Poems ,Stories and lot more .. By Maneesha Purandare

जसलोक हॉस्पिटलच्या १४व्या मजल्यावर, समुद्राकडे तोंड असलेल्या या खोलीत बसले आहे. समोर अथांग समुद्र दिसतोय, पण मनात मात्र असंख्य विचारांची गर्दी आहे. काळजी आहे, भीती आहे, आशा आहे आणि मनाच्या एका कोपऱ्यात एक प्रश्न सतत डोकावतोय... मी जे केलं ते खरंच योग्य केलं का? आईची थोड्याच वेळात हृदयाच्या व्हॉल्व्हची शस्त्रक्रिया होणार आहे. पण आईला विचाराल तर तिच्या मते तिला काहीच झालेलं नाही! “मी ठीक आहे गं. थोडा दम लागतो एवढंच. वय झालं की एवढं होतंच.” पण किरणला आणि मला जाणवत होतं की हे केवळ वाढत्या वयामुळे नाही. ही तीच आई आहे जी माझ्यापेक्षाही कितीतरी फिट होती. डोंगर सहज चढायची. रोज कमीत कमी दहा किलोमीटर चालायची आणि तरीही तिला थकवा जाणवायचा नाही. पण हळूहळू ती बदलत चालली होती. थोडंसं चाललं तरी दम लागायचा. पटकन थकायला व्हायचं. साधा स्वतःसाठी चहा करायला उभं राहणंसुद्धा तिला कष्टाचं वाटू लागलं होतं. मागच्या वेळी मुंबईला आले तेव्हा तिला हॉस्पिटलमध्ये घेऊन गेले. म्हटलं, सगळ्या तपासण्या करून घेऊया. पण विश्वास बसणार नाही... बाई चक्क हॉस्पिटलमधून पळून गेल्या! सत्तरी पार केलेली आई अशी हॉस्पिटलमधून...

I was sitting in a very posh patisserie in the heart of Mumbai’s business district, pretending not to listen to the management meeting happening at the next table. I failed completely and, if I’m honest, I continued to overhear every word because I wanted the gossip far too much. Heheheheheh... There were three management consultants discussing the launch of a new chain of patisseries. And judging by the seriousness on their faces, you would think they were negotiating the national budget rather than deciding where Mumbai should buy its next croissant! Saarvi, was one of them .. Mumbai born and bred, dressed entirely in black, with light eyes outlined in dark kohl, she had the sort of piercing look  She leaned forward. Saarvi: “Right. Let’s align on the launch strategy. Mumbai has to be our flagship market. Location, product mix and customer experience have to work together.” There it was. Align. Strategy. Flagship. Customer experience. Four management-consultant words ...

As I sit on the 14th floor of Jaslok Hospital, looking out at the sea, my mind is anything but calm. Mum is shortly due to undergo a valve replacement surgery, and I am filled with mixed emotions, anxiety, fear, hope, and above all, that nagging question: Have I done the right thing? Because if you ask Mum, there is nothing much wrong with her. “I’m fine,” she says. “I just get a little breathless. It comes with age.” But Kiran and I could see what she perhaps did not want to see. This is a woman who has always been fitter than me. She has climbed mountains in a jiffy, walked at least 10 kilometres every day without thinking twice, and rarely seemed to tire. Gradually, that woman began getting breathless and exhausted after the slightest effort. Even standing long enough to make herself a cup of coffee had started becoming a chore. During my last visit, I took her to the hospital for cardiac and general investigations. And believe it or not, she fled from the hospital! Can ...

So I did something wildly different … I booked a coach trip. Yes. Voluntarily!!! Why a coach, you ask? Because there’s something oddly poetic about sitting by a giant window, doing absolutely nothing, while the world scrolls past like a slow Netflix documentary. No driving stress, no Google Maps drama… just you, your thoughts, and comfortable seats. Now, unlike London coaches packed with energy and chaos, this one had a very… distinguished vibe. Let’s just say silver was the dominant hair colour. Not judging, just observing. I felt like the youngest intern on a wisdom retreat. Destination Sussex. Weather glorious. Mood joyful.. We reached just in time for a late breakfast and then wandered into a castle that looked like it had been rehearsing for a period drama. But honestly, the gardens stole the show. Tulips posing like divas, rhododendrons having a colour party, azaleas showing off, and forget me nots quietly gracefully displaying their beauty!  I of cou...

Today’s Chelsea floral display walk from Sloane Square was basically a marathon disguised as a flower show . From the giant zodiac installation woven with wicker, leaves and flowers…to Medusa staring dramatically into our souls…to moon landscapes, dragons and colour-themed window displays that looked straight out of a fantasy film…every corner was bursting with creativity. Absolute feast for the eyes…and mild punishment for the legs .Thankfully, there were abundant benches along the route where tired souls like us could recharge. The streets were overflowing with Instagrammers. Some had actual professional photographers following them around while they struck Pose No. 201 in front of the displays.  At one point, one glamorous model occupied an entire floral backdrop for so long that my wonderfully naughty mum simply walked straight into the frame and stood there smiling innocently. Even when politely asked to move, she pretended not to understand a single word  Nee...

When Pushkar and Mugdha decided to visit the UK, the idea of a Scotland road trip was born. Tavchya,  took charge of planning the itinerary, booking the Airbnbs and creating a theme for the trip. This wasn't going to be about ticking off tourist attractions. It was going to be about hunting down some of Scotland's rarest and most unique whisky distilleries across Speyside, Forres, Fort William, Loch Ness and beyond. I must confess, I was slightly nervous at first. A week with a bunch of strong-headed friends? Some openly opinionated, others quietly convinced they were always right! This was the  gang of friends from our MBBS undergraduate days. But the excitement of reconnecting won. Years ago, we had explored Scotland with one mission: walking, climbing and conquering Ben Nevis. This time the only things we planned to conquer were distilleries. A much kinder itinerary for our hearts, lungs, knees and ageing joints... although perhaps not quite as kind to our stoma...

Travelling for me is not about ticking boxes. Not about doing ten activities in one day or chasing thrills like a reality show contestant. For me, travel is about people. The strangers who become stories. The conversations that quietly sit in your heart long after the photos are forgotten. I have already written pages about Tromsø. The lights. The snow. The frozen eyelashes. But when I look back, the real glow also came from the people we met. Like Håkon. I was sitting alone at a table in Sann Café, guarding my mushroom soup and freshly baked bread like a squirrel with winter supplies. The rest of the family had gone to order. From the corner of my eye, I had noticed the man at the next table earlier. He was enjoying a glass of Chardonnay with something called a Norwegian Sann burger. Which, let us be honest, is just a beef burger wearing a Scandinavian accent. He introduced himself. Håkon. From Tromsø originally, now living near Oslo. A teacher. In town for the annual film festival. H...

A few weeks ago, I was running a routine telephone clinic. As I glanced through the notes before the next call, I knew this would not be an easy conversation. She was a follow up patient, someone we had seen only a week earlier. That day, I had to do what doctors dread saying the words clearly and honestly. Her bowel cancer was advanced, widespread, and carried a poor prognosis. Continuing aggressive treatment for her head and neck cancer would only cause more suffering, without benefit. She already sensed this, but hearing it confirmed felt final, heavy, irreversible. When I asked how she was, she answered with unexpected calm. “I have accepted my illness,” she said. “And I know I am going to die soon. What is hardest is the waiting.” She spoke of the uncertainty, not knowing how, or when. The endless waiting that made her restless, unable to plan, unable to settle. She had always dreamed of going to Orlando. But travel insurance was impossible. Her husband, kind and determined, had e...

This January, we decided to do a hatke trip. Not the usual “chalo sunshine dhoondhte hain” holiday. No beaches. No warmth. No vitamin D. Instead, we decided to voluntarily freeze ourselves in the Arctic , all in the name of watching the Aurora Lights. Naturally, there was scepticism. Mainly from me. I’m not a very fussy traveller, but I do like my comfort, my leisure, and the occasional luxury ,especially when I’m supposed to be relaxing. Cold, darkness, and discomfort didn’t sound like a holiday… they sounded like punishment. But once the decision was made, Kiran promptly announced: “Let’s go to Tromsø, Norway.” And just like that, the remaining three family members took over. In no time, a neat, concise, action-packed (or should I say packed with action) 5-day Tromsø itinerary appeared and we got packing. As our flight approached Tromsø, we started seeing faint green streaks in the sky. Suddenly, the whole flight turned into a school bus ,everyone standing, craning necks, pointing ex...