A Cup of Tea & Biscuits

Also adapted & published on  Medium .   My first memory of swimming is that of inhaling chlorinated water, rising sputtering for breath while simultaneously trying to expel a blocked ear and sinus, and still, gasping for breath, lifting one arm after the other, pushing my head back down and powering through to the end of the line. As a child of 6–7, it was not my definition of fun. I could indulge in a nice steaming mug of malted chocolate milk and warm clothes at the end of it, but waking up early in the morning during summer break and practicing on an empty stomach, or spending a few hours every evening after school and then smelling like bleach was not appealing. Flash forward fifteen years. I have a membership at a gym with a pool in every location and it even influenced my choice of apartments. For the past six years, I have gone to the pool 4–5 days a week and planned schedules around my pool time. 25 minutes of throwing myself in a vat of ...

Also adapted & published on Medium . I’ve maintained very stringently a stark line between my professional and personal life since I began my career fresh out of college 6 years ago. I’m happy to say that it has remained so - the experiences leak through as they should and I’m more naturally myself personally than I can ever be professionally. This is true for everyone. Anyway, my career was on its natural run, and I have moved on from a starry eyed developer to a managerial role. This has always seemed to me, a very natural progression of my career (I even recall telling my first manager that in 4 years, I saw myself leading a project and team). It happened. Now, two years in, I have learned, grown, changed, adapted and placed myself in the path of doing all of it in a continuous rhythm. I share a few things that have helped me in this venture - from those around me, with a flavor of my mind as well. Always listen. But don't stay quiet all the time. One of the fi...

I am afraid. Thirty-two thousand feet in the air, warm and comfortable in a blanket, some coffee, a drink and food at hand, the only confession I can make and admit to myself is that I am terrified. Of all the things I just left behind and the choice I’m hurtling towards. My heart is in my throat right now and I cannot stop the tears that I keep dabbing away. Less than an hour ago, I boarded a plane from Chicago to Seattle. As I went past security, a TSA agent asked me if I was heading home. I found myself tongue-tied. I was leaving home. A place I made my home in and going away. A conscious decision, I should add, but I was still leaving. For nearly 6 months now I’ve known this was bound to happen. Two months ago I signed certain papers and it became official. As I revealed the news to those closest to me, it slowly began to sink in that I wouldn’t see them again. Some of my best friends had already left Chicago and while I felt their absence keenly, it never struck me as a fina...

Finding solace in places like this, I am at peace with myself Also adapted & published on Medium . As a somewhat seasoned (luxury) traveler, there is very little that can bother me in means of making plans and traveling on a day’s notice. Or a few hours as it happened once. I have a small vanity bag packed at all times with essentials, and this can truly be brought down to just my contact lenses. Everything else can be purchased at my destination. From weekend trips to month-long vacations, I am quite at ease. A mental checklist and alarms set for any morning flights are mostly enough. But, I still remember my first trip. The one I took on my own - decided, planned and executed on my own. It is quite an intimidating task and it takes courage to go through with it. With my measly first bonus check, I picked Seattle as the destination of my first jaunt. Why Seattle ? Because very few people choose to go there as their first vacation spot. A month before the trip, I signed u...

If man has no tea in him, he is incapable of understanding truth and beauty. – Japanese Proverb A common tea time ritual, when measuring out tea leaves to be steeped, is always some number of tablespoons to serve and one for the teapot. This is how a tea pot builds its character. Perhaps it’s one that has been handed down a generation, or few, when it will naturally be  too  characterful or a brand new shiny pot that is waiting for its infusion. And so life goes on. With a mix of inherited behavior and newer ones being created. My first ever lesson in life comes from family. I am an only child, though the first millennial born of my (maternal) family. A second generation Bangalorean, this meant I did grow up with quite the finer things in life because it was the firm belief of my parents, and grandparents, that every generation of the family should be better off than the previous. This thought process seems a sensible one to me. A simple example here - Grandpa was ...