Stories for Memories; Trading Stories for Memories!

At age 40, you don’t expect someone to pick up an Enid Blyton. Surely, I am too old for that?!? But as much as books mean stories, they also mean memories. Memories: lively, painful, colourful, haunting, bittersweet; memories that open the door to a time you feel you’ve left far behind, but is actually just one thought away.

I have memories of being introduced to my first ever library – the collection of books my aunt and my cousins had in their house. Stacked one on top of the other, the books were placed pell-mell in that disorganised, yet loving, manner that most book lovers (and hoarders) are so familiar with. Read More

Excuse Me, Could you Fall for My Charm, Please?

Women have always fascinated me, especially the kind who believe their looks, beauty, clothes, style, makeup and accessories make the world go round; those who are of the opinion that they’re God’s gift to mankind. Let me change that – they firmly believe that they’re God’s gift to mankind. After all, opinions suggest that they can be changed, but beliefs … in India? Ha ha ha, good luck!

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