City with a Soul - London

 

 

I’ve always wanted to explore London and now that my children are there, visiting London seemed like a good idea to escape Gurgaon heat. It was spring in May, the weather was temperate, and we were able to explore places without getting drenched in the rain or bothered by the piercing sun. If you are planning a London vacation, spring is a good idea to beat the summer rushes and long queues.

Our trip began with a five-hour drive to the Cumbria Lake District Park, North-West of London. While autumn is the best season to admire the vivid colours, spring was equally resplendent. After a drive of five hours from London, we stopped at the glistening Lake Windermere, England’s largest lake that allows cruises, scuba diving, hiking and sailing. Given the similarity, people also call it the Lake Como of England.

We had booked an Airbnb in Hesket and the drive to Hesket from Lake Wildermere was breathtaking. We drove past several gleaming lakes, verdant hills and gurgling rivulets. It was so scenic that after a point, clicking pictures seemed futile. The following day we drove around the stunning town of Keswick that sits on the lake of Derwentwater surrounded by lush green mountains. Keswick is famous for its hikes, restaurants, outdoor activities, pencil museum and the ruins of Lingholm castle. Grasmere, another small village is so beautiful that it served as an inspiration for the great poet, William Wordsworth. Whatever your age or interest – hikes, hamlets or history, the scenic landscape of Lake District is sprinkled with everything.

Tip: Spend 3-4 days and hire a car to explore the Cumbrian charm and history.

On our drive back to London, we took a small detour for a stopover at the Bicester village –a designer shopping outlet in Oxfordshire. Built in 1995, this shopping village boasts of fashionably curetted boutique shops and eateries. Despite being a retail outlet, the brands are bound to create a hole in your pocket.

Tip: With sinking value of rupee and almost every brand available in India, shopping is not a great idea unless you are a designer brand buff.

Back in London, it was time to explore the city that opens like a novel with chapters on history, food, theatre and art. If I had to pick a modern city with a soul, the mascot has to be London. Unlike Dubai and Singapore, London is a labyrinth of streets, each one leading you to a new discovery and a new experience. If it’s your first visit, the famous HoHo buses are a good way to explore the city as you can get down anywhere you wish. I had visited London long ago and had no distinct memories, so it was fun to soak in the famous landmark sights of the Notting Hill, Westminster Abbey, The Big Ben, The Hyde Park, Trafalgar Square and The London Bridge. The Thames River Cruise may seem routine, but it’s worth the ride for the panoramic views of the past and future intersecting on both shores. The river cruise gives you a view of the modern Canary Wharf area where skyscrapers kiss the skies and urban life collides with natural beauty.

Tip: The hop-on hop-off bus tickets include the river cruise and are available through apps like the Top View. London is huge, charming and easy to walk with a lot of walking, so don’t forget to carry comfortable walking shoes and an umbrella.

If the British Monarchy piques your interest, there are a number of palaces like the Windsor Castle and the Buckingham Palace that are central to the story of Britain. The biggest museum in London, the National Museum if free and there are long queues over the weekend. Very close to the National Museum, you can grab a bite at bustling China Town with dazzling red lanterns across the streets. Hundreds and thousands of people walk around to enjoy food at quaint little eateries and dessert shops.

Tip: Sit outside in any of the eateries and soak in the multicultural vibe. Dumplings Legend is a nice place for authentic Chinese.

The following day was booked for theatre as watching a play in London is one of the ‘must do’ things. You can pick any of the shows from Mamma Mia to Lion King and be amazed by the hundred-year-old theatres and plays alike. If you are watching a show, do walk around the Covent Garden and its open air restaurants with history peeking in from every nook and corner.

What I liked most about London was how the city has preserved its green spaces. You can scroll down the busiest financial area around Big Ben and within minutes, you can be in the St James Park observing horses, sheep and hen. Do not miss the sprawling Kew Gardens, the Regent Park and the Hyde Park in the centre of the city. A walk around the Regent’s Canal and a visit to the Zoo can be a great weekend activity. Talking of gardens, the roof top Sky Garden on is a great touristy thing to do.

Tip: The Kew Gardens are botanical gardens with an entry ticket. I’d suggest visit any park that’s free and enjoy the verdant greens.

I call London, the city with a soul because you can walk in from a museum to a park to a cathedral to a shop and spend days exploring the city that breathes history, culture, nature and diversity. You can walk around and enjoy beer, coffee or and listen to musicians play with gay abandon. Talking of beer, London Pubs are quintessentially British and some of them were visited by Shakespeare and Dickens. Whether it’s a Sunday roast, quiz show or music, pubs are a great place to hang out with family. If ‘people watching’ was a sport, I would win a gold for not getting bored and watching people from diverse ethnicities, culture and race endlessly.

The last day in London was reserved for a trip to the famous Borough Market - the British Chandani Chowk. The bustling market has food retail shops that date back to the 12^th century. Borough market is cramped with stalls that sell artisan cheese, fried insects, oysters, rare spices fruit and more. Some eateries selling authentic British food have long queues that are almost a kilometre long.  Borough market was also the location of the leaky Cauldron in the Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

 Tip: Visit early morning on a Saturday as it gets very crowded. As most shops take cash only, carry cash. The nearest tube station, London Bridge is just 5 min walk away.

What more can you say about a city that has inspired thinkers, poets and authors for centuries? Do plan a visit to celebrate diversity and watch the tapestry of culture unfold in myriad ways.

 

 

 

 

Is Home comfort, security, people or more?

This post was first published here. Lost Homecoming: The Impermanence Of Ghar (shethepeople.tv)

I’m sitting in the balcony of my mother’s home, contemplating a cup of tea. As clouds flit by I wonder how the essence of home has changed over decades. Funny, how you can be in the same childhood home with the same people you grew up with but the place does not feel like home.

Over the years people have repeated trite truisms - home is not a place, it’s a feeling. Home is comfort, home is where the heart is. Home is a shelter from storms. Depending on the stage in life, home can be all of these and more.

I grew up at a time when belonging had deeper meaning than owning a house. The ability to sell a house and buy a new one is a recent phenomenon. Back then, we didn’t own the official bungalow, it belonged to us. It was wrapped up in a community, a neighbourhood and a way of life. For me, it was my cushion against adversity. Security. A place where I could act the worst and be loved the most. Above all, the reassurance that mummy papa hain na – sab dekh lenge. So when I left for hostel, home allowed the fascination of a flight and the reassurance of taking me back. It felt good to leave and even better to return.

Have you noticed how memories permeate into things around walls, doors, trees and peeling plaster? Remember I banged my head here? Where's the guava tree? I learnt to bicycle here. That window glass I broke? Oh, the crack is still there!

After my marriage, parents moved houses and visiting home was about going back to the comfort of my favourite people. To unplug and rewind. Home was about not being judged for sitting awkwardly, speaking loudly or being a kid. I could do what I wanted to and not what I was supposed to.

In the years that passed, home changed its meaning, one decade at a time. Oscillating between the past and future, I had nurtured new memories in a new place. Like everyone else, I had planted my roots in my married home. My new comfort zone.
As we harden into middle ages, our parents begin to soften into old age. This is when visiting home is also about watching parents struggle with latches, forget closing the gas burner, not being able to maintain the garden and get ready for the endless dentist visits. Of course, you know all about cycle of life but an inadvertent sadness wafts in and sticks around - a scar on your soul. It’s a reminder of things to come.

Thereafter it’s a downhill journey when one parent leaves. The crackle of cheese pakoras and bread rolls settles down with khichdi and lauki type of delicacies. The clink of wine glasses and coffee mugs is replaced with gargles and snores. The daytime silence feels like the whole house is wearing noise cancelling headphones. The WiFi is erratic, Netflix won’t work and nostalgia begins to loosen its grip.

Homecoming is now more about responsibility than comfort or freedom. Happiness now relies neither in maa ke hath ka khana nor the comfort of your childhood bed - it relies in the comfort of your surviving parent. The essential impermanence of life begins to gnaw at your subconscious. With your own responsibilities of husband and children, you now itch to take the surviving parent back to your married home.

And eventually your childhood home is lost in the mist of memories. One decade at a time. The cement walls, the swing, iron gate and curry patta plant in the garden stay to tell stories but the house does not hold the same meaning it once did. And you find solace in knowing that home is what you take with you, not what you leave behind.

Delhi to Mumbai - Pao Bhaji to Vada Pao

 

Image only to grab your attention

I live in Delhi/NCR, a place most of us claim to hate but nobody really moves out. We crib all through summer, winter and every other day the sun rises in the east but ultimately accept the city, warts and all. Tedha hai par mera hai.

Change, they say, is the only constant. Son is moving to Mumbai and I will now flirt with Mumbai - a city I have evaded for half a century. All I have seen is the Bandra gym visited by Malaika Arora on Instagram. 

Anyway, I’m now going to disown all the twitter fights between Delhi and Mumbai I’ve so valiantly fought. No more Mumbai winter jokes. Who said Mumbai winter is like having diet coke or green tea instead of the real thing? No, I never said Delhi has AC metro, wide roads and you can buy a fancy car and actually drive it.

I’ve convinced myself that Mumbai will now have a special place in my heart like my triglycerides. Because humidity is nothing but God’s way of helping us lose body weight by sweating.

Once decided, house hunting in Mumbai during monsoon is your worst torment. The fact that you are from Delhi does little to help. Your reputation trumps everything. Brokers expect you to say, ‘BC, Good morning, how are you MC?’ They assume you wear ‘sungoggals’ for a dinner party with ‘Choti Dress Me Bomb Lagdi Mainu’ blaring from your car stereo. Others think you are related to a thug named Khurana from Khosla ka Ghosla.

But wait. 

Shed your swag because a lot has changed over the years.

Today if you go to Mumbai and say, "Janta nahi mera baap kaun hai?" you are likely to get, "Tu bhi pitega aur tera baap bhi pitega."

Like most middle class chipku mothers, I’ve been involved in the search of an elusive Mumbai apartment. To begin with, the demand supply ratio in certain areas is as skewed as Kangana’s equation with a man whose name rhymes with JLo.

Regardless, you save telephone numbers of an assortment of brokers and ask broker A.

Me: Show me something in this area, kuch hai?”

A: Hain na, D 406 hai.

You’ve seen the house twice so you ask broker B.

Me: Do you have anything in this area?

B: Hain na D 406 hai.

Same story with C, D and E.

Finally when the broker takes you to D 406, three different couples are checking the same house at the same time. By the time your wife is scrutinising the kitchen chimney, the broker asks you to leave. Hello, what happened? He was pumping up sunshine five minutes ago and now he’s all cold and distant.

“It’s taken,” he says. “The man in green shirt has paid advance.”

“But they came after us,” you insist. “They haven’t even seen the kitchen.”

“Sir, they paid,” he shrugs. “You took too much time.”

Multiple emotions gush through your mind like a gutter during rains. You return back to Delhi with a moving date but no house in hand.

One Sunday, the broker gives you a call. He wants you to see an apartment on a video call. This time you try not to bicker about missing balconies or absent storage. As a supportive mother, we agree that balconies are a waste. Why pay for pigeon love-making area? Anyway, all we do from our Gurgaon balconies is watch an approaching dust-storm or the neighborhood hottie dry her towel.

“What’s the view like? Is that a slum?” you ask.

“Sir, baju me hai. Baarish me nahi dikhega.”

By now, it makes sense to reconcile that Chicken Kohlapuri is way healthier than Butter Chicken. Not to forget possibilities of resolving your existential crisis on Marine Drive, driving to Lonavala over the weekend, running on the beach like Urmila Matondkar wearing Tiger’s daddy’s baniyan and looking at a real working rickshaw meter!

More often than not, you have one kill joy friend who cannot stop from saying, “Bhai kyo jaa raha hai? For this money, you could have moved in a villa in Gurgaon, no?

Once you have a house, you defend Mumbai like Prithviraj Chauhan defended his land from Mohd Ghauri.

“Big cities have small houses. Have you ever lived in London or Tokyo? Plus Mumbai has genuine friends who support no matter what.”

Silence.

Tedha Hai Par 

AB 

Mera Hai.

 

About Panchayat

 

I saw Panchayat because I wanted to watch something more boring than my life. Yes, that’s how add zing to my weekend life. Okay, I’m joking but frankly, I’m glad I did.

No, this is not a review. I’m simply wondering what makes a slow burner like Panchayat a winner. Go ahead, roll your eyes if you are thinking, “She writes after so long and this is it?” Can’t help, I love writing about inane stuff.

Come to think of it, a bride in Churu, Rajasthan married someone else because the groom got delayed. In a world of instant gratification, who has the patience for a show set in a village called Phulera? There’s no fun watching grass grow, is there?

Unlike filmy villages we have grown up watching, Phulera does not wake up to dulcet sounds of birds with swaying mustard fields from DDLJ or gurgling streams from Ram Teri Ganga Maili. No frolicking belles or a chatty tangewali from Sholay. It’s more like the village from Swades. But wait. Don’t expect Ye Jo Des Hai Tera to play in the background.

If the backdrop isn’t much to talk about there must be romance, right? No sir. There’s just a promise of it. All you get is a whiff.

Hum theek hai

Aap kaise hai?

Theek hain.

The single chance meeting is limited to having chai-samosa with another friend. The only other intimate encounters that the protagonist has are with Maggi and Lauki (bottle gourd).

So no romance. What about action? In the eight episode long show, the only time my heartbeat raced was when the District Magistrate spotted a villager defecating in the open. So much for action. Don’t eew, it’s the funniest scene from the entire show.

So what is it that makes Panchayat endearing?

As with cooking, the outcome of any show depends on the honesty with which it is prepared. Panchayat is written with an honest and non-preachy pen. The writer has no intention of pleasing you with clichés of music, visual appeal or ‘what next’ syndrome. There are no undertones of religion, caste or social divide.

Acting remains the highlight of this show as actors slip into characters like your favourite old jeans. Raghubir Yadav and Neena Gupta as Pradhan couple light up the screen with their decades of experience and chemistry. Neena as Manju Devi is feisty and outspoken, she knows she's smarter than her husband but doesn't push beyond a point. 

The protagonist Abhishek, played by Jeetendra Kumar (an IIT K graduate) is itching to get out of Phulera, all the while falling in love with the village and the village Pradhan’s daughter. He’s restrained, yet a man of action. While Abhishek, aka Sachiv ji cannot shoot bullets from his ass like Akshay Kumar, he knows how to deal with the rogue harassing Rinki (Pradhan ji’s daughter). In one episode when Abhishek’s Gurgaon based friend Sidhartha visits Phulera, you realise Abhishek’s ordeals are beyond city slickers. That folks are right when they say, ‘You can only become something if you move out of your comfort zone’.

Personal assistant Vikas played by Chandan Roy and deputy Pradhan Prahlad Dubey played by Faisal Malik are as earthy, simple and honest as you can get. Vikas shines as an adorable village bumpkin who’s alternatively endearing, irritating and annoying. Faisal Malik steals the show in the culminating episode with his vulnerability as a single father. Unlike bumping into friends at a city pub, the merry quartet (Pradhan, PA, Deputy Pradhan and Sachiv) sit under a tree to drown their sorrows in beer and stale chilly paneer. The inherent niceness in the conversations and mutual respect adds to a refreshing change from expletives laden village based shows.

Add to this small yet powerful characters, for instance the dancer girl who says - we all sell different parts of our body, or the lady who spews fire over her lost slippers and the drunk driver who ends up leaving a merry wink. 

Why are people in this village happy when the only life changing moment in their life is defined by installation of a toilet seat and not by likes on their Insta post? I’m sure erratic connectivity and electricity have a role to play in matters of inner peace. How can you remain stress free when you are arguing on Twitter at 2 am? Or playing Wordle at midnight?

In a world of gourmet food, Panchayat Season 2 is like home made daal chawal. It is something to be relished with bare hands on a lazy afternoon. It is not to be binged. Nope, no spoon allowed.

A Good Thing

 

Lockdown Diary

It’s a warm balmy April night. I sit with my mother in the balcony. A rapt silence rules the apartment lawns around us. After a long sigh, Mummy mutters, ‘When will this end?’

The stars above us are specs on a hazy charcoal canvass. An occasional flight blinks in the sky, telling us that things are not normal but life goes on.

Same time last year, nature had claimed its territories and the sky was ablaze with stars. Haze had cleared to give us a glimpse of snow capped peaks from as far as Saharanpur. Remember, Hyderabad had spotted a leopard on a busy highway? Noida had galloping Nilgais. Why, my own A-ha moment was spotting a Kingfisher in the land of pesky pigeons.

As May and June broke lazily and lockdowns melted into each other the occasional, ‘When will this get over?’ became a weekly thing. 

‘By Diwali this pandemic will disappear like Sars,' I assured. ‘We’ll burn a bonfire of masks and dance to drumbeats in Holi 21. And then plan a trip to Chicago.’

There was hope.

With the ominous rumblings of clouds, monsoon arrived and restrictions eased over time. The house helps were back, as was air travel and eating out. Small steps but as delightful as moist clouds scudding over my condominium.

Diwali, unfortunately saw another deluge of cases. And a 75th birthday remained muted. A landmark anniversary celebrated over Zoom. A wedding cancelled. A job lost. A life mourned.

And yet, there was hope.

‘When will this end?’ her voice now had a desperate tone. 

‘Soon,’ I sighed. ‘This will soon turn into an endemic. We can live with that, right?’

‘I’m not asking for much. I only want to see my dentist, go to the bank and hug my grandchildren without this gnawing fear,’ she said.

So what if we didn’t have a normal 2020, we will have a blast in the New Year. The promise of vaccines held light within.

A refreshing March arrived holding bright spring in its arms. As more and more people got vaccinated, it was time to book tickets to Goa, fix wedding venues and fly to meet the grandparents.

And then the adage, ‘Life happens to you when you are making other plans’ sprang up to ring true.

The respite was short-lived.

Wham.

We were back in the prickly arms of March 2020. Forget dancing around a mask bonfire, I was ordering a N95 to ditch fancy cloth masks.

Worse, now we had mutants. And ominous words like ‘immunity escape’. When the world ought to move on, it was going on and on in tiresome waves.

The goalpost has now shifted to 2022. Because there is that stubborn thing. Hope. It sees light despite all the darkness. It jumps months, leaps years.

So when mother asks, ‘When will this end?’ I joke, ‘Soon. Hamari filmon ki tarah, end me sab theek ho jata hai. Agar theek na ho to picture abhi baki hai.’

Mom regains enough pep to retort. ‘Don’t give me Bollywood crap.’

‘Ok, Hollywood crap chalega?’ I chuckle. ‘You should watch Shawshank Redemption.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Same thing in English,’ I smile. ‘That hope is a good thing. Probably, best of all. And a good thing never dies.’

Smart Desh Ka Smart Vaccine

 

To begin with, let me tell you that this post is your most unhelpful guide to vaccination. All because instead of studying vaccines and their efficacy data, I’ve indulged in a vest-by-vest comparison of who got what vaccine. Unless you live in a cave, you must have seen the trend of docs posting vaccination pictures and inadvertently exposing ‘andar ki baat’. As one doctor friend said, the various side effects of the vaccine are malaise, mild pain, fever, myalgia and photo achchi nahi aayi. But all is not painful or in 'vein'. There is a bright side to getting injections because we may get to see Dr Nene getting his jab in his Amul Macho - Ye To Bada Toing Hai.

As for me, I’m thankful for our population, pollution, BCG immunisation and golgappe wale bhaiya’s armpit sweat that helped us develop strong immunity.

Regardless, we should all get vaccinated so that we can happily go back to our national pastime - jhappis and pappis. It’s been sooo long, even Modi ji hasn’t hugged a world leader. Also because I want to go back to a cinema hall and watch a movie. I'm tired of watching Pankaj Tripathi in every second Netflix show.

If you are the anxious type, you can play the wait and watch game. Like your friends did after your viva exam. But the waiting game can be dicey. For one, a mutant strain can land you in the arms of a ventilator. And two, when Zydus, Sputnik, Novavax, Sinopharm and Genova enter the vaccine market, picking the right one can be as confusing as being a fart in a fan factory.

Sample this for a future. You walk into a chemist shop with the best collection of vaccines in town, including vaccine patches and vaccines sprays. The competition will be so tough that pharma companies will rope in Bollywood to endorse their vaccines.

Smart Desh Ka Smart Vaccine.

Zydus Hai Jahan Tandurasti Hai Wahan.

Isko Laga Dala to Life Hai Jhinga lala.

Your chemist will proudly announce, “Sir ye lijiye, market me naya hai. Imported hai. Nahi nahi Sir, China wala nahi hai.” You will look so profound as if you are advising Joe Biden on Paris Agreement but finally end up saying, “Ye Anil Kapoor wala laga de bhai.” Unless you are the guy who will take any vaccine that does not require alcohol abstinence between doses. Alcohol, after all might not help with herd immunity, but it’s worth a shot.

Other relevant thoughts pass over me like clouds. Why can’t we get the jab the ‘Hip Hip Hooray’ way in our gluteus maximus instead of the deltoid muscle and make Kim Kardashian proud? In case of any minor swelling, the lady can serve cocktails on her tail bone.

Even better. What if we rope in Jhon Abraham as the poster boy for our vaccination drive? It will be a ‘jab’ well done.

Come to think of it, if scientists can invent a vaccine in record time why haven’t they found one that gives us a body like the national heart throb Ms Patani? How difficult is it? Dear Bharat Biotech, once you are done with this pandemic, think of something that makes French fries cleanse my arteries. Let aging add to my hair volume and not my waist volume.

How about a vaccine that burns more calories while sitting than exercising?

On a serious note, unless you trust your immunity or your doctor suggests otherwise, everyone should get vaccinated. And if for some reason you wish to wait, the choice is yours. Ultimately it is about choice. After all, exercise and Tequila, both can make you look good.

And if this reads like the most logic deprived crap like Ram Gopal Verma ki Aag, I warned you in the beginning. Nope, I don’t feel guilty for wasting seven minutes of your time. If it was five, you did not read the whole thing. You deserve Chetan Bhagat.

Cartoon Courtesy : Stock Illustration Google Image

Hearbeat at your Feet

There are two kinds of people. Those who stay away from pets.  And those who think life is meaningless without four legs and a happy tail. I belong to the former. So far. Who knows what tomorrow holds? Hell, we don’t even know if 2021 will behave better than 2020. Or if Salman will ever get married.

I don’t mean to exaggerate but petting a dog was my biggest lockdown achievement - second only to meditating for thirty seconds. It was not always like this. Let me flashback to my childhood when I could cuddle a pet without the mental image of getting mauled and getting my bum injected.

 We used to live in a sprawling railway bungalow where spending a leisurely afternoon meant scaling guava trees and biting the raw ones before parrots did.  It was a childhood that entailed chasing butterflies and picking dead ones to preserve in your Enid Blyton. It meant letting a lady-bird crawl on your hand as you whispered ‘pass-fail’ to watch the insect fly away on ‘pass’ or ‘fail’. It was also about plucking a spring onion shoot and blowing air in the hollow stem to make a farting sound. And giggle dementedly.

One afternoon while counting the snails, I chanced upon a fluffy kitten in the bushes. Promptly, I knew where my cup of Rooh Afza laced milk belonged. I picked it up and named her ‘Juhi’ only to realize that ‘Juhi’ was Tom and not Molly. As months passed, the cat grew bigger, greedier and angrier. Needless to say, it was a ‘wild cat’ and not a friendly kitten.  Soon the cute meows turned into loud yowls and high pitched cat fights. There were days when we shoo-ed him away, but he jumped in the ‘angan’ with lifeless birds hanging from his mouth. The more we distanced ourselves, the more dead rats and birds landed in our house. That was the end of my pet affair. Ending simultaneously with my Kumar Gaurav infatuation.

Decades passed, I got married and my son began pestering me to get a dog. “If you can’t get me a baby brother or sister, get me a dog”, he pleaded. It was always a steely ‘no’ that brooked no discussion. There is an adage that if you are forced to stay away from something as a child, it is the first thing you do as an adult. So this year my son fulfilled his dream of adopting a dog.

Sometimes it is the pet that picks you and not the other way round. My kids met an abandoned pup whose parents had died in a car accident and they chose to adopt him. Yes, very filmy and very Nirupa Roy-ish. They named him Ozzy, despite the house-help calling him Ooji, Awji and Rozy.

The first time I saw Ozzy, he was less than a month old and very sick.  He opened his doleful eyes and curled up with a mild tail wag. I think he smiled a bit with his tail. The incredible softness and the serene eyes made me pet him minus the fear of a swollen bum. My children nursed him to health by taking him to the vet for almost a month for antibiotic injections. There were days when Ozzy was just a loud mouth at one end no sense of responsibility at the other. There were days when it was like feeding a mouth that bites you (ok nibbles, he was teething). All the while, I remained a distant observer.

Today, after six months of several chewed laptop cables and plants, the little chap has brightened up the work from home aka ‘work with pressure cooker whistles’ life of my kids. Ozzy is a blessing when it comes to physical fitness, patience, unconditional love and Insta stories. When my kids arrive at home, the wagging tail is happy for the entire city of Gurgaon.

 Wait. Don’t get me wrong. This does not mean I’ve become a pet lover. I still don’t get what song the doggo sings that my kids understand. My heart continues to lurch in my throat when he jumps on me. I can’t bring myself to hold or cuddle him. I still don’t understand how wet doggo kisses make people emotional.

 And yet, I remain a distant lover. Seeing Ozzy’s picture first thing in the morning brightens my day. When my friends ask, “How is the furball story going? I say, “Thoda sa pyaar hua hai, thoda hai baaki.”