Poems ,Stories and lot more .. By Maneesha Purandare

  These days, my evenings have a set ritual: plopping on the couch, snuggled under a warm blanket, munching on perfectly spiced snacks, and immersing myself in a thriller on an OTT platform. While horror and gory, gut-wrenching dramas aren’t my cup of tea, thrillers keep me hooked. Most of these stories barely linger in my memory beyond a day or two, but some manage to etch themselves into my mind—and heart. One recent movie took me on a nostalgic ride through the bustling heart of Mumbai—places like Worli, Parel, Byculla, Kalbadevi, and Fort. For someone whose alma mater was in Parel(परळ) these streets are not just locations; they are chapters of my life. Watching them on screen felt like flipping through a photo album of my independent hostel days, where I first tasted freedom and learned life’s ropes. Byculla’s streets still hold vivid memories of bus rides to the ENT hospital in Fort. Oh, the thrill of sitting in a double-decker bus, climbing the Byculla bridge, and catching a...

It was one of those chilly mornings when it was colder than the day before. I had been knowingly avoiding my thick winter coat—not because I thought I was tough, but because putting it on felt like admitting winter had won. And winter comes with all those gloomy thoughts of short days, dark nights, and cold toes. But that day, I gave in. I wore the coat, zipped it up with a sigh, and headed out to work. On my way, I stuffed my hands into the coat pockets to warm them up—because, let’s be honest, gloves are always missing when you need them. That’s when my fingers hit something crinkly. A piece of paper. Curious, I pulled it out. Lo and behold, it was a ticket to the Tate Modern museum! Now, I love art. But not the "paint-a-bowl-of-fruit" kind of art—I mean the kind that makes you go, “What in the world is that?” This ticket brought back memories of my last trip to the museum, a trip I can only describe as… an experience. I remember strolling in, full of enthusiasm, and seeing...

Conversations.... How do conversations even begin? It’s one of life’s delightful mysteries. This festive season, we found ourselves bouncing between parties, pujas, and get-togethers, catching up with friends while basking in the warmth of familiar faces. Sometimes, I’m a silent observer, just soaking it all in, but when I’m in the mood, I contribute my two cents—typically involving Bollywood gossip, a random news bit, or, on rare occasions, something completely offbeat! On this particular evening, a group of us gathered, and the conversation kicked off with travel tales. Our friend, steeping a fragrant masala chai, recalled a unique “special tea” experience at the Khardung La Pass in Leh, brewed by none other than Indian soldiers! Here at 17,600 feet, tourists and soldiers alike share the warm brew before being politely asked to move along, as this is a high-security border area, part of an ancient trade route. The tales of trade caravans and exotic goods—silk, musk, jade cups—sounded...

  When Kiran and I decided to visit Amsterdam, I was excited for tulips, canals, and maybe a bit of Rembrandt. Little did I know I’d end up with more giggles than Gogh and more confusion than Van Gogh’s self-portraits! This bustling hub of history and modernity, commerce and creativity, had a few surprises up its canal-lined sleeves. We checked into this eco-friendly haven called the Conscious Hotel. Right from the funky, upcycled decor to the fact that even the room key felt like it had done a PhD in environmental science, everything screamed “save the planet.” Inspired and guilt-ridden for every plastic bottle I’ve ever used, we set off for a sunny stroll to Dam Square. Now, Dam Square is a people-watcher’s paradise. It was buzzing with both locals and tourists, everyone basking in the crisp autumn sun. As we strolled along the picturesque canals, I noticed an unusual number of folks peering intensely into the water, poles in hand. “Are they fishing for a particular type of fish?...

 In the land of love handles and muffin tops, Where spare tires and beer bellies never stop, Thunder thighs shake, making quite the scene, And double chins wobble, as if in a dream. Cankles merge calves and ankles in one, Bat wings flutter when raising a ton. Chunky cheeks blush with a rosy hue, As bingo wings flap, like they're in a zoo. The FUPA reigns supreme, a king in its court, While pooches and mommy pouches offer their support. Jelly rolls jiggle with every laugh and cheer, Creating a chorus that's music to the ear. So let's embrace each roll, each chin, each thigh, For in this quirky kingdom, our spirits fly high. In the realm of body slangs, we're perfectly free, To chuckle at our quirks and live joyously!

 "Balconies, Buses, and Missed Millions" I was at the hospital, carrying on as usual with my clinical work  when I saw this kid who came in for a hearing test. He wasn't wearing his school uniform like the other kids who come for their hospital appointments on a school day do .So, naturally, I got curious and asked, "Hey buddy, is today a day off for you? What’s your grand plan for the afternoon?" Without missing a beat, the kid shoots back, “I’m gonna play Minecraft on my PlayStation!” PlayStation, huh? Oh boy, did that send me down memory lane. You see, back in my day, if we had an unexpected day off from school, there was no PlayStation to save us. Nope. My 'play station' was my house gallery or balcony. The most action-packed part of my day would be counting the rare yellow cars that drove by. Seriously, they were like unicorns back then. Or I’d watch the queue of people waiting for the famous 257 bus. That bus wasn’t just a bus; to me it was a ship ...

 Alright, folks, gather 'round for the tale of the world's clumsiest human – yours truly! I swear, if there's a way to turn a normal situation into a comedy of errors, I'll find it. It's like I have a PhD in Disaster and a Master's in Mayhem. Picture this: There I was, at a fancy-shmancy restaurant, feeling all posh and sophisticated. I'd just demolished a fabulous biryani and was packing up the leftovers like a responsible adult. Little did I know, I was about to star in my own spicy drama. As I'm tying up the takeaway bag, BAM! Suddenly, my right eye is on fire! I'm standing there, frozen like a statue, wondering if I've been hit by some sort of curry-flavoured lightning. Turns out, I'd somehow managed to flick "mirch ka saalan/  मिर्च mirch का का सालन " right into my eyeball! Who does that? Me, apparently. After what felt like an eternity of eye-rinsing and squinting, I couldn't help but think, "If there's a blunder ...

  Oh, let me tell you, I’m in that fabulous phase of life where youthful enthusiasm has waved goodbye, and my body has embraced the art of shapelessness. More padding than a couch, I tell you! And it's not the kind of development you’d write home about. But then, I stumbled upon this term called sarcopenia. Apparently, muscle mass starts playing a disappearing act at the rate of 3-8% per decade after 30. Well, isn’t that just scary? So, I decided it was high time to take matters into my own hands and drag myself to the gym. Now, gymming has never been my forte. I mean, who enjoys doing repetitive exercises to songs that sound like alien languages, all while avoiding the glaring truth in those wall-to-wall mirrors? Disaster in the making, I say! But hey, why not make it fun? I started spinning stories about my fellow gym-goers. Not shaming, mind you, just naming! Take Betty, for example. This nimble, athletic girl would hop on a huge cube like it was her personal playground. Her una...

 "Rain, Robins, and Relentless Cheer: I was sipping my coffee and watching the endless rain through my kitchen window. It had all gone dark and cold, with a drizzle adding to the misery. I felt like I was trapped in a scene from a particularly dreary British novel, where the only exciting thing to happen is when someone misplaces their umbrella. But then, something caught my eye—a fluffy robin hopping around in the garden. Despite the downpour and the November-like gloom ( in the middle of May), this chunky little bird was out there, pecking for worms and perching on my beautiful plants, which had somehow managed to burst into colourful blooms. I was amazed by its tenacity! Here I was, contemplating my life choices over a cup of coffee, and this robin was having the time of its life. Enter Kiran, our in-house Wikipedia, who decided to add his two cents to the mix. He said, "Did you know that in cold weather, birds can't grow a thick winter coat like many mammals do? Inste...