A little bit of history

I thought I would write a bit about myself. I would like to keep this blog totally anonymous but then if its anonymous, I can always talk about myself right :). There is no specific reason to keep it anonymous. Its just more comfortable sharing details that way . This feels more like a journal where I can voice my thoughts without anyone recognizing me.  I am highly introverted that way. I rarely open up. I do have a fairly good friend circle through school, college, post graduation but then I can probably count my close friends on my fingers.

I had a very very happy childhood. Though money was an issue, everything I wanted or desired was provided. I was quite pampered that way. My Mom still says I have not struggled the hard way. Things have been relatively easier for me. When you think of it that way, it is quite true,  I had access to an awesome education, great sports and recreation facilities. I could go swimming, play badminton, study, go shopping etc.

When they were my age, my mother probably spent all her time helping my grand mom or attending the village school whereas my dad searched the neighborhood for odd jobs to supplement the family income. My paternal Grand parents migrated from Lahore, Pakistan. My paternal Grand Father managed to secure a job in the Indian Railways shoving coal.  So money was tight and my father did what he could.

I remember my mother being very cautious with money. I would tag along with her to the grocery store and maybe after 2-3 trips, she would let me buy a small chocolate. I am extremely attached to my parents. So much that I sometimes wonder what W thinks?. I called up my parents every single day on our honeymoon trip. I guess he must have realized then and there what he signed up for. 🙂

I had a very bad time, the first time I was away from home. This was when I secured admission in an engineering college. Now if you throw a stone, it will probably go and hit an engineering college.  Every town has an engineering college in Punjab. But then when I did engineering, I had to stay in a hostel. I will write more about my engineering experiences in the next post. This post has been a mish mash with no structure. Please do excuse me. I just write what comes in my mind and my mind has always been a muddle.

Thanks for reading.


A letter to my father

Dear Papa

I love you Papa. You know that don’t you. I have said that so many times to you. Mostly, just after we have fought. I get bugged over the silliest of things Papa and I really don’t know why we end up arguing so much.

I do remember all the sacrifices you have made. I will not list them out here because I will probably run out of space.  Things go perfectly well when we speak on the phone. But if we meet, then probably we will end up arguing.

I read somewhere that saying Sorry is not enough. You have to treasure the relationship and ensure useless arguments are ironed out. I will try Papa, try to live up to your high ideals. I will try to not get bugged when things do not go my way. I need to accept randomness. Everything cannot happen just as I wish.

I am sorry Dad and I really love you. I just hope you will be able to actually believe what I am writing some day. I really do mean this. The last time we argued, you mentioned I could never change. I could never control my temper. I hope I can prove you wrong. I hope I have the strength to stick to my resolve.

Love you loads

Take Care Dad 🙂


Sometimes a particular smell, movie or incident reminds one of events gone by. One thought leads to another and one gets lost in nostalgia. Today has been one such day. I just had tea with cinnamon and cloves. Instantly I remembered so many things

  • Our evening chai sessions at college. Sitting in the hostel lawn and gossiping away to glory.
  • College brought back memories of the oily canteen “bread pakora”, samosa, days of travelling in “roadways” buses.
  • “Roadways” buses reminded me of the long bus journey’s to my nana and nani’s place. My cousin used to take me to visit our orange fruit yard in the evenings.
  • Oranges brought back memories of Delhi winters. All of us cousins used to sit in the warm winter sun and hog dozens of oranges.
  • Cousins brought back memories of scooter rides shared, temple visits, diwali masti and gossip.
  • Diwali brought back memories of the loud crackers we used to burst. The entire street would be littered in the morning. Today I am not proud of this but then this is how we have always celebrated Diwali. Loud with loads of sweets and snacks.

I guess you all have got the drift. Memories have the power to uplift you and strengthen you. I am feeling rejuvenated now.

Till next time. Take care.