Distinctiveness - Travel and Lifestyle Blog

It was inevitable that my seven-year-old would fall for Linkin Park. The California-based rock band remains an integral part of my playlist and has now found its way to Messi.  We realized quite early that our son had an ear for music and we have encouraged him to find his tune over the years. One of my earlier blogposts deals with the matter -   A Playlist for Messi . While he had shown an affinity for rock before, it was only recently that I noticed that he had taken to Linkin Park. One fine morning, I caught him humming ' Somewhere I Belong '. Linkin Park!  There's a special satisfaction when your child is fond of something you like. A song. A game. A football team (someday soon!). As such, as I saw him groove to this masterpiece from Linkin Park, I couldn't help a small smile on my face.  Growing up with Linkin Park I fell in love with Linkin Park as a teenager I still remember the first time I heard Linkin Park. I was watching a World Rally Championship Video, just

RG Kar Medical College and Hospital (Image Source - OneIndia) The RG Kar Medical College & Hospital in Kolkata was established in 1886, and is Asia's first private medical college. Once the symbol of hope and excellence, this institution turned into the face of hell on August 9, when a trainee doctor was raped and murdered on duty.  Since then West Bengal has been in a state of turmoil.  The entire country has gone through a variety of emotions. The gruesome nature of the crime has sent shockwaves across the nation. Support has poured in for the deceased's family from across the country. People have been out on the street. There have been calls for reforms. There have also been conspiracy theories, and accusations of attempts to interfere in the investigation. The political fraternity has, of course, been involved in a blame game. RG Kar Medical College & Hospital has been in the news for all the wrong reasons or perhaps not.  RG Kar Medical College incident shows grues

Mother Nature's masterpieces (including the two young fellows) The second day of a trip can be either really exciting or deeply depressing depending on the circumstances. Even in Meghalaya , the abode of the clouds.  For instance, the second day of a week-long vacation is likely to keep everyone in an upbeat mood. However, the second day of a weekend trip can be quite melancholy. There's always sadness looming at the culmination of good times.  That was how I felt on a Sunday morning at Quinton Enclave, a quaint little homestay right in the heart of Shillong . We were all a little sore from our ten-hour drive around North East India the previous day. [ Also Read:  A Drive to Krang Suri Falls, Meghalaya ]  There was another six-hour drive ahead of us. The thought of holidays coming to an end only added to the gloom. I sat at the small desk, working on my laptop, but mostly lost in thought. The tea turned cold. It was a lazy morning. That was of course, until Messi woke up. &quo

The delights of finding a pocket of heaven on Earth Have you ever stumbled upon something unexpectedly good when it was least likely to happen? I’m sure you have. It’s beautiful how life works out sometimes. Hope and despair work hand in hand to churn up a magnum opus. That was what happened when we set out to visit Krang Suri Falls one July morning (Read: A drive to Krang Suri Falls ). After a seven-hour trip, we found only despair. Life gave us a shot of hope in the form of Kibo Restaurant and urged us to look up and seek the brighter side of things. Find the rainbow in the clouded sky. This is the story of what happened next. Drive to Shillong from Amlarem Krang Suri Falls to Shillong is a scenic drive Buoyed by a fulfilling meal, we continued our journey through rural Meghalaya, heading towards Shillong. The disappointments of missing out on Krang Suri Falls was immediately forgotten as we indulged in Meghalaya's picturesque landscape. There was a sight to behold at every

Krang Suri Falls There are few things in the world as exciting as the anticipation of a long-awaited trip. A lot of effort is required behind the scenes to script a successful trip, and it all starts with an idea. A brainwave. A craving for the road.  A touch of Wanderlust. "Isn't it strange that we have never been to Krang Suri Falls yet?" That. That was the exact moment when it all started. Almost immediately, we were thinking about the trip. Soon enough, it was on our mind all day and then, all week. We began planning for the journey. We started scouting the route on the World Wide Web. And pretty soon, it was time to leave.  The anticipation of a long-awaited trip hits its record high on the night before the journey. On a Friday evening, we finished our chores in time and hit the bed a little earlier. My seven-year-old son, however, remained deep in thought. "What is it, Messi?" "Do we have to leave at the break of dawn, Baba?"  "Yeah.&quo

  I recently completed 15 years on Blogger. 15 years ago, one fine morning, I suddenly had a brainwave. I wanted to have a blog of my own. I have no idea how such a thought corrupted my mind, or maybe, I do. The world was a different place then. We were young, still coming to terms with the immense potential of the World Wide Web. I had been stringing together words to form sentences of value for a while, but the audience was a limited few. When you create something, no matter how miniscule, no matter how insignificant it might be to the cause of the society, you often tend to be overprotective of it. So was I, writing in last pages of notebooks or on small diaries with black covers that were shielded from prying eyes. Verses, mostly, and occasional stories that usually ended up in crumpled papers in the dustbin at the corner of the room. 15 years ago, I shed my inhibitions and decided to open up to a wider audience. I forayed into blogging on a whim, simply to unleash my voice on

  It's not always that you find a book that mixes sadness and humor to good effect. However, Gail Honeyman's work - 'Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine' is that rare exception that fits the mold. It's has a very unglamorous take on depression, but that is what makes it so real. Sadness isn't fashionable, despite what the movies might suggest. It's not beautiful, it's not charming. Its bittersweet image is a fraud; sadness is entirely bitter and not even remotely sweet. Eleanor Oliphant, as you might have guessed, is not at all fine, even though that is what she claims to be. Isn't that how we all face sadness? We completely deny its existence, we fight the tears when they need to be shed. We often refuse to deal with the darkness, seeking momentary distraction instead. We often fight a lonely battle in the confines of our hearts, gasping for air even as we sink deeper and deeper. Sadly, the journey from sadness to normal isn't a simple a

  Match made in heaven, but perfected on Earth. Those who say Time and Tide wait for none are probably bachelors. Because married people will know that Mr. Time and Mr. Tide have to wait for their Mrs. Mr. Time will have to wait while the missus chooses a dress. Mr. Tide will have to sit solemnly with his wife and wait while she shops for new clothes. The bachelors of the world are unlikely to be abreast of such wisdom. It is only the married masses who have been enlightened with this resourceful information. I'm sure my married pals will agree. In private, of course. Interestingly, on this day, ten years ago, I registered my name among the enlightened bunch, the patient waiters. Sumita was officially promoted to the position of my better half. We were locked in wedlock, all set to face the world hand in hand. I used to imagine that sharing a house with me would be fun, but have, over time, realized that such a statement might not be entirely true. I do have a penchant fo

  We were a gang, a tribe before this day arrived 24 years ago Few dates have a sense of grief attached to them. They arrive every year, a new day, a new morning, yet the old sadness that lingers in their window curtains never ceases to exist. Time is but a spectator at their doorstep, incapable of exercising her power of regeneration. Unable to heal. Unable to cure. Unable to dismiss tragedies in her waves. I often think about how all of us know of such dates in our lives. Some old, some raw. Days when the lights went out, darkness prevailed and hope seemed like a distant dream. Days when life came to a stuttering stop, time slowed down and the rain refused to end. All that remained was grief. This 10th day of January is one such date. A day from a distant past, yet one which reminds me of an ageless pain. This day whispers to me in a slow sad tone now, speaking of the one who left us more than two decades ago. Reminding me of all the conversations we never had, the movies and s