Something inherited I will not pass on . . .
This love of clothes, it’s a cursed thing. Everywhere I look there are cabinet drawers, boxes, plastic bags, canvas sacks, more cardboard boxes, and sundry junk drawers overflowing with outfits for every season and every reason—pastels, brights, neutrals, whites, blacks, reds, and every color in between.
Take, for example, my decades-long obsession with animal print. I have animal print in every style—in a flowy maxi dress, a knee-length dress, a jumpsuit, a romper, a Manish Malhotra gown; even a bikini or two in ubiquitous animal print.
Visiting Vietnam: 10 Reasons Why?
Why Vietnam? Hanoi’s bustling old quarter; historically rich Hoi An’s lantern ceremony and the dramatic scenery of Ha Long Bay: it is small wonder that Vietnam was named the World’s Leading Heritage Destination in 2019. Vietnam’s growing popularity as a travel destination has been confirmed by Trip Advisor’s ranking of it as one of the 10 best places to visit in the world. If you need persuading, here are 10 reasons to fall head over heels in love with Vietnam:
Motorbike Capital of the World:
A young woman on a motorbike brakes sharply to avoid a collision and her conical leaf hat flies off her head and lands on the sidewalk. That’s Vietnam for you.
Cheers to 2020 and another chance for us to get it right!
”For last year’s words belong to last year’s language and next year’s words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.” – T.S. Eliot
A New Year brings infinite new possibilities. A clean slate. A reason to erase past mistakes and start afresh. We all know that resolutions don\’t always stick. But for a shot at real happiness, try penning a set of personal commandments (an idea borrowed from best-selling author Gretchen Rubin.)
I would suggest writing them down and keeping them handy. This may make you laugh, but I have mine scribbled on a post-it note stuck to a long-expired Bed & Bath coupon. Anytime I\’m stuck in traffic, listening to Zayn’s \’Trampoline’ repeat itself for the fourth time in a sixty-minute window, I find myself pulling out my handy-dandy list and ruminating on what\’s important.
Here\’s my list . . . to help you get started on your own:
If I could I would . . .
She squeezes her eyes tightly shut not to let the tears fall. “That day, that moment, if I could have that time back.”
The morning of September 22 had started out innocuously enough. Yes, Javed was crying at the top of his newborn lungs, wanting his early feeding. But that was normal for a two-month baby. She’d fed him, then walked him up and down the tiny apartment, rubbing his back so he’d burp, all the while practicing aloud the words of the scene for the movie she was auditioning for later in the day. She’d been so excited when her agent had called with the opportunity—so few and far between these days ever since she’d had baby Javed. Ninety seconds was all it took to make him, and it was going to take a lifetime to raise him.
Now Nominated for The Pushcart Prize . . .
I don’t know whether to cry or sing for joy!!
The following short story excerpted from the novel I have been working on for the past three years and, recently published in the annual 2019 issue of Green Hills Literary Lantern, has now been nominated for the Pushcart Prize.
When the lights went out . . .
“Let’s play Dark Room, “ the cousin I’ve never met until today suggests with a wink. He’s fifteen, going on fifty—his greasy hair falling in untidy spirals over his glistening forehead, the sweat stains under his armpits visible under his cream polyester shirt, his fingernails colored yellow from the chicken curry he consumed at lunch.
I shudder delicately, turning away so that no one notices how I clench my palms together. How long are these relatives from Kanpur going to stay?
Nostalgia about a power cut . . .
I’m from a place in India where power outages were frequent and familiar. The lights would go off just as we were about to sit down for a meal of chicken curry, spiced okra, and hot rotis with a side of homemade yogurt. Someone would whoop on the road outside, and the power cut would fall like a blanket of silence. There would be a mad scramble for candles with my mom yelling to the maid-servant in the kitchen, “Meena, where did we keep the candles I bought from Modern Bazaar last week?”
There would be a minute or two of deepening silence, finally broken by our landlord Dr. Gupta\’s reedy voice floating up from the ground floor level.
My Adventures at Amangiri . .
What is Amangiri? A wellness spa? A billionaire’s retreat? (Kim Kardashian famously celebrated her 37th birthday here and Miley Cyrus left a day before yours truly descended on the resort.) Is it 600 acres of the Colorado plateau that wraps around the Four Corners, the high point where Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico meet? Or, is it a land of striking eroded rock formations showcasing the 160 million-year-old geology of the Grand Staircase-Escalante?
It is all that, and more.
It was something so small no one had even noticed it . . .
Gingerly she runs her tongue over her lower lip, tasting the buttery Lakme Fuschia Fury lipstick Mummy had generously slathered on her thirty minutes ago. Now she can hear her brother’s raspy voice calling her from their drawing-room. The bride viewing party must have arrived.
It was her cue to go into the kitchen and pick up the plastic tray sitting on the Formica counter with its prepared pot of tea, and four Wedgewood China teacups.
Opening the locked door . . .
It is raining. My black Mary Jane shoes—part of my uniform at Mater Dei School—are squelchy and wet from the puddles I found on the street. I ran blindly as thunder clapped and lightning rent the air, fleeing from monsters who lurk in hidden alleys —men of unsound mind who flash their private parts at innocent school girls. This is what Mamma cautions me about every night as she tucks me in, and I snuggle into the comfort of her smell—a mix of Himalayan sandalwood talc and sulphuric acid.