Ink

Ink

I finally got a tattoo. I don’t know why and I don’t know if I will regret it at some point, but I really wanted it. I cannot explain to myself (or to the ‘rents) why in the world I was scarring my body. Yet, I feel it’s that inexplicable desire, that innate gut instinct that convinced me undoubtedly that I wanted ink. The spark that etched this desire was a best friend. After an incredulous five years of college shenanigans, we decided to get a life-defining song title inked onto our body, in some abstract, funky form. Corny? Yes. Let’s leave it at that. The other best friend studying graphics design in Florence was the perfect contender to conjure up a sketch. Several months later, after crucial insight from my sister, and a few variations, we...

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Resident Alien

Resident Alien

I am no longer a “non-resident alien.” The “non” has been ejected and my alien-ness is marginally more accepted – I am now officially a resident alien of the United States of America. Whoopdidoo. Doesn’t mean much, though. It doesn’t mean that I have a “Green Card” or a desire to become an American, nor does it entitle me to settle here irrevocably. It just makes me pay more taxes. Fair and all, but bloody hell. I’ve always had an issue with my sense of belonging. India groomed my toddler touchie till I was about 9 year old, and as we all now, pre-age-nine is all a blur, so that’s hard to count. My true formative years were in Dubai where I lived till I was eighteen believing devastatingly, that it was home. And it technically is, but...

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The Arsenal

The Arsenal

My only heartbreaker is the Arsenal Football Club. It’s painful to support a sports team that should be dominating but doesn’t, that should be making the right decisions but doesn’t. If I could choose, I would have chosen a mediocre team that’s not expected to win regularly, a team that’s offbeat enough to be a ‘cool’ choice and yet, plays the sport with the kind of attitude you relate to. But, any true sports fan will tell you that you can never choose a team to support, the team chooses you. Having lived my formative years in the random culture-less city of Dubai, I wasn’t born into supporting a football team. It was around 2003 when football starting taking over my life. I watched it, my friends watched it, and we talked about it...

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The Power of Visual Storytelling

The Power of Visual Storytelling

Yes, there is a lot of garbage out there on TV and on the Internet, but it’s all about finding those hidden gems – those mystically resonating television shows that you feel you can relate to like no one else can, that movie that makes you question your commitment to the “safe” path when there are oceans left to explore, that comedian who finds humor in truth and makes you wonder why the world doesn’t run that simply, that live soccer game that could only be scripted in the heavens, that advert that slaps a momentary smile on your face, and that speech that convinces you, at least for an instance, that living is a lot more than just money and food. It’s those moments that send a serene shudder down my spine and make all the visual vomit seem...

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Ambition

Ambition

The word “ambition” has such a proud feeling attached to it. In my world, it’s the ultimate driver. This desire to achieve, make a difference and be successful is applauded and thus, addictive. It’s born out of this dog-eat-dog environment that I have been engulfed in – always surrounded by overachievers, raised by truly successful parents that made a lot out of little, and thrown into different continents where the single common factor that the majority of the people around me possess is a desire to get somewhere, before embracing what is already there. Ambition is tuned in my mind to be positive, and good, and healthy, and the right way to go about living my life. And all this is great – the daily dose of food is never an issue, the world suddenly...

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Four Midnights In Paris

Four Midnights In Paris

Not enough. Four days in Paris is nearly not enough to get a decent grip of the city. Paris was my last stop and like every journey, the end is the hardest. On my way to Paris, I thought I was burning out. I was getting focused, making plans and generating lists of all the errands I need to get at once I go back to Texas. And amidst all that focusing, Paris came alive, and it wasn’t only at midnight. Like all good movies, the best bit is normally at the end. And the end is sometimes what is least expected. Just when I thought Europe could not get any prettier, Paris trotted in with its sensationalism. Paris is so precisely pretty. The buildings, the roads, the gardens, the picnic spots, the cathedrals, the sky and the river are all so much more defined than...

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Oh Bless’th Rome

Rome was my 6th stop. I thought I had seen enough history in the past 20 days to not be overwhelmed. But oh boy, Rome ruffled that belief. There is just so much to see in Rome. Every 50 metres there is this fountain, or this statue, or this monument, or this tomb, or this church, or this ruin. It’s just so majestic that all I can think of is this bimbo of a woman saying, ‘Shutt uppp!’ Rome ignited a lot of mixed feelings about religion. Religion is such a history-shaping concept that is so prevalent not only in Europe, but everywhere sunshine touches. The fact that Rome is the home of Christianity just gives me more leverage to magnify my heresy. The first major part of any tourist’s Romexperience is Vatican City. The Vatican is the home of...

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