Wo(a)ndering thoughts!!!

Every year, the Over-hyped theme for Valentine’s Day gets bigger and bigger, and in recent years its gone from a hyped day to a week-long celebration. In case you don’t know (I didn’t know this information before this post), it starts from 7 th Feb, starts from Rose day, Propose day,  Chocolate day, Teddy day, Promise day, hug day, Kiss day and then V-day (puff!! I had to google this and I don’t think it's in the right order!). Big corporations are capitalising on the theme by consciously marketing it in a way that couples feel pressured to get on the trend. I know I'm going to hurt so many people’s sentiments by writing this. The same sentiments go for Mothers day or Fathers day. But hey! Who am I to judge if someone is spending on a stuffed bear? This post is not for the Valentine , it's about the Valen’TOwN'  – the place(s) we fell in love. The place(s) that made us go crazy. The place(s) that hold so many memories are a Valen'TOwN'  of our hearts. ...

Honestly, we’ve reached a point where making an actual phone call feels like a vintage hobby, right up there with collecting coins or stamps. We aren’t even a society anymore—we’re just a collection of WhatsApp groups with a "mute for 1 year" problem. My call log is basically a ghost town. I’ve got maybe ten people on there, and honestly, three of them are probably "Potential Scam." But then I hop on the train at 7:30 AM, and I’m surrounded by people who are already in their mid-call.           PC- google image from Cartoonstock I’m sitting there in my morning fog (brain fog that is!!) ,and these guys are chatting away like they’re hosting a live breakfast radio show. It makes me wonder:  ** Who are you talking to this early?  ** Which functional adult is free at this time of the day?  ** What could be that urgent before the sun is even fully up?  Everyday emergency!? Don’t get me wrong, I call my mum every day. But our "chat" ...

Every year, we change the numbers on the calendar and tell ourselves we’re "new people," but let’s be honest: the first four months of the year are nothing but a  caffeinated, frantic blur.  We start with grand resolutions and end up just trying to remember what day of the week it is. Stuck in the city while everyone else hits the coast? You’re essentially patrolling a ghost town. The office is dead, the inbox is full of automated replies, and the solitude is a total motivation-killer. By week three, your ambitious health goals are traded in for whatever leftover food is in the fridge. The long summer days are the ultimate gaslighters. They move so slowly that you think you have all the time in the world, yet the months disappear in a frantic blur. We really should just rename the first quarter: Jan-hurry: The month that lasts a year but achieves nothing. Feb-hurry: The shortest month that somehow sprints past you in a weekend. March: Which literally marches over at 10x sp...

Happy New Year! 🥂 ​2025 was a bit of a spicy rollercoaster—one of those where you’re not sure if you’re screaming because you’re having fun or because the safety bar feels a little loose.  ​🏆 The 2025 Hall of Fame ​ The "Aunty of the Year" Award: Watched my nephew graduate. I managed to cheer loud enough to embarrass him, which is the primary goal of any graduation ceremony. ​ The Survivalist Medal: Finished a contract in a toxic work environment. I deserve a PhD in "Smiling While Screaming Internally" and keeping my professionalism while the building was metaphorically on fire. ​ Empowering role: Started a second volunteering gig empowering migrant women, all while keeping up my weekly dates with my favorite seniors at the aged care home. My karma is currently sparkling. ​ The Grand Finale: I wrapped up the year with some travel. Because after 12 months of being a functioning adult, I earned the right to get lost in a different time zone. ​ The Proud ...

So, there I was, at a Thai joint with a bunch of people I know—let's call them The Acquaintance bunch . The mood was high, the chattiness was maximum, and the orders were... complex. The majority in the group(not me), of course, were getting the Vegan Fried Rice , because it's 2025 and we're trying to be good to the planet (and probably our colons). But everyone also needed a unique, bespoke spice level . We're talking a Scoville-scale rainbow of requests. We waited an appropriate( nice way to say we waited for a long time) amount of time, which is to say, long enough for the conversation to move from small talk about the weather to details of the future travel plans. This is an image of a feast my dear friend cooked for me when I visited her- Kindness to the core.  and many eternities later.. The  Nervous Waiter arrived, plates in hand, looking like a bomb disposal expert trying to decide which wire to cut. She held up two plates of identical-looking rice and meekly a...

It's that time of the year again , we celebrate women in so many different forms—the strong ones, the calm ones, the brave ones, the creative ones, the protective ones, and the fierce warriors. We celebrate all the qualities of a goddess, a Lakshmi. But honestly, growing up, this festival was mostly about treats and school holidays. I never really saw myself in any of those powerful figures. I was a shy kid, and I certainly didn't see anyone who was "vigorous" or "furious" being praised as a "good girl." PC: Google images It felt like women who showed anger or bravery were always told to just calm down, as long as it wasn't a family issue. If it were a family problem, they were told to be quiet to keep the family's business behind closed doors. And as for the creative women?! They became invisible; it is considered their creativity as part of the everyday household work, and they are never truly celebrated. The older I get, the...