Social media is inundated with the assertion that “no one should be a billionaire” and it has become a prominent moral standing among a vocal group of people on the interweb. The phrase raises legitimate concerns about wealth inequality, labour exploitation and concentration of power.

However, as with many slogans that gain cultural traction, its broadness and vagueness risks collapsing distinct forms of wealth accumulation into a single ethical category and in doing so, it often obstructs the very mechanisms of power that it seeks to critique.

The hullabaloo surrounding Taylor Swift’s emergence as a billionaire reveals a lot about this herd mentality which is rampant online and it is often accompanied by no amount of critical thinking. Taylor’s wealth has provoked a cultural anxiety that appears disproportionate compared to public reactions toward ultra-wealthy individuals.

The public outrage is not merely economic in nature. It is cultural and gendered. Taylor is not an oil magnate, a private equity executive or a tech monopolist. She is a highly visible cultural producer whose labour, persona and emotional expressiveness in forms of singing, songwriting and art are central to her public identity. The discomfort surrounding her wealth cannot solely be seen as opposition to inequality. Rather, in my opinion, it reflects unresolved tensions about women’s access to power, ownership and legitimacy within capitalist systems.

My demand is for analytical precision and critical thinking to prevail in this age of herd mentality and stupid but divisive “hot-takes” that sweep through social media.

Accumulation of wealth is not a morally uniform phenomenon and the process by which wealth is generated and the degree of labour involved, the transparency of accumulation and the uses of the accumulated wealth and power matters. Taylor’s case complicates dominant narratives about billionaires.

The Anti-Billionaire Rhetoric:

Extreme wealth at any point of time in the past, present or future is off-putting. The claim that extreme wealth is inherently immoral rests on the assumption that no individual can accumulate wealth to such an extreme degree without exploiting others. It should be noted that this assumption is often justified in cases involving resource extraction, financial speculation or monopolistic practices but the logic becomes less persuasive when applied indiscriminately.

Political economists often distinguish between different modes of capital accumulation. Wealth derived through rent seeking behaviour such as controlling access to housing, healthcare or natural resources operates very differently from wealth generated through direct labour and intellectual production. If we ignore this distinction, then there is no distinction between a George Lucas and a Elon Musk or a Mark Zuckerberg. If we ignore these distinctions, we are transforming the argument from structural analysis to a symbolic condemnation.

Taylor Swift’s wealth is overwhelmingly linked to monetization of intellectual property she helped create. Her dominant income streams include album sales, touring, licencing and publishing her art which is directly tied to cultural consumption rather than essential goods or coercive market control. Obviously, this does not render her wealth morally pure but it does situate it differently from other forms of wealth accumulation that rely on scarcity, dispossession or systemic harm.

Opposition to inequality requires specificity and critical analysis. Otherwise, without specificity, moral outrage becomes performative rather than transformative in the long run.

Taylor Swift’s Cultural Production:

One of the defining features of Taylor’s career is the visibility of her own labour. Unlike many wealthy individuals whose work is abstracted behind corporate structures, Taylor’s labour is public and ongoing. It is not an accident that she has achieved this level of success. She writes her music, performs extensively (is a fan of over-delivering) and maintains creative involvement across all her work. Nobody else was baking cookies for their fans and having secret hang-out sessions and opening up their hearts the way Taylor has continued to do.

The Eras Tour exemplifies this labour-intensive model. The tour was not merely a revenue generating enterprise but a physically demanding performance that requires endurance, rehearsal and emotional presence. The tours impact includes employing thousands of workers and contributing significantly to local economies which complicates the narratives that frame her wealth as purely extractive. Additionally, her model of – "if the tour does well, everyone involved gets paid more" should set a precedence in the entertainment industry!

Cultural labour is often undervalued precisely because it is associated with pleasure and emotion. The assumption that creative work is less than industrial or technical labour has historically been used to justify its under-compensation. Taylor’s success threatens the entertainment industry as it challenges this hierarchy by demonstrating that cultural production can generate enormous value when creators retain control over their work.

To dismiss her wealth without acknowledging the labour, creativity and hard work behind it reinforces the very devaluation of artistic work that critics of capitalism often seek to dismantle.

Ownership as Resistance:

The most significant factor distinguishing Taylor from other ultra-wealthy figures is her approach to ownership. The sale of her masters without her consent exposed a structural vulnerability faced by artists within the music industry. Taylor Swift engaged in a strategic market-based intervention and re-recorded her catalogue.

Economically, it devalued her original masters while legally operating within existing contractual structures and culturally, it reframed ownership as a site of resistance rather than resignation of your fate. Taylor’s public declaration and acts of reclamation established a precedent that will forever influence industry norms.

This is a prime example of how Taylor did not reject the market; instead, she used it to correct an imbalance of power. She demonstrated her agency within capitalist systems and expanded it through knowledge, leverage and collective support. Her resulting wealth is not merely the outcome of market success but the by-product of an intervention that challenged exploitative norms.

Gender, Ambition, and Moral Scrutiny:

The outrage and reactions to Taylor Swift’s billionaire status cannot be disentangled from gendered expectations surrounding ambition. It is a truth universally acknowledged that women who pursue power are more likely to be perceived as unlikable, manipulative or morally suspect which is not the case for men with identical behaviours.

Taylor’s career trajectory has been marked by strategic decision making, brand management and her continued vulnerability and ability to express herself and her emotions in a way that marks her as a brilliant storyteller. Her career trajectory has increasingly positioned her within a traditionally masculine domain of authority.

The discomfort provoked by her wealth has disrupted the cultural framework through which she was initially understood which is as a confessional songwriter whose value lay in emotional transparency rather than strategic competence.

Emotional expressiveness is tolerated and even celebrated in women, so long as it is not accompanied by structural power and Taylor’s refusal to be boxed within these distinctions and her refusal to choose between vulnerability and ambition challenges this age-old stereotype and binary.

Criticism framed as economic concern often masks deeper anxieties about women who refuse to self-limit. The demand that she justifies, apologises for or redistributes her success reflects expectations that women temper achievement with humility. Where are these demands for George Lucas, Steven Spielberg or James Cameron?

The Demand for Relatability:

Taylor Swift’s wealth destabilizes the concept of relatability which is a quality disproportionately demanded of women in the public eye. Her music has fostered a sense of intimacy with her listeners who interpret it as personal connection. When that perceived intimacy coexists with immense wealth, it produces cognitive dissonance.

However, relatability is not a moral obligation and it is a market construct that benefits audiences more than the artists. We will be conflating art with personal availability if we insist that Swift remain economically accessible in order to preserve emotional authenticity. Additionally, this expectation reflects a broader pattern in which women are asked to trade power for connection.

Taylor’s refusal to do so exposes the transactional assumptions embedded in audience attachment. It is evident that the audience forever wants a palatable version of you.

Philanthropy and Responsibility:

Supporting Taylor’s billionaire status does not automatically mean that I idealize her use of wealth. While she has made significant philanthropic contributions, no individual’s charity can offset systematic inequality and to demand that she solve structural problems through personal generosity misunderstands both the scale of the problems and the role of the State.

At the same time, Taylor Swift’s labour practices, including reported bonuses for touring staff and advocacy for artists’ rights suggest an orientation toward responsibility rather than indifference. These actions do not absolve her from scrutiny but they do distinguish her from figures whose wealth accumulation is accompanied by deliberate opacity or harm.

Conclusion:

Taylor Swift’s billionaire status is not a referendum on capitalism’s moral legitimacy; instead, it is a test of our ability to think critically about power without resorting to symbolic scapegoating. 

Taylor did not inherit her billionaire status nor did she accumulate it through monopolistic control of necessities; she did not detach herself from the labour that generated it. She was successful in navigating an exploitative industry, reclaimed ownership over her art and leveraged cultural production into sustained economic power.

If the goal of anti-capitalist critique is to dismantle unjust systems, then precision is essential. Blanket condemnation may feel satisfying and will get you clicks and likes but it obscures meaningful distinctions and reinforces gendered double standards.

Taylor Swift’s success is unsettling precisely because it resists easy categorization. It exists at the intersection of labour and capital, vulnerability and authority, intimacy and distance. Engaging with that complexity does not weaken moral critique; it strengthens it.

Supporting her billionaire status is not an endorsement of inequality. It is my refusal to flatten nuance in the name of ideological comfort and a recognition that who holds power and how they came to hold it still and will forever matter!

 It always starts innocently enough. You decide to take a break, maybe a fifteen-minute scroll through nothingness, maybe a nap that dissolves time entirely. Then, right on cue, the guilt slithers in. That itchy little whisper: shouldn’t you be doing something right now? We’ve turned idleness into a moral crime. Stillness feels dangerous, indulgent like eating ice-cream for dinner or ignoring an urgent email that probably wasn’t urgent at all. We even disguise our rest as productivity to make it acceptable:
“I’m recharging”
“It’s part of my creative process”
“Self-care Sunday.”

As if simply being needs a justification.

We live in fast-paced times where an individual’s worth is measured in output. In posts published, tasks checked, and in steps counted. So when you do nothing, it feels like letting yourself and the world down. Even rest now comes with progress bars. My fitness kept prompting me to “track recovery” alongside “track fitness.” Imagine that! You must perform even in your sleep. Somewhere between capitalism and caffeine, we absorbed this belief that stillness is laziness. That if you’re not moving, you’re falling behind. But behind whom, exactly? The answer changes daily. Sometimes it is that influencer with the perfect morning routine, sometimes it is a colleague who is thriving on burnout, and sometimes you beat that imaginary version of yourself who never wastes a second.

Doing nothing has become an act of defiance because to sit quietly, without producing, improving, or proving, is to reclaim your humanity in a world that monetizes every breath. Maybe the problem isn’t that we’re tired. Maybe it’s that we’ve forgotten how to stop without feeling like we’re doing something wrong.

Somewhere along the way, someone decided that rest had to be earned. Like it’s a prize you get for surviving your own overcommitment. You work yourself raw. Then once you’ve proven that you are suffering enough, do you get to sleep, to read, to breathe. We have to wait till the inbox is empty, the dishes are done, the to-do list resembles a battlefield cleared of enemies. And when we finally sit down, it is not peace that we feel. It is relief edged with guilt. Because apparently, we can’t even stop without a reason.

We wear exhaustion like a badge of honor. We compliment people for being “so busy,” as if depletion is a virtue. “I haven’t slept properly in days” has somehow become a humblebrag and an offering to the gods of productivity. Meanwhile, our nervous systems are waving flags of complete surrender.

What’s tragic is that rest was never meant to be a trophy. In nature, it is a rhythm. The tide goes out. The moon wanes. Even seeds stay dormant before they bloom. No one scolds them for being “unproductive.” But humans? We schedule burnout like it’s a recurring meeting. The irony is painful: we chase momentum but refuse to see that even motion has pauses built in. A heartbeat, a breath, a drumbeat… they all depend on space between sounds. Take that space away, and what’s left isn’t rhythm. It’s noise.

So maybe it’s time to stop treating rest like a reward for endurance. Rest isn’t what you get after you’ve lived. It’s how you live. It’s the pause that keeps the music from collapsing into chaos.

There’s a quiet kind of rebellion in closing your laptop while the world screams “hustle.” No fireworks needed. Just a simple act: choosing to stop. We’ve been trained to believe that rest is the absence of progress, that stillness equals surrender. But what if… just what if, stopping isn’t the end of motion, what if it’s the beginning of meaning?

Rest, in its purest form, is refusal. Refusal to be consumed. Refusal to perform with burnout as proof of value. Refusal to run a race no one actually wins. To rest is to say: “I’m still human, even when I’m not producing.”

That’s not laziness. That’s resistance.

Look at any creative or revolutionary life, and you’ll see the pattern. Artists vanish between projects. Writers retreat after the noise. Rest isn’t what comes after greatness; it’s what allows greatness to exist.

Agust D goes silent before a storm of music.
SRK disappeared for years, before delivering a comeback that will go down in history.
{Ofcourse I had to tie-in my two favourite men 😀}

There’s something beautifully subversive about rest that’s unapologetic. Not “I’ve earned this,” but simply, “I exist, and that’s reason enough.”

Here’s the cruel joke: we say we want peace, but we can’t stand what peace feels like.

Stillness, true stillness, is a confrontation. When the noise stops, the mind doesn’t sigh in relief. Instead it panics. Suddenly there’s space, and in that space comes everything we’ve been running from: boredom, anxiety, unprocessed grief, the sound of our own thoughts echoing too loudly.

That’s why rest feels wrong. Stillness reveals what we are trying to avoid.

We’ve wired ourselves for constant stimulation. We can’t even stand in an elevator without reaching for our phones. Our brains, marinated in dopamine hits and notifications, have forgotten the flavor of quiet. We call it “doing nothing.” Anything but what it really is: existing without distraction. It terrifies us, because we’ve built our identities around doing. Ask someone who they are, and they’ll tell you what they do. Jobs, hobbies, achievements. Rest strips that armor off. It forces us to ask: who am I when I’m not performing usefulness? So we stay busy to avoid ourselves. We call it discipline, ambition, drive… anything that sounds better than fear.

So, how do we rebel gracefully without giving up life?

You don’t have to renounce society, move to the mountains, or delete every app to reclaim rest.

You just have to stop apologizing for being human. Rest doesn’t have to look like lying in a meadow with your phone on airplane mode (though that sounds divine). It can be quiet resistance threaded through ordinary hours… a refusal to make every second productive.

Here’s how to start rebelling without burning down your life:

1. Schedule rest first, not last.
Treat rest like a meeting with your sanity. Put it on your calendar before the work, not after. If you wait till you “deserve” it, you never will.

2. Redefine success.
Try measuring your days by energy instead of output. Did something restore you today? That counts more than the number of emails you sent.

3. Take micro-pauses.
Tiny rebellions does wonders for you. Stare out the window for five minutes. Breathe without purpose. Listen to music without multitasking. Be unproductive with intent.

4. Let boredom breathe.
You don’t have to fill every silence. Boredom is the compost heap of creativity. Leave it alone long enough and something wild might grow.

5. Rest publicly.
When someone asks how your weekend was, try saying “I did nothing,” and resist the urge to justify it. Watch their face twist in confusion. That’s their system short-circuiting.

6. Remember the body knows before the mind.
If your body is screaming for rest, believe it. You can’t think your way out of exhaustion. You can only stop.

At some point, you stop chasing and start noticing. The light on the wall. The sound of your own breath. The way time expands when you stop demanding things from it. You realize the world doesn’t fall apart when you step away. The emails keep arriving. The projects keep orbiting. The planet keeps spinning, almost insultingly fine without your supervision. And somehow, that’s not depressing. It’s relief.

Because maybe the point was never to keep up. Maybe the point was to wake up.

The real power lies in knowing when to stop, and daring to stop anyway.

So rest. Not because you’ve earned it, but because you exist.

Rest because the world has enough noise, and your silence might just be the most radical sound in it.

Rest because you can.

The Life of a Showgirl might be a LOT of things, but the life of a swiftie is never dull.

As a Bengali, I was already in a festive mood with Durga Puja shenanigans right before the album release. But I would not deny the fact that I was more excited for the album than I was for Durga Puja this year.

First of all, when the tracks were declared and the fifth track of the album stared at me, I could almost hear it say, “It’s me. Hi! I’m the problem, it’s me.”

Taylor Swift admitted to placing her most “vulnerable, personal, honest, emotional” song as Track 5 on her albums in 2019 when the fans spotted that pattern. Of course, I was eagerly waiting to be wrecked by a song. Again.

In India, the album was released at 9:30 in the morning and I only got out of bed after listening to all the songs. With TLOAS being the shortest TS album till date, it took me just an hour to go through them all (yes, I might’ve listened to a few of them multiple times). I loved some songs immediately and others might’ve taken some time to gel with. After that 31-songs double album which was heavier than expected, I was relieved that The Life of a Showgirl is full of upbeat and lighter songs (except maybe two).

Some stories are written with ink on paper, while others are carved into the heart by time.
This one was never meant to be written. 

This post is inspired by the lyrics of 'Don't say you love me' by Jin, from the album Echo. It is partly based on true story & partly fictionalised. Which part is real and which part is fictionalised is for me to know and you to guess.

This story began like most stories people romanticise in retrospect: two college kids in love with music, mischief, and each other’s company. They were in the same class and were part of the same circle. They were always seen together; planning pranks and walking aimlessly for hours, laughing like time would never run out. And somewhere in the middle of a mountain trail, when he offered his hand to help her cross a ridge, she thought, Maybe I don’t have to do everything alone anymore.

That moment felt like a promise. Not in words. Just in the way he held space for her independence and offered care anyway. It cracked something open in her, something she didn’t know had been sealed shut since childhood.

They fell in love. Or she did.

The story should have ended long before it began to rot.

Unfortunately it did not. And so, after a few years of dating, they got married. And slowly, he stopped walking beside her. Not physically, no. He was still there in the literal sense. But  he had wandered off in every way that  actually mattered. He left her to carry the weight of two families, a job, a home, and the growing silence in between.

He let her burn quietly. Gaslit her when their world struck her with words that wounded deeper than any slap. He watched, shrugged, and called it normal or denied everything and said it never happened. He said he loved her.

But love, she learned, doesn’t ask you to bleed quietly just to keep the peace of one person.

The breaking point wasn’t loud and did not come with announcements or guidelines.

It came when she fell sick and the fever wouldn’t let go for long months. He didn’t check on her. He didn’t help. He didn’t care. The man who once reached out to catch her on rocky mountain trails now wouldn’t so much as lift a finger when she was falling apart.

Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

And that’s when the lyrics came to her. Like a cold truth whispered through, Jin’s voice shining as always: 

Don't tell me that you're gonna miss me
Just tell me that you wanna kill me
Don't say that you love me 'cause it hurts the most
You just gotta let me go

Because if this was love, she didn’t want it.

Now, she feels… nothing.

No rage. No heartbreak. Just stillness.

She looks at that chapter like an old coat in the back of her closet — heavy, shapeless, no longer hers. She survived 15 long years with him. She can survive anything. She’s stronger. Sharper. More cynical, maybe, but also less willing to settle for anything less than real.

This story should have never been.
But it was.
And now, it’s hers to end... in truth, not in silence.

Freelancers: the mythical creatures who work in pajamas, make boat loads of money in two hour workdays and have so much free time that they’re basically always on vacation, right?

Wrong.

If you’ve ever wondered what freelancers really do all day or assumed they’re just chilling at home “between gigs." From unstable income to zero boundaries and clients who think exposure is currency, freelancing is equal parts freedom and chaos. If you have ever looked at a freelancer and thought, “Wow, they have so much free time!” or “Must be nice not having a real job,” allow me to introduce you to the real freelance experience. Yes, we can technically work from anywhere, but that mostly means we’re working from everywhere; including our desks, or the bed,  or at the dinner table, or during our vacation, and sometimes even in our dreams. Sure, we don’t have a boss in the traditional sense, but we do have clients. And unlike a single boss at a full-time job, freelancers get the privilege of juggling multiple bosses at once. And it is important to remember that each 'boss' comes with different demands, deadlines, and urgent last-minute revisions.

And let’s talk about that so called financial freedom. Some months, we might feel like kings, making six figures and treating ourselves to something nice (like…paying rent on time). Other months? We stare into the abyss of our empty bank account, wondering if exposure can truly pay the bills.

Whether you are a fellow freelancer nodding in pain-laughter or someone trying to understand why your freelance friend never replies to your quick messages during the day, here are the top things you need to know about the reality of freelancing life.
Ah, freelancing, the dream job where we wake up at noon, work for an hour in our pajamas, and then spend the rest of the day binge-watching shows while money magically appears in our accounts. At least, that is what a lot of people seem to think. Reality? A lot less glamorous.

So, before you assume your freelancer friend/family is just hanging out at home doing nothing or has endless time to grab lunch on a Tuesday, here are a few things you should know.

1. You’re Always Free, Right?

2. You Must Be Making a Lot, Right?

3. It Must Be Great to Not Have a Boss

4. Must Be Nice to Work in Your Pajamas All Day

5. Boundaries? What Boundaries?

6. You Can Just Say No to Bad Clients, Right?

7. Vacations Are a Lie

8. Despite Everything, We Actually Love It

If you have read this far and still think freelancers are just glorified couch potatoes living off passive income and good vibes… Congratulations! you have clearly been talking to our relatives.

Here’s the truth: freelancing is not some magical loophole in capitalism where people get rich while binge-watching Netflix in pajamas. It is unpredictable, unglamorous, and frequently exhausting. It demands strategy, self-discipline, resilience, and the occasional emotional breakdown over an unpaid invoice. We juggle deadlines, pitching to new clients, chasing the old ones for payments, and somehow still get labelled as the one ‘who does not have a real job’. After all is said and done, for reasons even we don’t fully understand, we love this chaotic little career path. Maybe it’s the freedom. Maybe it’s the caffeine. Maybe we’re just built different.

So the next time someone tells you they’re a freelancer, resist the urge to ask if they’re “still doing that little thing from home.” Instead, maybe offer them a coffee. They’ve probably been up since 6 AM working on three different projects while also being their own admin, marketing head, and IT support.

Freelancing isn’t a hobby. It’s a full-time job, and then some.

When Oxford announced manifest as its Word of the Year, it made sense. Manifesting has become a movement, a buzzword, a practice people swear by to bring their desires to life. Everywhere I looked, there were books, posts and ads on how to manifest what you want in life. It’s a beautiful idea—the act of turning thoughts into reality, creating the life you want through intention and action.

But here’s the thing: to manifest, you first need a vision. And to have a vision, you need a dream.

I started 2025 with 4 words/advice from 2 of my favourite artists -

- Dream: Well, that is what this post all about; my word of the year. So read on...

Dreams are like the seeds, the starting point where the life you imagine begins to take shape. Without a dream, the act of manifesting is like trying to build a house without a foundation. And so, as I start this new year looking forward to a little bit more of healing, growth, and rediscovery, I’ve decided to go back to the very beginning and make dream my Word of the Year.

Reclaiming the Word ‘Dream’

Whether it is due to the trajectory of my own life or the society around us, my ability to dream was suffocated by an atmosphere of suppression, manipulation and gaslighting. Whether it was the general attitude of people or very directed projections of people, {some of you might be able to relate to it} but trying to live up to the expectations and the image of a 'good girl/woman' was very suffocating. Somebody else always took the priority - their expectations and needs always came first because a good girl always puts others first. 

Dreams were dangerous in that world—either dismissed as foolish or selfish. Survival took precedence over imagination and by the time I realised that I had hit the rock bottom, I realised it was because I was never anyone's priority and that hypocrisy finally taught me to put myself first. Now, having stepped into relative freedom, I realize how crucial dreaming is. It’s not just about imagining a better future; it’s about reclaiming the right to hope, to desire, and to create a different life for myself.

Dreaming is my way of rewriting the narrative that once kept me small. It’s a declaration that I am no longer living in the shadow of someone else’s story.

A Year of Dreams

This year, my focus is on nurturing my ability to dream, starting with small steps:

1. Dream - Healing

Every dream I allow myself is an act of defiance against the years I was told to put it on hold or that I couldn’t. Dreaming is a way to heal the wounds of doubt and fear, replacing them with hope and possibility.

2. Dream - Rediscovery

- What does freedom look like for me?
- What do I truly want?
- What do I actually love?
- How much am I actually capable of?
Dreaming is my way of exploring these questions and learning to embrace my desires unapologetically.

3. Dream - Freedom

Freedom, like happiness is relative. I still have responsibilities that I can not ignore and limited resources. So, there are still some boundaries. But how can I use the freedom that I have? How far can I really go? But I can Dream and I do have the freedom to choose how to live my life - what responsibilities I truly want and what resources I want to use.

What My Dreams Look Like Now

Dreams don’t have to be grand to matter. For me, they are about building a life that feels authentic, fulfilling, and whole. Little things that makes choosing happiness everyday everyday. Right now, they look like:

• Becoming healthy in both body and mind. 
• Waking up every morning with a sense of purpose.
• Growing my career in a way that aligns with my values.
  
•         Finding out what it is that I genuinely enjoy.
• Surrounding myself with people who genuinely support and uplift me.
•         Leaving behind people who only add negativity and unrealistic expectations.
• Continue traveling to places I’ve only ever seen in pictures.
• Writing my story—and no I don't mean on pen and paper, but to own it and honor my journey.

An Invitation to Dream

If manifesting is about bringing your dreams to life, then dreaming is the foundation where it all begins. If you’ve ever felt like dreaming wasn’t for you—whether out of fear, doubt, or survival—I understand. But I also know that reclaiming the ability to dream is transformative.

This year, I invite you to join me in making dream your focus. Let it inspire you to imagine the life you want, to rediscover your hopes, and to plant the seeds of possibility.

Because no matter how much time you’ve lost, it’s never too late to dream again—and to let those dreams take flight.

I know I am very late in posting about my ‘Word of the Year’ as we are into February as I start writing this. Fact is, I had decided on the word in 2023 but I took the month of January to analyse what it would really mean; start living in accordance to that and see whether it is something I can carry on not only for this year but for rest of my life. Whether it is something truly feasible and sustainable. 

I have always been proud of the fact that I can see multiple perspectives in a situation. I may not truly understand each of them, but I do see them and try to understand them. When I got this Tattoo, it was to remind myself that there are multiple perspectives in every situation and that it doesn’t make my personal experiences wrong or insignificant. That I had every right to believe in my own perspective of my experience. That my feelings weren’t wrong just because someone else couldn’t see it nor were other people’s feelings wrong because I couldn’t understand it.

Back then I used to take pride in the fact that I could see the perspective of the person in front of me and cut them slack because of it. Yes, you read that right. I USED TO take pride in that. I no longer do because I came to realise that while I was trying to be kind and understanding towards other people - it meant (most of the time) being unkind and unfair to myself. I was the collateral. When I realised that late last year, I turned inwards and started being kind to myself instead. It wasn’t a conscious decision - it just started with ‘I don’t want to deal with this negativity anymore’ and it has brought me more peace than I expected.

The concept of self-care and self-love has gained immense popularity. It is everywhere. People are talking about it across all social media platforms and  you hear about it in everyday conversations. However, if you really pay attention, it becomes quite apparent that many people discuss it without fully understanding it.

We have all been guilty of this at times - talking up things that we learn before understanding it completely. Personally, I too have been advocating for self-care for almost five years. Though with each passing year I have learnt and discovered more ~ its been a journey of continuous reading, watching, and learning.

Defining Self-Care / Self-Love

Discovering True Self-Love

Embracing Self-Love: A Call to Action

A torn jacket belongs to someone else

Smells like old spice and sweat

Giving me all the warmth needed to survive this lonely, cold night

While I dream of the dream.

An overused t-shirt, 

So big, it could fit both of us…scent of tears and ocean

Hugged me in those nights

You were too busy to look at the starts

A second-hand copy of my favorite book

With blemish yellow pages and taste of old monk

Provided me with the comfort, I was looking in you

While I sleep, in the lap of clouds

 The light is what guides you home, the warmth is what keeps you there. - Ellie Rodriguez

A messy hair bun, a laptop, an overused notepad, a mobile with a Joker back cover, and a blue pen, this has been my life for the last 3 years. No matter where I am, these treasures never leave me to take a hard day alone or to smile with me on the sunny ones.

I am sitting on my bed, thinking about squeezing in some workout (well, thinking about it for the last 5 years, still haven’t started) while a familiar face is smiling at me. Mr. Khan (The King Khan), has been there on my wardrobe for as long as I could remember, and he has never failed to make me feel good about myself, even on those days, when I can’t even get out of bed.

This bed, this wardrobe with Shahrukh pic on it, used to be my home, not my room, but home. However, last few years, there is a thought in the back of my mind, hiding in the dark corner, peeping from time to time.

And finally decided to address it head-on.

Where is my Home?

Since I could remember, the room, I had in our old, dampy, half-broken railways quarter was my world. I had an old radio. I used to listen to Radio-Mirchi nonstop on it. My favorite show was when they used to play old Hindi songs (I forgot the show's name). I loved that tiny corner beside the radio, listening to songs, dreaming of dreams, and hoping for a place of my own to call HOME.

That dampy room was the witness to all my firsts, endless chatter with friends, my first journaling, first love, first heartbreak, my exams, sleepless night, and on and on.

And then the inevitable came, I left my hometown; Kolkata, to pursue my MBA in Hyderabad. I stayed in college hostels, and working women’s hostels, and shared a flat with roommates. But never, ever, I felt at home.

Then I got married, and rented beautiful flats for living, still, what was the thing missing…I still couldn’t figure it out. It’s like…

I have been to the unknown and felt most lost when I reached home.

No matter how comfy the bed is, and how familiar the faces were, I was not home. I have taken deep dives into the darkest corners of my mind, yet could never find an answer to the ever-haunting question…where is home?

I am still looking for my home, and I have no idea….

what is it or where is it or never the less who it is?

Over the years I have realized, my home was that corner beside the old shabby radio, my home was the salty torn bedsheet, the picture of Shahrukh.

What I have been looking for, for the last 13 years is not an address, but rather a warm cozy hug from you (Who are you?) to drench my soul with love.

The teenage girl, in that homey little corner, with stars and moon in her eyes listening to “yeh tera ghar, yeh mera ghar”, will not stop, until she finds her home, no matter where it is or who it is.  

“I am homesick for a place I am not sure ever exists. One where my heart is full. And my soul is understood. I am homesick for you my LOVE”

It’s too much, 

Thing after a thing

Drowning in this black hot coffee, not enough

Being in that super-hero suit is not good anymore

Golden liquid doesn’t burn me as it used to.

The smoke coming out of my lungs are a voiceless scream

Living life in break and escape rooms are…well, not living

Holding my breath so I can breathe one day is merely surviving

My shivering frozen heart waiting for you seems like a lifetime

I forgot what is normalcy 

Hiding behind the sound of my bluetooth seems exhausting

The dark cozy room fails to provide comfort

Writing about it doesn't vent as it used to

The sound of your voice is lightyear far...

It’s just too much, 

Thing after a thing, and a thing 

What a day it has been for me today.

So, the Pathan Teaser dropped today around 11am and its kind of breaking the internet and drowning out Boycott Bollywood and Boycott Pathan noise - as its should. Have you seen the teaser yet? What did you think?

‘Zinda hai’ is more likely him confirming what us the SRK-ians have been saying all along. He is back and it seems it will be with a bang! With an action packed trailer and him looking better than ever, we are going to have fun. You naysayers can keep saying stuff, it hasn’t mattered to us in the last 30 years, and it won’t matter now.

With ‘War’ as a reference, I am not expecting a good storyline. In fact I am almost expecting a flawed story. At the same time with SRK & Deepika on screen, the acting will be much better than War for sure. And I hope that the action is as good as War if not better. I am excited!

I also had the awesome opportunity to go watch Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge on the screens today. People kept telling me that you have already watched it so many times, why go to the theatres again? Well, I am glad that once again I did not let the naysayers stop me because it was an experience of a lifetime!

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Sometimes you meet a person and you just click—you’re comfortable with them, like you’ve known them your whole life, and you don’t have to pretend to be anyone or anything. - Unknown

It was a sunny December morning. We (I am my husband) took our daughter to her new school. She was about to start her offline school after 1.5 years, and I was worried.

VANI:

MANJEERA:

KARISHMA:

Her son, Bunny is the Magic Jappi of our group.

I really don’t remember how and when we all (Vani, Manjeera, Karishma & I) became friends.

It is so difficult to get like minded people and I got three of them.

We are a crazy bunch, shouting, yelling, sometimes crying also, and always in the mood for a party. 

We love our Chole Kulcha, especially me and Vani and while Karishma is on diet, and cursing us.

We had multiple parties, dramas, children fighting, crying, making peace, ladies complaining about our husbands, gifts and so much more.

I can’t thank you guys are enough for being there for me, not judging me for my craziness. 

You guys are the precious gems that I found when I was not even looking, and I was apprehensive to form any kind of bond. You guys showed me that I shouldn’t lose hope to make new friends because of some bad experiences. 

And the best thing about us is that we are not like some mothers who are constantly making their kids compete with each other. We understand that every child has their own strength and weakness and as a group, we cherish and encourage that. 

This is a very rare quality to be found in today’s world, especially when some parents asked me what is my daughter’s rank in the playgroup exam. 

I would like to give a glimpse of our WhatsApp chat:

Vani:

To all the kids I thank you to make me enjoy the child within me
I so much need bunny’s hug, Nyaomi’s energy, And Advika’s unconditional love
If it was not for them, I don’t think I would have ever met anyone.
The three months will be the best for making me fall in love with this city
And to trust in friends again

Manjeera:
Yes true. All thanks to our ❤️ly piyu (that’s me)

Vani:
To Priyanka, I credit you for being the skeleton of this group. Manjeera is the blood to energise it. Karishma gives the neuro electric spark to add a vibe.
Don’t mind my biology.
Am probably the hormones which keep the group sane or insane.

Me:
Please keep the compliments flowing, especially about me.

Karishma:
I am late as usual (That is the thing, she didn’t reply)


Currently, we are in different parts of India, however, I know, I can call them anytime and pick up where we left off.

I can all them my friends for life.



I miss you guys like hell, I miss our parties, I miss the support you provided to me, and helped me in so many ways.

Every one of you has a unique and a genuine soul. I thank God for all of you and the time we spent together.

LOVE YOU GUYS.

As Helen Keller rightly said,

I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.