A glass of gin and a story that stretches back to twenty years and more

Since I grew up in Gujarat, a state on the Western coast of India, and a state where the manufacture, sale and consumption of alcohol is prohibited (but many households stock drinks in the privacy and safety of their homes though), I grew up without really having any kind of an alcoholic drink. Even when I moved away from Gujarat, I failed to develop a liking for an alcoholic drink. But for once, I think I may have found a drink that I might sometimes indulge in. On rare evenings when the air carries the scent of jasmine flowers or the memories of the scent of jasmine flowers, I might have a glass of a drink that may be just right for me.

Adieu Kinetic Honda – my first love, my faithful friend and confidante

When I go to India now, it will no longer be there - standing faithfully like an old family dog, waiting for me in the courtyard, waiting for me to put it to life, bouncing over potholes and dirt roads and cruising through summer evenings and winter afternoons, through love and loss and so much in between. Farewell, my friend. You have served me like no other. There will be no one else like you.

Went to borrow a baking tin, returned with conversations and companionship

When you borrow, return and lend things with your neighbours, you also build something. You build friendships, trust, interdependence. You realise that we all need each other. And that it is okay to ask. For a little sugar, a plate or two, a serving bowl when you have guests over, a potato or two. Return what you borrow with a little of something of yours - something you made, a beautiful conversation, a little love...