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Leela

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From my childhood, I used to hear a lot of stories from my grandmother. The stories were of her childhood days, set in the rural village where she lived. Sometimes these stories felt as if she lived in a fantasy world. My favorite incident rewinds to her old days when she ran towards an angry cow that was about to attack the small kids playing around the paddy field. What would you say, then, to a woman who stood right in front of one in a mad state — and held her nerve — for half hour? My grandmother did not move and then caught the horn, and with all her strength, she pushed the cow backwards, and it ran away. Though nothing dramatic happened in the story, it happened inside of me. Would I have done the same if I were in her place? She was a voracious storyteller, the kind that made stories come alive like movies, and I became completely enraptured from a young age. On her lap, she would tell me to enjoy life, fall in love, read, and that it’s okay to have a fantasy world, and I real
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The Last Glimpse

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It was a sunny Sunday morning when the news knocked on our door. The day when I was going to see my uncle for the last time. I could barely manage to confront the fact that it was my last glimpse of him. My grief did not allow me to react at that very moment, and I was numb, beyond words. It broke my heart into pieces to imagine a day without his love, as my uncle was a very special person. I belong to a very reserved Brahmin family, where unfortunately performing rights and duties were considered superior to love and emotions. And to match the requirement, my uncle somehow strived to function better and be happier among the individuals of the family, though I could see the pain he had to go through in the family. I used to look at him always, and whenever I felt that he was low, I would take his hand in my hand and would ask, “Are you happy?” in sign language. He used to get tickled and would really laugh out, and in sign language, he would make me understand that he is really happy.
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Finding Me

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Nothing can be worse than being in the oddest place with uncomfortable silence suspended around. I am sitting straight on the peculiarly comfortable couch with my hands firmly crossed on my laptop, typing this piece of emotion that I am feeling right now. Involuntarily, I am also removing a stubborn strand of hair from my face and enjoying the fascinating thing, the carpet under my feet. Ohh!! feels like velvet caressing my feet. It is my performance review, and my gaze goes back again and again to the carpet when I realize that I had been dumbly staring at the projector and screen. Amid the excel sheet, I chase rainbows and stars. "Please, take the tea," I took the teacup and sipped it, repulsed from inside. Who makes that awful tea? Everybody seemed to be in their own world, mostly fiddling with their phones or chatting animatedly in groups. Am I thinking about my performance review? No, I am thinking about my silly dreams. I have always placed my dreams high upon a shelf,
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B-O-O-K

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The stories on each page have always transported me from the world I am in to the world within the pages of each book. I have always had an emotional response to all the books I have read so far. Each page has made me lose awareness of my existing surroundings, drowning me more and more into it, till I realize that it is a bleak morning and the pale yellow sun is melting into a silver sky slowly. Mary Balogh describes it perfectly: “Have you ever wanted to travel back in time? I know I have. And I think that’s why historical romance is so appealing. That experience of being so immersed in the story that it feels like you’re there: strolling along in a moonlit rose garden with a duke, or taking tea in a lady’s finely appointed drawing-room. And if you’re the adventurous type, perhaps you find yourself riding on a cable car in San Francisco, or exploring the canals of Venice in a gondola. Whatever the tale, these new experiences are just waiting to be discovered; beckoning you, enticing
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Curious One

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After moving out of my parents’ house, I had been living in Cochin for almost 3 years. But if you were to ask me for the names of all the families next door, I couldn’t tell you. Turns out that I’m not alone; no one interacted with each other. In Mumbai at least, there used to be this necessity to reach out and build bonds with people who lived nearby, but here in Cochin, life was as blank as a straight line. One day, I was the only one in my house, busy watching the idiot box, when I saw him running on the balcony, with a single LED light bulb smaller than one centimeter; the running entity could not be seen. I turned everything off, frantically shivering from fear but at the same time, I laughed for some odd reason, as life was too monotonous for me. I looked in front of me into the dark depths of the space I was in and saw two eyes looking at me. And we both looked at each other, and he smiled. The vision dissipated as the figure ran out of the house immediately. I could hear scream
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Ivanka

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They met at the age of barely three years old, during preschool. Agnee and Ivanka forged an extraordinary bond and became inseparable. These two immediately became best friends. After noticing Ivanka during the lunch break, Agnee, who was barely three years old, realized he wanted to be friends with her because she got the best ladoo for lunch. Agnee used to tell me and everyone about Ivanka, "she shares only a small piece of ladoo with me, but if she gets Papaya, the entire lunch box is given to me." He puked the entire fruit, unaware of its taste, and not even in his dreams would he ever want to taste it again. From breaking crayons to sipping juice boxes, there were many stories that Agnee would share, so cute that our entire family fell in love with Ivanka. One day, I decided to visit the school along with Agnee. The teacher was so fond of Agnee that it made me proud. Before I was about to leave, I took a quick turn and asked the teacher, “I would like to meet Ivanka, Agn
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My Fan Moment

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I was 15-years-old – and got the biggest movie star crush of my life. As never before; never to be followed. The thing is, when I fall, I fall HARD. And I rarely fall. It's Mohanlal that I can’t get out of my mind. I wrote him fan letters. I thought they were deep. They probably were . Don’t know where it went, will never know the truth, but I’ve always half-believed the story that it might have reached where it was meant to be. I wished on every birthday candle and every shooting star for YEARS that I would meet him. That wish never died. Akshay took me to see Mohanlal and that was a surprise. I kept my voice normal and said, “He’s. right there.” I had seen him in so many movies and for ages, I have seen him in that little black box in my one BHK room. This was “RIGHT THERE”.   My 15-year-old self came marching up from the past to pinch me right then and there. All of my nerves went away when I got an opportunity to go near him. I mean it – I felt nothing but ambition/determinatio
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