Let’s See How Far We’ve Come

So it’s been over eight months since I last clocked into my journal. Eight extremely eventful months, which have brought their fair share of… well, everything. The last time I’d checked in, it was victory season and celebrations all around. Between then and now, there’s been losses, one exploding extension board, prompt based writing, employment, farewells, makeovers, success, four awesome Netflix shows, heartbreak, another victory, and five iPhone chargers (thanks, Apple). There’s been more than a good share of life changing events in this year and 2015 has been anything but boring.


But the highlight of these past month has easily been one event: TEDxBITSPilaniDubai.


Now, regulations require me to start by explaining that a TEDx is an independently organised event and NOT the same thing as a TED event. It’s an event where people from a small community come together to share in the ideas from their own community that inspire them. I could give you the whole marketing pitch for the event, but that’s really not the objective here. It also wouldn’t begin to describe the significance of the event in my life.


Being a part of this journey has been one of the greatest experiences of my life. The people I met, got to know, and the things they taught me are all but few reasons this ride has been an amazing one. What started off as a little WhatsApp group that buzzed all day long ended as the not-so-mini TEDx family that I don’t think I will ever forget.


It’s two days to Christmas and the year end is almost here. It hasn’t been the best of years, but I sure made some of my best memories in it. I’ve said good bye to more people than I wanted to, and come to know and cherish people I never imagined I would. I’ve made more than a fair share of mistakes but some pretty awesome decisions too (see TEDxBITSPilaniDubai). I disconnected with some and reconnected with others. I won more than some, but most days I’d lost more than I’d won. I also discovered how to make it snow on my blog and my life hasn’t been the same since.


I’m four days behind on my pre-Christmas ritual, still don’t know who my secret Santa is, haven’t begun gift-wrapping and the Christmas songs haven’t started blaring from my speakers yet. So, I’m making this a quick one and getting on with my to-do list before the 25th is upon us.


I miss you, Dear Friend, Panda and Goof. It’s not the same without you.

Thank you Supreme Leaders… and Sumeet. I’m going to miss telling you boys what to do.

Thank you to the best TEDx speakers I could have asked for, not just for being the inspiring wonderful people they are but also for NOT being a 15 year olds with a superiority complex (long story).

But most of all, thank you to every single person who helped make our event a success, and to everyone who got me to this point today.


A quick sneak peak at the stuff to come next year: start of the twenties, a super awesome internship, (ideally) the greatest story to be ever written and hopefully more re-connections and second chances. Maybe I’ll even start blogging regularly, learn to parallel park and win an all expense paid trip to Italy.


Happy Holidays everyone. Try not to short circuit your connections lighting up that tree and keep an eye out for a blue police box.


– So not prepped for Christmas





Oh look. You found my scribbles.

 Be warned. The path ahead is not for the weak. Beyond this post, waits the drabbling and rambling of a devious mind that’s trying to figure out how to escape to her wonderland and steal your food*. Not necessarily in that order. This is the random and irregularly updated scrapbook of the person who I hope some day is the author of your favourite words. The site contains occasional field reports, spurts of inspirations, prize winners and nonsensical pen scratches (or rather, key presses) that you may or may not find yourself getting lost in. Tissue at hand is highly recommended.

Well now that you know what lies ahead, come on in.


More About Yours Truly             Down the Rabbit Hole

*especially cakes and pizzas

The Recruit

For the first time in her life, Miss Turple found herself at a loss for words.

It wasn’t like she’d known what to expect when the invitation was slipped under her door. That was suspicious in itself because she hadn’t even got around to unpacking all her shoes yet, let alone socialising with people who could afford gold trimmed envelopes. There was no name or address mentioned that she could write back to either. Just the time she would be picked up. The presumptuousness didn’t sit right with her but curiosity won. It was the first time she was living away from Mrs Turple’s hawk eyes, and the key to the case of the secret invite would be at the party.

So she’d put aside all reservations, put on her new dress and had waited by the river front as told. She hadn’t asked any questions either when Mr Top Hat showed up in a boat and gestured for her to step in. She even bared the eternity long boat ride quietly without letting loose the thousand and one unladylike quips hanging off the tip of her tongue. But when Mr Alarmingly-Silent-Top-Hat-Man led her to her destination, she couldn’t stay mum any longer.

Except she didn’t know what to say.

“I loved your piece in the press. The poem about the little animals. It warmed my heart.” Mrs Exotic-Feathers-Number-2 said before she drifted off to listen to Mr Burgundy Ascot’s caterwauling.

“It was about children, not animals.” Miss Turple mumbled to nobody in particular. At least that explained how they found her. The press had demanded she skip out on the pseudonym. In retrospect, she should’ve insisted on the confidentiality, but she quite enjoyed the flattering recognition she was receiving now. The chatter of the guests had momentarily died when she stepped into the… she couldn’t find a word to describe the place. Whispers had started up in that fraction that conversation had taken to regain traction. Clearly this was a crowd who knew of her writing.

Another Mr Top Hat came up to her to congratulate her on the marvelous work she’d done on Itsy Bitsy.

“It was a splendid plot. It’s such a shame that the production house cancelled on it.”

“Yes, they couldn’t find the right actor for the little girl.”

Mrs Pince-nez and Mr Pinstripe stopped to gush all over the Pansy True.

“What a bright, powerful, empowered character you’ve created. It would be heart-breaking if anything ever happened to her.” So Miss Turple safely excused herself without mentioning the climax of her sequel Her Witness. She looked around the open air, reader’s ball or ORB as she decided to call it. The people present were downright outlandish. She didn’t get the memo about the fancy dress theme, but it seemed like everybody else did. There was a man in a ruff collar, a woman in mourning robes and a man in what looked suspiciously like a bed sheet trying to be a toga.

She continued to look around the ORB trying to ignore the prickling on the back of her neck. Someone was watching her every move. She tried to appear casual in her actions as she raised her glass to her lips and subtly tracked the source of the intense stare. Her gaze fell on the man in the bow-tie by the pier who looked away almost immediately. The perpetrator was found. Miss Turple picked up another glass of gin from a passing waiter and made her way to Mr Bow-Tie.

“You should not have come.” He said bluntly as he accepted the gin.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s still time,” he said looking around, “you can make a run for it. Take the boat and scamper.”

“Why would I do that?” she demanded. The sun hadn’t even begun to set. Even by Mrs Turple’s standards, it was far too early.

“Because,” he said, turning away from the gathering to face her, “they want you to join the society.”

Miss Turple looked at him like he’d gone mad, but the look on his face suggested that she was the crazy one.

“What society? Why shouldn’t I join?” Mr Bow-Tie cocked his head to a side, assessing her fully.

“Well, Miss Turple, this is the Dead Poets’ Society and for your contribution to literature, you’re being recruited. Naturally, dying is the only way of joining.”