When I first joined Facebook more than a decade ago, it was novel and engrossing. After college, I lost touch with friends as we dispersed across the globe.
So, it seemed almost magical that I could finally behold them in their new avatars as giddy parents bouncing babies and as driven professionals.
But after a few years of wishing a million people ‘Happy Birthday’, the novelty of Facebook was wearing off for me. I realized that 90% of the time I was just viewing updates of people who were constantly humble-bragging their perfect lives.
I couldn’t understand why someone had to wish their husband Happy Anniversary on Facebook with a slide reel of 15 photos when they were probably sitting right next to them. …
I waited for 3 weeks to call my friend, just to see if she would call me. I was the one religiously calling her every week. Each time I called, she would launch into her usual “I am so busy, I have no time.” rant and on she would go about how she didn’t have a spare minute in the day.
So what do you think I am doing here? Just twiddling my thumbs?
It would be easy to just conclude that my friend wasn’t a good friend. But the truth is far from it. She’s been a solid friend for over half my life, one whom I can turn to and count on. …
Last year, I was tagged in a story by a new writer. Half of Medium was also tagged in it. ‘Clever strategy!’ I thought. He had managed to get more eyes on his story. His story was good and it deserved the extra traffic his tactic got.
A few weeks later we were all tagged again and again in other stories of his. This time the vultures came out with venom dripping from their fangs. People rudely called him out for tagging and wasting their precious time.
I felt bad for the poor guy. First of all, he was new and just figuring out the ropes. Besides, he had just tagged writers and had not asked for their first born’s soul. …
I should be ringing your doorbell sometime soon this Holiday Season.
I should be embracing you and simultaneously poking fun at your Covid-15.
I should be looking at my nephews and niece and exclaiming “Gosh, they’ve grown.”
I should be rolling my eyes when my Godson doesn’t stop interrogating me about what’s in my bag.
I should be posing with the Christmas tree and posting it on Facebook in a jiffy, like I always do.
I should be helping you set the table and taste testing the chicken curry. More, more spice!
I should be catching up on the latest family drama and gossip with you. …
He’s brash and power-hungry, she’s reserved and spotlight-shy. That’s President Trump and Melania Trump for you. It’s been 4 years since Melania took over the East Wing and now she’s down to her last days there.
Melania had some enormous shoes to fill in when she took on the role of First Lady in 2016. Her predecessor, Michelle Obama had popularity ratings higher than even her husband, President Obama.
From get-go, Melania was compared with Michelle Obama whose charismatic personality enthralled all. Melania’s introverted nature, on the other hand, held less appeal. She was perceived as aloof, cold and emotionless.
She was mocked for everything from her looks to her accent to her clothes to her Christmas decorations to the handling of state dinners. …
2020 had such a good ring to it. Those double 20’s looked so symmetrical and dashing, inviting all to a promising year. Then the clock struck 12 and pandora’s box was unleashed.
Covid-19 metastasized and brought the world to a stand still. Along with the countless deaths, crashing economies and chaos, an epidemic of loneliness proliferated, triggering addictions and mental health disorders.
I wanted to ask 2020 if it had anything more in store, but then kept silent fearing it would reply back.
For me personally, it wasn’t Covid-19 that jolted my world. …
I couldn’t discern my mom’s incoherent words. Huge gulping sobs were fragmenting them. The only audible word was suicide.
“Mom, could you repeat that?” I said, dreading what I would hear.
“I wanted to commit suicide yesterday. This pain is too much for me.” mom heaved.
My mom is the strongest person I’ve known. Growing up, I had nicknamed her Ironwoman. I found her iron shell quite annoying though. I often wished she would uncloak it and reveal her vulnerable side to me.
At my brother’s funeral mass she never shed a tear. She volunteered to do the reading. Her voice was strong and never once faltered as she read the Gospel of Mark steps away from her first born lying in a closed casket. …
The other day I was watching a show about the most expensive foods in the world. $2000 can get you a decent used car or breakfast at Norma’s restaurant. They don’t serve diamond crusted pancakes like I had imagined just Sevruga caviar, six eggs, and a lobster.
Then, there’s the $5000 ‘FleurBurger’ which consists of a Wagyu beef and foie gras burger patty topped with truffle sauce and shaved black truffles.
2 months rent for some fancy fungus topped meat?
Anyway, that show jogged my memory about the most expensive meal I ever ate. It took me down memory lane to my college days in India. …
8 months ago my brother died unexpectedly and grief barged in with its suitcase. It strewed its mess everywhere and ignored the eviction notice. Over the months it slowly blended into the wallpaper of my life.
Grief was not a singular emotion of extreme sadness as I had previously imagined. It was a chameleon erratically flipping from a fiery angry demon to blue dullness to the blackest torment and often subsiding in grey emptiness.
Sometimes it felt like I was in the boxing ring with an all-consuming monster wrestling with my sanity. …
There are many questions that haunt the living when they have lost a loved one. The most common one being -Where are they now?
If only we could have one last chat with them and confirm their existence in some realm of this world, we would feel some sort of relief. But it almost feels like they performed the ultimate vanishing act and disappeared from the face of the Earth.
We tell the grieving family, their loved one still lives in their heart and watches over them. …