The Apartment Above Me

As I lay here in bed, sick, I hear all these noises around me, the loudest and most distracting coming from the apartment above me.

All I can picture based on the noises coming from the apartment above me is a two year old. The two year old has made use of her new found gross motor skills and has wobbled her way to the top of the sofa, on top of the cushions, with a handful of marbles, and has, with evil glee, rained them across her kingdom.

Our baby has now got a hold of her mini scooter, and she now scoots over the house as fast as her pudgy legs can take her to the kitchen. What happens in the next seventeen seconds is unclear at the moment, but there seems to be a situation in which the baby’s hair, fries, and parents are on fire.

The baby seems to have managed to salvage the fries and is complaining about the slight dampness with a half hour of bawling, asking for the manager, and the half singed parents tell her that the fries are homemade, there is no manager and please let them go to the hospital they are dying.

Our baby is merciful, so she lets them go, but two thumps tell us a different story. The marbles have taken down two more. I am nex-

Or maybe it’s just my ear infection. Who knows.



So so so many people. I’ve seen so many people. Strangers. Complete and utter strangers. All people and stories and entire childhoods and problems and ideologies and passions. I’ve made eye contact with so many of them.

The lady outside that fancy restaurant I went to last week. Asking for help. How’d she get there? Maybe she was a bright student born into a poor family and got scammed out of a scholarship?

The gentleman on the bus who gave up his seat for an older woman. His sad eyes. Maybe he lost a loved one recently. An experience that’s humbled him and taught him to cherish and respect more.

The little girl at school who asked if she could use my phone. Maybe she’s in a situation I was stuck in a lot of times at her age. Staying back at school and forgetting to tell my parents.

The driver of the taxi next to me at a red light. Maybe he’s going up on that big Ola billboard with a different taxi driver’s photo everyday.

The girl about my age, walking down the road with a phone pressed to her ear and one eye on a cute dress in the window of a shop. Maybe she’s a dropout doing an online designing course.

The man behind the counter at my local grocery store-cum-cafe. As he hands me my usual pastry, I wonder if he’s going to take over the business. If he wants to actually be a chef but can’t afford culinary school. Maybe he’s thinking about me and my pastry.

I wonder how many people I’ve seen. A couple million? A couple billion? Who knows? It’s the mysteries of the beautiful stories that leaves me in awe.


If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person?

~Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

Image from here.

To the Moon and Back


Every night

The witch on the broomstick

She flies


She flies to the moon

And on the moon

She mumbles

An age old incantation

A spell

To keep princesses in towers

To keep the old, old grey

From the youthful pink


On the moon

She mumbles

The ancient, the powerful



And in her hand

What’s this?

Poof appears a lamp.


The lamp she hangs

She hangs it on the moon


The witch on the broomstick

She flies

She flies every night

To the moon and back.


“Never put your faith in a Prince. When you require a miracle, trust in a Witch.”  ~Catherynne M. Valente, In the Night Garden

Image from here.

The Mystery Blogger Award!

My first tag! I’m really excited to do this, and a huge thank you to Neha for tagging me!


  • Put the award logo in your blog.
  • List the rules
  • Thank the person who nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
  • Mention the creator (Okoto Enigma) of the award and provide a link to their blog too.
  • Tell your readers three things about yourself.
  • Nominate 5-10 people for the same award
  • Ask your nominees 5 questions of your choice and one weird/funny question.


3 things about me:

1. I love reading the back of food packaging. I like seeing how people think telling me where the oranges that went into this juice were grown is good advertising. Because it works.

2. I cannot stand doors or curtains that are just barely closed without the lock clicking or with a ray of light streaming through the curtains. I will get up and close the thing because I will not be able to focus and I can’t talk about this gah.

3. I never liked chocolate or ice cream as a kid. It drove my mom crazy. Even today, I’m really picky about sweets.


What’s your biggest fear?

That I’m going to end up alone.

What’s the weirdest thing you remember dreaming of in your sleep?

Oooh there is this one distinct dream I think I’ve had a couple of times where there’s an ’80s themed mall, and the second you step in, your clothes change to fit the ambience, and the place is so flamboyant and pink and neon yellow and so Willy Wonka. Also there’s a tailor in the elevator. The elevator is just a room for the tailor which moves up and down. It doesn’t lead to anywhere. You go into the elevator just for the tailor and his little fabulous sewing machine.

What is one thing that helps you relax?

Videos of people making food. A good book works too. Any book actually. Put something in front of my face and I will read it and it will calm me down.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to?

I’m pretty happy with my name, but if I had to, maybe Naina?

Last song you belted out shamelessly?

The entire Pitch Perfect Album. I am nuts about everything to do with that movie.


My questions:

1. What is the best book you have ever read?

2. A quote you live by?

3. What’s the best meal you’ve ever had?

4. Name one person from any era, any place, you would like to have dinner with.

5. What’s the weirdest story you’ve heard?



Here’s who I tag for this award-




and anyone else who wants to do it!




A drop

A mixture




She’s shed it all

All in a drop.


The drop falls

Spiralling to the ground

It takes with it

Her courage.

Her purpose.

Her will.

Her strength.


The drop lands

She hits rock bottom

Silently more follow

The one drop.


The one drop

Is now just one

Of many, many



“But a mermaid has no tears, and therefore she suffers so much more.”

~ Hans Christian Anderson

Image from here.

The story of the Beast and the Beast

What a couple they are!

All of town shuns them

All eyes look away from them

All hearts beat back into their cages

What a couple they are!


How ugly is one

How mean is the other

How they love each other

What a couple they are!


I see a bubble of happiness

What a black, sad bubble of happiness!


For it is them!

What a couple they are!


No brunches for you

And for you

For you are a bad bad couple

No karaoke nights for you

And yum, my grandmother’s lasagna

None of that for you

What a couple you are!


So hide away your children

Snatch your laundry in

Put the cat inside

For the freaky couple approaches

What a couple they are!


Every Sunday, my family has lunch together. We have a meal together every day, but on Sunday, we have lunch. It isn’t a fancyful affair. The silence is filled by a staticky Vividh Bharti blasting out through old-style boxy speakers. You know, the ones where you have to turn the little wheel to tune into the exact frequency and is great practice for using a microscope? 

The lunch itself is simple and typical- roti, sabzi, dal and rice. A couple of remarks about having more dal to get taller are made, and are mostly dismissed with a wave. 

The meal is followed by a lazy afternoon. Thick, dusty curtains are drawn everywhere as everyone finds something to curl up around. 

And then evening arrives. Hustle pillow fight bustle last minute third grade homework we’ll collectively ‘help’ you with. 

We swish on the gloss, let the hair loose. Pull up those pants, we’re going out tonight. 

We’re all prim and proper, and I-spy a man bun feminist. Ooh good one, should we get the sizzler? 

Walking down the street on Sunday night with my family, we enter the little ice cream place we’ve wanted to try out for months now. Let’s order one huge waffle cone. Because that’s a great idea. Swirling the cream and snitching berries, it’s gone in 6 minutes. 

Time to go home, and start waiting for the next today, come back again next week.