Slice of Life

The movie " Sound of Music" which was released decades back was an out and out entertainer, complete with splendid music, breathtaking locales and ace acting prowess of the ensemble cast who graced the screen. The lyrics of most of the songs have stayed with me over the years. As Julie Andrews prances round the room with a delightful bunch of kids, rendering her list of favourite things, I pressed the pause button and went on a rewind spree with a list of favourite things which I experienced in my growing up years... The wonder years. Answering the doorbell today can be rather tiresome, but back then I used to earnestly answer them, hoping it was the postman delivering letters. My joy would know no bounds if it was addressed to me. There was something magical about handwritten letters, the personal touch exuding warmth, the excitement of going through the contents speedily at first and then reading them over and over again, trying to find a new meaning every time I re-read

It was raining cats and dogs. I had comfortably settled in my armchair with a book in one hand and a mug of steaming hot tomato soup with crunchy croutons floating on top...all in all a very lethal delightful combo. I was desperately trying to have a mouthful of those before they sank and turned soggy. My mind and eyes were in close contest between keeping a check on that and reading. I was savouring this moment of bliss and felt that life indeed  is beautiful. It's uncanny how a thought or feeling triggers off a memory because that's what took me several years back on a rewind spree. I had got up in the wee hours of the morning, way back in February 1999 to watch the Oscars live. I vividly remember Robert Benigni claiming the coveted trophy for the best actor in the movie " Life is beautiful " What stood out for me was his spontaneous reaction of sheer childlike joy as he erupted from his seat like a Jack in the box and raced happily, almost comically upstage

The exhausting traffic snarls take the wind out of you due to which I rarely visit the far flung southern part of the city anymore. It was a random occasion for my journey out there and as my car sped from Victoria Terminus towards Crawford market, my heart skipped a beat as I was passing by the iconic art college where I had studied. It stirred a whole lot of emotions and memories which leaped out of oblivion. As I peered through the windshield, my eyes fell on the wide gates thru which the distinct promenade and majestic architecture of the prestigious college came into full view. If one wanted to study art then this was the best college to go to. You had students from all strata of society, right from the elite to the underprivileged.I enjoyed the best of both worlds being in the golden middle. That shaped me into being very comfortable in my own skin and made me believe that it is okay to be or not to be class or brand conscious and go by the adage " to each his own"

We were back from a gruelling stint at the hospital. It was so comforting to step into the house; almost like a " grihapravesh " as if we were starting life once again. The familiar warm comforting space which engulfed all of me. Every nook & corner of  the house beckoned to me as if to say it missed our presence & likewise. There was a lump in my throat as I stood grateful to get a new lease to life. Home is truly where the heart is. Not a single visitor was allowed coupled with a stack of hardcore restrictions....this deal was much better than the roller coaster ride of emotions at the hospital. Coming home was treading  on familiar territory and that was half battle won. The strategy was to take one day at a time to tick mark all the to do's on the list in order to smoothen out all the rough edges of the given situation. After everyone was fast asleep I did the unthinkable. Ordered a tiny cake for myself before the clock struck twelve, almost like Cindrell

I am a self confessed diehard foodie, a female Jughead of sorts. Part of my happiness, wellbeing and spirit comes from food. I love eating out, be it in dhabas, restaurants; one star, two star, whatever star, the gourmet meals, the rustic roadside stop overs, my taste buds are easy to please. I look forward to every meal, never mind the fact that nowadays I feel like " Alice in wonderland ". I want to reach out for my boiled egg sandwich but am cautioned against eating the yolks. Imagine not having the whole egg!  Just when you settle down to grudgingly cultivate the taste of solo egg whites, pat comes the analysis that it's ok to have the entire egg, or for that matter take the coconut....every time I want to guzzle the sol kadhi or dunk into the Burmese  khowsuey, I agonise over its merits and demerits. Newspapers are full of contradictory reports, two columns, should eat versus should not eat. I feel like a yoyo swinging between decisions to suit my palate....lik

Your cell phone better not be on the silent mode coz there are going to be non stop reminders popping up at regular intervals for the forthcoming kitty , the much awaited mother of eve' s event; not that one needs reminders. The monthly precision planning that goes into it in terms of time management will give the corporates a run for their money. Women are done with showcasing their culinary skills at home  and want to make a beeline to whichever venue suggested by the host. It is a welcoming escape to sanity in case you are tearing your hair in despair with day to day problems getting the better of you. A lot has been said about kitty parties.... superficial, frivolous; but believe me there's more to it than meets the eye. An occasion where you get to meet women from all age groups, like minded or otherwise, who have something unique to bring to the table. A date to remember, where right from the attire to attitude is on an all time high. A lot of girlie fun, unwindi