O n w a r d

noun movement forwards or towards achieving something verb to become better; to develop (well) *** It has been two years since I (soft) launched my business.  In 2020, having finally paid off my loan and facing what seemed to be a changing, precarious work culture, I found myself thinking about progress. I knew I wanted to move on from my job at some point to something that fit me better, and where I could keep growing. But I wasn't optimistic about opportunities. At that time, I'd also been avidly listening to podcasts , and I seemed to attract those about living a different way of life – slower, more fulfilling, and not necessarily adhering to conventional work milestones.  It was then that I started – very hesitantly, but increasingly more and more – thinking about working for myself. This was distinct from freelancing, which I'd tried before; rather than pitching articles to publications, or being on a regular contract, I'd offer services and packages with r...

Birds talking  Dogs barking  Water spraying Trains rumbling   Footsteps falling  Husband coughing  Airplanes whooshing  Conversations floating This poem was (mostly) written on 1 May 2022.

I'm not quite sure whether I'm a plant person.  Let me elaborate. I have some plants, and I do what I can to keep them alive, but they don't always make me happy. There have been many times when I've looked at them with anxiousness, a sinking heart, and sometimes even dread. I'm pretty sure I've had dreams where they all died on my watch. And some did IRL, as kids say. But there are – perhaps more – instances when they've made my heart sing with their green life amid skyscrapers and dust, sometimes surviving despite all odds, or thriving when I'd given up. Nothing makes me happier than seeing a new leaf pushing through. So together we persist.  House plants: early days Chapter I It all began the evening before a cyclone in June 2020. There was a weather warning, and we'd been told to remove (or secure) everything from our balconies. A friend of my husband's was leaving for home, unsure when he would return during the pandemic, and he left four of...

I got married a couple of weeks ago. It was simple – just us and three kind witnesses at a small registration office whose whitewashed walls belied its crumbling exterior. Somewhere in the courtyard, there was a primarily blue mural depicting the old and the new of this city. We talked, waited and sweated in our masks, sat in front of a camera and left a thumb print, signed papers and a register and repeated weirdly old-fashioned oaths ("I ... take thee ... to be my lawful husband.") There were flowers and balloons, lunch by the sea (well, sort of), and a free piece of cake. We also had another, larger cake – with three kinds of chocolate and adorned with books – all to ourselves. There were evening outfits for a virtual celebration, and there was wine. I just finished reading Meik Wiking's The Art of Making Memories, and he talks about how photographs are the "key to a vault of memories", and a way to "outsource" memories by serving as triggers. He su...

The last two months have been about change. Change for the better, I think, but change nonetheless. Change isn't always easy to deal with. I picked up and moved my life in almost every way. I met all kinds of new people in encounters that were fleeting, and those that will stay. Three people in my life said goodbye to this world in a span of ten days. My allergies returned and then calmed down. I found a room with a window with a view that tells me everything will be fine, and I found nature nearby for my soul. And I learned to learn from criticism and use it to grow. I'm still learning. It's not all stars and roses. I've complained a lot, and probably will some more. But I'm proud of and happy about and grateful for many of the things I've achieved, and received. There are things I want to improve upon and change, but as a wise friend said, this is only the beginning. I forget that sometimes. Everything happens in due time, and everything runs its cou...

I visited Bombay again in December 2014. This time there was no rain, and I saw a side of the city that I had never seen before. It brought me back to scenes from the 2013 film The Lunchbox, which I recently reviewed for Aesthetica . Some photos from my trip and excerpts from my review follow. "[The film's] strength lies in its subtlety and unromanticised, realistic portrayal of the messiness and ordinariness of day-to-day life in a big city, where all people really want is to feel like they matter." "In a film with all kinds of transport on busy roads, it’s really about people who feel stuck, isolated by routine and expectation." "In an increasingly development-obsessed India that often misunderstands the meaning of progress, Ila chooses to escape to a place where she believes happiness is considered the ultimate goal." "The end of the film is the start of another journey, with or without return. Perhap...

So, there are really only two things that you need to know about Bombay. Rain. And traffic jams. And that about summarises my week-long, much-looked-forward-to trip.* I hate rain. I detest it. Maybe I'm simply weird that way, but I don't like dancing in the rain, or getting drenched in the rain, or... in fact, probably the only way I like it is when I'm safe and dry inside and it can't get to me. I mean, I like watching it through my window, and I love the clean new leaves and the smell of rain on mud. Well, I guess you get the drift. My birthday involved an awesome cake and awesome food and gifts (obviously), courtesy the cousins and my tauji-taiji. Followed by a wild drive with my cousin P driving; windows down, we flew through the blissfully empty roads of Navi Mumbai, with P mock-shouting occasionally at pedestrians ("Outta my way, moron"!)  As for sightseeing, we visited Juhu beach, a couple of malls here and there, and though we wanted to see Marine D...