Shoe Box of Postcards

Today is Father’s Day. Those who forgot to wish their dad, or worse did not post on their Instagram feed some old photos with their father, no need to worry. Just switch off the fan and light after leaving the room, there is no greater gift to a middle-class Indian dad than this. My dad just had a chill day, he binge- watched a show on Netflix, was moody the whole day, ate half of my snickers bar from the freezer and reminded me to exercise. Yep, my dad has morphed into my millennial clone. All that is left, is to sulk in a corner with the phone, order a pizza and complain about the wine.

A tribute to why I love my father on Father’s Day is a bit too cliched for me. Hence, I will share the picture of a waterfall we visited in Shillong on our last trip together. It was a long day, marred with occasional rain showers and long winding hill roads. Wei Sawdong was our last stop for the day before it became too dark to enjoy the natural beauty of Shillong. As tired as I was, the path to the waterfall was steep, with no handrails, slippery owing to the drizzle before and well I was in no mood to fall in the mud and break my bones. So, I opted out and advised my father that it was too risky. My dad is an adventure seeking, relentless traveler and encouraged me that the view will be worth the short hike. And it was! Wei Sawdong is perhaps the most beautiful waterfall; I have seen in my life. In that moment, I hoped that as I grow older, I never lose my curiosity and passion for travel, and look forward to the thrill of experiencing a thing of beauty. 

*

Most of us are very familiar with the infamous Mayan calendar. It was wrongly read in 2012, and experts now claim 21 June 2020, to be the doomsday. It was also the solar eclipse today, and many parts of the world witnesses the ‘Ring of Fire’. My mother did ask me to not eat anything till noon. If it is the last day on earth, there was no way I was going to miss breakfast. Well, the day is almost over, and as far as my doomsday movie PhD goes, there were no sudden deluges, cracks in the earth, no meteor shower and the US President and the Pope did not send out a video as a farewell message. And John Cusack did not save my life to fall in love with me forever. So, yeah, a moderate Sunday.

If you avoided washing utensils today thinking the world is going to end tomorrow, may the force be with you my friend. A mountain of unwashed utensils waits for you in the kitchen. Twitter is flooded with memes and trolls where people are making fun of this prediction. C’mon give the poor Mayan guy a break. Maybe he was working on the calendar and got a message from his boss, “Need this asap. Kindly do the needful.” The guy says, “Fuck it” and just ends the calendar where he stopped, submitted his work, and went about his life. And who would notice really, he thought. We have all been there, right?

As Netizens kept me occupied with their sadistic doomsday humor, I wondered maybe it is the end of the world. A world full of hate, misogyny, crime and the hopelessness of the pandemic. Maybe this world will end today and tomorrow we will all go back to a coronavirus free world, full of positive thoughts and hope. Well, that is just my wishful thinking.

*

Today, I watched five videos on YouTube. All five of them were videos of freezer meal preps. I realized I have over the past few weeks, watched freezer meal prep videos almost every day. One might think, I do freezer meals and hence watch these videos for the purpose of self-learning. Hell, no. I am not a freezer meal prepper, I am not a working mom with kids who needs to work on weekends to do meal preps, and I have never done or intend to do a meal prep ever! The same obsession is with a Korean barista who shares videos of her doing mundane work in her mom’s café in Seoul. Neither do I want to be a barista, nor do I own a café of my own. Can’t even bake a cookie or prepare a frapuccino to save my own life!

Does this happen to you as well? You open You Tube and watch videos at end with no purpose, no definite objective and no intent of self- learning a skill. These are videos of random acts- gardening, cleaning, shopping hauls and what not. Post watching the videos, you go back to your regular life with no interaction or intent to subscribe the channel. Next day, you repeat the same. It is like a black hole, a vortex that sucks you in to watching useless videos at end.

There is a name for such type of online behavior. It is called social media voyeurism. It would be a realistic statement for most of us that we live in an era of ultimate connectedness. Everyone uses at least one social media platform. Have you wondered about people who read your posts, see your pictures but never engage with likes, comments or emoticons? Essentially, they are just peeping into your life and choose to not socialize with you. We are an extremely curious species, and social media has just given us an outlet to be curious about others without engaging. It is the ultimate elitist, snooty behavior, a change in the balance of power. It makes you feel special and powerful doesn’t it, a window into the life of an unknown person.

During the lock down, lot of celebrities are sharing pictures of them doing housework. What is so special about it? Really nothing, but a fact that Katrina Kaif does dishes on a Monday evening somewhere makes you happy doing dishes doesn’t it?  There is a flurry of LIVE sessions across the celebrity circuits and in corporates as a mechanism to engage with the audience. Some of them are just slices of mundane life, but what makes them popular is that it permits voyeuristic behavior.

Even before social media, or without it, curiosity about others is a part of our interactions. Don’t we connect with friends to gossip, mine information, discuss office politics or discuss the complex codes of human behavior? Let’s just say humans are not snoops, perhaps we are a highly informative, evolved social researchers!

After my 30 minutes of peeping into the lives of the two ‘influencers’ on You Tube I felt a sense of complete ridicule and a kind of internal erosion. I think this innate curiosity fills my evolutionary need for information about others. In a weird sense it is comforting, sometime even to the point of obsession. I realized I enjoy the videos because the preparation, the well curated lists of a freezer meal, the planning of the task provides a sense of stability to my Type A personality. The ordinary, predictable life of a café barista fills me with hope, especial since most of my world right now is unpredictable. Though completely harmless, I shall try to indulge in relevant and useful content and not waste time watching meaningless content.

During this lock down, one of my favorite things has been arranging and organizing my photo gallery. As I sift through, literally hundreds of pictures, I can’t help but wonder. Why do we take pictures? It is such a universal habit, common to all nationalities, races, genders, and generations. If you stand across the Eiffel Tower in France and look around there isn’t a single person not trying to get the perfect picture of the monument. The Angkor Wat in Cambodia at sunrise is abuzz with enthusiast photography lovers, happily clicking away to capture the various hues of orange in the sky. We are, even during the lock down, clicking and sharing more pictures, from home, than ever through our Instagram feed.

It is a unique human trait and there is more than one answer to why humans love taking pictures and storing them to revisit later. Perhaps, we are but a tiny, speck of dust in the ocean of time trying to leave a legacy of the life we have lived.

Moments are fleeting, and time passes more quicker than you want it too. A photograph is a reminder of a time you wish to remember. I came across my photo, stored in a shoe box, taken 15 years back, in a denim jacket drinking a glass of lassi. The steel glass, mind you, was bigger than my hand. The past 15 years have passed quite hurriedly, but the photo reminds me of the feeling of having a big glass of lassi for the first time in Jalandhar. Such a simple photo, but the element of enjoying a new beverage for the first time made me feel something.

Hardly anyone makes photo albums anymore. Do you remember capturing holiday pictures, birthdays and daily routines on a Kodak camera and waiting for them to arrive in a neat album, arranged in plastic covers? Humans are nostalgic creatures, and it is a common thing that binds us all. A person sitting in New York, or Istanbul or Melbourne takes pictures to hold on to memories. Doesn’t a smile spread across your face when you look at old pictures, when you hold the prints in your hand? We might be looking at photos on screen, I am arranging my photo albums on my laptop, yet the feeling of wanting to hold on to the memories is still the same.

Photos can tell a story, record your memories for you. You take your phone in the morning and take photos of everything from your breakfast, the birds chirping on the tree outside, to the changing sunset scenes and a frame by frame diary of all your daily activities. Access to photography on smart phones has changed the way we live, and the way we look at the world. You need not own an expensive equipment to capture a starry night or a dreamy misty morning.

Sometimes it makes me feel guilty, the sense of uneasiness of falling down the rabbit hole of social media when you see a picture of a person, who was at a place you were a week back. I could have taken a picture at that place, doing a cliched pose and what not. Maybe because we always have a camera, there is an added pressure of taking photos versus living in the moment. That momentary feeling of anxiety and the need to take a picture for the ‘gram, it passes. Although I have only few pictures of a place or an event, it doesn’t diminish the joy of recollecting memories about it.

Here are five photos, I came across in my gallery today, just random clicks, that made me smile.

So, what about you? Why do you like taking pictures? Share your Instagram and Flickr links in comments and offer a glimpse into your story.

When I was a kid, my family often took trips during the summer vacation. We were budget travelers and traveled by train back then. My love for travel began early and since we traveled across the length and breadth of the country, for days at large in trains, my affiliation to a train journey is obvious. I subscribe to the belief that you haven’t traveled the beautiful country of India, if you haven’t done a train journey in your lifetime.  

Train travel is a window to the enthralling natural landscapes, it is about exchanging stories and food with strangers, spending quality time with your family or just being by yourself and listening to music or reading a book.

While arranging my travel photos, I couldn’t help but wonder to make a list of all train journeys I wish to take in my lifetime. While doing so, I revisited some of my favorite ones in India.

Himalayan Queen

If you are a ‘filmy’ soul like me, this toy train ride between Kalka to Simla is a must do. It passes through tunnels, picturesque valleys, and stretches of Rhodendron forests. The scenic beauty of the foggy meadows is a treat for the eyes. I did this trip roughly 20 years back, it was so memorable, I even remember what we had packed for lunch that day! It is a 5 hour or so train ride, a must do if you are ever travelling in Himachal Pradesh.

Konkan Railways

Any trip along the Konkan coast is a unique experience full of accidental waterfalls, lush green foliage, glimpses of steep mountains and the occasional seacoast. My favorite one remains the Mumbai- Goa route. When we were skint in college, we often traveled in the non-AC compartment, playing cards, munching on hot snacks and gossiping all the way. Although flight tickets on this route are cheap, I still find myself taking a day trip on the train. Take a book along, find a lone window and take a trip during Monsoons to enjoy this ride.

Traversing the Dooars

On a short visit to a tea estate, I decided to take a train trip from Siligiru to Alipurduar, I recommend a lot of patience for this one, as reaching Siliguru is a challenge. The train route literally takes you into the middle of a dense forest, with tall trees on both sides. The Dooars, remains to be explored, with its majestic Eastern Himalayas in the backdrop, dense forests, tea gardens and the enchanting doorway to Bhutan.

There are many more such blissful train trips across the country, with milky waterfalls, lush green forests and steep mountain curves. Most travelers like to get from place A to place B in the least fussy, and the quickest way possible. For me travel is also about the journey, about the railway stations and airports, about the time you spent with friends and family, playing cards and talking about the generalities of life.

At any other time, Shoojit Sircar’s ‘Gulabo Sitabo’ would have been a low key, charming movie with a tepid box office collection. This movie caught the attention of headlines as it became one of the first Hindi movie to release on an OTT platform without a theatrical release. This movie has few heavy weight characters who portray a medley of Lucknow residents, all obsessing over the picturesquely crumbling haveli of Fatima Mahal. The attention to detail, excellent repertoire of character portrayals is heart-warming.  It keeps you hooked till 30 odd minutes, from there the movie drags on at a glacial pace along a linear story line.

But this is not a movie review, is it? This is about the movie’s not so hidden love affair with the city of Lucknow. The movie paints a very real picture of the lived-in Lucknow city, sprinkled with anecdotes about the city’s rich history. 

My intrigue and fascination for Lucknow began in the year 2014. I had never been to the city before, and I happened to visit it on the way to Kanpur for work matters. In my numerous visits thereafter, I am but a humble fan of the vivid history, the architectural wonder and succulent kebabs that belong to the city of Lucknow.

There is an allegorical riff between the preserved history of the city, and the need to be part of the modern day, fast paced capital town. The city is a picture carousel of many architectural beauties such as the imambaras, century old markets, remains of the British residency and many more. The movie reminded me of my top three places to visit in the city, slightly different from the usual tourist traps.

La Martiniere College

Of the three locations of La Martiniere institutes in the world, one is in Lucknow, and it is also the tomb of Claude Martin, a French Major-General. It has some profoundly decorated balconies, and carved arches. It was founded in 1800s and is still a functioning school. The Constantia building is perhaps, one of the better-preserved buildings in the city.

Rumi Darwaza

Not sure, if the Rumi darwaza is named after the Persian poet or after the modern-day Rome, but I like to believe it is after the poet. If you are a fan of sublime architecture, grand domes, and archways, a warm cup of tea overlooking the grandeur of this Awadhi monument is the key to start a morning. If it is a winter morning, let’s not forget the creamy delicacy of malai makhan, full of chopped pistachios, and cardamom at the 200-year-old Chowk market. Dessert for breakfast? Well, when in Lucknow live like a nawab.

Hussainabad Clock Tower

Constructed in the 1800s, it is the tallest clock tower in India. It was built as a replica to the Big Ben clock tower in London. As you grab some munchies from the vendors nearby and enjoy a nice evening chit chat with a friend, you can’t help but wonder that commoners did not have access to a watch as it was a very rare possession. 

Despite numerous visits to the city, and after reading mesmerizing stories about its rich history, Lucknow remains but a temptation to visit one more time. Till it is safe to travel for pleasure, enjoy the visual treat the movie ‘Gulabo Sitabo’ offers with beautiful shots of the famous monuments and a glimpse into the cultural ambiance of Lucknow.  

In India, many cities have slowly started opening offices, theaters, restaurants and shops. In others, it will happen soon, or eventually over the next few weeks. For some, returning to the ‘normal’ way of life is offering a sense of relief. But that is not true with everyone, is it? If you are worried about returning to ‘normal’, and the gradual end of this lock down- you are not along. I for one, for a very confusing reason- will miss the sheltered comfort of this phase.

There are legitimate reasons to feel so, especially if you are concerned about the health of your family. Moreover, the lock down has paradoxically improved the quality of life, mental well being and added meaningful habits.

As life is such, we might not go back to the ‘normal’- heck, I don’t even know what ‘normal’ is anymore- we will progress, some will reluctantly slide, into the ‘new normal’ of life. And as every change in life, one must learn to cope with it.

Acknowledge the Anxiety

While commuting to work this week, I felt a certain uneasiness crawl into my mind as I started the prep the night before. How will I travel to work? Is just a mask enough? Where did I keep the sanitizer bottle? Throughout the car ride, I tried to calm my nerves by indulging in a lightweight mobile game which is my version of ‘all is well’.

The first step of getting to the core of why reopening worries you is to acknowledge and accept the anxiety. My fear, of a second wave of widespread infection and its impact on my family’s health caused my anxiety. By acknowledging it, not only did I take the proper precautions but ensured that I follow all protocol, double check on hand washing and desk sanitizing. Don’t forget to cross your fingers and say a quick ‘all is well’.

Hold on to the Emotional Perquisites

Believe it or not, work from home has its own set of emotional perquisites. Whether it is the comfort of your spouse making coffee on a difficult day, taking a break to play a quick game of Ludo with your sibling, or coloring with crayons with your children between meetings. The lock down offered many such perks which might make us feel worse when this it’s all over. If you are calmer and even happier during the lock down, hold on to these perks.

When things go back to ‘normal’, most of us will adapt to the new way of working. We will move to a schedule where we will work 2-3 days from office and the rest from home. Hold on these emotional perquisites, take a break in your home garden to have a cup of tea, spend some quality time with your pet after a difficult work conversation. As work resumes, let the lock down be a reminder that changing your work environment and habits can make all the difference between a bad and good workday.

Forget about FOMO Feelings

A lot of us are worried, that when things go back to the time before, living with the pressure of posting vacation pictures, group hang outs, foodgrams will enter back into our lives. As people begin to reconvene and socialize, travel and head out, those old FOMO-y feelings might come back. Am I the only one who is preemptively dreading them? At least during the lock down, social media wise most of us were in the same boat. We made the same homemade pizza, tried our hand at dalgona coffee, attended zoom call weddings and did yoga at home.

Social media pressure is real, and the only way to stop the FOMO-y feeling is to understand how bad social media makes you feel even when your life is objectively better than most. But hey you have more control over your feelings and life than you give yourself credit for. So, take it a day at a time and forget about FOMO feelings by thinking about the day when everyone attempted to cut their own hair for the ‘gram and how incredibly ridiculous it all was.

Change is hard, and it is OK to be anxious about going back to the ‘new normal’ way of life. Remember, how hard it was a couple of months back to adjust to the lock down? You have made it this far, haven’t you? 

During my commute to the office today, I happen to browse through the trailer for the movie ‘Gunjan Saxena’. It is a biopic of Flight Lieutenant Gunjan Saxena, who became the first IAF woman officer in combat when she flew Cheetah helicopters during the 1999 Kargil War for casualty evacuation. For 90′s kids, Kargil war is our first solid memory of national politics and international border issues. We were kids back then, so families often did not involve us in post dinner discussions of the war. Hell, I didn’t even know the valley issue and the reasons of tension between the two countries. I have a faint memory of participating in clothes and money collection drives, knocking on doors trying to convince people to contribute for the country, the soldiers, their families. Much later, when I first read about Gunjan Saxena ‘The Kargil Girl’ I was intrigued and read all about her inspiring story. When Dharma Productions announced the movie, I earmarked the date in my calendar as a must watch movie.

Sadly, this movie is releasing on Netflix, a popular OTT platform, due to the coronavirus pandemic, as theaters are closed across India. Honestly, I am disappointed. This movie is a story of courage, determination, a woman flying a chopper and I was looking forward to watching this on the Friday release in a theater near me.

Am I the only one here who still loves going to the cinema?

I am sorry but the OTT experience is not the same. Streaming movies makes the whole experience quite mundane, and few movies deserve the theater experience to be enjoyed to the fullest. Imagine watching Uri on the television in your pajamas, imagine Tom Cruise doing impossible stunts on your laptop screen. Bah, so boring. At the theater, you get magically pulled into the sound and color in a way that is not the same when you’re sitting on your couch at home. I do watch lot of movies on my TV and laptop and there is nothing wrong with it. It’s just that seeing something cinematic blown up big for the eyes to feast on is a worthwhile experience.

Previews and Trailer. Ok, so what if I am sucker for movie trailers and previews. If you arrive at the movie hall after the trailers start, I won’t even consider you a cinema fan. It is the perfect time to settle in, adjust to the darkness and ohh and ahh about the new trailers and think “Oh, I want to watch that.” Plus, there is no fast forward in a movie theater. You must surrender yourself to the surroundings, to the experience and just lie back and be entertained. You can’t be bothered to pause in the middle of the climactic scene just so you can go shut the gas button of the rice cooker.

If you enjoy the work of a director, actor or film franchise, watch it in the cinema. It’s no secret that tickets are expensive, it is but a meager homage to the artist and the art. Tell me did you have any fun watching Thor Ragnarok on your measly, forty-inch TV screen with no surround sound? No right. Stop being such a skint and save up to buy a movie ticket will you.

The movie business is changing, and most pundits are predicting its downfall. Come what may, even if there is a single, last remaining theater in my town or any town nearby, I will make that trip to watch a movie. The theater experience for me is a big deal. Growing up, I remember the whole deal from buying advance booking tickets, to gathering the whole family, buying popcorn and cola and returning with wide eyes and wonderful memories.

Cinema is special, it is as good as visiting a temple and being overwhelmed by your devotion. The devotion for movies that is. Convince me otherwise that buying that ticket is not fully worth it. If you don’t see good movies in a theater, you miss out on the complete intended experience.

Yesterday, I dreamt about potatoes. Potatoes of all things. And I don’t know shit about growing potatoes. But there I was, outside my wooden cabin, wearing a large gardening hat and picking potatoes in the mud. It was a happy dream, the trees swaying in the breeze and birds chirping in the background. There was even a dog, chasing after butterflies.

But then, why this dream? I don’t even like outdoors, am not a dog person. As I sat to ponder, a slight sadness started to creep over me, I was unmotivated to do anything constructive with my time.

Has it happened to you during the lock down? A need for a bit of escapism. I realize the example above might seem inconsequential. Between the excel sheets, the zoom calls and our corporate jobs I am not sure if we even recognize the little things that give us peace. What if you still haven’t discovered a meaningful connection between you and your life yet?

Growing up, I often dreamed about working for ISRO, being a space scientist or something. There was a weird fascination I had for space, especially for the planet Mars. Perhaps I watched a lot of Star Trek and read too many comic books for a child of my age. Nevertheless, nobody takes a child seriously and somewhere in mathematics and growing up, I realized it was an immature dream. Like every kid in a middle-class family eventually realizes, nothing is more important than being successful. Getting a good degree, getting a job, buying a house, settling down.  Then, you are free to chose and chase your dream. And, now that I have kind of done that, my dream is to have a garden full of potatoes. Go figure.

One of my favorite cartoons is the one below, and it encapsulates my life during the lock down. When things are tough, when you zoom out, it is the little things that get you through the other side.

Life challenges us in many ways, on a daily basis. It makes us think, exercise our grey cells and make decisions based on data and logic. And after all that, we feel battle weary, tired and afraid. Is this happiness? Getting a good education, holding a high paying job, and then drowning in a sludge of unnecessary emails. And when I ponder on this very thought, maybe growing potatoes is the right way. Have a house on the hill, grow your own vegetables, cook in a garden kitchen. Read during daylight, swim in the stream and watch the stars at night sipping hot coffee. Maybe we have it all wrong. Having a fancy designation, owing a car and being in some 30 before 30 list is not what being successful is all about. The pursuit of big material things, such as money, possessions, success it never ends and will not provide with the satisfaction of perhaps a garden full of potatoes.

Maybe the real purpose of my life is finding the joy in the big small things. Enjoying a quiet sunset, not dreading Mondays, allowing my mind to be wowed at each passing moment. Being transfixed on ‘real’ things that matter, not a 100-hour work week.

The house was bustling with activity. Amma was on the move, heralding her helpers to finish the chores on time. Today was Sunday, she needed to finish the weekly chores today, make all the preparations for the week. I waited silently by the door of Kishore anna’s study, not daring to step out. It was a Sunday, and I had not taken a bath by noon. By any standard, this was blasphemous according to Amma. But it was a Sunday, and I hated taking baths! I knew my time of hiding was almost up as my mother finished cleaning the dry chillies in the veranda.

Ketaki! Amma’s voice boomed in the courtyard. My siblings and cousins giggled, as they knew I was in trouble, as always. After an unsuccessful attempt to hide under the desk, I was spotted by Amma. She smiled, “If you want to hide, you shouldn’t wear such nice smelling flowers.” Reluctantly, I followed her to the courtyard, where she proceeded to untangle my braids. I had long, dark flowing hair, that Amma oiled regularly. We sat at Amma’s favorite spot, on a wooden bench under the flower tree. The white flowers smelled like the ones in temples and this made Amma a different person. Amma was a strict matriarch that ran a large household, but under the tree she was a very different person. She smiled, told stories and hummed songs while lathering my hair with coconut oil. “Now go take a bath, no food before you do that.” I reluctantly moved towards the house, before that I planted a kiss on Amma’s cheek. She acted a little irritated, but I knew she smiled when I ran towards the house.

“Amma. When will school start?” I asked tentatively. “Eat your food quietly now”, she scolded back. School meant parading in a uniform, gossiping with friends and eating pickled mangoes at lunch. It was freedom from being treated like a child at home. Since a month, school was closed, due to some sort of flu outbreak. I was not certain what it was all about. The village nurse came to our house to demonstrate information for the elders. They discussed in hush voices and after dinner, all the children were gathered in the living room. We were told to not meet strangers, not share food and to wash hands thoroughly before eating. Amma would make us drink different concoctions in the day to improve something. I was not sure what this something was, none of my siblings any how explained to me. The concoctions smelled and tasted dreadful. Before sleep we would be made to drink hot turmeric milk which made me burp incessantly. Kishore and Kavya teased me till no end, but Amma wouldn’t listen “You don’t want to fall ill, do you? The village doctor will take you away and you will be locked up in a room with no window. Now, drink up and go to sleep.”

I was rummaging through drawers in Kishore’s study, when I heard the commotion. Amma had fainted in the kitchen and my aunt was fanning her and Kishore rushed to call the doctor. Tears started to flow down my cheeks, as I imagined the worst. I reached to touch Amma’s hand but Kavya held me back and scolded me sternly. The next few things happened quite quickly, Appa took Amma to the room at the back, the doctor rushed to take blood samples and prescribe medicines. We all had to take a bath immediately, and so began the process to clean the house. I sat in the bathroom, staring at the ants climbing the walls towards a window, pretending to take a bath, spilling the water in random directions. When I could go near to the room, I saw Amma sleeping on the bed and Kavya akka standing by the door, with a furrowed forehead. I didn’t sleep well that night.

For days, Amma’s health was hanging by the thread and I started getting night sweats just dreaming about her dying. Crying did not help as that gave me mild headaches. Although, the days were free and the pickled mangoes were unguarded in the kitchen, I knew well to stay out of trouble. For Amma’s sake.

And then one day, what started as mild chest pains progressed to breathlessness. Her eyes filled with tears; her throat restricted her speech. No matter what medicines the doctors gave, the fever would not subside. And then gently she fell, her tiny body limp with the disease. The white flowers in her braid, clutched in her tiny hand.

Today is World Environment Day. With much gusto, lot of Watsapp groups are putting up videos and brands/corporate are showcasing what they are doing for sustainability, for the environment. Few social media influencers are doing LIVE sessions on how you can reduce, recycle and help make the planet greener and better.

Not that I am not cognizant of my environmental impact otherwise, but a lot of these ‘cool’, ‘zero waste’, ‘vegan’ trends are just throwback to essential Indian middle-class values. What is often looked down upon as being cheap and having a penny saving mentality is somehow packaged into an environmentally friendly, zero waste lifestyle.

I remember the first time we bought an air conditioner. It was such a luxury and we were so excited to be able to sleep in a cool, air-conditioned room. It also meant higher electricity bills. My parents would put on the timer and switch on the fan so that the AC is not kept ON the entire night. We would also be the default helpers to clean the filter and ensure that the AC is serviced at regular intervals. Reading about how this helps save environment puts a smile on my face. We still have that same AC in our old house, it works perfectly fine too.

Growing up, I would also accompany my grand mother to the occasional grocery run to the market. As there was no internet and TV time was also limited, a kid had to improvise and think of various ways to pass time. This was my favorite one as the trip ended with a rupee coin to buy a toffee of my choice. She had a red basket which had lot of re-usable bags for segregating her shopping. When we moved to supermarkets where everything came in its own plastic wrapping, we lost the habit of carrying our own bags. It is nice to see, the Bring Your Own Bag trend catching up, it reminds me of a simpler time in life.

A very fashionable thing these days is steel tiffin boxes over plastic ones, using steel straws and carrying your own cutlery. How many of you remember these from school? I do. A steel tiffin was a sure shot way to avoid spilling the sabzi and it was a basic no frill tiffin with no cartoons on the cover, etc. We usually carried our cutlery while travelling as it was easier to eat fruits and snacks during vacation trips. Lot of responsible travelers are recommending this in their vlogs, funny how things which were once done because you wanted to save the extra penny are now ‘planet conscious’ and ‘responsible’.

How many of you buy store bought yogurt which comes in plastic packaging? During the lock down, we revisited the old method of making yogurt at home in a container overnight. Turns out, it tastes much better than the store bought one and so does homemade pasta, hummus, pickle, ketchup and tomato puree. Have we been wasting tons of packaging which is ending up in landfills in order to be fancy?

Being middle class was about saving money. We were comfortable and the focus was always on not being wasteful. When people talk about using reusable bottles, not using tea bags, using second-hand stuff, or re-purposing leftover food into tasty breakfast items, it makes me think that although this might be a new concept it the west, it is like revisiting old memories for me.

During the lock down, we have been cooking everything at home including items such as biryani, pani puri, pasta, cakes, pizza, ice cream. Things which would have come in plastic containers as take outs. Cooking from scratch which is a very Indian and middle-class value to save money of going out, is just a lifesaving skill that also helps the planet. I have forgotten how to use old T-shirts as night wear, then reusing them as cut out cloths for polishing shoes, cleaning cars. As times changed, we got around buying night wear T-shirts and kitchen towel and tissue. The world is consciously moving to this very middle-class trend of re-using clothes, ensuring hand me downs in cousins and avoiding buying stuff till you absolutely need it.

Do you remember doing these growing up? I am sure you do, and while the world moves to newspaper or recycling gifting paper, remember the time spent as kids in saving these from gifts, carefully storing them and using them again. All the home books covered in old newspapers and repairing items before buying new ones which were essential middle-class sentiments are now transformed to overcoming a throwaway culture and being green and environment friendly.

I don’t remember exactly when we gave up these things and moved to doing ‘posh’ things in life. While reading all the blogs, top 30 things to help this planet, and various other influencer videos, it brought me closer to my middle-class roots, and made me think that life should be more than just chasing ‘shiny’ things and being excessive without reason. It should be meaningful, sustainable and thrifty.

How often do our travel plans fail? I say, very often. Everyone who is reading this, at some point, has put off a trip because you were waiting for someone to go with or ‘something’ came up- time, budget, intent, people change their mind.

Wait, I am not going to tell you the cliched ‘Screw it, don’t let others hold back your dreams. Go Solo.’ line. That’s not what solo travelling is all about. It is not a fall-back option when others don’t join the plan. Solo travel for me is intentional. You decide to experience a country/city/town on your own. There are many reasons on why every person should do a solo trip once in their lifetime, well at least once.

Most of my experiences are from my solo two-week trip to Italy in 2018, and in those experiences, I realized few vital things one can learn from solo trips.

Solo travel makes you more responsible.

In Florence, I was pick pocketed and lost all my cash and cards. Luckily, my passport was in the hotel and the camera was in my hand. But with only 50 Euros in my pocket, I still had to pay for the hotel and take a train back to Rome the next day for my flight to New Delhi. I did not anticipate that on my last day, I would run into such trouble. Although, a helpful hotel manager and friends back home managed to save me from the situation but I realized things don’t go as per plan so often. It is important to take responsibility and keep calm during such unfortunate incidents. It was quite scary to report this to the police, with them barely understanding the language. I often depend on my family and friends during trips and was not mentally prepared to deal with this crisis.

Solo travel makes you are more conscious.

At Naples train station, I realized I was being followed by a strange man. Those who have been to Naples would know that it is not a very safe city, and this was my very first day there. My instinct was to get down at my stop and run, but I decided otherwise. As the stop approached, I quickly took a detour and lost him in the crowd. This happens to female solo travelers, and the only way to deal with this is to be aware of your surroundings, be smart, and not panic.

No matter where you are, it is always important to be safe and think on your feet. In all my travels, I never carried a pepper spray and a pocketknife, but now I do. Solo travel taught me the importance of research and the prudence of reaching out to local online groups to check safety of hotels/certain areas in the city.

Solo travel provides expression of individuality and creative inspiration.

While travelling solo, one can consciously grasp the finer nuances of a place without distractions. One can do or move as one like, be unencumbered and spend as much time at a place as she wishes. As adults, we are rarely in control of our time. Between, office, family and other things, doing what you want is a luxury. Most working adults now have calendar and task apps that dictate our time commitments.  Solo travel lets you be in total control of time, and that feeling is out of the world. In Sienna, I could sit for whatever time in the Piazza, eating gelato, watching life pass by. There was no Outlook reminder, no pressure to do something else, no restriction whatsoever.

You are at true leisure; you can plan your day as per your mood and wish. After a disappointing morning tour of Pisa, which was flooded with tourists, I decided to take a detour to Lucca, a small Tuscan town nearby. At a trattoria in the main square, I ate the most exquisite bowl of pasta with wild boar ragu sauce, paired with a local red. In all my life, of all the great achievements, a simple meal at a small restaurant made me happy. The splendid joy of walking on your own wherever you want, having a slow, deliberate lunch, eating strawberries from local vendors is indescribable.

And last but not the least, solo travel teaches you to enjoy your own company.

We generally tend to seek happiness in the company of others, and are dependent on be it our family, spouse or friends. This travel taught me to be happy and contended in my own company and enjoy the experience of each moment. Solo travel lets you get out of your comfort zone. It helps you to understand and celebrate life in many ways.  

In the small town of Sam Gimignano, I spent time with a lady who ran a tiny shop. Her pork sausages were exquisite, her English barely there. In the evening, she invited me to the town square where the whole town has a communal meal. I did not carry any book intentionally and spent most of my time writing in my pocket diary or just plain people watching and soaking in the Italian culture. As they say in Italian ‘Il dolce far niente’ the art of doing nothing.

Hope my experience managed to convince you to indulge in some self- love and take a soul-searching trip to your dream destination!

It has been more than two months since my city went on lock down due to the corona virus outbreak. I am from the magnificent city of Mumbai, where people are famed to be always ‘on the go’. At first, it was scary and most of us were adjusting to the new normal. A few days later, came the flood of challenges. Have you baked a cake yet? What TV series are your watching? How are you slaying your house chores? Pick up a new skill, Today! I was one of them, so eager to be productive, so pumped up to achieve everything in this ‘free’ time that I have been gifted. Strangely, I don’t feel the same now. Most of my days are spent in ensuring that I don’t burn out from working full time from home, completing house chores and dealing with life issues.

Has this happened to you as well? Has the momentum to ‘conquer’ the lock down just faded away and transformed into counting days till things go back to normal?

I wanted to lose those extra five pounds since January and like everyone out there I put myself through exercise regimes and diets. Hey, because it’s now or never right? If you don’t lose weight during lock down, fat chance you will do so later in the year. (Did not type fat chance on purpose or by evil design, I swear). But after a few weeks, it started to wreck my happiness and I switched back to regular food, food that makes me happy. In the process, learnt to make few healthy options using super foods, leaner meat and oil/sugar free variants. Started reading more of what I love, than just ‘top books’ to read during the lock down. So, what if they are teen drama fiction or sappy love stories and not some fat philosophy or world politics best sellers? After a point, also stopped watching all the ‘Must Watch’ on OTT platforms. Discovered some well documented, happy vlogs and short films that are genuine without all the ‘lock down binge’ recommendations. No, I did not ‘up’ my skills or achieve my life goals in these two months, I learned to relax more, not get anxious by checking the covid tracker every morning and the most important thing of all – not worry incessantly about the future.

My hair is longer, my nails are shorter, but my smile is wider too.

What is happening right now, is a rare, once in a lifetime crisis. Yes, it is a crisis. Wherever you are, whatever you are doing, it is a crisis all right. The severity of the impact is of varying degrees depending on your life stage and prosperity. Don’t be embarrassed to acknowledge your anxiety and unhappiness. Yes, others have it worse than you do, and we should help them get better from this mess but not at the cost of your own well being.

You don’t have to play big.

It is fine to not have learnt a new language, picked up a new life skill, written a book or whatever your productivity app keeps reminding you about. It is fine to take a break, lie down like a vegetable and take a nap after a stressful work call. It is fine, because managing your job from home, taking care of your home and children is no mean feat. You are a champion already for doing that. If you want to have chicken nuggets and chocolate milk for dinner, just do it. Because f*ck this pressure to be calm pretending everything is normal. This is an unusual time in our lives. You don’t need hyper competitive, success obsessed maniacs telling you to wake up at 5 am and get down to work to achieve your dreams. All that adrenaline, positivist junkie mantra about being limitless can wait. You don’t have to play big, not now.

As I write this, I am not sure if this is how others are feeling as well? If you are lost, trying to navigate your life one day at a time, count me in. You are not alone. When all this is over, by this I mean the crisis of the pandemic and the economy slowdown, we will never be the same. And it is ok, if you survived, and survived well and happy. Else, what is even the point of all your life long hard work if you can’t take a chill pill during a bad storm?

Go ahead take the pill. The red one.

If you are a fan of the twisted dark comedy genre, this post is for you. This is not about how medieval Europeans towns are postcard perfect or romantic, or how fairy tale like the quaint town of Bruges is. Ahh, none of that romantic sappy overdose. It is an ode to one of my favourite movies of all times- ‘In Bruges’.

Can you fall in love with a place while watching a movie about murder, set in dark tones? Well, you can. All in 107 minutes while watching this gem, with its slick direction, crisp narration and fantastic script. ‘In Bruges’ is the story of two Irish hitmen Ray and Ken, played by Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson, who must hide out in Bruges, Belgium after a job goes wrong. The movie is literally a photo carousel of the tiny town. I visited each and every movie shoot location during my visit in 2017. Here are my top picks. 

“Get the f*ck out of London, you dumb f*cks. Get to Bruges.” I didn’t even know where Bruges f*cking was. “

“It’s in Belgium.” – Ray’s opening monologue is one of my favourite one liners from the movie. To start with, Bruges is in Belgium, a one-hour train ride from Brussels. The trip starts from the train station.

A short walk from the train station is the market square, just keep walking towards the tallest building- The Belfry. On the way you will come across cute little shops, full of unique and quirky souvenirs and local brands.

The main square ‘Markt Square’ is where the Belfry Tower is located. It’s at the Belfry of Bruges that Ken proclaims that Ray is just “about the worst tourist in the whole world” after he turns down Ken’s offer to accompany him to the top. After Ken tells him that the view is great, Ray says, “The view of what? The view of down here? I can see that from down here.” Well, I agree with Ray. The Belfry is one of the most touted landmarks but the climb is pretty steep with more than 300 steps.

If you are like I am, enjoy a warm waffle from Chez Albert around the corner and enjoy the Belfry from a comfortable bench. No visit to Belgium is complete without beer. The Black House (‘t Zwart Huis) is a hidey-hole bar where you can have a pint of the local brew, and a taste of pub food. It is cozy and inviting, and the beer on tap will ensure you are never bored here.

Next stop is The Relais Bourgondisch Cruyce, it is a good spot to click some touristy photos as the room rent is pretty steep. It is set at the intersection of two canals and the most identifiable place from the movie.

Visit the Church of Our lady, a 14th century church with the most famous treasure of Madonna and the child by Michelangelo.

Although it might sound very clichéd, but a canal boat tour is not a bad idea. Especially, if you like ducks and swan. “You know, going round in a boat, looking at stuff?” how Ray would put it.  

The next stop on the tour is the Groeninge Museum where you can take a liking to Hieronymus Bosch‘s The Last Judgement. I told you, I like dark comedies.

After the pretty exhausting walk, take a  breather at the Jan Van Eyckplein statue and enjoy some fries and hot chocolate. This is my favorite scene in the movie where the two hitmen contemplate on the wrongs and rights in life. 

End the day tour with the Minnewater ‘Lake of Love’ park over the Minneburg. There is a lovers’ bridge, if you cross it with your partner, you’ll be forever in love. A boy I loved once, talked about this place. He said he wanted to get his sweetheart here on the honeymoon. Well, he broke my heart and took his wife to some tropical island. So much for that but the view from the bridge is quite nice. 

Of course, in the movie, Ken is shot, and Harry also meets his horrifically gory and untimely demise. Ray is somewhere between heaven and hell. They’ll never be able to visit Bruges again.

But hey you can! Because as Harry says in the movie “ It's a fairytale town, isn't it? How's a fairytale town not somebody's f*cking thing? “ 

At the expense of extreme ridicule, I will confess something today.

I love airports. Yes, you read it right. Airports.

Airports- the most hated and uncomfortable part of traveling. Nobody likes waiting at airports, they complain about the air quality, lack of comfortable seating, the delays. Paying up for expensive food and drink is no one’s idea of joy. Ever wondered why people are so eager to board/deplane? They just want to get the hell out of the airport.  On the contrary, I love airports. In all their homogeneous glory- with the luggage belts, photo chromatic windows, carpeted floors, bright WH Smith signs and the airline announcements.

But then, what makes airports click? As much as I love to travel, I hate flying. I don’t enjoy the experience of sitting for hours in a pressurized container, in the most awkward, non-ergonomic economy class seats. It is the fastest way to travel from point A to B and start enjoying the vacation or better, to return home to the comfortable bed. But I love airports though. In some weird sense, there is a reason to my unnatural preference.

There is an odd sense of suspended time at airports, as if the mundane rules of time don’t apply to the place. You can drink a beer at 4 pm, have breakfast food for dinner, get a massage at 2 am. Watch a movie early morning. No judgement, no restrictions. In fact, all ‘regular’ rules of civilization can be interpreted differently in the context of an airport. Want to wear pajamas at noon, hey, no problem. Airports represent an eclectic mix of anarchy and discipline- the unsaid rule of not putting your phone on speaker mode, or playing loud music, queuing for your flight in an orderly manner, talking softly. Airports are accepting, it offers the same experience for people from all backgrounds.

There is something extremely comforting about the clicking of baggage wheels, the tearing and beep of the boarding pass at the security gate, the stamping of the passport. Like a sweet theatrical presentation with rehearsed steps. It is comforting because you are missing home, and are eager to meet your loved ones, or you are heading off to an exciting new place. Isn’t it just nice to sit back and enjoy the fact that you must make no decisions, do no particular activity till the flight announcement? Just carefree lounging. I am not going to lie; the free food and drinks at the membership clubs are a bonus too.

Along with catching up on reading, airports are a great place to indulge in some people watching. Looking at the announcement board, reading names of cities you’ve never been to. Seeing a diverse set of people moving about, oblivious to the outside world. Slipping through the prism of life and observing all possibilities of your alternate life- a businessman heading to Paris, a family on vacation to Moscow, backpackers off to Amsterdam. Oddly enough, I have done most of my character sketches at airports. If you want to witness genuine love and prayer, there is no better place than an airport. Loved ones waiting in the arrival section, couples saying teary goodbyes at the departure gate. The sense of romanticism is hard to miss and so genuine it makes you feel all warm on the inside.

More than anything, don’t we all daydream about our trips and destinations at the airport? The bottle of wine, mussels and bread for the table, the warm sea breeze or which ever place you are going to spend vacation at.  We are not the computer genius, a lonely mother, an accountant, or a middle aged man at the airport. We are all travelers. We are nomads.

Each time, I am at this wonderful place of a million possibilities, I know that with my well-worn passport, and my credit card, there is no limit to where I can have the next dinner. Just the possibility of slipping through, to the world of unknown adventures!  

One ticket, por favor! 

In the streets of Ho Chi Minh city, on a lazy afternoon, groups of older women often sit by road side shops sipping rice wine, gossiping and puffing on pungent smelling cigarette rolls. The smell of broth and fish lingers in the air and people are in no great hurry to go anywhere. The only thing that probably should connect Kolkata to Ho Chi Minh city would be a certain shade of red. However, as I sat opposite the gaggle of ladies, just enjoying their drink and smoke, the scene reminded me of Kolkata. It reminded me of the addas of old, Bengali gentlemen who enjoy their fish chops with liqueur tea and discuss politics and poetry. And as I write this, I realize that’s what great cities do to you. You don’t miss the Eiffel from Paris, the Statue of Liberty from New York or any other cityscapes. You miss the emotion. The emotion that the city represents, how the city made you feel.

Kolkata, is not everyone’s cup of tea. You will come across people with very strong, extreme emotions about the city. If you are asked to describe Kolkata, you might think of Durga Puja, Fish, Ambassador taxis and Victoria View and other visible aspects. Some sports enthusiastic will associate it with Eden Gardens perhaps. Strangely, I remember Kolkata, from a different perspective. I don’t miss the winter solitude of the Maidan, the severe British hangover, the fish obsession or the Rosgullas. I miss the more mundane aspects of the city. I miss the smell of Tangra style chili chicken wafting through streets, the Bougainvillea vines ornamenting the houses on the street. I miss the nolen gur ice-cream and the Calcutta meetha paan,  Park Street lit up on Christmas, the spicy, rum soaked raisins from Flurrys’ plum cake and the shy, rusty cling-clang of the tram. I miss mustard oil in my masala muri, the vibrant, bright colors of Bengali handloom sarees. The noon siestas when shops close after lunch, the gentle use of time, idyllic pursuits of music and Robibarer Mangshor Jhol.

The city is more than the architectural whisper of the Raj, landscaped gardens and the presidency town hangover. True Kolkata is to experience the warmth, the uniqueness of a typical Bengali bari. The interior narrative of the typical porch on the ground floor, the red oxide floors, wooden slatted Venetian blinds painted in green and open terraces with fluttering laundry is simply beautiful. As an architecture enthusiast, lazy Saturday post- lunch afternoons were spent strolling down, gazing at Bengali houses lining the narrow streets. What is unfortunate is that the economically depressed city no longer affords the luxury of the upkeep of these houses.  Soon the dilapidated houses will be ‘developed’ into urban properties and there will be no semi-circular balconies and angular verandahs adorning the promenades. The old-world charm of Kolkata deeply imbued with its cultural legacy will be lost.

Visit Kolkata during the FIFA world cup and be ready to swim in an ocean of emotion. The paras, local community groups, will be decorated in Argentina and Brazil colors. You will see effigies of Messi erected on streets and families will come together to debate and discuss the matches in the evening. Visit Kolkata during Durga Puja, to experience the energy of the dhunuchi and see the mild, slow city come to life. The city reminds me of the spirit of joie di vivre with the regular addas for no reason and the subtle enjoyment of doing nothing. Visit Kolkata for a peaceful boat ride at Princep Ghat, for a tram ride through Maidan. For the Jorasanko Thakur Bari, the ancestral home and birthplace of Rabindranath Tagore. For the sweet nolen gurer payesh and the juicy kheer kadam sweet.

You don’t have to be Bengali to love Kolkata. The city just rubs off its character on you. One fine day, you will be in some other city, and hear a faint whisper of a common Bengali phrase, you will involuntarily turn around and smile, Hey, I lived in the joyous city once.

Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris opens with a montage tribute of postcard perfect images of Paris- the monuments, changing colors, the rain, and the views- to a slow deliberate jazz score. This is probably the most succinct calibration of my feelings for Paris. Golden, with grey skies, breezy, romantic and melancholic, Paris is an abundance of clichés. Guided by my heart, my hopes I set out in search of the Parisian life last autumn with a dairy in hand and a few daydreams.

My first glimpse of the Eiffel was from the Trocadero Gardens, and I slightly laughed at my stupor. The geometric elegance and the mesmerizing view of the sunrise was in my mind quite a first impression. In my best of Parisian chic, I made my way to breakfast at one of the cosy cafés lining the streets. I swooned at the ‘Voulez- vous un croissant’ that made me feel instantly like a Parisian, I smiled at the waiter ‘Merci beaucoup’ , and enjoyed the croissant while soaking in the beauty of the true icon on Paris- Le tour de Eiffel. With the city map, a handful of useful French sentences and adjusting my Sketchers, I set off to indulge. As I walked from the Eiffel towards Rue Cler, I stopped in childlike wonder of the fresh assortment of fruits, cheese and vegetables in the local marche. You cannot help but buy a baguette and some of that local French butter and munch on it lazily, while the bell tolls in the local church. The gothic glass stained windows of Sainte Chapelle, the steps outside Saint Étienne du Mont, and watching pigeons gather near Notre Dame is so fresh in memory, it seems as though I was there yesterday. As the street singer crooned a chanson, I decided to head to Maxim’s- my love for Allen’s movie quite evident-and in its nearly perfect well-preserved interiors, I slipped into a different century. The night stroll to the Pont Alexandre III Bridge, which exemplifies the Art Nouveau décor and its exuberance, was breath taking.  With goose bumps and light headedness from the alfresco wine tasting, I reluctantly headed to the hotel. For once, my dreams were drab as compared to the day I had spent in Paris.

Paris turned out to be exactly as I had hoped for, and so much more. I took a patisserie tour, feasting my eyes on pistachio cakes and raspberry mille-feuille lined in meticulous rows that filled my heart with such pure pleasure. Later that evening, I grabbed a stamped copy of one of Jack Kerouac’s from the tiny, inconspicuous Shakespeare and Company, and read letters typed on pale blue paper by aspiring writers looking for magic in the city.  Over a café, sipping wine and waiting for the bouillabaisse, I took fervent notes. A cheeky French man, enjoying his afternoon smoke, glanced at my diary and in his raspy voice exclaimed, ‘Writers, damn writers everywhere’. A silly smile escaped me, as though it were true. My mind made a poetic association to where Hemingway would have had coffee, and in my daydream, I enjoyed few stolen moments in an alternate life. 

The labyrinth alleys of the oldest market, Marché aux Puces de Saint-Ouen, is unimaginable even to the curious as I stumbled across an antique pocket watch, a gilded makeup mirror and a forgotten silver hair pin. Though my French surprised a few local vendors, I managed to buy a big batch of cheese from the local fromagerie. A perfect lunch of soup, a fillet of fish in garlic sauce and a slice of sumptuous chocolate gateau later, I decided to spend the day being lazy just watching people along the banks of Seine. A trip to the city is incomplete without buying a bottle of French perfume. After my wallet was a little lighter from having visited the iconic, original Chanel shop, a stop at a local wine shop is albeit necessary. The rosé tasted marvellous with a box of macarons from the Ladurée patisserie on Champs-Elysées as I felt the slight breeze of autumn on the street bench. The Avenue des Champs Elysées is perhaps the most beautiful avenue in Paris, truly majestic, and the streets towards Place de la Concorde are speckled with high-end couture and the clacking of heels of women on a shopping spree. In the evening as Arc de Triomphe lights up, having a light dinner on a street side café is something straight out of a movie.

The narrow cobbled roads of the Bohemian quarter of Montmartre has now only a faint trace of the raucous past. The Sacré-Cœur Basilica is a brisk walk up the hill, and gives a breezy and stunning view of the arrondissement. As you, take a stroll from Sacré-Cœur Basilica along the boulevard down the hill of Montmartre, you pass neon signs, shops that advertise the faded red of Moulin Rouge. The trip to the Pigalle metro station is short and in a small corner shop I managed to procure a small music box that plays ‘La vie en rose’ and grabbed a quick coffee at a bakery that played Chopin. Yes, Chopin! The time travel back to Medieval Paris is an afternoon spent in the café-lined alleys of Latin Quarter in a classic yellow Peugeot. Despite the chilly autumn winter, the Jardin du Luxembourg with the yellow and bright orange trees, is a place to prop your feet up on a bench and read a book whilst enjoying a caramel-fleur de sel ice cream. You feel like a child, dropping pebbles in the Fontaine Médicis and solemnly wishing for the day to never end.

Paris is about the fresh chocolate-filled beignets after a long day at the Louvre, the charm of olive trees in the Tuileries Garden and scented hand creams and soaps from Provence. On a sunny morning, I hopped on the train to the stunning Palace of Versailles and ended the day perfectly with an early dinner on a cruise over the Seine- the dazzling Eiffel in plain view and Clair de Lune playing in the background.

My sojourn in Paris was without a doubt- in the words of Browning’s Memorabilia- like an eagle feather, which the poet picks up on a moor.  The five days spent in the golden city were a short reflection on how I hang on to small moments, the moments that in all their profoundness shape a lost Romantic idea. A disappointment overshadowed the last morning I spent in the city, sipping coffee and enjoying a warm croissant. But then, isn’t every genuine expression of romance an exposure to disappointment?