Seasoning this mundane, humdrum existence with food, travel, and the written word.

When the husband & I first started dating, he accidentally let it slip that he wasn’t a big fan of biryani. I could hear my heart shattering into a million pieces. As overdramatic as that sounds; being a Hyderabadi girl at heart, my love of biryani ran deep. This couldn’t work, how could it? What were my parents thinking setting me up with this heretic? I wouldn’t be friends with anyone who didn’t like biryani, let alone marry them.  But alas, destiny had different plans and he won me over. And on that very day, I swore with every fiber of my being that I will convert him.😆I will make this marriage work, haha. Being raised in Chennai & then in NYC, his impression of Hyderabadi biryani was bland rice with bland pieces of meat. Sshh. Clearly, he hasn’t had delectable biryani in his lifetime. So, we’ll choose to forgive him for that, yes? His idea of a flavorful biryani is what we Hyderabadis recognize as Pulao. Tomatoes, in biryani?! Such blasphemy!  B ut o...

I don’t write because I want to share what I’m feeling, or want to say something. I write because I want to let people know they aren’t alone in their feelings. Literature breeds inclusivity, that we’re all more connected than we realize. Should we all confess our sins to one another, wouldn’t we all be guilty of the same thing? If we were to play connect the dots with the agonies of each other, wouldn’t we all drape the same gossamer muslin? No artist needs a degree, no art needs validation. The world is her/his own intrinsic validation, in it’s brooding tranquility. I write because these are the stories of our lives, but it’s you who holds the pen. Rewrite those previous scribbles until they start making sense, and fill those empty pages right. And once you’ve turned that last page, and the hardbound inherently collapses - I hope you’ve made the universe’s best discoveries of all, YOU. 

She was love caught on fire. She was a mermaid who wasn’t afraid of deep waters, only of shallow living. She was stardust wrapped in mundanity. She was fine art in a world full of imitations. She had her own gravity that pulled him in, he was bewitched. Life would never be the same, he knew. Unfortunately, reality had its own grand scheme. He realized she deserved more, he was never going to be enough. He felt ordinary. “…but I’ll always only want you,” she whispered. His silence was deafening. A single tear rolls down her cheeks as he walks away, she doesn’t even reach to stop it. He turns around for one last look, her gaze lowered.

              Anais painfully glanced down at her bleeding fingers, now forming a crimson pool on the ground below threatening to engulf her battered toes. She had held on far too long. Her reflection in the dancing ruby puddle ricocheted back mockingly, she had fooled herself yet again. He sold dreams for a living, and Anais was desperately looking for one. She bought it with her soul, made a deal with the darkness. The price she had to pay. These streets of forever, desires in the eyes s he sees; but not the desire she wishes from him, for her. She collapsed under the weight of the pictures she drew in her head, of him and her; he was only an imposter, a cheap knock-off. ‘…Anais,’ she heard her fairy godmother call, Anais huddled closer to her and muttered ‘…tell me sweet lies, hide the pain of real.’ Her fairy godmother straightened Anais’ crown, ‘..sing, little songbird, sing. Stand tall as lions. Constellations light up night after night...

Sometimes, don't you wish people would call you and tell you all the exact things you always wanted to hear? I grew up imagining that life would somehow always be a fairy tale, even if it's in a small way. Of Prince Charmings whisking you away on their noble steeds, of magical worlds where witches and evil queens met their doom, of cute woodland creatures with their perfectly almond-shaped eyes singing merrily, of gallant empresses slaying dragons on mountain tops. I, now, kn ow that our world can be painfully real. Nothing is permanent. Happily ever after is a devastating concept, because we take the very things we chased after for granted. Time is a funny, cruel prankster. Where it heals all wounds, it is also capable of blurring out the vitals. Maybe endings are elemental to us humans, it's a constant reminder of what's most important. Right here, right now. Maybe there's such a thing as a happy ending. And that life is nothing, but a strand of happy endin...

Fine, I'll tell you where my strength comes from. It comes from a warm, strong core of selflessness, the grit and grime of people who've taught me lessons I desperately needed to learn. Each one of you who has taught me something about life, about myself has been an invaluable teacher; and I thank all of you for bestowing me with life's tough, but necessary education. A child's first teachers are always his/her parents, and you've taught me that  there can be beauty in imperfection too. To always put your heart and soul into everything you do. And to still be able to love myself, thank you. And the teachers who saw potential in me even on those drought-striken days when I couldn't muster another step forward. For calling me your betting horse, thank you. You'll always be my silent guideposts. To those doctors/professors who taught me that it's okay to be strong and weak at the same time, that trembling hands can also mean responsibility towards your pa...

"Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." I can't remember the number of times I've read/heard this clichéd sentence and wondered about its authenticity. My new year resolution was to step out of that zone to experience the magic that lies beyond. The 'known' was comfortable. It offered a cushy blow to my silly mistakes. It sheltered me and protected me like a worried father. But this wasn't enough, this wasn't ecstasy. Life wasn't meant to be bogged down by trivialities. With its boring expectations and silly needs, not met by kindred seductions. I craved for a way out of this mundane, humdrum existence. It wasn't easy, it didn't come naturally, and it certainly wasn't comfortable. Happiness and true fulfillment begins at the end of your comfort zone.  -Lux Solis. Goa, INDIA.