My First Friends

I saw an instagram reel this morning about how the oldest relationship you will have is with your siblings. My relationship with my siblings has been hot and cold over the years. 8 years and 4 years apart in age, I couldn't exactly bond with them as a child.

There were "older children" games and "girly gossip sessions", that I wasn't privy to. An entire room of children would empty out after dropping their toys, the minute I entered. Perhaps I harassed them. I'm told I was a biter and one cousin still recalls the stories with a traumatised look on her face.

I don't recall any of it though. I wonder how I could have ever bitten anyone. I'm so peace loving, especially when I'm well fed and definitely over the weekends.

Our house had a large compound filled with dogs and my cousin's occassional stray-finds consisting of one-eyed ducks, stray baby puppies, multiple fish tanks and a squirrel from Chennai. The animals got more love and attention than me.

I recall one dog walking up to my brother Arjun's room searching for him, and my sister Sowmia, munching on jackfruit chips straight out of a glass bottle with one hand and her other hand stuffed inside an obese little Dachshund's mouth. 

Both my brothers - Swaroop and Arjun would spend their holidays obsessively cleaning the fish tank. It was a whole affair. One boy would bring the green garden hose from one end of the house's compound, while the other boy would quickly throw the hose in, after removing the excess water out. Lo and behold, the empty garden hose would now be transformed into a little pumping device, that would empty out all the tank's smelly, fishy water.

Sometimes the dogs would die and I'd watch the three of them, making large graveyards around the compound to bury their little bodies inside and stand around the freshly made grave sobbing hysterically. I could feel their hearts breaking and felt sorry seeing them that way, as I empathetically munched on golden fried medu vadas or mutta puffs.

On occassion, the three of them would regale me with stories of how I looked like or behaved when I was a baby. My sister Sowmia still calls me "her little doll" and my brother Arjun apparently called me "nice baby" and asked for his toy car upon meeting me for the first time.

Out of the three, I remember my brother Swaroop pampering me the most, but as an 8 year old, perhaps he needed his space too, so he'd promise to come back and play with me but would remain in his room for hours drawing and painting. The maids would ask, "Who are you waiting for Gayu?" and I'd reply in all earnesty, "Swaroop chettan."

These three definitely shaped my childhood along with mutta puffs and kothu porotta. They push me to do better as a person. The advice is unending on all fronts - personally and professionally.

Most times, I'm grateful for the advice because I actively seek them out for it. On other occassions, I quietly stuff earbuds into both my ears and smile at them with a big nod, so they think I'm listening.

My love for my siblings is greater than 10 plates of kappa with meen curry and stronger than a kattan. I'm proud of the adults they've become today and the beautiful, warm families they've all built for themselves individually. 

Not Your Average Business Networking Event

I attended an all woman's business networking event yesterday which positioned itself as "not a networking event." At the end of those three hours, that's exactly what I felt. My stomach was mildly satiated with some tasty sundal, cookies and juice, but my brain was racing with ideas.

We hardly spoke about work. Instead, we spoke about all the challenges women have faced over centuries at home, in offices and practically everywhere she has tried to achieve something.

The room was filled with entrepreneurs, freelancers, working professionals and mothers. The energy in the room was indescribable. For those three hours, we became allies and felt deeply connected to one another.

The conversations we had were both heartbreaking and enlightening. Women really do face the brunt of the world everywhere and no one can deny this fact.

Societies have been built brick by brick with the quiet hardwork of women. Sometimes she gets acknowledged for it. On most occasions, she does not.

But that doesn't stop her from working hard. She always puts everyone else above her and keeps working hard for their betterment. 

In those three hours, I couldn't be more proud to be a woman. There's an inbuilt strength that we're born with, that helps us keep moving forward every single day.

To many more "non-networking events" and many more plates of tasty sundal. Thank you Gehena and Vaishnavi for putting together The Shakthi Circle and for giving working women a voice and a genuine platform to just vent, exchange thoughts and just be her true self. 

Why Mothers Excel At Work

I finally caught Devil Wears Prada 2 in theatres last night and it felt like I was coming home to old friends. I was in my second year of undergraduation when I saw the first movie with my classmates. 

From then to now, the underlying emotion of the movie, of women wanting to make a difference in the world remains the same. As a 19 year old I wanted to make it big in the corporate world just like Andy Sachs and strike out on my own if I couldn't fit into the Miranda Priestly mould.

And as a grown adult, as I watch these working mothers on screen, still striving for excellence and regretting not spending enough time with their children, that struck a chord with me too.

There's a reason why working mothers excel at work. It's because we know the cost of staying away from shaping an impressionable life and not being able to really get involved in their routine.

So that cost better come at a good price. We better justify that time away from the little souls we've brought into this world. That's the reason why most working mothers just put their heads down and work to excel. There's a hunger in her belly that never gets satiated unless she's perfected her craft and is at the top of her game.

She's not being competitive or aggressive, she's simply fiercely safeguarding her future along with her children's futures who would ultimately reap from the benefits of her hardwork.

She can never have it all and the guilt of trying to make both worlds work in harmony with one another always makes her fall flat on her feet. On the day of a PTA, there will definitely be a meeting with the new V.P who has taken over the team. 

On the day a teacher has asked you to come see her post school hours, is also the day your team and you are working hard to overcome a major org-wide escalation. 

On all those days, I come back home sobbing and all the chocolate cookies in the world don't heal my soul. 

The struggle for work life balance is real and the struggle to perform both parental and professional duties have made me lose so much of my hair, that it doesn't look nice even if I colour it cherry purple.

So Miranda Priestly's cold, "That's all" is perfectly justified because she really doesn't have the time to listen to co-workers and assistants rant endlessly about their problems. Just get your shit together and make it work - both at home and in the office.

To the mothers who simply cannot have it all - I see you, I feel you and I am you. Tommorow is another day. We've got this ladies!

One and Done

For the longest time, I fantasized about having an army of children - an entire cricket team in fact. And my life would be spent in the kitchen cooking multiple meals for them morning, noon and night along with snacks between meals. That fantasy got stronger right after childbirth and my late husband looked petrified each time I mentioned this desire of mine.

"Please find another husband.", "One is enough." and he'd quickly run out of the room. Five years later, that secret desire of mine still burns strong. Each time I take my son for his shot or a fever-induced medical checkup, I drool at the newborns in the hospital and can actually feel my ovaries crying. 

Then I ask my one and only, "Riaan, do you want another brother or sister?", he turns around with a defiant look on his little face and replies, "I already have many brothers and sisters who visit me twice a year. Thank you very much." 

That officially shuts down my salivating and I make peace with my little devil, who has irrevocably changed my life for the better. I hug him a little harder as I wipe the wet boogey off his nose and smell the top of his sweaty little head.

I suppose my mission in this lifetime is to make a gentleman out of just one little monkey. Maybe I'll have my army of animals in the next.

Sigh! 

The Reluctant Pant Wearer

A dear friend of mine and my late husband's whispered in my ears a few days after he passed away, "You've always worn the pants in this relationship, so just continue doing that now. You'll be fine." I know he meant it with pure intentions because as a couple we were very fond of him and he cared deeply about us too.

In that moment, I didn't have a response, I just felt empty and sad that I was truly all alone in the world. Looking back at that moment minus the widow-lenses, it's harrowing to see societal expectations out of a man and a woman post marriage. She has to be the bread winner, the family glue and the caretaker of the house and all it's residents. The man on the other hand, just has to be the bread winner and crack a few jokes now and then.

How is this fair? How is a woman expected to juggle work, children, aging parents and household chores without losing her cool? If this is what makes a woman, "wear the pants in the relationship", that's a very skewed and unfair perspective of women.

Does helping with the baby and household chores make a man, less of a man. Didn't both individuals decide to build that life together? Then why does the responsibility only fall on one person's shoulders? 

So no, I never wanted to wear the pants in that relationship and I don't want to wear it going forward either. I'm officially throwing away those pants, because I've always been a skirt and dress girl.

Boo to patriarchy and cheers to equality! 

My Corporate Family

When corporates tell you "we are one big happy family", as you stuff down the Mutton Biryani during the team-outing you get once a year, you believe it because the biryani tastes so good. Those mutton pieces buried inside the rice are soft and juicy, you can die and go straight upto heaven after that one meal and your soul would never come back down to earth as a ghost, because you're so satiated.

But no, for me across organisations, I truly have found family from one company to the next. I'd like to talk about one special team now whom I worked with immediately after my husband's loss. My crazy levels were on an extra high, even without the biryani. I was all love and hate and happiness and sadness all at the same time. Picture me as a newly born vampire, who had just been bitten and the world looked and smelt different. I was Chandra and Bella and Selene rolled into one. 

This team got my crazy from the word "go". They smiled and nodded along with me, with an occassional dose of kicking whenever I sounded extra loony. 

2 years and 8 months flew by in jet speed. I was so sad to leave them behind, to quit them and move onto bigger assignments. I felt guilty and sad about this huge looming void that could never be filled.

The first team I worked with right after a loss, I'll never forget them and I'll always be grateful to them for just understanding who I was as a person, who I still am infact. 

One glance at my face and they'd know if I was gloomy or happy. They never once reigned me in. They just let me be. I could be loud and noisy and take a 100 pictures around them. Such sports! How can I ever forget this team?

I miss you like biryani without raita, like chocolate sundae without extra sauce and nuts, like bun maska without maska and like a sky without a rainbow. You are my rainbow - yesterday, today and everyday.

My most favourite team in all these years. Team design and communications. A match made in corporate heaven. 

Team Iron Man

I recently met someone, let's just call him douchebag for now. He told me, "you think too much of yourself and you're Wonder woman." I replied "I don't think I'm Wonder woman, Gal Gadot has already played the part and my ass is not so tight, so no you've got the wrong girl bro."

As for the "thinking too much of myself" part, that bit is entirely true. I've experienced things only senior citizens have in this lifetime and I've survived it with dark humour, sugar free icecream, poetry and good cinema across regional and international languages. So yes, without a doubt, I do "think too much of myself".

Quite frankly, if you don't think too much of yourself, no one else is going to. Trust in your personal brand to deliver to the world at large and your immediate family. Dim out the white noise in your head and from "well-wishers" and blindly believe in your abilities.

"You've got this, you shall overcome, yet again, this is jujubee" (in the words of Rajni), are the words I've permanently copy-pasted in my head. 

I can smell toxic masculinity and feminity, from a mile away because I've been raised by a family of super achievers, who've been humble all their life and have showered me with a suffocating amount of love even when I try to push them away.

So disrespect, unnecessary screaming and forcing down your point of view inside my throat, will certainly not work with me and it most certainly doesn't sit well with my son. If I'm opinionated, he's worse. If I ask 100 questions, he asks 200. If you think I'm stubborn and pig-headed, I wonder what you'd think about my son.

As a package deal, we're loud and in your face, but very warm, genuine and hospitable. Perhaps this very tiny chapter in my life has made me realise that there's only space for kind people in my world. 

If you want to be Doctor Doom, please do that elsewhere, I am and always will be team Iron Man. 

Peace! ☮️

Never Settle

Why shrink your big feelings,

For someone who treats you like an orange peel,

Why shrink your lively personality,

For someone whose moods swing from irritability to more irritability,

Remember who you are,

Slightly bizzare, but definitely a star,

Weird without a doubt, but all heart,

Now if the person opposite you can't look at you like a piece of art,

It's probably best it crashed and burnt,

Yet another lesson has been learnt,

Time to turn the page on this chapter,

And continue being a multifaceted adaptor,

Onto the next we zoom,

There's no place for gloom and doom.

The Cost of Having a Point of View

I met my childhood friend last week in Ooty and was cribbing to him about how tired I am in general with juggling work and mommy duties. He looked me straight in the face, in the middle of my picturesque tea garden overlooking balcony and said, "This is why women marry into rich families or want to become a trophy wife. Go become a trophy wife now." I blinked at him for exactly two seconds and burst into hysterical laughter. He joined me in the laughter and then we continued sipping on our black coffees to keep ourselves warm from the Ooty chill. 

That conversation made me wonder, why are women called "gold diggers", and "sluts" and "whores" while men do exactly the same thing. They want to marry rich too, they want to explore the opposite sex in abundance too and are called "fuckboys" in such a jovial way. And the worst one liner I've heard in my life "Men will be men." What does this even mean? Then women will also be women. 

Why has society posed such double standards for both sexes indulging in the same behaviour? A woman working late hours and sacrifing her weekends for her career is a "bad mother" and not a "good homemaker." However, a man indulging in the same career building activities are termed as "providers", "good husband's, father's and sons". I don't get it, I just don't get it. 

I'm too tired to keep wondering why a colleague of mine who was hired a year after me, at my same designation at a reputed Indian PR agency was given a much higher salary than mine. There was no difference in the work he was doing with mine. 

He was a "Yes man" at work when it came to our boss and clients, while I kept pointing out alternative ways to run a campaign or garner media coverage.

If the cost of having a strong point of view, is the package we earn, that's too high a cost to pay. I'm unwilling to settle for less at this stage of my life and career. 

Here's hoping the next generation of women have a much better time personally and professionally. As for me, I'm just going with the flow and sipping on hot chocolate each time I'm triggered.

Peace! ✌️

Bollywood's Version of Musicians

I've lost count of the number of Bollywood movies that have portrayed musicians as angst ridden and wanting to sacrifice their passion for family, for the woman they love and are drunk all the time, with major bad boy problems.

Where are these men? I've never met them. Or perhaps, my late husband had it easy. He didn't have to be angst ridden or self-sacrificing. All he had to do was ask, "Will you be my girlfriend, if I share my zinger burger and KFC bucket with you?" 

I was sold. I knew then this was the man I'd marry. Prior to the KFC deal, he got me a dozen chocolate donut balls and perhaps will I ate, he schemed. 

Satisfy my hunger and it's easy to slip into my life and into my good books. I've made peace with the worst of enemies and bosses, over a good hearty meal. All is immediately forgotten! Of course, you have to be a slightly nice person too and then we're in business.

Coming back to the angst ridden musician boyfriend now, I scratch my head each time I watch any of those over-the-top, exaggerated, melodramatic Bollywood movies. What a nightmare to have a man or even a friend like that in your life.

Therapy bro, therapy! All that anger and breaking guitars will do you no good. It's high time movies start depicting some semblance to the real world. 

Love and sunshine and music is all well and fine. But respect, having a good time and being able to truly be youself is the hallmark of a great friendship and relationship. 

Beasts that can be turned into honourable men don't exist. And there's no need for you to be Belle if you're a woman. Just be your authentic self, and the right crowd will find you.  

Almost 40 Syndrome

Sleep so thin,

It definitely doesn't feel like a win,

Headache so pounding,

Even the second hand on my clock is resounding,

No one warned me that my body would act up,

Even if I don't slip-up,

My work and workout routine,

Make my sleep look like a crime scene,

There's no rest in sight,

However much I toss and turn and fight,

My 8 hour sleep is no where in sight,

My body feels like it's on constant fight or flight,

Off to bed I go,

Before my workday hits me on the face like a rough blow,

Almost 40 is not so bright afterall,

A turtle doing a slow crawl,

Suddenly looks faster than me,

Good night for now, inside my bed I shall burrow and flee.

Raising Gen Alpha

My Gen Alpha villain is wearing me down. Woman down, I repeat, woman down! What started with sweet baby chatter has turned into a full blown World War 3. The war of words are relentless. The pranks are never ending and the dark humour is so dark, I sometimes wonder if I've spawned him with the devil himself.

But just as I wonder if I should sip on another cup of hot chocolate to calm down or be thrown into a mental asylum, he brings his googly-eyed face two centimetres away from mine and cups my face inside his sticky baby hands. 

Before I can process what's really happening he envelops me in a bony little hug and says, "A hug can solve everything." This, after an entire day of screaming me down because I cooked a meal for the family and spoke to my mother for an extra two seconds more. 

Sometimes I wonder whether he's this attention seeking because he's an only child and then I observe other children at the airport older than him, his age and younger, who are much worse behaved than him. Shaking airport installations, dancing around in circles so frantically that the water bottle around their tiny necks, smack into passersby and then there are the flying wonders, who run faster than the Flash, away from their parents and into another galaxy.

This terrible behaviour displayed by other tiny humans, gives me so much hope for the future. I am not alone in my misery and tiny devils exist everywhere.

So the feeling of turning into the maniacal Joker one day mixed with wanting to be a sensible Harley Quinn (while she was still the Joker's therapist of course), is completely normal.

My little chaos is a normal Gen Alpha villain and I'm a sane Millennial who was raised with an occassional beating and way too many mutta puffs along with potloads of over-sweetned Rasna. I'm sure I was a much nicer and very well behaved child. I don't want to verify this very truthful fact with my mother or my late grandparents now.

I haven't passed on this hideously naughty behaviour and this unending chattering mouth to my child. No! These are not my genes. I simply refuse.

Gentle parenting is so wonderful on paper, but it's simply impossible to follow with this hyper-online generation raised by YouTube shots and Minecraft. 

We've got this my fellow Millennial parents. We will survive, no matter what. Here's to drinking more cups of hot chocolate to remain sane. Just another decade more to go and hopefully they'll go to college on another planet, while we sip on cocktails on a remote untraceable island and enjoy an early retirement. 

The Healing Mountain Air

I met a good friend recently who was travelling to the Philippines after an Everest Base Camp trek. He looked flushed and tired after the gruelling challenge and mentioned suddenly about how he'd miss his ex on the beaches of Philippines, as they had done that travel together when they were a couple.

I smiled at him and nodded. Truth be told, the entire world reminds me of my late husband, but it's been 5 years for me and I've learnt to live alone. 

I've created fresh memories in all the places that remind me of him, with someone even better - my son. The chaos and the hysteria he brings into my life makes me forget all the trauma and grief my young husband's abrupt passing brought me.

Picking myself back up and quickly building a life for us came to me like second skin, thanks to the years of hardwork my late husband had displayed. 14 years of being with just one man, probably made me a bit like him, whether I'd like to admit it or not.

He passed on his work ethic and drive to do better in life with his passing. To continue to live a good life he was trying to create for our family, has been my only goal, ever since. 

And here we are, little chaos and I, 5 years later visiting my parent's holiday home in Ooty. When I first came here, I was a wife and now I'm a mother. There are 100 places like this all over the world, which leave me with a sense of peace because I know we're at peace as a family.

We've moved on respectfully, no longer holding onto the past like it's a painful secret to be buried. We once knew a brilliant man and now we're well on our way to continue leading a life of integrity and honesty.

The memories can flash as much as they want in my head, but none of it hurts anymore. So mountains, beaches and expensive brands, no longer trigger me. I am my own person. So much more than just a widow and somebody's wife. 

Onwards and upwards! Here's to creating fresh memories all over the world.

My Devil Did Not Wear Prada

My Devil probably wore Hush Puppies or an even cheaper Bata brand. It was the summer of 2016, I was a not so blue-eyed budding PR professional. And I had picked up a role with a reputed advertising giant's PR division.

The team was lean with just two people on-board. My boss who I would learn very quickly was a Devil without a fat enough wallet to buy better shoes. And the other team member was a very pleasantly plump and very cheerful young girl, who was probably my age or younger. She tried her best to make me feel at home and I still remember her gorgeous toothy smile and bouncy curls. 

Coming back to my Devil now. He had a problem with my face, my clothes, my shoes and my handbag. And then I realised he was probably just pissed because I looked prettier than him. A word more than him during a client meeting - I would get a glare. Another two - yet another acidic glare. And as soon as the client would leave, he would turn around and hurl a verbal diarrhea of abuses at me. 

I didn't let down either. I threw it all back at him with the same velocity and quit on the very same day without another job in hand. In hindsight, I'm grateful for the experience because it has taught me patience and tolerance. 

That shitty boss made me realise that you have to respect your team, however senior or junior they are. Everyone works differently and you have to respect that as well.

Lastly, you don't have to tolerate a toxic work culture however desperate you are to get a new job. 

And over the past 16 years, I've met many Devils. The ones who let you be your chatty, confident self and empower you are the ones you turn to for the rest of your life. And the devils are unforgettable as well, in their own negative way. Choose to be a good mix of both and you'll be respected as a good leader and teammate. 

Let's keep fighting the good fight and live a little beyond the boardroom as well. 

How Our Emotions Can Take Charge of Our Body

This morning was a classic example of how our subsconcious emotions can take over our bodily functions fully, without us even realising it. I had a bit of a tricky day at work yesterday and I down-played it as usual considering it a part and parcel of being a working professional.

By night, I kept tossing and turning in bed. And I had no idea why. I woke up before my 6am alarm rang and I wheezed through my workout with my trainer. She chuckled watching me huff and puff like a rusty train engine. It was when she asked me what really happened, that I opened up about my work day.

She tut-tutted and made me understand that the burden of my mind, was taking a toll on my brisk morning workout. Two sets of mountain climbing later, I just had to sit down, there was no third set today. 

I couldn't plank and I couldn't squat without feeling breathless. I couldn't make any conversation with her by the end of the hour and simply sat down gripping a bottle of water tightly. She told me to drink some electrolytes and get on with my day.

Yet another classic example of how emotions take over our body, without us even realising it. You can downplay major incidents and pretend to be easy-breezy as much as you want to, but your subconscious always takes over. 

All you can do is allow those feelings to pass, take a couple of deep breaths, eat a date or two and keep moving forward.

Today is a new day and I'm ready to take on the good, the bad, the ugly and everything in between. 

Managing Expectations

My therapist from 5 years ago told me that as an individual I'm hyper-independent. That was my first and last therapy session honestly. Some great insights during those sessions and to some extent it helps me manage my emotions better even today.

There's childhood trauma and there's adulthood trauma. The combination of one or two of these incidents, is what makes us a functioning adult. 

I've learnt slowly and painfully over time that most people cannot be trusted. Idolising them, fantasising about them or putting them on a pedestal is simply our own doing. Therefore, it's best to not have any expectations from anyone.

Be the good person that you are and give without expectations. The right crowd will stay and the wrong ones will automatically filter themselves out from your life. No one is good or bad as people. We all have our shades of grey.

Treat each person who slips away as a lesson and reflect on what you could or could not have done better and just let it go. All you can do is try and give it your best shot. 

It's not hard to give without expectations as long as you understand well that it may or may not be reciprocated. If it's not reciprocated, simply move on. Don't feel sorry for yourself or blame them or the situation. 

I think I've definitely come a long way emotionally as a person over the years. Instead of wailing and wasting my energy crying buckets of tears, I simply move on. What else can you do? Peace of mind is important at all times as opposed to a fantasy that may or may not come true.

Most of all, time truly is the best healer. Time combined with patience works absolute wonders. In the end, everything will turn out alright. If not, to quote my favourite Shahrukh Khan dialogue, "Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost."

The Positive Force That is Shina

I've lost track of the number of blogs I've written about Shina in the past 4.5 years. She's seen my newly-widowed, depressed phase. She's seen me having self doubts and jolted me out of it. She's seen me meeting "interesting people" over the years and her slippers are already out, waiting to whack me on the head.

She has propelled me to live and laugh. She has reminded me constantly that I have a long life ahead of me and it should be lived meaningfully. 

There are no dull moments with Shina, starting with her infectious laughter to her no-nonsense attitude. Your tears will instantly dry up around her and your dark thoughts turn from existential crisis to measurable long-term goals.

For me, Shina is a force of nature. Riaan is a big fan as well. All my video and audio calls with her via Teams and WhatsApp have been intercepted by him. 

Having one Shina in your life is better than having an army of friends who blip in and out of your life. It's not like we talk everyday or hangout every weekend. But the once a month check-ins are enough to pick up from where we left off.

Movie dates, play dates and an impromptu out of station trip plan, everything happens in a jiffy with those monthly check-ins. 

Shina has empowered me personally, professionally and is not shy to say things as they are. She's the reality check that everyone needs in their life. 

Looking 20 at 40

I've had this unreasonable fantasy ever since I hit my mid 20s, that I must look 20 by the time I hit 40. The landmark birthday is 8 months away and it's safe to say, I definitely do not look 20 and I'm surprisingly not sad about it.

What my one white hair and Buddha like patience (I'm a single mum to a very verbose 7 year old, so yes I do have Buddha like patience) has taught me is that it's great to be almost 40.

I'm more confident in my skin, I take myself out on solo dates, I eat and buy whatever I want without thinking twice. Almost 40, never looked better. 

Perhaps I need to have a little more of a life beyond work and raising a child. All in due time though. There's a time for play and there's a time for work. My 70 year old parents are case in point. They're a classic example of a hardworking middle class couple, who slowly made their way up the the socio-economic ladder and now they only have time for holidays and partying.

Each time I talk about taking an early retirement with my father, he scrunches up his nose in disgust, like I'm still in the pits of poverty. I chuckle and re-assure him, that I'm his stubborn offspring afterall, so I'll do exactly what I want and not what he has envisioned for my life. 

To be almost 40 and to have parents who still say "no", for every life decision of mine, starting with my choice of hair colour, is definitely a blessing. To have people who nit-pick and nag is a gift. We must treasure it for as long as it lasts.

While I may not have Korean glass skin, instead I'm naturally gifted with a nice double-chin, thanks to my wonderful genetics, it's still safe to say, life has never looked better at almost 40.

Here's to another couple of decades of ageing gracefully. Bring on the grey-hairs and a more pronounced double-chin, I'm absolutely ready for it!

Empower Yourself

My 7 year old wants to be an electronics teacher when he grows up. I looked him straight in the face and told him, he can grow up to be absolutely anything he has wants, as long as he empowers himself.

To walk away from rooms and tables that disrespect you, is something that you have to earn. And that comes with nothing but hardwork. Put your head down and keep working. Be the best electronics teacher the world has seen.

He nodded his head and blinked at me twice with his googly eyes and said, "Okay mumma." To walk away from gossip mongers and rooms that drain you of your energy is something that must come to everyone like second skin.

Learn, upskill and keep an open mind. Progress is quiet. It's not found in rooms filled with loud music and 100 people grinding next to each other. 

The occasional noise and hysteria is perfectly fine to break some steam. However, if it's a lifestyle and you live from one party to the next, that's a problem.

You're born alone and you die alone. And when the endgame happens, ensure that you leave behind a legacy for your children and the next generation.

Inspire them so much that they feel like getting a tatoo dedicated to you, when they're lost. My late grandfather's anchor tattoo on my arm is case in point. He was a quiet man with a handful of friends. I'm so proud of the legacy he has left behind. A 10 minute conversation involving him, with any new person I meet, happens automatically. 

Lead, not follow. Inspire, don't waste your time gossiping and comparing your life to others. Each one is on their own path. Let them be and keep your focus on. 

To quote Robert Frost, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference."

Laryngitis Inflicted Peace

Two days since I lost my voice to laryngitis and life has never felt more peaceful. 48 hours of not uttering a single word out of my mouth. That's when you truly evolve into a good communicator. You're forced to listen and simply blink in response. 

Two days of vegetating in my parental home and I understand the restlessness of retired folks. It's peaceful yet boring. No deadlines to meet, no documents to work on and definitely no 7 year old boy to fight with. Complete and total silence, almost blissful.

I say almost blissful because how much OTT content can a human being watch in a day? After a point that becomes monotonous and dull too.

Hats off to stay at home mums, retired folks and anyone else who chooses to voluntarily stay at home. It's harder than it looks.

I can probably pull off one more day of silence and sleep, after that my fingers and brain will definitely begin to twitch again.

Strange how we feel guilty for taking a day off even when when we fall sick, it's probably the conditioning of the great Indian rat race that we've been told to keep running in, until the day we die. 

Hardly A Victim

Definitely not a victim to circumstances,

Strong my stance,

After a period of spiralling out,

It's crucial to let it all out,

Than to have those negative emotions fester,

And incessantly pester,

It's good to be a drama queen,

Let all your feelings be felt and seen,

Speak out your worst fears,

Maybe let out a few tears,

And then take charge of your life,

Get down to sorting out yet another strife,

Drown out the white noise,

Work towards the solution calmly and rejoice. 

Trust Yourself

Trust yourself,

Even if life or people make you feel like a helpless elf,

Trust yourself,

Even if the circumstances make you want to run away and vegetate on the shelf,

Trust yourself,

To overcome any challenge however big or small to resolve itself,

Trust yourself,

With all of your flaws, to withstand any storm all by yourself,

Trust yourself,

To rise up above all that white noise, showing up is a feat in itself,

Trust yourself,

To make every hard day, easy, keep your sorrows to yourself,

Trust yourself,

To resolve every hardship, as you always have, all by yourself.

The Importance of Stretching

I got ghosted by my lower back this morning, along with some other muscles that I didn't know existed. This is what happens when you pretend to be a flexible 20 year old at almost 40.

I indulged in a gorgeous hour long circuit training workout with my enthusiastic Gen-z personal trainer last morning. The more she said "good job", the more I pushed myself like wonder woman. 

Wonderful things, circuit training exercises. You feel light as a feather, almost like you're floating on a cloud for hours, at the end of the workout of course. During the routine, you'll find yourself panting like a Labrador who hasn't had enough water.

It's crazy how we take our bodies for granted and just push ourselves to try and look younger and skinnier, even if our entire system protests.

I suppose this is my mid-life crisis - to workout until I can't move. I'm definitely broken on the inside today - literally speaking. 

Never take for granted stretches post a workout and resting. Give yourself grace on the days your back hurts and maybe pop a few extra sugar-free goodies, so that your ego doens't feel so battered.