Christmas is just round the corner, and like each year it kindles memories of a long ago. Childhood seems like yesterday, but time has swept away the years, taking along with it a special person who kindled the love for music and creativity in me, right from a tender age – MY PAPA.

As I sit down and type this post, my mind stirs up memories of the many Christmases I celebrated with dad.  Making the crib, putting up the star, and decorating the house, all with music playing in the background, seems like yesterday. Unless Jim Reeves or Boney M songs were played, Christmas wasn’t complete.

The highlight at our house was the crib that dad would build from scratch, using thermocol sheets, brown paper and hay. He would also sow wheat, well in advance, so that the seeds would grow just in time to resemble fields. Of course, I would be instructed to water them on time and I would follow instructions to the T. Watching dad painstakingly set up the crib is an image I’ll never forget. He would place each item carefully as if they had a life of their own.The paper mountains, the framework for the crib, the hay, the statuettes, the thermocol sheets and finally the grown wheat.

Painting the brown paper to make them resemble mountains was my favorite activity, as a kid. Hands, face, and dress covered in paint, I used to spread myself all over the paper, just to make sure I cover all corners. That and running into the kitchen occasionally to grab the sweets or savories Mom would be preparing, only to be called back by Dad to complete the task at hand and then fool around, still brings a smile. And then Mom would be yelling at me from the kitchen not to touch anything with dirty hands. Stuffing my mouth full, oblivious to her anger (much to her annoyance) I would be spread-eagle again on the paper.

Christmas evening, friends from the colony would visit our home to wish and share in the celebrations. Offering them sweets and savories, after stuffing my mouth with the same (not to miss out the admonishment by Mom), and being complimented on my dress would leave me floating in the air. And then the yummy dinner of mutton biryani and my favorites items. Those were one of the best memories of Christmas, ever.  Sitting here, miles and memories away from the place I love, my heart still yearns for THOSE CHRISTMAS TIMES. But then some voids can never be filled. Here I am, still wondering how life took such a turn.  Time sure flies!

Not to be sounding negative, but the present lacks the fervor of the past. Though people say time will heal, it’s doesn’t ring true here. It just is a cruel reminder of what is missing. However, life, sadly, has to go on…

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Daddy, wherever you are! I miss you.



Fairy Godmother, the Tooth Fairy, and Elves were a few characters I had unshakable faith in, as a child (Every child has, isn’t it?). I believed they had the power to make my dreams come true. Growing up, I knew it was just fantasy. However, sometimes some dreams do come true. Mine did, four years ago on this day i.e. October 17, 2012 at Pune’s Amanora Park Town.

Like everyone else, I too have a bucket list, with a number of items to be ticked off. One of them was watching Enrique Iglesias perform live. Back in those days, I was living in Pune, (aahh!! Blissful days), when this announcement was made. Being a huge, huge fan of him, I was quite excited and also very eager for the ticket sales to commence. Though, I wasn’t earning a big amount in those days, I saved and scrimped to be able to afford a ticket.  As if the stars had conspired, I finally got the much coveted ticket. And then the day I was eagerly awaiting dawned.

Reaching the venue, even before the gates opened, I was like a child at a candy store. It felt as a dream, watching the entire event unfold in front of my eyes. The best memory of the evening was, when I heard “Hero” being sung live. That was the moment when I literally had tears of joy. It truly was a dream come true. Of course, I did have a hoarse voice, the next day, from all the screaming my lungs out. But then, nothing matters when your wish is fulfilled.

Sitting here in Bangalore and reminiscing the event, four years later, still brings a smile. I wish he performs again In India.

For now I can just say, maybe that day my wish on the eyelash came true. Eternally grateful!

A few memories, frozen in time.







Tired Eyes. Brain hitting a road block. Thinking process comes to a standstill. “Write” seems like an abuse. Signs of a writer’s block? Yes, it is!

As I sit typing this, I can literally feel my eyes popping out and hitting the keyboard. Being a writer though an exciting job, can be a bit taxing too. The amount of words that the poor brain has to create! Every single day! With mugs and mugs of coffee to keep awake, and the walks to ignite thoughts does help. Going back to the desk, stretching fingers, and attacking the keyboard with renewed vigor (of course being plugged in at the moment), you finally manage to belt out some good content, the satisfaction showing in your smile.

Oh that and the OCD streak of getting your message in place, sans mistakes. Checking, rechecking, for God knows how many times. Firing off the content and yet thinking if there’s something that might have been left out. Going back to the published draft and checking for the umpteenth time, if there’s a mistake. And guess what! You actually find one, sticking out like a sore thumb, leaving you thinking how on earth could you have missed this one out. Whoever said a writer’s job was that of a glorified steno should give a hand at writing, serious-to-God writing, and not just some copy-paste. Easy to be judgmental but not easy being a writer!

And then there’s the other side of life, where you spend time poring over pages of some many novels. Living life literally out of the pages is fun. Reading some other’s writer’s work, imagining stepping into his shoes of what he might have thought before penning this down is a joy in itself. Self-contained! Experienced only when experiencing! Two different worlds, gelled into one!

People always say that the grass is greener on the other side. But No Sir! I love my lawn the way it is! I have found my calling, and I intend to stick to it, no matter how many episodes of OCD or blocks I suffer or whoever says anything. I’m glad that I’m over the phase, thanks to music and the support of some dear buddies (who I know are reading this piece). Well hopefully now I can start a slow stream of musings, as and when I feel like. (Psst, I went through this draft five times before I posted it).

Life of a writer, a roller coaster ride!

(Image Credit: Google)


I quit my job, took a two-week break and joined a new place. Of course I am swell glad because I found my dream job, the one I always wanted to do. There’s so much to learn here. Going to work is fun, but what gets to me is the traffic (Bangalore has crazy traffic). Amongst all this “pandemonium”, I realized I had completely forgotten something I love doing. It suddenly struck to me that I hadn’t picked a book for ages.

Determined to break the jinx, I scanned my collection. Randomly, I picked up Chetan Bhagat’s Two States. Though not a fan of the writer, I had bought this book, when I was in Pune, just out of curiosity. Now it served as a light read. Getting into a comfortable position and reading, I slowly got lost into my own world. Poring through the pages, imagining the scenes, and laughing at the funny ones, I felt like a missing piece of the jigsaw puzzle had fallen into place, to complete the picture.

After an hour and a half (of course with a dinner break in between), as I kept down the finished book, I felt a calmness surround me. After this post, I am picking up another book (Stephen King’s Pet Sematary). I guess it is going to be the night I love. By the time you read this post I may be in deep sleep, after an all night readathon . Such is the joy of reading. Unadulterated, replete, and sweet.



Been introduced to music at a tender age, it has grown to be my passion. I don’t follow any particular genre, as there’s so many fish in the sea. And “a bit of everything, really” applies true in my case. Why restrict one to a particular zone, when there is an eclectic mix waiting to be tried out, right?

Music has become a kind of drug for me. It’s my anti-depressant when I’m low and my dope when I’m high. I have to listen to music every day no matter what, without which my day seems incomplete. So be it at home, in the bus, or at work, I have my Siamese twin (read music player) wherever I am. It’s more than a need, music has become a necessity, an answer to my life. And thank God for online music streaming, I’m plugged in even during work hours.

I have had a few people telling me that I have a good taste in music and even “you’ve got one helluva playlist”, which I’m glad I do. Cuz I choose my songs, as a jeweler examines and selects a gem. And hey! I have a SMART PHONE (in the literal sense, as well) as it chooses by default the songs depending on my mood. Well at times, it does seem creepy, as if my phone reads my mind. But then, my twin knows me better. Seeing my love for music, a friend gifted me an MP3 player, where I almost have a thousand songs (different artistes and genres).

Blame it on my obsession; there have been many times when I have resisted singing along with the song playing. However, once in a while the resistance breaks and I end up singing, oblivious to the fact that I’m in the bus, and much to the amusement of my fellow commuters. Well, what I have resisted is getting up and doing a jig to some peppy song playing.

I can very well say “Music is my life” and not a single day passes on without me being plugged in. It’s as if we have vowed to be together, till death do us apart. Music. My Companion. My Shoulder.