Poems ,Stories and lot more .. By Maneesha Purandare

  _Starry Laughs_ My cousin, her friend Veena, and I went on a hill station adventure that felt like a breath of fresh air, literally. Girivan, nestled in the Sahyadri ranges, proved to be a tranquil escape from the crowded chaos of other popular hill stations. Veena, our gracious host, led us to her farmhouse, and the journey up the windy and uphill roads was an experience in itself. Finally reaching her house was like stumbling upon a hidden gem—a classic Spanish villa with bold yellow walls bordered in deep red, standing proudly amid lush greenery. Veena's garden resembled a botanical wonderland, featuring an assortment of trees, from mangoes to bayleaf, palm to bananas. It was a paradise where guava, jaam, amla, peppercorn, and betel leaf creepers coexisted in harmony, creating a serene and zen-like atmosphere. Our taste buds were treated to a culinary spread by Veena's talented housekeeper. Rustic chicken gravy, sautéed dried fish (बोंबील), bhakri, and warm इंद्रायणी भ

 Imagine this ..a crisp Pune morning, me and my frothy coffee, casually striking up a convo with a crow named Tommy. I mean, who knew crows were so sociable, right? So there I am, thinking I'm Dr. Doolittle of the balcony, sharing biscuits, pohe, and the occasional fish feast with Tommy. Mom drops a bombshell – turns out, Tommy might be the descendant of a crow my dad fed. Instant attachment, and just like that, Tommy becomes family. I even upgraded his digs with cotton wool and hay – the crow's version of a cozy nest. Guard duty was real, though. Pigeons, the heavyweight champs of the bird world, kept eyeing Tommy's meals. But Tommy, sly devil, had a trick – a 10 a.m. caw that translated to "Hey,I am here,is the  breakfast's ready?" Our friendship blossomed. Tommy accompanied me on walks, cawing cryptic messages that I expertly translated as reassurances for my mom's well-being. I shared this avian gossip over dinner with Kiran and Gargi , who were amused

  Haldi kunku laughter and memory mix" My current India visit was like a medical mission for my mom, but who knew it'd turn into a cultural rollercoaster! Got roped into a 'haldi-kunku' fiesta at my cousin's - my SIL went all out and invited the whole 'Pawar cousins' squad. Ended up time-travelling through memories, with laughter as the tour guide! Web series, epic movies, and documentaries became the stars of our chat. Turns out, my binge-watching skills are genetic - the art of endless TV marathons runs in the family! It's practically a heritage thing now.!!  Once the chit-chat session wrapped up, it was time for the grand 'haldi kunku' spectacle! Picture this: married women trading haldi (like, turmeric, not stock market tips) and kunku (not a secret society, just vermilion powder). It's like a married status swap meet, wishing for husbands' longevity in style. Fun fact: the tradition's roots go way back to the Peshwa rule in Maha

 In that beautiful resort, my mother's earrings went on a secret adventure, hiding under her pillow. Bags, wallets, and drawers were explored, but the elusive treasures were cunningly concealed. Opting for the cash route, we withdrew money for her preference. The next day, a financial mystery unfolded – a scavenger hunt through wallets, purses, and drawers, only to discover the wealth bundled in a hanky, snug in the cupboard. Saree shopping became a geography lesson. Azad Nagar in Andheri clashed with Azadwadi in Pune, miles apart. Amid the confusion, her reminiscences proved sharp, recalling bygone days with a mix-up in destinations. Post-surgery, in a drugged haze, she envisioned postponed operations for extended travels, forgetting the impending pain.   So many times she has gone to the fridge and completely forgotten what she opened it for? Her glasses have suddenly found dancing shoes wherein they dance their way out every where in the house !! All the movies she has seen so f

  A road trip to Velas Agar was like entering the kingdom of a GPS-induced maze– thanks to Tamhini ghat's 'hairpin' turns that left Google Maps equally bewildered. The newly paved roads were a blissful joyride, practically begging for a carpool karaoke session. As nostalgia struck on passing Mangaon general hospital, memories of my medical internship flooded back. Ah, the days of navigating the healthcare maze with shortages of syringes, medicines, and an Everest-sized paperwork pile! The chief doctor, a multitasking maestro, taught us the art of medicine amidst this chaos – a true healthcare hero. Flashback to the evenings of my internship, where the locals' advice on snake avoidance led to my unique stomp-walk technique. Little did I know, fast forward to today, my regular strides could trigger a snake's seismic shock retirement plan!  Our Velas Agar escapade elevated to the pinnacle of luxury as we found ourselves in sea-facing tents, basking in the glory of a &#

 Amidst the diverse landscapes, no road in India feels truly complete without encountering the wit and charm of Amul's clever campaigns. Among these, the ones that stand out the most are the captivating tales spun around the beloved sport of cricket. Amul's witty ads have hit more boundaries than some cricketers! From turning butter into laughter to creating a whole new spin on advertising, Amul's cricket-related ads are a league of their own. In the cricketing circus, Amul has been the master of the crease, always ready to play a cheeky shot at the world of sports. When Virat Kohli breaks records, Amul breaks into a pun, ensuring that even the butter on your toast is seasoned with a dash of humour.  Remember the time when they showcased a "Butterly" Shikhar Dhawan flaunting his bat skills? It was a stroke of genius! Amul doesn't just churn out butter; they churn out laughter, proving that they're the star players of the game. And let's not forget the

 Visiting  Zapurza Museum of Art and Culture, nestled in the scenic embrace of Khadakvasla, was like stepping into a canvas painted with beauty and creativity. Thanks to the ingenious minds at PN Gadgil Jewellers, who've not only mastered the art of making money but also showcased the brilliance of utilizing it to appreciate art. As the wheels rolled towards Khadakvasla, the journey itself was a visual feast.  Entering the museum felt like stepping into a world where creativity danced with opulence. The exhibits, curated with finesse, showcased a splendid array of art and cultural artifacts. From timeless paintings , old styled sarees, ship projectors, lanterns to exquisite jewelry pieces, every corner told a story of craftsmanship , creativity and elegance. In the museum, we discovered a dazzling array of rooms, ( "कला दालने )masterpieces by India's artistic maestros, especially those from J J School of Arts in Mumbai. In the next room, we stumbled upon a collection of br

 Embarked on a delightful journey to 'Eco-Taka,' a visionary and sustainable venture crafted by my artistic sister-in-law. Armed with a degree in textiles and design, she transitioned from aiding an NGO to co-founding 'Eco-Taka' with the eco-conscious architect Shabnam, channeling discarded scraps into a myriad of exquisite items. From mobile holders to duvet quilts, their creations are both visually stunning and environmentally conscious. The workshop in central Pune, brimming with repurposed garments, emanates an aesthetic charm. Noteworthy was the transformation of an old saree into a captivating table runner and placemats. The dynamic duo, constantly innovating, offers custom-made treasures that cater to individual tastes, exemplified by their unique casserole caddy – padded, quilted, and adorned with a wooden handle, a perfect companion for potluck gatherings. Beyond crafting sustainable treasures, 'Eco-Taka' has ventured into a noble initiative, training u

  Recently I attended a party in the swanky satellite town of Pune.I was going to  meet the who's who of society. I, the long-lost relative, decided to make a grand entrance in a pastel-colored salwar kameez, feeling all classy with my German silver jhumkis and necklace. As I stood there, admiring the impressive entrance, out popped  the smiley housekeeper. Little did I know, my fashion sense was about to become the highlight of the evening. Whilst I was  sipping on whatever fancy drink they served, my friend appeared in the hall ,  draped in a stunning shimmery saree. She looked at me, wide-eyed, and exclaimed, "Rani ssss, this is so not the party colour theme! Did you not read the invitation? Evening party, darling! Bold colours only!"  Who knew fashion rules could be so  party-pooping? I carried on , sipping away  my persimmon mocktail, thinking life was sweet, or in this case, fruity .Suddenly, like a whirlwind , my friend's mom, also my distant-distant aunt, appe

  In the labyrinth of bureaucratic hurdles at my mother's bank, I navigated through countless forms and indifferent officials. in the past 1 month. Age-related forgetfulness of my mother, her life certificate left unsubmitted, further complicated by recent surgery. Our quest to affirm her existence for internet and mobile banking services resembled an uphill struggle. Amidst steep staircases and disinterested bank personnel, the contrast with the efficient UK banking system was stark. The encounters with 'saheb no.1' to 'madam no.2' were far from courteous, their demeanor suggesting a misplaced sense of obligation. In a pivotal encounter, a condescending 'Sir' demanded my mother's physical presence for an elusive form, previously undisclosed. Frustration peaked as I confronted the disparity between government initiatives for seniors and the bank's indifferent stance, which only softened at the mention of recording the whole conversation. A miraculous

  Panchak movie is nothing but a hilarious rollercoaster of cosmic chaos directed by Jayant Jathar and Rahul Awate. This cinematic movie explores the belief that if you kick the bucket at a cosmic 'oopsie-daisy moment', five more family members might join the celestial waiting list – unless you've got a to-do list of rituals handy . The filmmakers have  chosen a picturesque Kokan location to enhance the overall cinematic experience.It's a breathtaking setting! The lush greenery, coconut trees, serene sea ,rustic houses, and muddy paths create a visually stunning backdrop for the movie. The Malwani dialect used  adds a unique charm to it.The movie apart from ticking my funny bone did get me thinking about the various superstions we have in our culture . Picture this: the superstition of avoiding  'झाडू '(dusting) after sunset, as if dust bunnies turn into nocturnal creatures. And let's not forget the ritualistic consumption of 'dahi-shakkar' before ex

  In the chaotic symphony of Indian transportation, the rickshaw emerges as the unsung hero of the streets – a three-wheeled chariot of triumph or, as I like to call it, the 4 by 4 for the bold. Sure, you may sacrifice your hairstyle to the winds and acquire a face mask of fumes mixed with dust, but the exhilaration is unparalleled! Behold the 'rickshaw walla', our knight in shining armour amidst traffic jams. With a swift gear change and fearless maneuvering on the wrong side of the road, he transforms a gridlock into a seamless escape, leaving passengers with a mix of dread and admiration. In those moments, shutting your eyes becomes a hopeful prayer for safe arrival. Navigating Pune, I've discovered the perpetual traffic jam opposite Pune University. Is it due to studious rebels bunking lectures, causing a perpetual traffic saga? Hmmmmm,only God or perhaps the dean knows the answer. This university gridlock triggered memories of college mischief, like the day I abandoned

  Embraced my inner archaeologist at mom's place in India for some old-school baking! The cake pan was as ancient as me—had to gauge its thickness, like a culinary archaeologist on a mission. Found a pan with sand underneath, because apparently, slow baking in an archaeological pan is the secret to out-of-this-world cakes. No fancy gadgets here—mom misplaced them all. So, opened a pineapple can with a knife and 'latney/belan' for perforations. Connected the dots, plonked ingredients, turned on the gas, and entered the waiting game. No timer, just a guessing game like a culinary gambler! Winter in Pune called for warm custard, but no Devon custard cartons in sight. Back to basics—corner shop, brown and polson custard powder. The vanilla aroma was a time-traveling ticket to childhood. They say aromas have memories—couldn't agree more. Baking and assembling took ages, but the time spent was a priceless journey in a culinary time machine. Long live our "jugadoo spirit&

  As I gracefully tiptoed into the realm of fifty, little did I know that my body is planning a rebellion of its own. Everything seems to embrace a southwardly direction, both figuratively and theoretically. Leading this insurrection is my bladder, which has decided to gain a newfound existence and treat me to relentless "emptying" signals at any given moment. The 'wee alarm' has now become an uninvited soundtrack to my nights, ensuring  uninterrupted sleep to become a distant memory. Not content with the standard 'wee alarm,' my bladder has now introduced me to the exclusive club of "Painful Bladder Syndrome." Just when my mind is geared up for some enjoyment, a sharp shooting pain in the tummy crashes the party, as if my bladder has a personal vendetta against my chillax mindset. Enter perimenopause, the chaotic conductor of emotions, delayed reaction times, and the unexpected arrival of pesky little beards and moustaches. These rebellious hair, de

  So, I stumbled upon this movie called Dunki, where SRK's hair defies all logic—seriously, not a strand out of place, even after swimming underwater and braving Russian snowstorms. I'm convinced his hair has a secret contract with the wind. This Dunki route they take to the UK is like a twisted, illegal rollercoaster. The quartet faces more hurdles than any obstacle course. And guess what? SRK's pastel kurtis and designer jacket emerge unscathed through all of it. Just like his shirt from his 'Tide washing powder advert! Forget survival skills; that man's clothes deserve their own superhero franchise. Now, about the Dunki expenses—it's like trying to buy front-row seats to a Beyoncé concert. A quick Google search revealed it's around ₹10,0000 at least per person. I'm here wondering how they manage that without selling a kidney or something. Maybe they have Dunki discounts or loyalty cards? The movie's conclusion is pure Bollywood drama. After enduri

  Venturing into the ATM saga in India is like entering a game show, the "Kaun Banega Crorepati" of financial transactions. Selecting language, account type, amount, and pin... Sounds easy, right?  But wait, if you crave over ₹10,000, prepare for the OTP obstacle course. It reaches your phone and invariably it has either  been forgotten at home or has gasped its last breath. Attempting to key in the OTP in 59 seconds feels more like a "fast fingers" round victory of KBC than a secure transaction. Eventually when the American ATM voice declares, "Your transaction is being processed," it's akin to winning an Olympic gold, MBE-level accomplishment!!! Now, the cross-border digital fiasco unfolds. Attempting to use British GPay in India without an Indian account leads to embarrassing encounters at the shopkeepers and especially the 'bhaaji wala.' Explaining your lack of GPay or Paytm transforms you into a technological imbecile, leaving the vendor b

  Living with my mom post-knee replacement surgery has been a rollercoaster of emotions and unexpected discoveries. My once headstrong and active mother now battles the challenges of bed rest, relinquishing control, and accepting assistance with a mixture of reluctance and humor. Witnessing this transformation, I've come to appreciate the vulnerability that health issues and aging bring. Yet, amidst the struggle, there's a silver lining—a chance to experience life in India without the usual chaos of travel, embracing agenda-free days reminiscent of long-forgotten school times. As I stroll by my mom's house, the old banyan tree becomes a focal point. Its sprawling branches offer a permanent haven for chatty birds and a shady retreat for neighboring shopkeepers sharing daily tales. Observing a flock of vibrant parrots perched on its branches, I'm captivated by their lively green feathers and contrasting red beaks. Amid the birdwatching, I'm reminded of a quirky fact a