As the title of this blog suggests, I like lessons. And not just the ones I’ve learnt under this lemon tree of mine. Shimla, as it turns out is a wonderful place to learn your lessons. Whether they are of the variety of “things one must never attempt during a trek” or what I learnt about being me, it had ‘em all.

To start with, Himachal University looks like a dream lost in the mist. The architecture is brilliant and so is their library. The place is a photographer’s dream come true. Even if we did just spend an hour there, it’s been coming back to me everyday with the aura of a dead lover who will not be forgotten. The staircases are especially ancient looking, with many a couple writing an eternal saga on its steps.

Moving on from the University was hard, but it had to be done. Following that, we decided to take an impromptu trek without informing anybody in the hotel. Absurd as that was, considering my fear of heights and clumsy nature, the feeling of freedom was unmistakable. Even the mushroom we spent some 10 minutes photographing, had an air of carelessness to it. All signs of the uncluttered and beautiful mountain life, said the Father who blessed me and two other friends. We met him in a small, one room church hidden amongst the money registers of Mall Road. Run entirely on donations, the small prayer we attended has changed some part of me forever.

Mall Road was another surprise. In some four years, it’s gone from being a fierce cottage industry case review for the hills to just another brand engulfed market. Not surprisingly, the best time there came from what our guide declared to be “useless parts of the market”. After all, we are the type of kids who’ll never listen to given reason. Lower Bazaar and Indian Coffee House live on in our taste buds. While the wood market presented some unique memories to boot.

So maybe Solan wasn’t at its best but the “tandoori” Manchurian still beats all. More than anything, Shimla was a testament to the stark difference between us and them. We never referred to ourselves as a ‘group’ and we still won’t. We’ve seen that being a group has more pitfalls than love in it and to be honest, we can live without that tag. I believe we were always people who liked each others company and were closer to some over others. We remain till date, the same. No compromises made. And in the small hotel room, we learnt the good, the bad and the value of that.

#Lesson for today: Cheers to the place that taught us so much. With love, to Shimla.



The battle against the mess that is my room has been temporarily abandoned, on account of me having caught the flu. Not swine, hopefully.

I promise a long and rambling post about travelling soon. Soon being whenever I can sit straight at the laptop for longer than fifteen minutes.


Errant random thoughts.

I'm back from the running away process. I feel much better, catharsis happened in a way. I shall ramble long and hard about Shimla very soon. As of now, I'm recovering from a not-so-swine-flu.

But more than anything right now, thank you God, for leading me to that church. Some miracles happened there in those brief moments.

Muaah! To all. :)


And yet again

I don't come online much these days. I've stopped eating dinner. I drink 4 glasses of water in a sitting and like feeling oddly destructive towards nothing in general. I could do very well with some amnesia right now and ranting here is the only thing that helps.

But by the time I get around to typing something, my anger and frustration has given way to an incessant tiredness of mind. Mother & Father are at it again, after having humiliated me in front of some five hundred people.

I'm going away soon for some respite. I need it. I may not be coming back. But don't worry, I won't leave without a goodbye.

#Lesson for today: Life is shitty.


Soon enough

On the 4th of August, at precisely 7pm IST, the epic saga of Lemon Girl vs. The Mess In Her Room begins. You shall remain updated regularly.

#Lesson for today: There are very few petrol pumps in South Delhi. Hmmph.