Quirky Tales

During Singapore’s Hungry Ghost Month, a group of friends ventures into a graveyard after midnight. What begins as a reckless adventure becomes an unexpected encounter with grief, motherhood and the quiet ways in which those we have lost find their way back to us. Circa 2014. Singapore. My second home. I was back after having stayed in India for a few months to deliver my son and spend time with my now-deceased mom. I had spent only a couple of weeks in her company after reac

Eight stones, worn close. A story of moons, memory, and the quiet weight of faith. I have been asked many a time, why I wear so many bracelets. Made from different stones and of different hues, they sit snug on my wrist. And now, with all the hullabaloo about Artemis II and the ongoing voyage to the moon, I find myself looking at the perfectly rounded, smooth stones I wear and thinking about the many moons I carry. I have always liked the moon. There is a word for it. Like th

Somewhere between tourists and madness, coffee and Stranger Things, I found myself coming back to the water. A Journey to the Seaside: Embracing Imperfection It was sometime in fall when we decided to take a trip to the seaside in the last week of December. My sister chirped on the phone, “It would be Christmas time and just perfect to unwind and let your hair down a little.” A wicked thought popped into my head...my husband doesn’t have any hair. How does he let his long-dis

From G-forces to Anti-gravity — My Own Little F1 Movie A Day Like No Other Yesterday was extraordinary. A Sunday unlike any other—adrenaline-fueled, dopamine-laced, pure ecstasy on four wheels. I suspect I’ll soon need another fix. But before you come blazing at me with guns drawn, let me clarify: I’m talking about my day on the racetrack. Encouraged by my twelve-year-old son and my husband, the one constant in my ever-changing life. The Journey Begins It was a cold, wintry d

Some songs don’t just take you back — they remind you who you were, and how far you’ve travelled. For those born in the seventies and eighties — Gen X and the Millennials — Walk Like an Egyptian was one of the anthems we grew up with. Those quirky hand movements, allegedly Egyptian, were pure joy to slip into any party routine. No house party was complete without it. Looking back, I truly did love The Bangles — the raspy voice of the lead singer hitting those high notes, the

On Rain, Reveries and Reality Today was the start of the week and, like every other week in the recent past, I expected it to be a blur — to be swept away in the vortex of chaos that usually unfolds on a typical Monday morning. The rainy spell still continued, and despite being a self-confessed pluviophile, I found myself longing for a clear blue sky — for that warm, bright sun peeking shyly from behind the clouds. A little pool of water had collected on my balcony from the i

An aha moment sparked by a pair of Apple headphones, tangled up with a surprisingly wise Cat in the Hat reminder from one of my favourite authors I once read to my son. A Surprising Gift Apple Max headphones — those big chonky ones. I had no clue they even existed until a couple of years ago when a dear friend from Singapore gifted us a pair. I nearly fell off my chair. I’d always thought AirPods were Apple’s only aural offering — not to be confused with aura, those concentr

Rain. Rage. Resilience. And one SUV that thinks it’s Hulk Hogan on Mars protein powder. A monsoon rant that turned wax eloquent. It’s been raining where I live. I consider myself a pluviophile — I love the rains, what with the smell of wet earth and raindrops trickling down my windows, embellishing them with little spheroids of crystal. It’s not cool to complain, I am painfully aware. Be a part of the solution, they say, not the prophet of doom and gloom. The irony, of course