Distinctiveness - Travel and Lifestyle Blog

  What's life without fun and games? “Are you joking?” Messi froze in his tracks and narrowed his eyes. Minute creases of worry formed on his little forehead. I had just told him that I was contemplating making an omelette on his head. It was a warm, humid noon; the sun was glaring down on us with vengeance. I was picking up my six-year-old son from school. As usual, Messi rushed out of the gate, handed me his bag and water bottle, and proceeded to play with his friends.  When the fun time finally ended, I got hold of my exhausted son, who was now sweating from head to toe.  “It’s so hot,” he declared.  “Shouldn’t have run so much,” I pointed out. He simply shrugged. On the way home, I suggested that since his head was so hot, I could crack an egg to get my protein intake for the day. “Are you joking?” My son has a very clear understanding of a proper joke, and the intricate details associated with it, and for that, perhaps, I should take full res...

  My father gave me a very special gift, a present handed down through the generations, and it took me years to realize it. My father had an enormous passion for writing. His works now lie scattered across Dooars, the place he loved with all his heart. He wrote of the blues hills and the pristine rivers. The carpet of tea plantations covering the land and the joys and sorrows of its people. He spoke of life, love, pains, and celebrations. I looked up to him when I wrote my first verse decades ago. My father’s words shaped lives yet managed to outlive the man himself. On this day, eleven years ago, he quietly slipped away, the notebook open and the pen sitting idly on his study desk. My father left behind a room full of books and unfinished works and a massive hole in our lives. I have long believed that everything I have written since has been meaningless. All my efforts, wasted, because he would never read them. My father would never let out a disappointed sigh upon iden...

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, pa...

For past 10 months, a lot of people have been asking me how I have been. And I’ve always maintained that I’m fine. But I guess it’s time I brush aside those fake one-liners and honestly ask myself, “ How am I doing, actually?” I thought I would give up blogging after Baba passed away. Yet here I am, remembering Him, and trying to make a comeback of sorts. I remember how He always encouraged me to write, saying that it was important to have different aspects of one’s life, and not just work till you drop. How do you cope with life after losing that pillar of your world? How do you get a grip on yourself and try to fix your messed up life? How do you take that step ahead, knowing that now there’s no one to fall back to if you make a mistake? Simple, You don’t. There’s no written protocol, no Standard Operating Procedure. Like they say, life simply doesn’t come with an instruction manual. I remember I used to have a decent life, not a care in life, no worries. I had my pare...