swept we are as humans,

in a ferocious tide of  thoughts,

emotions wavering at every chance 

turbulent feelings of drought

months and years pass by unfleetingly

no recourse for lives gone astray

we’re tossed aboard the mighty ship

precious time, that’s what we pay  

we search for peace and happiness

in this reckless dance called life

humans, we think we’re timeless

in reality, ephemeral is all we are 

then one day, I saw my guru

clad in an aura of mystery 

I breathlessly waited to feel something

anticipation clouding my mind

but what I felt is nothing

nothing compared to what I thought 

I found love, simplicity and grace 

a feeling of coming back home 

he didn’t fill me with hopes and dreams 

that I hoped he’d make me find

instead he showed me heaven

within the crevices of my mind


Whole wheat lavash crackers

  • 60g or half a cup whole wheat flour, plus 4-5 tbsp more
  • 60ml water
  • 1 tbsp olive oil plus 1 tsp to brush with
  • ½ tsp salt
  • 1 tsp dried herbs or spices or 1-2 tbsp chopped fresh herbs, such as rosemary, crushed red pepper, oregano, paprika, etc.
  1. Combine 60g or half a cup of flour, spices and herbs, salt, 1 tbsp olive oil, water. Alternatively skip the herbs and spices and top the lavash crackers with them later
  2. Knead for one minute. If the dough is too wet, add 1-2 tbsp more of flour. If too dry, add 1 tbsp of water at a time.
  3. Divide the dough into 3 pieces. Dust the surface you are rolling the dough out with 1 tbsp of flour. Roll out using a rolling pin, as thin as possible. If the dough is still too wet and sticks to the surface while rolling, you may need to dust that with flour as well or add a bit more flour to it.
  4. Cut into your desired shape and size – I like long triangles or rectangles that work well for dipping.
  5. In a small bowl, combine 1 tsp of olive with 1 tbsp water. Brush the dough with this mix.
  6. If you prefer, you can top with spices and herbs at this stage instead of in the dough.
  7. Bake in a pre-heated oven at 170C for 12-15 minutes or until crisp and lightly browned.
  8. Store in an airtight glass jar for upto 1 week.

Whole wheat cinnamon cookies

  • 80g (1/3 cup) butter, softened
  • 100g (1/2 cup) castor sugar
  • 1 egg
  • 1 tsp vanilla extract
  • 120g (1 cup) whole wheat flour
  • 1 tsp cinnamon powder
  • 1 tsp baking powder
For topping:
  • 20g (2-3 tbsp) castor/raw sugar
  • ½ tsp cinnamon
  1. Whisk together the butter and sugar.
  2. Add the egg and whisk to combine. Add the vanilla extract.
  3. Combine the whole wheat flour, baking powder and cinnamon. Add this to the mixture and stir until just combined.
  4. Spoon the cookie batter, creating 10 balls of dough. Combine castor sugar and cinnamon for topping in a bowl. Roll the cookie dough ball in the cinnamon sugar mix.
  5. Press down each sugar-rolled dough ball onto a greased baking sheet. The cookies will spread while baking so leave enough space between each one.
  6. Bake in a pre-heated oven at 180C for 15 minutes until lightly browned. Allow the cookies to cool before removing from the sheet.

tulsi and thoughts…

Muted whirring of the old heater on the floor, softly throwing waves of heat in the otherwise cold room. It’s dark but thoughts are darting, from one memory to the next…. The dark sky outside, with the lonely moon casting its glow. Tonight it’s starless, just the bony shadows of the tree outside the window. Nights like this make me think, think of what, I don’t know. Sometimes it’s feels alive to just rest my mind and not be cut by incisive thoughts. I stretch my legs and feel the soft blanket under my feet. If I really strain my ears,I can hear, the insistent crickets amidst my tulsi plant. My tulsi plant, yes. Fully blossomed just the other day. Filled with vibrant green, fragrant leaves. They are a treat to the eyes that pass. Coy as a bride, but ever graceful. I never believed for a thousand years that the leaves held such a sharp, caustic taste, discovered by my sweet child. She plucked the leaves off the plant and grinning mischievously she stuffed them into her mouth. Giggly and sly, she chewed it fast, least mother would grab it out of her errant hands. The leaves were sharp, with bursts of sweet, mingled with spicy undertones. It was so mellow yet so strong, only a experienced tongue could taste their nuances.

I looked out my window at grey shadows strewn through the sky. All the leaves had but fallen. It looked like a forlorn moulting python. It probably has but it’s moods, sometimes blossoming yet other times withdrawn. It’s reminds me of none other but me, swaying to the voices of my mind. Sleep eludes me on this chilly night, though my mind is filled with warmth and love. As I hear the soft breathing of my child, and feel her warm body curled next to mine.

Books to read before you die

escaping the mundane, a place of self-nourishment and letting go, solitude and calm introspection. This is a compilation of the best books written, ones that will make you think about long after you turn off your lights, ones that you’d pack on a trip away, ones you wish you never read so you could start again!

The Affluent Society by John Kenneth Galbraith
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll
Another Country by James Baldwin
The Art of War by Sunzi
Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
Black Lamb and Grey Falcon by Rebecca West
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak
Breakfast at Tiffany’s: A Short Novel and Three Stories by Truman Capote
Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote
A Brief History of Time: From the Big Bang to Black Holes by Stephen Hawking
The Call of the Wild by Jack London
Candide by Voltaire
Carry On, Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse
The Color Purple by Alice Walker
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole
The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
A Distant Mirror: The Calamitous 14th Century by Barbara W. Tuchman
Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
The Earthsea Quartet by Ursula K. Le Guin
Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil by Hannah Arendt
The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje
The Ethics by Benedict de Spinoza
Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Fairy Tales from the Brothers Grimm: A New English Version {original edition} by Philip Pullman
The Fairy Tales of Charles Perrault by Charles Perrault
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
Faust, Part One by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
Franny and Zooey by J. D. Salinger
The Golden Compass by Philip Pullman
The Good Soldier Svejk by Jaroslav Hašek
Goodbye to Berlin by Christopher Isherwood
The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
Grundrisse: Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy by Karl Marx
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell
I, Claudius by Robert Graves
The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
The Iliad by Homer
It by Stephen King
Journey to the End of the Night by Louis-Ferdinand Céline
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
Let Us Now Praise Famous Men by James Agee
Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes
The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
The Long Goodbye by Raymond Chandler
Lost Illusions by Honoré de Balzac
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter
Man and his Symbols by Carl Gustav Jung
The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick
Maus: A Survivor’s Tale by Art Spiegelman
The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka
Middlemarch by George Eliot
Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie
Moby Dick by Herman Melville
Money: a suicide note by Martin Amis
The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey
One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Orientalism by Edward W. Said
Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
The Path to Power by Robert A. Caro
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce
A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
The Prince by Niccolò Machiavelli
Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier
The Red and the Black by Stendhal
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro
The Republic by Plato
Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy
Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe
A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf
The Secret History by Donna Tartt
The Shock of the New by Robert Hughes
Silent Spring by Rachel Carson
Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut
Sophie’s Choice by William Styron
Stories by Anton Chekhov
Story of the Eye by Georges Bataille
The Stranger by Albert Camus
A Suitable Boy by Vikram Seth
The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy
Thérèse Raquin by Émile Zola
The Unconscious (Penguin Modern Classics Translated Texts) by Sigmund Freud
Walden by Henry David Thoreau
Watt by Samuel Beckett
The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More by Roald Dahl
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

7 year update

7 years old in Year 2 and doesn’t stop talking!
Height- 125 cms
Pet- Cat cause its so cute and purrs
Colour- Hot pink
Fruit- Passionfruit
Vegetable- Mushroom
Fav food- Mulangi (turnip) sambar with okra fry
Fav snack- Fruit salad with icecream
Fav sweet thing- Oreos cream and  Ice-cream
Fav ice-cream flavour- Butterscotch, vanilla,, cookies and cream
Best friend in school- Emma

Fav Class teacher- Miss Hamilton

Fav Book- Timelife books
Most fav person in the world- “Mom and ammama,  but the bestest one is Vigin”
Best game- skipping
TV Show- True and Bartle Bee, Noddy, The Magic Schoolbus
Activity- playing “Guess who”
Swims like a champ- Level Arms- going strong
After school activities- Bollywood dancing, singing lessons, school choir, Swimming, scootering and Cycling

kalis sacred song

Once, in a land of vermillion sunsets, the goddess Kali stretched her arms to the sky and began to sing. In her voice, the ocean met tall desert cliffs, stars tumbled down like stones, and tiny sea barnacles clung to wet depths. And it seemed like time stood still.

Can you imagine yourself there?

Her blue-black arms sway like smoke. You want to embrace the immensity of her shape, smell the waves of her hair, for everyone sees her with the same blind raw infant love… And her voice. Her voice opens and fills the night air with sounds — low, deep — trickling through tree trunks, grass, and pebbles like a winding river — one that washes through every dry crack of thirst. She sings and sings until the strongest men and women are left with longing, smooth and liquid in their mouths.

But, when she finally turns to face you, her arms hold daggers and her breath is fire.


Your shock and disappointment mean nothing to her. Her gaze will tear the truth out of your chest, her words, a thousand mirrors, reflect your purest self, your finest deed. But also every demon you harbor, every disparity between what you just did and what you say you believe. Ripped from the comforting pillows of blame and self-pity, you will witness each and every way you are the worst offender.

Few have the courage to meet her.

For she is true love.