Namrata's Blog

In my twenties, I used to imagine myself working in some glass-towered office in a foreign city. I could see it clearly—me with a laptop slung across my shoulder, catching the metro in London or sipping coffee in a Parisian café, scribbling postcards to friends back home. I wanted to belong to that world where accents mixed freely, where airports felt like extensions of one’s living room, where life seemed larger, shinier, and more exciting.But dreams are often impatient. And reality, as I discovered, rarely runs on our youthful timelines.
Through my twenties, the wish to work abroad remained just that—a wish. Family expectations, financial realities, and the simple uncertainty of youth kept me rooted in India. There were times when opportunities appeared, but they slipped away, either because I wasn’t ready or because life had other plans.It stung. I watched classmates and colleagues move overseas, posting pictures from New York, Singapore, or Dubai. I felt left behind, as if my story was progressing slower than it was supposed to. The twenties, after all, are painted as the decade of exploration. Mine felt small, confined, unfinished. Keep reading »

I often return to the act of writing not as a profession, not even as an art form, but as an instinct. For me, writing has always been less about producing and more about surviving. Less about publishing and more about healing.When people ask me why I write, I struggle with simple answers. Do I write because I want to communicate? Because I love words? Because I want to be read? All of that is true, but not the whole truth. The truth, whispered and almost private, is this: I write because writing saves me. Again and again. Keep reading »

Some days are quieter than others....Sitting here today, I found myself reflecting on the journey so far.
KC turns 7 this year. My full-time freelancing journey steps into its 12th year. If I count the part-time gigs before that, it makes 16. And if I trace it back to where it all began, I’ve been working for 24 years now. Writing has been a constant all through these years. The forms, the length, and the shapes have changed. Keep reading »

 

After Mumbai, I moved to Singapore for a brief period. 

One of the most often-heard things about Singapore was how it was all plastic and lacked any authenticity of its own. This was often followed by the stark difference between the rich and the poor who co-existed in the island city.  I was also told that this difference would seep into conversations, leading to a lot of mixed behaviour the moment they know which part of Singapore you are from. 

Keep reading »

Dear Diary,

I fell in love with Mumbai when I first visited it in 1995. Bombay, as it was then known, fascinated me since then. 

If you ask me what made me fall in love with this city, I perhaps cannot explain. It wasn't that I was seeing the sea for the first time. It wasn't even the biggest city I had been to till then. Still, there was something so magical about this place.

The trip was a short one lasting less than a week but this city now had my heart. Years later, I arrived here all alone on my first solo trip in 2005 and fell in love all over again. I got my first job and was required to come to Mumbai frequently. The local trains, the chaos on the roads, the crowds, the humdrum, the salty smell in the air, the stale air- everything about this city was intoxicating for me. 

Keep reading »

Image Source: Unpexels (Cottonbro)


“Do you know why is it called making love?” He whispered, pulling the comforter closer. 
I don’t remember for how long we had been in that room, on that bed. Lying aimlessly, just feeling each other in silence. I managed to just whimper to denote my curiosity. 
 “Because that is the moment we create love. We are the closest we could ever be to love, in its purest form. It is sheer magic as we are naked, in every form. Mentally, physically and emotionally before that one person, we love. We know they can hurt us, as much as they want to, in the way they want to. But love gives us that power to trust them, that they won’t.” 
 “And here I was thinking it is a need. Something you want at that moment and you get it!” Keep reading »

Image Source: Unsplash (@RobertMetz)

Sandstorm-

Wounds of the childhood

Reshaping my future

Image Source: Unsplash.com

I remember the first time I mourned the loss of love was when I was eleven. 
For me, dance was love at that time. I had discovered a strange joy as I glided in and out of those movements. Every time I swirled; I could feel my heart soar. Any beat that strained to reach my ears, tempted me to move my body to its tune. I just knew I was born to dance and that is the only thing I wanted to do, all my life. 
I had my reasons to believe so and a very simple one at that. It made me happy. That was a reason enough. However, my father thought otherwise. Girls from good families, do not dance. That line was enough to break all those rosy dreams of dancing on a stage. The day my brother was sent to the same dance class which was not good for me, was the day I experienced heartbreak for the first time. 
That is the day I mourned the loss of my first love- Dance. Keep reading »

 ** Trigger Warning: Death, Loss of a loved one, Suicide**

Image Source: Free Plant Image on Unsplash

Dakko is no more. 

Even as I type this sentence there is a sense of overwhelming disbelief within me. A strange numbness takes over my senses as my heart refuses to believe this ultimate truth staring at my face right now. 

For me, she was love. Since the time I was an infant, I had known her as love. She was there when I needed her, pampering me, loving me, mollycoddling me, and bearing with all my tantrums throughout my life. I cannot imagine my three and a half decades of existence without her being there during some of my toughest times. Keep reading »

Even before we had completely gotten over 2020, 2021 turned out to be a recap of the nightmare 2020 was. And what better way to deal with this chaos than the world of words! 
Whenever the noise around gets too much to deal with, I turn to words. I resort to either writing or reading to stay sane. It helps me sail through. Today, I am sharing with you my own book which was born out of chaos.


About the Book

Laze on the sunny beaches of Australia, drown your worries at the Varanasi Ghats, or get lost in the endless roads of Pangong Lake – this book promises to infect you with an incurable wanderlust. Sprinkled with liberal doses of real-life incidences and stories these pages capture the real magic of a place through its people in the perfect manner Be it the old man climbing the Sydney Eye at the age of 80 or the lonesome kid at Nubra Valley they promise to redefine life like never before. Fasten your seat belts as you embark on a journey of a lifetime with A Lost Wanderer where the greys of life are accentuated to create the most spectacular silhouette to warm your insides.
And it is FREE THIS WEEKEND on Amazon! Click below to get a copy.