don't mind,

The white noise around you,

Just say boo,

And lift those weights,

You'll quickly start thinking straight.

Almost Seven

Almost seven,

Life together has been close to heaven,

My toothless wonder,

Makes me ponder,

With his 10,000 questions per second,

As I answer one, he's ready with the next, his chattering mouth, his weapon,

My personal All India Radio,

Sometimes I wonder if my house is a studio,

From morning to night,

This is my plight,

I can hardly think,

As his questions keep flowing in a wink,

What I don't like is that he's growing in a blink,

Where's my tiny baby with his diapers that stink,

Don't become seven so quickly,

I still want you to be that sleeping baby, tiny and picky,

Strange this feeling of watching my little bean,

Turning into a beanstalk, and into a wannabe teen,

100km/hr the speed of his mouth,

Anyone's ears will turn south,

My tiny chatter box,

With too many toy blocks,

I watch with you pride,

As you make the whole world ride,

Around your tiny fingers and mouth.

Little Hurricane

I've lost track of the number of times,

Your face has bashed roughly into mine for no reason or rhyme,

Was that blood mixed with pain,

Or the feeling of my teeth as they strain,

Into the obscure corners of my lips,

What joy to be a boy mom with you perennially stuck to my hips,

Or calling out for me every two seconds,

Like a baby dragon who beckons,

My house is a mess,

Toys in excess,

A tube of Fevicol to add to the confusion,

Smelly baby hands, however much I wash them, cleanliness is an illusion,

He's either sweating from running around too much,

Or spilling food everywhere as such,

When do they grow up to become less monkey like,

He's a little tyke,

He's also the apple of my eye,

Even if we don't meet eye to eye,

On many things, 

My ears ring,

With his constant nattering,

His speech both flattering and unflattering,

Off to bed I go,

Where we'll hopefully not have another row.

Take A Chill Pill

There's a fine line between turning into Gupt's Manisha Koirala v/s being Kajol. Choose to be Kajol, whatever your brain is telling you. Be a sensible, mature adult at all times. Let go when you have to let go.

Reciprocity is a two way street. Follow this mantra for jobs and personal relationships. Stop putting so much of yourself into a person or a situation if you don't see the same effort being directed back to you.

This is the only way that you can be, the aforementioned level-headed Kajol. There is no need to feel down and out. Accept people or situations as they are. Don't fantasize or glamourise them or the situation so much in your head.

That being said, there's no need to be bitchy or mean either. If you've been born with rainbows for poop and cotton candy for your thoughts, continue to be that person. You do not have to put out evil into the world, simply because you receive it.

Perhaps it's the perennial rain or the fact that Chennai has suddenly gotten a few degrees colder, I'm feeling very sage like. Or perhaps I'm getting older and wiser. 

Zen-mode is always the way to go. Embrace it, practice it and become a mini Buddha. Peace! ☮️

Fried Goodness

Tomatoes and onions are considered grocery essentials in most houses,

As for me, when fried goodies deplete, I start my grouses, 

What kind of a day have you even had,

If fried goodness hasn't been shared,

Chips, ribbon pakodas, murukkus and Bengal biscuits,

I begin to nitpick,

The moment my stock is empty,

When I open my snack cupboards, it must be filled with fried goodness in plenty,

All night long the farts must be pungent,

The nasty smells have to be abundant,

And then I know, I've had a good day,

Bad thoughts, far far away,

Inside my veins you will find fried goodness,

Aong with sugary delights, as opposed to hemoglobin fullness,

Aaah fried goodness,

Have you ever experienced anything with this much greatness. 

Pani Season

The sun's never out during the Pani season,

Everyone's coughing and sneezing for no reason,

Where did all that mist come from,

We wonder, as we experience our brains growing numb,

Bright as light days are replaced,

With a perennial fog, that has us feeling amazed,

The typical Chennaites that we are,

We continue wearing summer clothes like superstars,

And then we complain about itchy throats,

As we croak,

Most mornings I sound like a broken record,

My voice chords,

All muffled up, 

Someone even asked whether I've manned up,

On a late evening call,

I chuckled nonstop, perhaps sounding like an unpleasant squall,

Pani season in Chennai,

Has us all feeling like unguided Samurais,

Perhaps we like it, perhaps we don't,

Yet none of us want to get off our warm-headed thrones. 

Trauma Bonds

Just as painful as the name sounds, trauma bonds are are those unpleasant memories that you create and hoard in your head, until the end of time.

These people and events are played on loop in your head and it slowly and steadily chips away at your confidence and peace of mind. Trauma bonds appear in the form of vivid dreams or a sudden memory recall. And in those moments, it's totally normal to feel down and out. 

The important thing is to allow that feeling to pass, accept the situation as it is and keep moving forward. 

I'm a strong believer of karma. I believe that what you put out into the world, both good and bad, will come back to haunt you. It can be anger, jealousy, hatred, love, a sense of competition, protectiveness, these thoughts and feelings that you project onto another person will come back to you with full force. 

So when you dream that sweet, vivid dream at 4.30 in the morning, accept the harsh reality of it not being true. Allow yourself to feel like shit for a good hour or two and then get on with your day. 

While the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow is merely an urban legend, you can always create your pots of gold in tiny pockets. Hold onto those pockets, stop brooding like a Vampire and get on with your life. Stat!

The Battle Of The Sexes

The most irrelevant of all battles, the world has witnessed over centuries is most definitely the battle of the sexes. Recently someone looked me quite rudely on the face and declared, "You like bad boys. But you don't like the repurcessions that come along with trying to maintain any sort of equation with the bad boy"

He was right of course, regarding my fondness for bad boys. He was grossly incorrect with the second part of that sentence, my dead husband being case in point. He was a rebel with and without a cause. Close to 13 years and one child later, it's safe to say, of course I know how to maintain relationships, of every kind.

In hindsight I realise the following should have been my reply to him. "You like independent, self-made women, but don't like the fact that she comes with a sharp mind and tongue that she uses at will"

The whole concept of Adam and Eve has been diluted with time, thanks to ridiculous apps and just the fact that people are impatient and don't want to put in the time and effort, to build something long lasting.

Therefore, the battle of the sexes is as irrelevant as the skies trying to survive without the sun and moon. Men and women are two sides of the same coin. They have to come together to create something fruitful for themselves and ultimately for the world around them.

I prefer having a healthy debate with an opiononated human being, irrespective of the sex, as opposed to someone spineless who just chooses to ghost you.

The lack of spine that you display, will ultimately come to bite you back really hard on the ass. And in that moment, I hope you decide to either quickly grow a spine or just take accountability for everything you've ever put out into the world.

Let's be the generation that ends the battle of the sexes. Let's accept that everyone is important and plays a part in this world. Let's give and receive love and respect. 

Peace! ☮️

Icecreams for World Peace

Choose icecreams on a sunny day,

Pounce on it, on a muggy day,

As well,

And you will find, all is indeed well,

Sore throats and moody weathers are temporary,

Icecreams however, are forever, so reach out for that diary,

Or non-diary, whatever rocks your boat,

Eat one today and feel your brain gloat,

Over all the things you did right,

Despite your plight,

Forget and forgive, those who pissed you off,

It's time to cut out and shut off,

Those negative thoughts,

Instead focus on that creamy delight that's exploding in your mouth, like a piece of molten lava, hot, hot, hot,

Grab an icecream today,

And feel better in every way. 

Vulnerability is Cool

Let's take a moment to appreciate that scene in Lokah, where Neeli/Chandra bids adieu to Sunny. This badass, undefeatable, invincible immortal being hugging a puny, fragile human with tears forming in both her eyes, as she watches him walk away.

What this teaches us is that being human is an excellent choice, even if you're superhuman. Crying and being vulnerable are the best human emotions. Sometimes we cry tears of sadness, sometimes it's out of joy and at other times it's out of sheer frustration.

But I'd choose crying over bottling all that emotion up and bursting like a pressure cooker. If you have deep rooted anger issues, it simply means that you've bottled up your feelings for far too long.

All that pain needs a place to go. If you hold it in, it will come to bitch slap you, in the most unexpected of places and times. Therefore to avoid being a pressure cooker human being, it's crucial to let it all out.

Crying works best for me. At times screaming too. Life is hard. Let's accept this reality for one second. You weren't born to eat, work and die. You were born to enjoy your time on earth and do things that make you truly happy.

Unfortunately we have bills to pay and in my case a child to raise, hence we give in to the monotony of a 9-6 and get on with it.

But somewhere in that process, it's important to take time out to feel all your feelings. Close to 4 years since my husband passed away and I've let myself feel all those feelings. This is a shit situation and I've made the best of it, thanks to an army backing me up every step of the way.

Going back to that powerful scene now, let's takeaway from it that even a superhuman needed to feel human and craved love during all her centuries of being alive.

Love is the oil to every human wheel. We need to be well oiled at all times. And there's no shame in admitting that you need someone to hold your hands through it all. 

Kudos to the makers of Lokah to have made an all heart, subtle, yet powerful vampire movie. It was much, much needed. 

Empower Yourself

Empower yourself, mind, body and soul,

So that you feel whole,

Empower yourself, so that you have the courage,

To walk away from a barrage,

That is disrespectful,

Have the courage to move on from people and situations that are uneventful,

Empower yourself, so that you recognise those who value you,

Just as you are, truer than true,

Speak your truth, loud and proud,

Empower yourself, so that you're comfortable without a crowd,

Empower yourself, just for you,

So that you can chew,

Bitter pills, when it's strewn,

Empower yourself, so that you can recognise goons,

They come in all shapes and forms,

Empower yourself, so that you can withstand the swarm,

Walk away and never look back,

That's life's ultimate hack,

Empower yourself, mind, body and soul,

So that you feel whole.

The Monsoons

I always wish for these last four months, to go away,

Wet and muddy, each step taken we have to be wary,

A slip of the leg and a fall on the bum,

We don't want broken bones, everytime we hum,

Umbrellas and rains,

Such a pain, with only gloom to gain,

I prefer the angry months of April and May,

When the gorgeous heat comes out to play,

Lots of swimming,

A whole lot of winning,

I'm a Chennai girl through and through,

The rain just makes me feel blue.

Moving Forward

Life is a series of moving forward,

Forgetting every bitter experience without glancing backward,

The brightest sun,

Of my life has always been my son,

Every leap of faith ever taken was and is for him,

For him, I put aside all my sorrows and look less grim,

The best part of me,

Has always been my little bee,

He's pulled me out of my sorrow,

And made me feel less hollow,

So leave behind every bitter experience,

Allow time to cause it's disappearance,

Chin up and ownwards we march.

10 Minute Homework

A potato had to be made,

40 minutes before school, our minds completely slayed,

No chart paper, no stick,

The path to complete this project seemed full of hazardous tricks,

Slowly the solution appeared inside my mommy brain,

The materials slowly began to rain,

All around us,

An icecream stick, to help us sort this fuss,

A gift bag, 

Would make the perfect chart, and we're back on track,

Crayons on paper,

Along with Riaan's imagination and mild labour,

Concluded our 10 minute homework,

The morning havoc,

Turned to calm,

In an embrace we held each other, happy to have diffused yet another bomb,

All in a day's work,

Until the next homework begins to lurk.

Gloomy Skies

Dark the skies,

As gloomy as my sad sighs,

As we head into your favourite part of the year,

I remember you grinning from ear to ear,

As we stepped into a Pujo Pandel,

Your excitement I couldn't handle,

You would have turned 39 this year,

Yet another year,

That I've grown older without you,

Funny how the years just flew,

The emptiness inside me, growing larger everyday,

As I operate with a broken heart day by day,

Almost 4 years since you've been gone,

I'll always wonder what went wrong,

Perhaps my love for you wasn't enough,

Why else would you have chosen a life this tough,

As I live with the weight of your decisions in life and long after your death,

I realise the one thing I should be grateful for is all my breaths,

I hope you have some regrets now,

And realise that some of your life choices were far from wow.

Matcha

Matcha was had, and it wasn't bad,

It made us happy and not sad,

As the boba pearls burst inside my mouth,

I gobbled it down like a being who was greedy and uncouth,

Little flavour bombs of custard,

My brain was flustered,

What was this heaven,

That was taking me right upto midheaven,

The boba bits and I,

Looked eye to eye,

In my tummy you will reside,

So glad I had this before I could die,

Ecstatic that I didn't stop Devyani from placing an order,

Suddenly my mind files opened up in disorder,

Memories of my dead husband slurping down boba pearls flashed past me,

It's crazy how that man never lets me be,

Even on a Friday evening when I was trying to let my hair down,

With my girlfriend, with whom I'd paint the town,

Red, blue, green and every other nonsensical drunk colour,

And that's exactly what we did, until we were far from sober. 

3AM Thoughts

Similar to PCOD pain,

That comes in waves, 3AM thoughts, can never give you any gains,

For the PCOD, pop a dolo,

For the 3AM thoughts, decode it solo,

Acting on those rabid thoughts,

Will only make you feel at fault,

So drop it all,

Lest you fall,

Just like Humpty Dumpty, who also had a great fall,

It's natural to feel appalled,

To have such thoughts,

As long as you have the ability to connect the dots,

And decide to be a mature adult, yet another day,

You're not best friends with shades of grey,

So let it fade away,

Oh look, it's a bright new day,

The sun's out,

Time to get get our bums out,

Shoo and scram, dark thoughts,

It's time for me to soak up some Vitamin D, beautiful yellow and blistering hot. 

Pancakes

Made luscious pancakes at seven,

My house suddenly smelt like heaven,

The baby ate half,

I ate the rest and felt like a calf,

More like a balloon,

After licking up chocolate sauce in galloons,

No wonder my weight is stuck,

And my mind goes on a rut,

Why can't I resist desserts,

Those sugary little flirts,

One bite in and you're all in,

More, more, more, until you feel like a human garbage bin.

Fond Memories of Being Mrs Poopie

Some of the cutest things that I own - a pink strapped Minnie Mouse watch from Disney Land, most of my cartoon character t-shirts, a woollen beanie cap with ears, a pair of Staccato boots, a white Teddy bear printed handbag and so much more, have all been gifted to me by my late husband.

So when I'm questioned and sometimes wonder, why it is that I'm still single after 3.9 years, it's simply because I've experienced whole-hearted, undiluted, you could even say "shiddat wala pyaar" from my dearest poopie.

Those are very large shoes to fill, for whoever wants to "hit this situation up", as a cool Gen-zite might term it. And this time, there's two of us, similar to a "buy 1, get 1 free" offer you might pick up from Reliance Smart Bazaar.

That's two smart talking mouths for the price of one and two diverse set of mood ranges to handle. So God bless, who ever wants to take ownership of this task.

That being said, we're also lovely human beings, once you peel off all those layers. My dead husband is testament to that. I think he enjoyed the close to 13 years with me and close to 3 with our son. 

While I can't promise, we've unburdened ourselves of the trauma his sudden death caused, we're slowly and steadily getting there. 

In the meantime, we power ourselves with plenty of laughter, crazy little boy games like being swung upside down from my shoulders and deep fried food. The deep fried food is very important by the way, everything else is fluff. 

Palada Payasam

As I sipped on Starbucks' version of filter coffee,

Just to drown out the guilt of some oversweetened dessert that tasted toffee,

My brain warned me,

Sleep tonight would be far from glee,

As our cab rolled close to home,

And I witnessed a lot of aunties and uncles roam,

Around the colony temple,

Sipping on what looked like delicious payasam, my lips trembled,

Greedily watching them take sip after sip,

My mind instantly flipped the regret switch,

Palada payasam right about now,

Would have hit all the right spots and how,

Oh how I miss palada sometimes,

The pangs hit me at the most unexpected times.

Item Girl Dreams

It was somewhere in the middle of watching Malaika Arora shaking her gorgeous midriff and entire body in general, on top of a train in Chaiya Chaiya, that the item girl dreams began to form in my head.

When Dil Se released in 1998, I was a fat 11 year old tom-boy, running around in silk shorts and a cycle in hand. The concept of unrequited love and marriage was slowly beginning to take some shape and form in my hormone untouched brain.

That maniacal love which Aman (Shahrukh Khan) was displaying for the mysterious terrorist (Manisha Koirala), somehow made sense to me. Love had to be toxic, hence concluded my 11 year old brain.

But forget that sob love story, back to sexy Malaika Arora and her hardly anything outfit, I had to be that woman on a train, I thought as I munched through my second bag of potato chips along with red wine (the alcohol was perks of being an army kid, there was always rivers of liquor flowing in all our households for as long as I can remember.)

I'm 38 now, fully sober, with zero alcohol in my system and as I watch Chaiya Chaiya right now, the drive to dance atop a moving train shaking my almost shapely midriff, is very very strong.

I think it's safe to say, being an item girl is a dying desire of mine. I must fulfill it before I go upstairs permanently, or else my soul will not rest in peace.

I've never been more sure of anything in my life. This dream comes a close second, after wanting to be a mother.

Dream gods and casting directors, are you listening? 

A Prolonged Fever

The fever is really fevering today,

It started on a Wednesday,

And hasn't said goodbye yet,

I'm suddenly missing being ammumma's pet,

She would have had Gold Spot ready,

As my head felt heavy,

Two sips of Gold Spot,

Would have hit the right spot,

Fevers are the worst,

It makes you feel cursed,

Both the mind and body are scrambled,

The mouth will probably join in and ramble,

So so sick,

I feel like a pile of useless bricks.

Jumping Riaan

Being crashed on fifty times a day,

In various ways,

With sound effects in toe,

For each "barrel roll",

Starting with wham, crash and boom,

Calling himself "Trash IRL", he's a little goon,

Terrorizing peaceful evenings,

And slow, lazy afternoons,

His toothless naughty chuckle,

Has my already broken back in a buckle,

Just another day of being Riaan's mom,

With my baby monkey around, I hardly get any time to feel forlorn.

Meltdown Fridays

It began with a 5am rain,

Followed by a whole lot of pain,

Hysterical sobs, announcing that school is hard,

And in general that the soul is charred,

Just kidding, I doubt a 6 year old understands what a soul is,

His tears in the meantime, continued to brim and fizz,

Hands dramatically folded,

Along with his legs nicely moulded,

I gave in quite quickly to his request,

Putting his mind to rest,

School is hard, I agreed,

Sometimes in life, we need the opposite of speed,

If slow Friday's are what your 6 year old desires,

Just give in and don't put his or her heart on a pyre,

Let them be,

Happy and free. 

Letting Go

Love is the art of letting go. And no one has explained this better to us than Doctor Stephen Strange. He watched Christine getting married in the multiverse, he proclaimed his undying love for her in another.

And that is love. To let go over and over again. Because you can't force someone to feel the same for you.

Whenever you do think of them, think of them with love and light and wish them the best. There's no point in forcing, chasing or begging someone for their time and attention.

Love simply is. It's either there or it isn't. It's as simple as that. So cry over that "almost-person", drown yourself with an entire bottle of Bailey's, talk about him or her until kingdom come with all your best friends, but ultimately let go.

For only if you let go, do you allow your heart and lives' doors to be flung open again to be filled with the right person.

I lived a Shakespearen sonnet with my late husband. To lose someone you're still in love with it and thrive after that person's long gone, now that's a love story for the books as well.

Let go my friend, let go. It's the only happy conclusion for you and whoever it is, that you are fantasizing about. 

Anxiety

Recently someone described me as, "A person who'll go into war and win that battle. However you're petrified of the rats in your own house and really lose your shit!" That was the first time I laughed during the course of those tense 24 hours.

Anxiety and negative self-talk have been my best friends for as long as I can remember. I'm never fully convinced when good things happen to me. I either sabotage it in my own head or worst case, sabotage it for the people around me.

Luckily, the folks closest to me, understand this screw loose situation in my head and look past it. Unfortunately, those who are trying to get to know me, either abandon ship and run or they stick around and we remain good friends.

My anxiety has gotten worse over the years and some days I feel extremely low. The human brain is complex and I haven't been able to figure out mine yet.

In the meantime, icecream and butter chicken help, along with 45 minute swims. Mental health, drumbeaten enough and more by the Gen Zees are something we must seriously consider improving.

Zero mental health equals a poor quality of living. The human brain, can either be your best friend or worst enemy. We're all either stuck inside the cages we create or we're free like carefree pigeons, pooping all over people's heads. 

Let's choose to be the pigeon. Happy and poopy. 

Accountability

In a world full of asslicking charmers, who keep showering you with praises, choose to listen to Hulk instead. They're honest, blunt, direct, in your face and hit you with truth bombs that completely blow you away. 

Accountability, both in the personal and professional front is surprisingly missing. Perhaps, it's the system that has moulded people this way or ridiculous apps that have destroyed the sanctity of relationships. There's not one single factor, but multiple of them, that have left people with no spine.

Instead of ghosting someone, choose to have that difficult 15 minute conversation with them. Instead of showering someone with praises mindlessly and then running away from their lives so blatantly, tell them what they did to piss you off.

Let's face it, we're all spoilt little brats, masquerading as adults in broad daylight. Our childhood was filled with adults and siblings, who gave in to most of our desires. 

As adults, perhaps we have the same unrealistic expectations from people we meet. Therefore, meeting Hulk once in a while is a breath of fresh air. I have immense respect for these kind, yet angry souls. God bless them and let there be more of them in this fake-nice world. 

Honouring the Dead

Let's face it, in India we have an age old tradition of honouring the dead. We talk about them, we hang photographs of them at home, we perform pooja's annually and we even get tattoos dedicated to them.

My two pence in keeping up with this ritual for my late husband is by visiting Starbucks at least 2-3 times a month. He was a regular Starbucks customer. The outlets he visited knew his drink by heart and would have it ready, even before he reached the counter.

Family weekends were also spent in Starbucks. I'd order the drink of the week, advertised in shiny posters right outside and inside the outlet, which would taste terrible. And he'd end up making fun of me for buying it.

3 years and 8 months since he's been gone and Starbucks gives me so much peace each time I visit. A part of me hopes to bump into him and another just breathes in the aroma of the coffee and snacks being churned out around me.

I took our son to Starbucks yesterday evening and I felt the cycle being complete. He no longer remembers his father, but he vaguely remembers Starbucks from all our visits in Bombay.

As I took a picture of him and me sitting together, inside Starbucks, I almost shed a tear. I think his father would have been proud to know, that he's successfully converted a Starbucks hater into a lover.

While the Americano still doesn't sit well inside my tummy, the ambience and the savoury snacks are something I look forward to soaking in, at least once a week.

I saw a formally dressed man, working furiously on his laptop last evening inside Starbucks and it instantly reminded me of my workaholic, late husband. 

It's funny how the dead never leave you, even if they have in reality. 

Meltdown Sundays

"No" to Nutties at the crack of dawn,

Had my peaceful morning torn,

The next screech was for sharpening pencils,

Never underestimate the will,

Of a 6 year old,

Who has made up his mind to completely fold,

Mouth so wide open, you can see his tonsils,

Big fat tears that stick to his fluffy cheeks and sparkle,

The decibel levels well before 8am,

Will make you want to scram,

Too heavy to pick up and console,

You end up with an awkward shove on the lap, as he continues to howl,

A generation that takes us for granted,

With YouTube ideas already firmly planted,

You crack a joke about his kitchen mischief,

And how the water drenched him like a fountain, which abruptly ends his grief,

A quick bounce out of the lap,

And he bursts into hysterical laughs,

I breathe a sigh of relief,

As his mood turns a new leaf,

Tears give way to smiles,

And I realise we have so many more miles,

Of tears and laughter left.

The Friday Exhaustion

The Friday exhaustion is real,

Somewhere in the middle of a ranting call, I heard myself squeal,

And completely broke down over the loss of my husband,

The grief shook me, I assumed I was already accustomed,

Who knew, a tiring week,

Would make me feel so weak,

I was drained,

And relieved,

For letting out a hysterical sob,

I could feel the violent throb,

Inside my brain and heart,

Those feelings never rest,

It hits you waves,

And clogs your breathing and airwaves,

Perhaps I should rest,

But this elephant sized memory that I have, makes me feel both cursed and blessed,

The Friday exhaustion is real,

And it's only human to let out an occasional squeal. 

Whoopsie Wednesdays

Got bitten by an ant this morning,

Accidentally broke a glass bottle without warning,

The brain's a ball of mush today,

Just the same as yesterday 

I struggle to put one word in front of the other,

My edits, a failed attempt to smother,

The key message, 

Splat in the middle of every tumbling paragraph, like a stubborn carriage,

Perhaps I am done,

I stop typing so maniacally, my fingers exhausted from being a rabid gun,

I munch on a giant Toblerone bar,

Trying to erase invisible scars,

A shitty day can always be turned around,

Simply by looking around,

Exhausting Wednesdays,

In our heads we dramatically convert them to doomsdays.

Drunk Awakenings

As I down one sugary glass of alcohol after another,

The face of my late love begins to appear, without too much of a bother,

I truly believe,

Alcohol has the ability to weave,

Reality with fiction,

I suddenly begin to natter without restriction,

Let me correct, natter more,

Perhaps I become a bore,

In my most drunk state,

I feel great,

On top of the world even,

While the floor beneath my feet feels uneven,

I cannot be trusted with alcohol,

My body gets into a slow crawl,

My brain's contents further enhanced,

I become entranced,

With everything and nothing,

I find myself constantly chuckling,

High my spirits,

Along with the alcoholic spirits,

Cheers!

Brothers

This bonding of brothers,

Is like no other,

They scream and fight,

With all their might,

When it's time to bid adieu,

Their hearts turn blue,

Sobbings eyes and hysterical chests,

Their minds are far from rest,

The love they have for one another,

Is like no other,

All you can do is stand by and watch,

Witnessing their love for one another go up every year by a notch,

How wonderful that they have one another,

This beautiful bond of brothers,

Bonded by blood,

Our family's three little studs.

The Juggle is Real

I'm not sure what is worse, being a single parent during Parent Teacher Meetings and Annual Day functions or knowing that even if my husband was alive, he wouldn't have taken an interest in attending any of these school do's.

For the most part, I don't feel the pinch of taking on the burden of a dead husband. This is all thanks to my supportive family, who try their best to show up for all these events along with me.

So while I witness full families in all their grandeur, for such programs, I'm still thankful for my mother or an occasional generous friend, who takes the burden off me for collecting uniforms, school books and attending school events with me.

It's hard, having to be two people at the same time, at two different places. I have to completely let go of work, while I'm trying to fulfill my motherly duties and I have to completely forgo my child, while I'm focusing at work.

My brain works on overdrive on most days, trying to make sure nothing slips off the list. Project submissions at work, buying gifts for birthday parties, shutting between tuition classes and work calls, the list is neverending and exhausting.

It's ironic how we're expected to build careers and raise our children at the same time. Every generation and the ones before us have done it and I look back at each one of them in awe.

The burnout is real, which is why I take to oversweetened cocktails and liquor shots every once in a while. To everyone going through this juggle, let's survive and thrive. Cheers!