Nostalgia

I am officially in my fourth trimester. For the uninitiated, this is the 12-week transitional period after childbirth, where the baby is figuring out how to exist in this loud, bright world and the parents are figuring out how to exist on zero sleep and sheer adrenaline. It is a time of bonding, physical recovery, and wondering if I will ever have a moment to myself that doesn't involve a nappy or a burp cloth. Here is a little glimpse into my new reality: I’ve discovered I can apparently function on exactly three hours of sleep, even though I was always a light sleeper. Of course, this "function" is fuelled by a perpetual headache and exhaustion. My body is in a constant state of "emergency" with neck, shoulder, and back pain, and I’m pretty much irritated at everything and everyone. The only exception is the baby, who gets a total pass. At the same time, my mind has shifted into a state of high alert that I didn't know was possible. I’ve become hyper-aware...

Almost a year ago, though it feels like a lifetime now, my husband and I were debating why we actually wanted children. Life as a DINK (Double Income, No Kids) couple was pretty peaceful, predictable, and perfectly curated. Why on earth were we inviting a hurricane into our sanctuary? To be honest, the sight of children didn’t exactly spark joy for me. Public meltdowns were usually just a headache, and I’d often catch myself unintentionally rolling my eyes at embarrassed parents struggling to contain screaming toddlers. I never wanted to be "that person." Between being a chronically light sleeper and prone to migraines at the drop of a hat, the "baby lifestyle" felt like a direct threat to my sanity. Fast forward to a few months ago, and the irony was not lost on me. I found myself in my ninth month, groaning with pelvic pain every time I rolled over in bed and frantically buying newborn essentials online. This wasn't an accident; it was a deliberate, fully plan...

Third grade. That's when the blurry blackboard finally drove me to the eye doctor. My notebooks, a masterpiece of miscopied gibberish, were a source of constant frustration for my teachers. But honestly, I was secretly thrilled at the prospect of glasses. My wish came true, and I made my grand entrance home, the proud owner of negative 0.5 and negative 0.25 diopter, oval, silver-framed spectacles, complete with spectacle straps ensuring a secure placement (thanks to Baba!). Instantly, I resembled every strict grandmother I'd ever known and, predictably, became the school's prime source of amusement for the next few days. As a teenager, I really wanted trendy eyewear, which were sometimes hard on my father's wallet. I'd strategically complain about 'eyesight problems' and even managed to manipulate him a few times into getting me new glasses instead of just lenses. This trick also let me sit closer to my crush whenever the teacher put me in the back of the cl...

These days, I don't bother racking my brains much. When it comes to even drafting an online complaint about a botched service, I let Generative AI do the heavy lifting. My energy, instead, is wholeheartedly focused on filling my virtual cart before hitting "order" on the grocery app. The last thing I need is another delivery fee, thanks to forgotten ingredients! It feels like a distant dream now, the freedom to spin words and create something from scratch, without the incessant buzz of pending chores or ticking deadlines. The last time I attempted to write, I remember locking the door and plastering a "Do Not Disturb" label on it. That's the level of focus I need these days. Also, this might sound odd, but while I value staying in touch with people, the mere thought of phone calls sets my nerves on edge. When I dial back, I desperately hope they don't pick up. Music, parties, or booze? Sounds like a recipe for bliss, right? Not in my case. At the first w...

(Unearthed from the digital archives of 2016 and modified) বিশ্বাস বাবু মানুষটি কেবলি ব্যস্ত , কম্পিউটার এর সামনেই তার সময় কাটে দিবারাত্র |  বারো ঘন্টার খাটুনি, এক মিনিটও নন ফাঁকা,  তাই বাজার - দোকানের পর্ব সব weekends এর জন্যই রাখা |  একদিন হঠাৎ অফিস এ গিন্নির call পেয়ে, tension এ পড়লেন বড্ড,  বিনা খবরে শশুর শাশুড়ি উপস্থিত সদ্য সদ্য |  এ দিকে ভালো মাছ কিছুই ঘরে নেই যে আনা |  অল্প সময়ের মধ্যে, ইলিশ, ভেটকীর কিকরে হবে আয়োজন, নেই তার জানা | ওদিকে বসু পরিবার , মুম্বাইতে বাস |  তবুও বাংলার nostalgia তাঁদের টানে বারো মাস |  তাই ছেলের বৌভাতের মেনু নিয়ে no compromise,   চাই ফ্রেশ গলদা চিংড়ির সাথে পমফ্রেট fries |  আবার রায়বাবুর ছোট পরিবার, বেশী মাছ আনলেই হয় নষ্ট , কিন্তু অল্প পরিমানে মাছ পাওয়াই যে কষ্ট | দত্ত বাগানের জেঠু বড়ো sea food ভালোবাসেন | Octopus, squid এর খোঁজে চুপি চুপি বাজার ঘুরে আসেন।  গুপ্তদা Delhi র মানুষ, নতুন পা রেখেছেন শহরে |  তাই বাজার হাট খুব একটা জানা নেই তার ঠিক করে |  রোদ, জল, কাদা, হই চৈ আর মাছের ...

It has been over a year since I actually penned anything new. It has been over a year since I tied the knot, too. No, no, no, I don’t mean to say that my marriage has anything to do with my creative block. That is, just, you know, an FYI. I summon all my muses I used to exploit before. Heartbreak, loneliness, rejection, existential crisis,  So on and so forth. None of them comes to my rescue now. Only our housekeeping aunt cares to answer my call somehow. “Didi aj kaam pe nehi ayenge, beemar hai”. Escapes, then and there. All my poetic endeavours. Straight out of the window,  Anticipating the add-on chores. You see, the apartment we have rented here in Bangalore is over twenty years old. A plethora of its daily tantrums, we get to behold. A tap leaks, a fan squeaks and something, somewhere, breaks apart the next day. This is just the least to say. The fridge stinks, the laundry overflows and the furniture gathers dust. My poor brain left with no other choice, has to attend to ...

As the mercury climbs outside, so does my electricity bill. Thanks to the air conditioner relentlessly burning a hole in our pockets! Ironically, I can't decide which is hotter: the heat blasting from my laptop or the one building up in my head. Flashing back to 2020, when we first transitioned to working from home, the summer was gentle, and rain a frequent visitor. Perhaps with hoomans confined to their dens, nature thrived. Ah, working in pajamas from our bedrooms! What more could we ask for? It almost felt as though the virus itself had granted us a wish. No more frantic commutes, just serene days at home (though not without a twinge of envy from our peers in essential services). With all the extra time, our happiness blossomed. We unleashed our inner Picassos like never before – gardening, singing, dancing, painting you name it! Even virtual team meetings were fun: cameras on, fancy attire donned, and coffee-fuelled chats filled with shared art, e-books, movie recommendations,...