• Travel

    Sweet Autumnal November, I Was Waiting For You.

    I have a natural affinity for November. I was born on the 9th day of the month. With the passing of this day every year, I spot tangible changes in myself. Physically and mentally. It is a bouquet of mixed emotions. Wisps of grey hair, fine lines upon the forehead, a wistfulness that the years are going by in a jiffy, the recognition that I am changing as a person too. Subtle changes. Like how I used to love being social. Now I am content in the company of my husband, the geese and the squirrels (they who have taken the place of the English sheep and horses). The gulls…

  • North America

    This Spring of Contrasts

    I had my first sighting of the leaves. Tiny green leaves are sprouting on the smaller plants in fits and starts all over the park. But the older trees, they are stubborn. They are holding onto status quo. This is a spring when we have had snatches of days that could not have been more at odds with each other. If there have been days of liquid sunshine with skies to match, snow has coated the boughs on days, and then there was that day when the fog was thick and heavy, it sat upon my eyelashes as I went out for a run. And the sunsets, let me not…

  • North America

    First Snow of the Season

    I am smitten by snow. There is no earthly reason why I should not. I do not care about the slushy aftermath of it, really, I do not give two hoots. Because right now it is glorious. I am wrapped up in my fur throw watching it snow prettily, a few extremely buttery garlic knots and pizza slices in my stomach. It has been snowing since morning and my world is quite so white and wonderful. Earlier on, I put on my boots and warm jacket and rushed out to the waterfront. The park had turned pristine white, only footprints showing through the snow (someone was out running too), brown…

  • North America

    Twilight

    The sunset’s fiery kiss to the Hudson today on the second day of December stopped me short in my tracks. These spectacularly beautiful days are altogether unmissable. I want to trap them in my fists, shut ’em tight and hold time in my hands. How does one let go of these evenings of flaming oranges and lavenders, rose gold and smoky blues? The Christmas lights are up. It seems that Bayonne with its worn-out air can also go ballistic with decorations. Less is clearly not more here.    

  • North America

    Les Feuilles Mortes

    The Dead Leaves, says the title. Pourquoi? Well they are just out there and how does one just turn her eyes away from the golden, rustling beauty of them… How fast the days fly by as I sit at the desk with my thoughts, trying to put them down into a project which seems to be taking forever, devouring the Outlander books, baking once in a while. Smidgens of self-doubt have been bogging me down. The problem with smidgen is that it tends to balloon into mammoth proportions and then you are caught right under the heaviness of it, the self-doubt that is, and you feel nothing less flat than…

  • North America

    I Have Seen Eternity in an Hour Too, Dear Blake

    When I head out on a run every evening, I admire the late autumnal bounty we have had here. The leaves are shedding in drifts of gold and burnt red and it is a most poetic thing when they waft around your person. The park is a massive bed of dried leaves gathering in clumps because the cleaning authorities want to keep it clean, but dammit, the trees will have their way just the way I shed hair. The sunsets are golden, pure liquid amber, and everything is glorious or it looks glorious at any rate. The air is razor-edged as the sharpest sabre must be. Yesterday I felt the…

  • North America

    Notes from a Crisp & Cold Saturday

    Last year we were standing under the star-ridden skies in Northampton. My in-laws were visiting and we had concluded a day in Blenheim by trundling to the Racecourse on a crisp and clear but chilly night. It was July 4. Guy Fawkes Day. Guy Fawkes. Guido Fawkes, the prop-up man who had failed to blow up the British Parliament on Nov 5th in the year 1605. The failure of that plot meant that the country celebrates it – the Gunpowder Plot – annually with bonfire and fireworks, mulled wine and hot chocolate, under starry skies. The passage of time. Today we are sitting and watching Stranger Things, an American sci-fi show in…

  • North America

    It Was One of Those Days

    It really was. The kinds you hold to the bosom and say, ‘Oh please do stay, for another day.’ I was indulging in a spot of self-pity which has the tendency to spread itself out like a dab of ink on blotting paper, you know, so I decided to kick it and head out for a run. The legs were a bit wobbly — was it the DayQuil I wondered. It is this medicine that is less potent than its night version, NyQuil, which knocks you out within one hour of popping it in. I trudged even on plain ground and when I ran up and down the gentle slopes…

  • North America

    Good Morning World

    It is 4 in the morning and I am wide awake. Exams, nope. Work, nope. Stress of any darned sort, nope. If I string together any more ‘nopes’, you shall bop me, I get it. Plus I should not be blathering at 4 bloody o’ clock. It is plain unhealthy. We went to bed with the music of a duo of Croatian cellists in our ears, rather late. Just about three hours ago. So when the fire alarm went off in the apartment, we leapt up bewildered. I managed to slip on my glasses sleepily and stumbled out of the bedroom only to catch my husband fanning the fire alarm…

  • North America

    Finding Home: Because It isn't a Place, It's a Feeling

    When I was younger, I would not have dreamt that I would get to live in different continents. Life is an extraordinary adventure if you come to think of it. Did you ever imagine that you would live the life you are living right now? If it has come through for you, just as you conceived it to be, then you have clearly thought it through and life is falling in line with your vision of it. For some like me, it is about change. When I moved from India to the Blighty, the transition was seamless. I experienced zilch homesickness. I bounce back quickly, you see, from most situations…