A Cup of Tea & Biscuits

Also adapted & published on  Medium .   Photo by  Viktor Forgacs  on  Unsplash Let’s start with some quick math. 50 minutes twice a day is 100 minutes per day, which is 500 minutes a week, and 26000 minutes in a year. 433 hours is roughly the amount of time I spend in a year commuting to and from work. Sure, taking into some reduction when I’m in a different city with a shorter commute — 20 minutes each way — and also my vacation time, it’s still about 315 hours or 13 days a year spent on a train or bus getting to and back from work. Time is valuable, whether you use it to get some work done, “me” time, napping is totally up to you. But I think of these 13 days quite as additional time in my everyday life, 100 minutes I’ll never get back, and choose to make the best of it. Mass transit being my chosen method of commute — I am talking of trains and buses running within cities, not those the suburban ones — for nearly a dec...

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...

Also adapted & published on Medium . For years on end, I have signed up for reading challenges. Ok, scratch that. A few years ago, probably when I started working in 2011, I realized that I was reading fewer books. News, editorials, and essays I continued to read online, but never really books even though I continuously bought them. It was about that same time that Goodreads first wandered into my general awareness and off I went - creating lists, finding books I owned, read, wanted to read, etc. This included books I owned, borrowed from the library, friends, picked from at the office share-a-book shelf, pilfered (didn't do that)... I liked it! Watching my lists grow, knowing that I still hadn't accounted for several hundreds of books that I've covered in all my years of reading - which, I have on good authority, is a good 20 years now! Anyway, around that same time is when I figured I ought to challenge myself if only to prove that I genuinely was consuming as...

Consider this book for what it is - the transcript of a play, based on one of the most popular fictional storylines to have ever been written. And yet, it does not live up to that expectation. Of a play. I'd like to think of myself as part of the generation that grew up with Harry Potter . Physically, I mean not just in terms of reading. The character itself is actually older than me, but I was only a few years older than Harry when I read the Philosopher's Stone, and 21 when the story ended. Supposedly. When the Cursed Child was announced, it not only took me by surprise but also filled me with a certain apprehension of how much to expect from rehashing a story that ended on a note of closure. I was in England the day the book was released and having pre-ordered and picked it up at Hatchard's (with the nerd in me doing cartwheels), I settled in - with cupcakes and wine - to read this much-awaited sequel to the series that was the means of introducing me to my now best frie...

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...