Seashells

When I pursued a diploma in journalism from The Asian College Of Journalism (ACJ), Chennai, I got the chance to meet people from different walks of life. If you knew me or met me during my ACJ days, you would know that I absolutely loved reporting.  Meeting new people, and talking with them about things just thrills me. We used to go with a few questions in mind and would end up hearing stories for hours. Yes, that's how reporting works. It was a beautiful experience for a person like me, who loves to talk with people.  I have gone to fishermen's quarters on the loop road in Chennai, toured around Adyar sitting behind a Swiggy delivery woman, waited from dawn to dusk at the super scary Erwadi dargah, met Sri Lankan refugees, and the list goes on and on. Reporting almost every second day, made me realize how beautiful Journalism is, and how fortunate I was to get such a chance. Journalism humbles you. It shapes you in ways unknown.  Being on the roads with a Swiggy delivery woma

Did poker happen to me?  It wasn't poker, but my father and all of my family members hyped Kumar Mama's game. I kinda won in a random card game against him when we were in the train going to our native place. So maybe that's were all of this started!  My grandmother gave my mother a few pastings for playing cards with her family members. She also made my uncle take a bath before entering the house because on a random hot sunny day, he decided to play cards. Today, I write about card games for a living. Praise the lord, that woman is not alive anymore, haha!   Poker let me write and explore everything else that I loved to write, act and be. I tried my hand at Instagram reels, script writing, and more. I've initiated interviews with poker players at 12 AM and spoken  Poker helped me pursue a secret project!  Poker helped me find my mentor!  Poker got me closer to right and wrong people!  . . . . . This is a developing story, entirely based on how long I write, I am at thi

 I like your friendly banters,  I like your smile, I like how you pull my leg in Whatsapp group chats but send heart emojis across in pc, I like how you make ugly faces while we video call,  I like how you wake up in the wee hours just to see me in sweaty yoga pants, I like how you promise me gifts, but you hardly know any of my favourites! Haha!  I like how warm waffles make you smile! 

Bombay is beautiful. Okay, not all parts. I've always envied Bandra but the whooshing sounds of auto rickshaws was always a turn off. I explored Bandra with a different set of people. I've been to the church with several loved ones. I've made promises, I've broken promises. I've laughed, admired and drowned in the sound of my laughter.  The first few memories of Bandra was when I attended the Mother Mary fair with my neighbours. Walking through the aisles of Bandra church, looking around for the smallest souvenir I could take home, going to their relatives' places, gosh what a beautiful time. A few years later, I explored parts of Bandra from the gates of National College. Some days with my college friends, sitting at Carter's, Bandstand, cafes. From going to Bandra for a cup of coffee at 11 PM to sitting at Carter socials with my favourite girl, Saachi, Bandra has seen it all. Years later, my favourite girl Amrutha was in Bombay for a conference. The reside

 I promise to be yours till human beings flock to the moon.  Till Alice finds a way to our dirty dark world, Till chocolate becomes a sedative, Till aliens invade our planet, Till you and your grandchildren bully me for making the first move. Love and lot's of Love❤

Pushing you to do more.  Pushing you to take the last drag. Streets of this place resonate with all that I like. Reminds me of times I have spent with my boys and my girls. On a Sunday morning, i spotted myself in a quaint street which was absurdly silent and offered all that i wished to take in.  It smells like no human existed| Has the silence of Bombay from olden days| Exhibits old grey structures with minarets| Pushes you to go meet the sea|  An amalgamation of all that your heart wants in a day or night. Surprisingly, at night, it is bustling in one street and silent like a funeral in the other.  I stood in the middle of the street, in the wee hours of the day, on an otherwise busy road to stare and probably take all of it in me.  Is Colaba your secret hideout too?