For this is the time when all the festivals crawl up in line and jump in front of you and dance. For this is time for absolute celebration, when you appreciate what a beautiful diverse world you live in.

For this is my favourite time of the year.

Durga Pujo

Durga Pujo1



Love and joy to you.



The strangers in this city

Today, while my friends and I were walking down the streets of Calcutta, I saw a woman with her son walking on the pavement. The little boy was holding a raw coconut, bigger than both his palms could properly carry, with more care than he would give to even a Hotwheels truck. They walked up to a lady in tattered rags sitting at the end of the pavement and the woman looked at her son and said, “Go on”. He held it out to the lady. I saw the look on her face as she exclaimed. And I saw the look on the little boy’s face as well. And I can’t get it out of my memory.

We don’t do this enough.

The playgroup in my street

Like Madeleine L’Engle, “I’m apt to get drunk on words”

Every time I open my college notebooks, I start to scribble random lines in-between all the statistics and probability theory and strange formulae.

This is what happens when a girl loves words much more than numbers.

{Reach me down my Tycho Brahe – I would know him when we meet,
When I share my later science, sitting humbly at his feet;}- The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams

{And though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night}- The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams

{Tyger, Tyger, burning bright
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?}-
Tyger by William Blake

{Poetry is formed by the cerebrum, which is pink,
And the vocal cords which are red;
And if we spelled our poems in blood,it wouldn’t matter
What colour they came from} – She Asks Me by Phil Kaye

Much love