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When you are bitten by the travel bug and you give a part of your existence to each of the places you visit.
I exist in many places …
In the bookstores, cafes, traffic jams, malls and buses of Bangalore
In the tea gardens of Nilgiris
In the chocolate stores of Ooty
In the German bakeries, monasteries and Tibetan cafes of Mcleodganj
In the wine shops, homestays and coffee estates of Coorg
In the humid beaches of Fort Kochi
In the streets, dhabas, morning walk parks and gullies of Jaipur
In the sandy desert camps, havelis turned into shops and trippy cafes of Jaisalmer
In the winding pretty country roads of Wayanad
In the always raining but utterly non-happening beaches of Kannur
In the colonial by-lanes and art galleries of Pondicherry
In the crumbling edifices and glory in all things ruined, at Hampi
In the unnamed streaming rivers of Chamba
In the always satisfying, deceptively simple shopping complexes of Chandigarh
In the maddeningly addictive street food places of Delhi
In the alarmingly calm city street and cafes of Paro
In the bustling meals-ready hotels of Udupi
In the antique markets of Mapusa, where you could bargain on history
In the charmingly exotic lake hotels of Udaipur
In the pristine beach sands of Gopalpur
In the traffic-free and stress-free pavements of Thimphu
In the barren forest trails of Sariska
In the busy Mall Road of Shimla
In the flight of a nameless flamingo, in Chillka
In the crowded chat shops of Lucknow
In the narrow hill roads and desolate structures of Kurseong
In the soaring valleys, plunging horizons spilling over bowls of sea
In the countless sunrises, a handful of sunsets
In the list of plans, and forgettable failures
In the missed opportunities and surprise discoveries
In the hopes of a magical day spent dreaming
In the warm comforts of a sumptuous meal by the sea
In the vast emptiness of a floating cloud
In the unimaginable yet possible
In the moment, and many more that make many more such moments…
30th Dec 2017
Siniolchu, Cochrane Place, Kurseong
Wanderlust – Watercolor by Seema Misra
Seema Misra is an independent artist and writer. She undertakes freelance projects for illustrations, content creation, and social media marketing through her blog www.lonelycanopy.com. To unwind, she watches world cinema or travels across read more...
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As parents, we put a piece of our hearts out into this world and into the custody of the teachers at school and tuition and can only hope and pray that they treat them well.
Trigger Warning: This speaks of physical and emotional violence by teachers, caste based abuse, and contains some graphic details, and may be triggering for survivors.
When I was in Grade 10, I flunked my first preliminary examination in Mathematics. My mother was in a panic. An aunt recommended the Maths classes conducted by the Maths sir she knew personally. It was a much sought-after class, one of those classes that you signed up for when you were in the ninth grade itself back then, all those decades ago. My aunt kindly requested him to take me on in the middle of the term, despite my marks in the subject, and he did so as a favour.
Math had always been a nightmare. In retrospect, I wonder why I was always so terrified of math. I’ve concluded it is because I am a head in the cloud person and the rigor of the step by step process in math made me lose track of what needed to be done before I was halfway through. In today’s world, I would have most probably been diagnosed as attention deficit. Back then we had no such definitions, no such categorisations. Back then we were just bright sparks or dim.
Pathaan touted as SRK’s comeback has been in the news for mixed reasons. Right from the hype around SRK’s comeback and special mentions his body contours; yet I can't watch it!
The movie touted as SRK’s comeback has been in the news for mixed reasons. Right from the hype around the movie being SRK’s comeback and special mentions his body contours and even more than the female lead!
For me, it’s not about Deepika’s bikini colour or was-it-needed skin show. It’s about meaningful content that I find is missing big time. Not just this movie, but a spate of cringe-worthy narratives passed off as ‘movies’ in the recent past. I feel insulted, and not because I am a devoutly religious person or a hardcore feminist, but because I feel the content insults my intelligence.
But before everything else, I am a 90s kid who in the case of movies (and maybe more) is stuck in time as it wrapped around me then and the gamut has too hard an exterior for me to crack it open!
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