I am the one who doesn’t believe in having a New Year resolution as for me improving ourselves is a lifelong process. Last year was a complete roller coaster for me be it my profession, passion and personal life. A lot of ups and downs were there and it all ended well towards the end, but with a catch. The catch was to accept the criticism that came in my way. Hence, 2019 became very special for me as it

For this week, I had something else on my mind but then Lohri/ Sankrant came in and my WhatsApp was filled with hundreds of megabytes of til gur, pithes, pati-shaptas, bhogi chi bhaaji and huge thaals full of the popcorn-peanuts-rewri mixture. Then someone shared a map of India depicting the harvest festival, being celebrated across the country, just with different names. That got me ruminating. I have always wondered (quite often aloud) and eventually arrived at the same conclusion- as

There is much pride in what I do. I believe in respect and self worth, Much like most would do. Sometimes I’m grateful, And sometimes not so much. But in my routine of living There is no time, to think or stop. The world I live in, has security. Secure? How? We all have the answer… Friends, job and family. I earn a living and come back home To eat, love, pray, And maybe spend time alone. People I meet,

Hi I am Aadvik Beri and I am 10 years old Like everybody else. I also love my family a lot. I would like to appreciate my father as a playmate and as my best friend. We play a lot of games together and I really enjoy playing with him. On weekends, he spends the whole morning playing with me. But this year in July/ Aug, due to constant rains in Hyderabad I could not play. The rains in Hyderabad

As we entered 2020, I wondered what my first post in the new decade would be about. As people took stock of the year that had gone by, their Facebook walls began reflecting their accomplishments and of course the mandatory resolutions. Somehow, I’ve stopped making resolutions since the past two years and I find it liberating. Not that there was a sword on my head but years of convent education and moral science classes have made my conscience extremely vocal.

When was the last time you laughed out loud instead of texting LOL? How about the last time you felt real joy instead of texting a happy face? Can you remember having a heartfelt moment and looking into the eyes of someone you love? Everywhere you turn, people are connected to mobiles, tablets and other technology.  They rarely look up even to cross the street. Family time is often spent texting, checking social media and answering emails. Even at a

Each one of us have a thing or two in our mind for which we are ready to do anything and will not budge even if we have to go beyond rules and regulations. Art in all its forms is one such thing to me with writing, singing, dancing, drawing and cooking as few of my favorites. Since I am from the science background most of my acquaintances get confused between my passion and profession as per them art is

I forget… To sing along with my favourite songs as they play in the background To capture the sunsets in my camera To write religiously every day To take my multi-vitamins And oh! I often forget… What I had yesterday for lunch To call my mom To wear my favourite perfume as I step out To ask for my birthday gift To apply my expensive anti-ageing cream Yes, I forget… To remember my newly updated password To pick up my

I just realised that this is the last Saturday of the year and here I am, writing this, on Christmas night trying to feel all cosy and Christmassy. It ain’t easy with what’s going on around me. The country I was born in and the one I live in; both are caught in the midst of violent turmoil. When I started writing, I wasn’t sure what I would write on, but I was pretty clear what I wouldn’t write on.

#Microtale  By Nandita De nee Chatterjee The city shimmered and shone in the darkness. The air itself seemed holy. For a month now the anticipation had been growing.  A man of non-descript appearance stepped out in the cold. Trudging away from the glittering lanes he walked down dreary, dark roads and cold backways. He knew his path. Stopping now and then, he stooped and rummaged.  Tirelessly the frail man went about his way. Huddled in an oversized brown coat, an old