Remember yourself as the
little girl who watered the
pots so much, that the
roots loosened, for you
never knew when to stop
giving if you had a way to.

Remember yourself as the
woman who loved so much
that she loved through, and
after, every heartbreak that
tore through her being like
an apocalypse at a time.

Remember yourself as the
force of nature whose eyes,
they shone, as she demanded
justice for those she never knew
but empathized with, woman
to woman, soul to soul.

Remember yourself as the
patchwork of memories,
made of kindness, and love,
and constant compassion,
because staying soft in a hard
world, is the hardest of all.

Big Fat Cookies For Grumpy Days!

I’m a grumpy person. That’s common knowledge. I’m mean, get annoyed easily, and my patience levels are amazingly low. In order to combat this rather problematic issue, I try my hand at creating things. I write, cook, demand love from people. Try to, in general, erase negativity by replacing it with happiness and fattening treats.

One of my favourite recipes is this one.

They’re named Big Fat Cookies For Grumpy Days because these cookies are created for the sole purpose of making grumpy days slightly better. Making these is easy, eating them is even easier, and the sugar rush will make the world seem like a friendlier place.

The fact that they taste like approximately what hugs feel like helps.

Okay so.

Prep time:

Gathering your stuff: 15 minutes (if you’re clueless about your kitchen.)
Mixing and prep: 10 minutes. At max.
Baking time: 10-15 minutes.
Put your oven on preheat right at the start, yes?

Ingredients you need:

120gm unsalted butter (room temperature)
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup Demerara sugar
1 Egg+1 yolk (the yolk is dispensable, but it’ll make your cookies REALLY luscious.)
2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract (if you want to go whacky, try orange blossom. Cut with a splash of rum!)
1 1/2 cup maida (I suggest NOT sifting through a sieve. Gives your dough some body.)
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder (I love Cadbury’s, but Hershey’s is lovely too.)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder (LEVEL OFF YOUR MEASURING SPOONS, KIDS.)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt (Don’t skip this. Please.)
1 cup Dark Chocolate Chips (I may have put 1.5. Shh.)
1/2 cup dried cranberries/almonds/ANY filler you feel like. (Chop them roughly, and make sure no stems remain.) 2 tablespoons flaked sea salt (Optional. But these cookies don’t have the same panache without it.)

Let’s get down to business:

1) Preheat oven to 195C degrees. 375F, approximately.

2) Line baking sheet with parchment. OR, if you don’t have any, oil it with vegetable oil. Both work, honestly.

3) In a bowl, gently whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Do this GENTLY, not like you’re beating up the person who annoyed you last night. If you’re harsh with it, the dough with come out very tough.

4) In another bowl, whisk together butter, sugar and demerara sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the egg and vanilla extract until incorporated. If you want a caramelly undertone to your cookies, take one tablespoon of the butter, and add the demerara to it, and cook over a low flame till the sugar’s melted into the butter, and it has browned just a tiny bit. THEN whisk the rest together. (This also makes your house smell like a bakery, and that’s ALWAYS a good thing.)

5) Gradually add the flour mixture into the butter mixture. One tablespoon at a time. Again, make sure not to over mix or cookies will be tough.

6) When you reach approximately the last 3 tablespoons, add the chocolate chips and fillers, and fold to incorporate.

7) Put dough on sheets as you wish. I made gigantic cookies. About 2 tablespoons of dough to a cookie. Ideally, you should have 1.5 teaspoons to a serving. Also, shape them into a ball with your hands. Rub some vegetable oil onto your palms, and get in there. Make sure they’re nice and round, and of even thickness so that they bake throughout.

8) Sprinkle a generous pinch of sea salt flakes onto each cookie, if you plan to.

9) Bake for 10-12 minutes or until the center of the cookies are just set. Another indicator would be the edges. If they’re golden-brown and crispy, you’re good to go. I do 13 minutes for that almost chewyness. You CAN do 15 minutes if you like a cakey cookie.

10300708_10152844311131858_882036598265624487_n10) Let cool slightly on sheet pan itself, and then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely. Give it AT LEAST 3 hours.

Or don’t.

Just gobble them up and feel better about the world. That’s what I did, really!

Five Ways To Compliment Your Woman

Someone sent me an article
On Facebook once, and it was
One of those vapid listicles
That confuse me with their
Lack of journalistic integrity
But this one caught my eye
Because it was titled ‘Five Ways
To Compliment You Woman’
And the tagline said ‘Does your
Man say these to you everyday?’

Intrigued, I opened it, and read
Through the points, and each
Left me more indignant than
The first because really, if someone
Bothered saying those hollow
Words would annoy me, and
Would leave me doubting all that
I’ve created, and made of
Myself through years of creation
And destruction, and repair.

The first point read ‘Tell her that
Her lipstick looks good before
You kiss it off her.’ No, I’d rather
You tell me how the words my
Lips enunciate make you want to
Know more, and to hear more, and
That you’d not want to kiss me
In forms of aggression, but of
Respect, because you want to
Trace the shadows of what I said.

The second point asked if you
Complimented me on ‘how her
Dress looks good on her.’ No, I’m
Not my appearance, I’m a sum of
Everything that constitutes of
My presence, I’d rather have you
Tell me that you’d know when I
Enter a room because you felt the
Power I exude, and would, irrespective
Of what cloth I adorn myself with.

The third claimed that every woman
Wants to be told how she’s ‘Not
Like every other woman you’ve
Been with’, and this angered me,
Because the women before me,
And those after, are all women in
Their own rights, and to demarcate
Me from my own would be a
Disservice to me, and every single
Woman who made me who I am.

The fourth questioned if I had been
Told how ‘She makes you feel like
You’re the strongest man on earth’
By letting you do little things that
I could, but would rather have you
Do, and this scared me because
My weakness is not your strength,
And my inability is not space for
You to take over my very being, no
Your power does not stem from
The lack of mine, but through it.

The final point preached how all
I want to be told is that ‘She is the
Prettiest woman you know’, because
Apparently all my worth is tied to
How you perceive my hair, and
My body, and my face, no, I’d rather
Be told how I’m the woman you
Respect and adore enough to
Want to stay with her because she
Intrigues you, and makes you
Question all that you held in faith.

A letter to everyone i love!

I want you to take me for granted.

I want you to be able to pick up your phone and call me whenever you please, even if it ends at me telling you I can’t talk. I want you to be comfortable with texting me at any hour of the day, and be comfortable in the knowledge that I’ll reply, as soon as I can. I want you to send me music you think is good (and I probably hate) and have faith that I’ll listen to it irrespective of my complete dislike for your taste. I want you to know that I’ll put on a brave smile and take another bite of what you order when we go out, just because you like it. I want you to know that I’d drink vodka for you, even though I’m a whiskey and rum girl, just because you want to do shots and get sloshed (something I’m inherently against). I want to be your first preference. The first person you think of when you have news, good or bad, to share. The first person you text on a late, sleepless night. The last person you say goodnight to. Hell, I don’t want our conversations to have an end. I don’t want something as mundane as conditioning to force us to use bland platitudes like ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ when we could just have a long, never ending conversation.

I want you to know that you can be utterly selfish around me. You can rant on and on about your problems, and I’ll be there to nod sympathetically and call your boss/colleague/boyfriend/girlfriend the choicest swears even though in reality, I’m disinterested. You should be able to be talk endlessly about what fascinates you, even if it doesn’t engross me. Whatever it is, and however embarrassed you are of it. I want to know. I want to know all of you. Your quirks, your sadnesses, your triggers, your subway sandwich order. I want to know of how wonderfully awkward your first kiss was, and of how you didn’t know how to react when a guy hit on you. I demand all of you. I don’t necessarily need any of what you are. But I want it because I want to invest in the person you are, and make you my person.

In return, all I want from you is to want all that from me. We should be able to consider each other as existing blessings which don’t waver. Of course, that doesn’t mean our bond won’t require nurturing. It will, maybe more than other bonds that we’ve created. But it shouldn’t be a chore. It shouldn’t be a ‘work’. Every day should be another success. Fights, doubts, anger. They’ll exist. But so should, and hopefully will, unwavering faith in the mutual understanding of the fact that the other person won’t leave. At least not now.

I know it’s a lot to ask for. And that it’s going to be a lot to give. But that’s what the point is. I’ve had too many one side relationships and I’ve seen too many of my investments fail to give any returns. It’s selfish. But I want to have some security with you. I want to take you for granted. And I want you to do that too.

Recollections- An Exercise

People sent in words to me, and I tried elaborating on the first memory that word brought forth.

An exercise in reconciliations.


My first exposure to the kind of love I wanted was Dilwaale Dulhaniya Le Jaayenge.
See why I don’t do well in relationships?


I have crippling self-esteem issues coupled with an inordinately large ego.
Mostly, I’m shit.
Sometimes, I’m the shit.


I always wished for magical powers, so that I could make myself disappear and hear what people said of me.
Then I took the wish back.
I was so afraid of no one ever mentioning me.


The first poem by Emily Dickinson I read was Hope Is a Thing with Feathers.


There’s a picture of Madhubala I put up on my wall quite some time ago.
It was a still from Mughal-e-Azam, with the lines “Jab pyaar kiya toh darna kya?” written under her picture.
My mother stared at the wall.
“Did you know your father had that exact poster on his wall when we got married? You’ve never seen it.”


Like every other Indian kid, tea was the first thing I could make on a gas.
But the thing I was taught right after was coffee. The way dad likes it.
Even now, when I go home, the first thing my dad says it “Make me a cup of coffee. Only you know how to make it.”



Sometimes, I know when someone is lying.
I know extremely well.
It takes a liar to know one.


When you’re always told you’re not beautiful, it gets hard to believe someone actually wants to look at you.
That’s all I’ll say.


Ganpati visarjan is the biggest day in Pune.
It’s crazy, and truly, truly awe-inspiring. My favourite memory of one involves the Deccan bridge. We sat up there and saw the sea of humanity swarm by, with unnaturally large idols seemingly gliding through the crowd. Cries of “ganpati bappa morya, pudcha varshi laukar ya!” piercing through the loud Nashik dhols. The sights, the sounds, the smell of camphor in the air.
We sat up there and had the freshest vada paav I had ever tasted.
It was beautiful, that day.


I wept to my father once.
“I can’t read anymore, papa. The words don’t make pictures in my head.”
He said something I wish I could go back to.
“Maybe you don’t need fiction to save you anymore.”


I call things ‘mine’.
People, objects, memories.
Because I’m afraid I’ll lose them if I don’t lay claim.
I said ‘mine.’ to a boy once.
He replied, ‘Yours.’


Everyone called crows ugly.
But there was certain elegance to them that my 12 year old self saw. The feathers angled so sleekly. The beak gleamed. The crow was beautiful, despite everything people said.
‘Sometimes people find beauty in the most uninspiring things’, I thought to myself, as I stared into the mirror. ‘I know I did.’


‘Black is slimming! Wear that! Dark colours, ma’am!’
I heard this every time I went out shopping.
My mother smiled, encouragingly. But didn’t say a word.
Shopping for an ugly daughter can be difficult, you see. No other way around.
I agreed. For a large chunk of my life, my wardrobe had only black, dark blue, and brown.
Then, I got angry. I got tired. Went out, and bought a kurta in neon pink, despite everyone telling me it was a waste.
I never wore it. But at least I had something I liked.


I stole a book from my school library once.
(Well, I stole many. But this one is special.)
It was an anthology of stories based on dance.
Ballet. Tap dancing. Street dance. Birds dancing. The princesses who stole off at night to dance.
I was in 4th, maybe.
And that’s when I realised that romance isn’t only about love. It’s about so much more.


“You’re like family to me.”
I’ve always believed in the concept of La Familia.
Blood family exists. But so does the family you choose. The family you’re not obligated to protect, but you will, simply because.
The first person I said this to is now someone who can waltz into my house and make a cup of coffee in the kitchen with my mom asking her to make one more.
Yes, you can choose family. J


One thing that defined my childhood was coming to Delhi one summer.
One thing that stuck with me, and still impacts me, is how India Gate looks at night.
Lit up. Majestic. The Amar Jawan Jyoti flickering in the foreground. The hawkers. The ice cream wallahs. The golas. The peanuts. The kadak chai.
Sitting on the grass and staring out at Lutyens.
Marvelling at what power wroughts, and coming back to earth as we giggled over the stains dew left on our bottoms.


My father always has answers.
Even now, if I ask him something, he’ll Google and read up extensively before giving me an answer about something.
I asked him if God exists.
He looked at me, and hesitated.
“I’d say he’s unfathomable.”
That’s when I knew, for sure, that he didn’t. Dad didn’t have an answer.


I gifted my mother a poem I wrote for her, on her 46th birthday.
She sent in critique, and admonishment for being up at 3am.
Ah, mom.


Funnily, my upbringing has always been about this word.
“Tere se nai ho payega beta, chodd de.”
“Child, you’re incapable of this. Leave it.”
The funniest memory I have is of making tea.
I’m not a dexterous person. There’s no delicacy to how I physically handle things. So when I picked up a vessel to make tea and fumbled, my father looked at me and laughed.
“Tere se nai ho payega beta, chodd de.”
It became a cause. I don’t know why, but I necessarily had to prove him wrong.
So I practiced. I made tea 5 times a day.

We were all at home that day. I picked up the vessel and served my dad the most awesome tea.

“Ho gaya, Papa.”

The Labyrinth called Adulthood!

I am amazed at how much the human mind is capable to stretch its confines and truly we ourselves are our own source of peace and dissonance. On an another related note, I have also observed how some of us are able to sort out glaring issues for friends, well-wishers and the like easily and well very practically. What baffles me is when as individuals we get stuck in between our very own choices and emotions become the ruling factor. It also makes these issues uncomfortably indispensable when we find ourselves addressing these very choices as being ‘Grown Ups’ or how our society expects us to handle things. Hey I am sure we all got a one shot at this growing up phase! So how come some got it right while the rest went into deep introspection and then BOOM a reality check made its way though the other relatively crazy lot. Shockers anyone? Spoiler alert: Welcome to Life.
Also while we are in this stretch of adulthood, it magically happens that we reach this whole new ‘Marriageable Age’ phase. Trust me you are possibly in the craziest lap of your lives by this time, you have a career to look at, socialize with the right people and then hold your horses whacko, get married..(will you just get a match already!) and thus starts the vicious cycle of never ending decisions and dilemmas. Like someone, get them to meet the family, not sure what your match is, bat an eyelid and the count of matrimonial sites on the cloud is more than the grey hair strands you are probably beginning to get by now.
I have come to terms that running away from decisions is just a procrastination phase bound to go wrong. It’s actually helpful to have a plan in place, know what you want and set a timeline for yourself and not because you were pushed to do so. Cool and clueless do not go hand in glove, neither does cooking and fast food.
2015 is almost down by two months and I am taking this moment to recall what all I have been looking ahead for during the year. I have always believed that the Creator has been very kind to me and has been watchful of my doings. Through Him I can always count on my instincts to guide me during the testing times and while I am pretty sure this year would be nothing less of a roller coaster ride I will be saving my decisions for the better, for when the time comes of taking one of the many grown-up decisions, I hope to take them and lead a meaningful life.
Having said all this in a parallel world I also believe that if your definition of a meaningful life relies on being successful in your career or being the activist of your society who got unwillingly pulled into settling for the monotonous crap of the earth, please do me a favour and say the F word aloud. Yes, you suck just like all the Bigg Boss episodes and I sincerely hope the aliens up there are having a good laugh at you.

You- The Cure and The Cause!

The yellow sun of a lazy winter afternoon,
A hushed laughter,
The aroma of a freshly baked apple pie,
A slowly read prayer,
A half drunk glass of wine,
A childhood memory,
Rain washed green leaves,
An Oasis track on repeat,
An incomplete handwritten letter.

A cool summer breeze,
A thousand circles in a water puddle,
Moonbeams weaved of precious dreams,
The familiar and the mystery,
An unimaginable colour,
A treasure-trove of secrets,
The adrenaline to my rush,
The lullaby to my sleep,
A fairy-tale for now,

You, my muse for a lifetime…

Dear Me…Love, Me!!

The best thing that that I have liked about myself in this lifetime is to be able to see two sides of a situation perfectly well. Its like I can look at myself doing what I am and watch how my alter ego comes to my rescue. Its so cool when you can be your own guardian angel. I remember how in one of my posts I mentioned the importance of being with oneself at the right time and I am glad am able to execute this thought so well. 

I think we all need a ‘Soul Armour’ today, to say one’s trust has been broken and feel bad about it has become a thing of the stone-age era.  So am picking my own armour to safeguard me, for the times that I know I need to be that tad bit stronger. I hereby promise myself that I will be there for me, because at the end of the day its all about how you see yourself. 

I am a woman with a plan and have learnt that the most important things in life don’t just include being desired by people who make you happy but also include how you know to make yourself happy. So I’ve lived almost a quarter of my life and have been through the much acclaimed ‘Quarter Life Crisis’ through the trial and error method and I feel happy about the fact that I keep getting better at testing myself.

I guess its a Libra thing, or maybe just a me thing! I hope we all find our sole-soul armours and probably life would be a tad bit more cushiony! Cheers! 🙂

A mirror image?

I always say equations are fascinating and believe it or not at every phase in my life I rest my case- stronger each time. There HAVE already been many of them who have taught me different lessons in life, but this time, there were no lessons to be learnt! When we talk about twins, one aspect of the biological technicalities in a layman’s eye would be identical appearance! One correction I did learn a lesson, one doesn’t have to have a twin to be identical or look into the mirror to find their reflection! In life you sometimes come across certain individuals who amaze you with the innumerable similarities they have with you. Well I came across one such individual and boy was it a roller coaster ride when the two of us got to know that hell yeah we got a lot in common! and well I return to my theory as already established in my previous posts, that one needs to build on equations so unique that it becomes impossible to replace such people or remove them from any chapter in your life. There’s a magical world of realizations, ideologies, interests, music, in this case work ethics and each and every time am just fascinated by how much we can talk about! Nothing constructive half the time but the consolation is at the end of the day I made yet another good friend who can be dragged into my close circuit! And guess what that’s what happened when I met superman 🙂


That Soul, My Dream Catcher…

We all are imperfect so is he, a tribute to a heartless memory this post be…
Destiny and Karma go hand in hand, this time boy you goofed up bad…
Thy Love’s forbidden, thy love’s so true, it hurts now baby to be with you…

I can’t get enough of this trance…you’re a vivid reality I would never want to pass…
But you’re like a story read one chapter at a time, if I could go on I would write you, to never let you be the end of that book…
I live you in the state between my dreams and senses, this is how it actually looks…

Let my love unfurl as much…now that its a one sided story its pretty much cursed…
I’ve tasted your soul, you’ve tasted my blood, we lived together and shared so much…
Be my soul catcher will you now? Fade away in the eternal light with me?
Pray lets make a reality of the lost memory and guide me back to where I should be…

me n my thoughts