Category: Personal Essays
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Lemon Rinds
The opening line for yesterday’s unwritten, unpublished blog post was – “I have just had Butter Chicken; the light in my room is a warm yellow; life feels good.” But I could not get myself to writing it. I did write an equally lengthy mail/report to @Saurabh though. To which he (basically) said: If you can write…
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Stakeholder Report: May + Jun 2024
At the end of each month, I write a Stakeholder Report. The idea is to zoom out, ponder over life and ask myself deeper (and, often difficult) questions. The last report is here. I missed out on May Report. I took a tiny break from work in Gorakhpur. And when I came back, I spent more…
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New home, birthday and routines
I have exactly 20 minutes to write before the calendar clocks in. I’d spend till 2:30 last night figuring out Instagram’s reel editor, writing a couple of LinkedIn posts and setting up video-settings on my phone and laptop because I plan on recording a lot of podcasts and sit-down chatty videos this summer. Haha –…
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Mid-Week check-in.
Good morning, from a super tiny table that I am struggling to work out of in the Fun Republic Starbucks. Here’s a postcard: (Should I make this a thing? Post a picture of where I am writing every blog post?) So, what am I thinking today? One. A lot of people in the last few…
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Becoming That Bitch
Every single piece that I have started with a good evening has never gone out. But this evening is different. It had the prettiest, most magical skies. And I am determined. So, good evening! People actually read these blogs. Most of these are just my fuckery on the Internet. To please my whims and fancy.…
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On creating, fucking around and standards.
Ever since I have come back from Lonavala, I have defaulted to consumption rather than creation. I’ve read books and newsletters and reports. I have watched YouTube videos and documentaries and movies and music films. I have thought of making something – anything – but I keep crawling into the safe, delusional world of consuming.…
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Finding love in 2024
Written on Jan 11. Posted on Jan 27. Edited thrice in between. Lunch break just ended and I have my earphones blasting Mika’s Mast Kalander. Kids are flooding in with tiny snacks and big coffees. I can’t hear them talk – it’s like an Instagram story with some super-thought-out, vibey music. And it is nothing…
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Potential ka achaar
If three people gossip at my funeral, I do not want them to say – Alas, she had so much potential. It would kill me. Maybe that’s the reason I died. Assume non-linear timelines. I’ve always hated the idea of it. It’s my greatest fear. Basking in the glory of all my potential. And never…