Mum and I are suffering through a major jewellery hangover 😉. As far has hangovers go, I think this might be the preferred way to go. 

Storm clouds are rolling in putting an end to sights of cloudless blue skies. But then there are the joys of an Indian monsoon to look forward to. Especially the food that gets churned out of mums kitchen 😉.

On an unrelated note, it is on days like today that I miss the J’ngr merry gang fiercely. I don’t think I’ve ever missed watching an India vs Pakistan match with a big noisy emotional and totally fired up mob. And at the cost of sounding partial, the J’ngr gang is my absolute favourite group to indulge my cricket madness with. The fun that was had during the 2011 World Cup season was epic!!!! Guess the others feel the same way, since that group chat has been hyper active today discussing India’s massive score of 319!!!! Wish the rain would stop and these stooopid commentators stop talking about the Duckworth-Lewis method.


And then as you are typing a long blogpost there are sudden cravings. Sigh.

Memories through mealtime 

Opened the cutlery cabinet to help set the table for lunch at my mum’s place and caught sight of something that I hadn’t laid eyes on in over 15 years – my mother’s wedding china. I’ve been staring with reverence at the scalloped edges, the gold trim and the painted roses bordering these 35 year old dinner plates that hold so much of my family’s memories.


With time newer, fancier, lighter and non traditional dinnerware have been adorning my parents dining table. But the one with the painted roses will always remain the perfect set to me.

Oh I’m definitely considering making 50 cups of chai with varying sugar levels, for 50 people in one go as a supreme accomplishment 😎.

There’s just something so charming about a church wedding

Lots&Zar make a such a beautiful couple and I’ve been drooling at all the DIY touches around the venue.


Roger&Jenny’s beach wedding in Goa almost feels like a such a faint memory now. Maybe it was the reunion with my college gang, maybe we were just young and giddy or maybe it was Goa; but that still remains one of the most fun weddings I’ve been a part of.
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In the meantime, I’m re-reading the Harry Potter series from the very beginning and my revisions have been thoroughly enjoyable and I feel constantly stumped at the degree of magical details carried in them. A fantastic passage from the first Harry Potter book:

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and Harry was sure the coats of armor could walk.

Hmph. When the chance to read one of these romantic novels makes itself available, I seem to gravitate towards books with the same elements like 

a brooding hero (a tall, hot, brooding hero with a strong chin and an angular jaw. Preferably one who is also rich like Cole Harrison, but Will Parker will do too). A bit insecure but a strong heroine (a b-e-a-u-tiful heroine with creamy skin and a thin waist), a crazy past that one of them is trying to hide, mixed emotions, blush inducing conversations (usually the rosy tinge adorns the heroines cheeks), intense happiness, sad reflections, a period of separation wherein the realisation of true feelings towards each other dawn, homecomings and the intense emotions of reconciliation.  

And usually a baby at the end. 

  

Kingdom of Dreams made for a wonderful re-read. Nav lent it to me during our 3rd semester in engineering college and I recall feeling so swept up in the story that I told my parents there was a test the next day and stayed up “studying” till 4 in the morning to finish this book. It’s safe to say I didn’t get much sleep after that on account of the big goofy grin adorning my face as I lay recollecting certain passages involving Royce Westmorland. Those teenage years were the absolute best at times. I don’t think I feel emotions with the same level of intensity as I did back in those years. 

Things I dont feel like doing today

  1. Moving.
  2. Leaving the comfort of my bed.
  3. Stop eating all the yummy food mum is doling out from the kitchen including 2 of my favorite curries using mangoes – slurrrrppppp!!
  4. Taking a shower (but mum is outright refusing to give me lunch if I don’t. :()
  5. Driving back to my apartment. 

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I’m remembering camping in Key West and waking up to the sight of the endless Atlantic Ocean. Almost feels like a memory from another lifetime. 

10 years

Aren’t we all just conditioned to remember dates? Birthdays-anniversaries-national holidays-insurance payments-deadlines-the first pay check-and in some women’s case, the day they biologically stepped into womanhood warrants committing to memory too. Dates we memorised in order to clear our history exams in school still loom in the corners of our mind long into adulthood, there’s no hope then in forgetting dates from our own life’s history as much one can hope and pray that a few events could be forgotten. A decade later there are days of complete clarity when I see my blessings in crystal clear light and then there are days when I’m left grappling trying to make sense of my marriage, subsequent divorce and all the sadness it brought in its wake. My life, my family, my very soul has been permanently altered by those 3 horrible years and I am very grateful that we atleast came out of all that mess with enough strength to re-build.

I’ve made peace with so much and have acknowledged that the past cannot be changed, have chosen to forgive people for things that should never have been, found within myself strength that I did not know existed and eventually one day found myself at peace. It’s like Beavs once wrote in a mail “My dear, you handled the worst part of it all alone and now you are already doing better. Give it some more time and I promise you will be perfect”.


A decade ago – the newly married girl travelling to the U.S had very few accomplishments to take pride in, I had a sense of self that was extremely unsure, there was so much certainty and stupidity when it came to emotions, I didn’t have a career nor money in the bank and just a year and a half later found myself at 24 years of age back at my parents home battling depression , looking at a future filled with a million what-will-I-do’s, hating the person who had brought me to such a reduced state, hating myself for being in such a reduced state and dealing with a huge pile of shattered dreams and unfulfilled wishes from a future that never came to pass in reality.

But after all this time has passed, I can say this for sure – my divorce has been the most crippling and the most liberating incident at the same time and if it wouldn’t have happened I would never have built the life that I so value today.

A couple of months ago, I was rudely brought face to face with the memory of life and events from my past which ended up in sending me into a complete downward spiral, that eventually I was left with no choice but to seek help in order to confront the past and accept it for what it is. That being said, I have moved forward, forged new and happy memories, discovered that friends who stand by you in pain are worth a million who just join you on a Friday night, learnt to love again, pieced some of those broken wishes back together and seen a lot of them come true, worn my scars with pride and as Ab once said – written one hellofa comeback story.

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But I am only human and I do miss that pretty house on the golf course sometimes 😦 and could definitely could use drink right now. Ufffff!!!!