Memories unsold, stories untold...

In the flinching light, I saw.
I saw traces of memories
from last night,
unpenetrated by the harshness
of morning reality,
strewn about the floor
like virgin jasmines.

Maxi Dress - Sudder Street, cuff - New Market, neckpiece - Linking Road, shirt - Nuon, lipstick - Passionate by Colorbar

It's an understatement to call this maxi my go to piece of clothing. Bought from a random shop in Sudder Street during a lazy afternoon walk with a friend on a marijuana hunt for some 250 bucks, I have worn this maxi at least thrice in the past two years on the blog itself! Same goes for the cuff that has been my staple accessory for the past four years. And even though the neckpiece is no more alive, thanks to a wild encounter one Saturday night, it has served me well for the past six months.

I'll be back with my 'oh how I miss Kolkata winter' posts but till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.
P.S. If you are travelling from Kolkata to Mumbai any time before February, you can also get me some nolen gur. *Wink*

Setting priorities

A considerable part of my childhood was spent making plans on things to do once I get a job. Buying all the books under the sun, going on a shopping spree and signing up for expensive, day long dance classes topped the list. It hit me the other day that working has only taken me far, far away from the person I had aspired to become once I start earning. I've not been able to pursue my hobbies as much as I used to while studying, let alone more. I kept wondering whether it was worth it. Sure I love my job, I love living in the fastest and arguably the biggest city in India, I love being independent...I love it all! But with every passing day, I lose touch with my true self a little more. I wake up every morning - fresh and beaming with energy, ready to take on the world but what about the early morning newspaper I used to read till 12 p.m. before researching more on the topic the editorial that day was written about? What about the leisurely breakfast I used to make myself and wonder if it'd feel this satisfying even when I'm eighty? What about the hawker I used to chat with every afternoon irrespective of whether I buy Popsicle from him or not?

Life is cruel. It lures one with promises of things they have always fantasised about and then takes even their bare necessities from them. I've learnt it the hard way and therefore, decided not to let go of the few principles I've, the few people I care for and the few things I'm passionate about, come what may. I decided not to give up on my early morning exercise, reading a few pages at least once every week and talking to my parents everyday. Putting my foot down and taking this decision not only made me feel empowered but also a lot lighter. Setting our own priorities is important in order to stop disappointing ourselves everyday. What are your priorities? How do you ensure you don't compromise on them?

Pleated maxi skirt and tan tote - Jabong, tussled crop top - Max, black oxfords - Simpark Mall, silver neckpiece - Linking Road, lipstick - Arresting Pink by Colorbar
Picture Courtesy - Anu

These pictures were rotting in my draft for almost a month. Crazy working hours and hectic travelling(and a laptop that's obsessed with crashing) didn't help. But I finally showed them the light of the day! Looking at these also reminded me of the super, super fun evening I spent with my best friend during her Mumbai trip for Lakme Fashion Week almost a month back. This skirt has been my go to piece of clothing for almost a year. The crop top was a gift during my recent Hyderabad trip. Together, they make for such an effortless, chic look even though I wish I had enough energy to take better pictures.

These days, I've also been introspecting a lot regarding my blog. More on that later though. Meanwhile, if you are in Kolkata at this moment, do let me know how the kaash phool(the nerds tell me that they are called saccharum spontaneum but I find it very difficult to believe) looks now and if the Dhaakis have already started beating their drums. Oh how I miss this pre - pujo madness!

Unequal Role Perceptions

I was fifteen when I had told a friend that I want to be a single mother because "I don't want to share my baby with anyone else." I told her that I felt my mom was capable of doing everything that my dad does if she wants to but my dad can't do the same. So, I can imagine her bringing me up on her own but the idea of growing up with only my father scares the shit out of me. I also admitted that I like boys but I'm not sure about sharing things I love with them(chocolates and books being my obvious choice back then). My friend was horrified and even though she didn't tell me, I'm sure she thanked God for not being my daughter. A decade has passed but the story remains the same everywhere.

                                                                                                                        I'm not a staunch feminist. In fact, I have chosen to call myself "not a feminist" for at least the past five years. So, the idea of some people perceiving women as weak, fragile and dependent doesn't annoy me, it amuses me. Yes, I have seen women who always need someone to fall back on but I know for sure that I can bloody well protect my child in this big, bad world and provide for them as long as I have a job and I'm physically fit.

                    On a related note, I was reading an article the other day about male rape victims finding it difficult to share their pain and seek medical help because being raped isn't "manly" and trying to carry on with their so called normal life despite the regular bleeding and the pus-covered anus. A little more research on the same topic made me throw up and cry. I kept wondering what purpose such skewed role definitions of our society served other than alienating people and breaking their hearts. Putting your wife through indirect mental torture because she earns more than you do is as bad as leaving your husband because he is a rape victim. Forcing your son to go for Cricket coaching instead of Odissi classes is as bad as not letting your daughter go to school. When would we accept human beings as human beings? I see so many brave, intelligent, powerful women wasting all their energy on the eternal I-can-do-it-better-than-you fight with men instead of trying to find out what it is that they are originally good at and focus on being the best at that instead of always trying to be better than someone. If one always strives to be as good as someone at something, the person would never be able to rise beyond that someone. I should aim to be my best. If I end up being better than a few people in the process, that's only an added bonus. Is it that hard to achieve? I dream of a society where sex would be just as menial an information as someone's blood group on a form which is meant to be used only in case of emergency. I dream of a society that welcomes both a masculine woman and an effeminate man with an open embrace. I dream of a society where I won't be judged for being a single mother and my son won't be called names if he finds my aanchal comforting even after the age of eighteen. I dream of a society where I'd be a human being first and then a woman.

Maxi dress- Emami Market, cuff and rings- New Market, silver kolhapuri- Shreeram Arcade, lipstick- Orange Punch by Colorbar

Inspiration - Muse-ment...

Oh, happiness is not what I seek.
Give me the saddening Summer creak.
And the Autumn sand.
Also, the contraband
of wars going on inside
where despite my best efforts
the devil wins bona fide.

When I pass by
your place while
being on the sly;
for me, shed a tear
or two as I welcome
like a tired child, my fear
and look it in its eye,
resigned yet calm,
kissing our dreams goodbye.


After almost a year long phase of being able to imagine only in Bengali, inspiration happened quite by chance. Dreaming, imagining and writing only in Bengali was extremely satisfying but among other things, Bengalis are also famous for being "truly bilingual". As one of my favourite authors Kunal Basu puts it, "...Because we, the Bengali intelligentsia...are this rare species on earth that is truly bilingual...Bilingualism doesn't mean being able to read street signs or being able to read newspapers in two languages. It means having two streams flow inside our consciousness. And being able to dip into one stream without abandoning the other. The educated Bengali actually had their toes dipped in both these streams. They read Samar Sen with a passion which was no less than the passion with which they read Sylvia Plath." So, being the true Bengali that I'm, not being able to pen down my thoughts in a few coherent English lines was painful and I was elated when inspiration came in the most unusual form - a few lines scribbled by fellow blogger Kshipra! And there it goes! My creative block(in English)coming to a pleasant end. And in order to celebrate it, I took the new cape out for a spin. Mixing prints is an absolute personal favourite while monochrome and stripes happen to be my ultimate solution to any fashion crisis. And that's how this outfit was born.

Shorts- B.K.Market, shirt- Colaba Causeway, cape- Myntra, brogues- Simpark Mall, lipstick- MAT4 Bold Matte by Maybelline

I'll be back with my Summer staple- maxis and a painful journey I keep fantasising about. Till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.

Summer Stories...

Summer is officially in full swing, fellas! And for some reason, this year, I'm hating it less than I usually do. It might have something to do with the evening breeze here in Mumbai or the weekend beach outings though. Humid as it is, there's no denying that Spring-Summer shouts out 'bright' and 'happy' loud while my favourite season Winter can't really escape the 'dark' and 'gloomy' tags. Given my obsession with layering, I try to find ways to layer even in this heat. Back home, Summer used to be about kaal-boishakhi(Nor'wester) followed by post-storm raw mango collection, shorbot (sorbet is close but not quite the same)made with gondhoraj lebu(a variety of lime available only in Bengal), himshagar aam( again, a variety of mango available only in Bengal), staring at the scorching sun during lazy Sunday afternoons while reading and wondering if life, too, is as unforgiving at times. Things of course, have changed quite a bit here but it has been a welcome change, to say the least. The clock is ticking and with every passing day, the dreadful moment of leaving Mumbai and going back to my least favourite place is approaching closer. But this time, I'm on a mission to be happy and enjoy myself till the doomsday arrives. On that note, say hello to my daylong semi-sexy tan and my current obsession with this denim shirt!

Over-sized denim shirt, eagle ring- Colaba Causeway, maxi dress(worn as a skirt)- Sudder Street, earcuff- Linking Road, jooti, cuff - New Market, lipstick- Arresting Pink by Colorbar

I'll be back with my third obsession stripes(denim and monochrome being the other two)hopefully before leaving. Till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish!

The City of Dreams

You know how some people say the entire concept of a place having its own distinct vibe is overrated? Well, let me tell you they are ABSOLUTELY WRONG and I'm a living example of that. If you are a regular reader or connected to me on social media, you'd know about the slow and dangerous depression that started taking over my life ever since I had moved to Indore. I tried embracing the place- exaggerating the quality of dahi at 'Joshi ke dahi vada' and extending the time in the gym but with its not-so-charming small town vibe, closed people living in an age where women are supposed to do all the household chores and keep quiet if they are harassed on the streets, banners and hoardings urging people to quit drinking and eating non-veg or be hanged if the non-veg happens to be beef...Indore just never worked out. I was slowly turning into a person I didn't know- introvert, pessimistic, cynical, irritable and snappy. I also kept falling sick often and the experience of going to a doctor and describing my problem in Indore had been so bad for me that I preferred gulping medicines down day in and day out and stay indoors instead.
                                                                                                As they say, after every dark phase, there is a silver lining. In my case, it was an intimation from the Management regarding my temporary posting in the Mumbai office. Even though I was still recovering, I was elated and couldn't wait to leave! And then came the much-awaited day when I could finally say goodbye to Indore even if for a few months. I woke up the next morning, somewhere near Sion, already feeling the infectious positivism I find Mumbai synonymous with. I could already smell the fish and seafood, see the bustling vada pav stalls, feel the sand and water under my feet, hear the Colaba hawkers calling out to me in my mind. The City of Dreams represents the undying, indomitable spirit of life to me. People do everything they can here to earn themselves a livelihood. And despite poverty, inflation and all other common problems(other than safety of women) Mumbai shares with the other Indian cities, the people in Mumbai just refuse to let these get to them and make them unhappy. Every person has different sides to their personality and each place uncovers one of these. I'm no exception either. The moment I arrived in Mumbai, gone were the depression, the urge to lock myself in a room and cry for hours, the withdrawal symptoms and everything else I had been struggling with. When I ordered my first vada pav in two months at a roadside stall near Chandivali, I was a happy soul and it hasn't changed since then. Small, small things make me happy in this city- a long walk all alone post 11 p.m. without the fear of getting groped, watching people rushing about in one of the local railway stations during the peak hours, looking at the street lights and the cars whooshing past them when I wake up after a rare nightmare(traces of Indore I'm slowly and methodically getting rid of), the city talking to me when I stick my head out of the auto to embrace the fresh morning air on my way to gym early in the morning, the vada pav wala near LnT crossing who never forgets to make my vada pav with extra green chutney and no sweet chutney...and all I feel coming out of my heart is gratitude. Gratitude towards life for giving me a chance to be happy again, to get my dreams back in exchange for the nightmares I had been dealing with for the past few months, to live...
                                                                                                                                         And since this city has healed me so soon and so perfectly, here goes an outfit as a tribute to my second favourite city(Kolkata would be Kolkata and hence, my favourite city always, no matter what)-

DIY distressed denims and crop top- Jabong, satchel bag, ring and spiked loafers- B.K.Market, waistcoat- Colaba Causeway, shades- Myntra, lipstick- Orange Punch by Colorbar

Ever since Debi distressed this pair of denims for me, I find myself reaching for it at least once every week. And since my love for layering refuses to die even in the humid Mumbai weather, the waistcoat had to find its way with the crop top. The serene beach, the wind in my hair and the sand under my feet took care of the rest. I'll be back with more florals, pastels and everything girlie and meanwhile, you take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.                                                                               

Pushing yourself too far?

Sorry for the absence on ze blog, people! After almost a month long sickness and a week long stay in the hospital, I'm slowly getting back to normal life. Well-wishers everywhere have been reproaching me for pushing myself too far, for continuing with my grilling schedule despite being very unwell. And that's when it struck me. We, the so called independent women today, often struggle with striking a balance between being tough and neglecting oneself. Managing everything from household chores to working for at least nine hours to sweating it out in the gym on my own taught me valuable lessons. It taught me to value my health. It taught me to be grateful for being strong enough to take care of myself. It made me nostalgic for the home-cooked meals I had grown up with, the smell of turmeric-cumin-coriander wafting from the aanchal of my mom's saree.
                                                                                                                Speaking of saree, I wore this beauty by Howrah Bridge for the grand wedding of the designer herself. The royal colours, the traditional atpoure drape, the heavy jewellery...everything added up to the grandeur of the evening otherwise known as my bestie's wedding. Those five days of eating like a starving soul, dancing like a drunkard on loose and crazy, crazy fun ensured I survive the coming dull months(thanks to my empty pocket)without a complaint.

Saree, blouse- Howrah Bridge, earrings, hand chain, bangles- Vardaan Market,bindi- local shop, lipstick- Passionate by Colorbar, wedges(not in picture)- Metro Plaza

With the groom

And with my favourite bride under the sun

Summer is officially here! So are the happy florals, pastels, shorts, maxis, evening breeze and delightful fruity concoctions. Go indulge into a few poolside parties flaunting your skimpy shorts or flowy maxis depending on your preference while I nurse myself back to health and hope to start working out soon. Till then, take care and like I always say, keep it stylish.