On a rainy day or a grainy day, I wouldn’t turn down tea any day.
At times it trickles down my throat and calms my sore heart, and at other times it trickles down my throat and takes me home. It’s like PJs for my soul. It makes all well.
I took this photo in Darjeeling while walking around in a national wildlife sanctuary. We had stopped for a tea that replenished our tired cells with a perfect balance of caffeine and bitterness.
It was the last place I expected to see so much water. Deep inside Thekkady’s forests lie a few tea estates, and nestled within them is this lake.
I don’t know its name, I don’t know where it begins or ends, I don’t even know if it’s a lake at all. But as the cold breeze gushed over and I pulled my sweater closer to myself, I couldn’t resist the ripples spreading through.
The best things in life are often in the past. Only we humans reminisce and yearn for what we once had.
I’m only human.
I’d never say no to a road trip. On one such trip, we headed to Pondicherry to celebrate my parents’ anniversary—away from all our negative relative trouble.
On the way, I found, dangling from my brother’s rear view mirror, my peace.
I have a thing for momos. It’s a traditional Tibetan steamed or fried dumpling made with flour and stuffing.
And it stuffs my heart with so much joy, it’s comfort food on a whole new level. A friend introduced me to the momos and ever since I’ve been scouring restaurants nearby looking for the perfect plate of momos.
And last weekend, I hit the jackpot. I found a place called the Tibet Memorial Restaurant. Well, it had Tibet in the name, so it had to be good. Sure enough, their’s was by far the best momos I’ve had in my area.
I’ve had tasted better momos in Darjeeling, though. But it could be because a colder climate complements the puff of steam that streams out when you bite into a momo.
We were well on our way to Thekkady when the heat dropped and dark clouds gathered. All around us, coconut trees swayed to the breeze, and plump bushes shook with joy.
We had entered Theni, a small town with a big reputation. Even as you say the name, you’d think spanning pastures, family animals, young girls hanging out in bright clothes, and school boys picking fights with the neighbour’s kids. That’s the picture the media had given us, and as we grazed over the Theni highway, something like a yellow balloon inflated in my chest.
We stopped and got out, greedy for some Theni essence. That’s when this photo happened. The car mirrored the trees on the opposite, along with the street divider line. It was a beautiful place with beautiful weather, and elation beyond words.
The Chaos Within 