Just Writing Stuff Down

Diwali just hits differently, doesn’t it? Like there’s something about it that automatically puts a smile on your face — no matter what your week’s been like. You could be tired, stressed, failing at life, but the second someone says  “Diwali aa rahi hai,”  your brain goes into hyper-festive mode. Suddenly, you want to clean everything, light everything, decorate everything, and basically act like you’ve had your shit together all year. The preparations start way before Diwali actually does. It’s not just a festival; it’s a full-time project. Cleaning, organizing, washing bedsheets that haven’t seen daylight since last summer, changing the  moorti ke kapde , buying new diyas, running around for gifts, mithai, and those little boxes of dry fruits that no one eats but we still gift anyway. Rangolis that look so beautiful for 3 minutes until someone steps on them or the wind decides to ruin your art. And then there’s the moment everyone waits for —  buying crackers . It...

To My Person, On Her 17th Birthday ❤️ Seventeen. SEVENTEEN. How did we even get here? You’re literally growing up without me and I hate it. I wish we’d grown up together — gone to the same school, the same random cafés, the same stupid parties — just to make a thousand more memories I’d never shut up about. You know how everyone has someone? That one person who just gets them. The kind of person who doesn’t need explanations — who knows what you mean when you say nothing at all. Who sees through your calm and still knows when something’s off. Who somehow always feels like home, even across cities. That’s her. Thats my gavyu. She’s my person. She walked into my life as a child, quiet, calm and completely opposite to my personality! Soon after hanging out which means going to the same dance classes, we mutually decided that we love each other and we need each other. I guess god knew that a bond as strong as ours would merely be affected by distance.  She’s the kind of human who’d cor...

So yesterday was…  a moment.  Like, one of those random “I’ll remember this when I’m 30” moments. Because today, ladies and gentlemen, I had my  first drink. A gin mojito. Before you go all “Ambika’s gone rogue”, relax. It was  15 ml.  Barely enough to get a mosquito drunk. But the point isn’t the alcohol. It’s the fact that  my parents got it made for me. Yup. Mum and Dad. The people who made sure I had two spoons of vodka as a 3-4 year old so they could enjoy themselves and avoid dealing with my cranky business. The same people who didn't pull the two breezer bottles out of my mouth when I chugged them both at once! They instead laughed and clicked pictures. They didn’t freak out, they didn’t give me the “alcohol is bad” speech, cuz well it isn't! They made sure I tried everything and felt comfortable enough to ask them for a drink and talk to them about anything! Yesterday, Dad offered ki why don't you have one too? I was like sure!  They just smile...