Distinctiveness - Travel and Lifestyle Blog

United succumbed to a disappointing 1-3 defeat in the Manchester Derby. Photo Courtesy - goal.com Have you ever felt so happy that it felt like your lungs would burst out of your chest? Have you ever felt so sad that it's hard to even breathe? Well, we are practically family then! While a lot of things make me emotional, nothing gets me going like football. So it was only fair that I was heartbroken at Manchester United's defeat in the Manchester Derby at the weekend. I had been following the Red Devils for almost 2 decades now and while I have seen them (on the television ofcourse!) lift every trophy possible, each defeat still hurts deep inside. And the loss to Manchester City ruined my Sunday, my dinner and a good night's sleep. Which brings me to my current predicament - why are we like this? (I am ofcourse assuming that I am not the only one drowning in my own pool of tears!). You see, we could easily be content with the first sign of achievement, the first

A picture from years ago, which always urges me to keep the wanderlust alive [Photo Credit - Sudip Pandit] I recently went on a long drive to fuel my wanderlust. The positive was that it was a long drive home and when you take the route home, the world always looks rosier. However, it was only when I was returning back, at the end of my holidays, that a certain thought struck me.  It was a beautiful afternoon outside, my stomach was full of the wonderful Pork curry I savored at Bongaigaon and my tongue was still relishing the reminiscent flavours. The road was empty, Mohit Chauhan was singing “Phir se Udd Chala” on the stereo and I was feeling a bit nostalgic, wishing that I could have spent a few days more at home. I snapped out of my daydream with the sound of drums beating at a distance.  Bit by bit, the sound got louder, until I realized the actual source of the sounds. As the long stretch ended in a turn, I saw a group of Bikers emerge from the bend, passing thr

Laxmi Puja Prasad You might be tempted to question the source of motivation in a post about Festivals and Gorging, but in my opinion, there is no motivation greater than good food in this world. At least for me there isn't. I have gone to great lengths for good food in my life, but I shall not delve into that now. Let me start with a disclaimer: the rites and rituals of a traditional Puja has never interested me. But that doesn't mean I have never prayed in my life. Even though I embraced the ideologies of my strictly atheist Father at a very young age, I was taught the value of respecting others' views and opinions. And so, I remember praying when my first dog fell ill. Unfortunately, no one listened to a little boy crouching at a corner of his room, with tears in his eyes. From then on, the only times I prayed was to ask the Almighty not to take away a loved one, however, it seldom worked. Bitter and dejected, in my later years, I started praying to my own God

There's no better example of "Good Times Fly" than Durga Puja. The wait is endless it seems, but when Maa Durga finally arrives, the days are gone by in a flash. All of a sudden, Dashami Evening is here and it is time to bid Maa Durga a fond adieu. Having to say goodbye is painful, but parting in the knowledge that we shall meet again lessens the agony. It is the perfect farewell and it is just the assurance that life needs from time to time. Dashami, as such, has a quiet element of optimism about her.  Let us leave aside the mythological aspects of the event and just focus on the emotional part. In fact, let us take stock of an average person’s Durga Puja. Sasthi, Saptami, Asthami, you have had your fill of fun, adda and photographs. Let us not forget the food either, that is, after all, an equally important aspect of the Festival. The three days have sped away, as if they have far less than their normal quota of 24 hours now and you have reached the penultima

How does one deal with disappointment? How does one cope up with the cancellation of plans? This week I experienced a pot hole in the road to life and found myself disheartened, disappointed and broken. The reason was simple – it was Durga Puja and for the first time in 33 years of my life, there were chances that I would be spending it away from home. For the average Indian, it is hardly something to feel bad about, one only has to look at it as a leave that was cancelled - happens, life goes on. However, for the Bengali, things are a little bit different. Statutory Warning : I am an atheist, but the greatest festival on earth had me hooked since as long as I can remember. When I was a little child, we waited for Durga Puja all year long. The wait normally started with the earth-crumbling pains from the immersion of Maa Durga on Dashami night. Slowly, the grandiloquent lights of the festive season would go out, one by one, until the merry streets turned to regular ro