Siddhi Bhosale

Bhosale House This is my 50th blog, dedicated to the place where I started blogging. Dear Bhosale House,  I miss you. I hope you are doing fine with the torrential downpour. I am sure it must be difficult for you too to handle the farewell of 2 kids in a span of two months. Two kids who walked in when they were in 9th and 5th class, moved out as adults in the last two months. Now, when I return, I won't be the same person that left. I am more grateful for you than ever before. When I had to search for a place to live in Indore, I understood how difficult it is to find a place that houses you and your entourage.  I know it's not the place; it's always the people, but sometimes it's the people and the place. You can video call people you miss, but you cannot video call your house, and that hurts. Sometimes I ask my family to show me my study table and bookshelf, but still I wish I could video call my room. I am sure the door handle still has a dream catcher that catches m...

S. S. Baba and I at JLF! Thanks to AI, I could visually see  What I actually felt that day! Suited up in a red blazer, white shirt, and black trousers. Clicked pictures on the entrance of the hostel, the sun doing its job right, and Anjali taking the best shots. It started off really well. Then hopped into our rickshaw and saw Jaipur unfold before us, one route at a time.  Reached Amer Clarks, today we knew the grind, of the face being scanned and entry being allowed. For today, I had taken the Jaipur bookmark pass, which is where publishers, editors, marketers, and bookshop owners have panel discussions, while the normal pass is for writers’ events mainly. And to my benefit today, the bookmark had two events where Marathi publishers were going to be interviewed, which my father said my grandfather knew. So to start the day on a sweet note, we had a bitter coffee with Parle-G, to balance the bitterness.  The day began with arriving before time for the session and still no...

Top: Sudha Murthy Middle: Shobha Dey Bottom: Kiran Desai Mornings in train start not when the sun rises but when the tea sellers ring the alarm of ‘chai garam chai’ and that is when you know it’s morning. But I was on the lower berth, and one has to keep lying until the person on the middle berth wakes up and takes it down to sit comfortably. But the girl talked with her mother late into the night and then fought with the bald uncle, too, so she was definitely not going to wake up early. I got freshened up, the train had stopped at Vadodara station, and I was reminded of my time here when I was in class 6th and Kamal Aaji had hosted us ( Gujrat blog ). The air was cold, and a shiver passed through me. I came inside. The bald uncle was sitting crouched because his son was also not up. Then I had a chai, the railway tea, which is more on the sweeter side, it is almost like a basundi chai. I had the morning tea while reading ‘Dollar Bahu’ by Sudha Murthy (Little did I know I was actually...

The day started with voting for the municipal corporation election. Then I had lunch, which was kurkuri bhindi (airfried, honestly it does not taste like the normal), veg pulav that was for tiffin, then matar kachori, tilacha ladu, and then a normal meal. Mumma packed matar kachoris and a very tasty veg pulav for the journey. I got some snacks, but because my bag was full, I left the rest at home. Then I booked an Uber, waved goodbye to Mumma, as Durva and Pappa came till my friend Anjali’s home in Kalamboli, waved them goodbye at the express highway, and finally my journey started. We caught up on pending life updates, and the traffic was almost nonexistent, because it was a voting holiday for all. The moment we entered the BKC, it felt like a new world altogether. We craned our necks to see the tall glass buildings. And just like that, we reached the Bandra Terminus. Carried our luggage and clicked some pictures and videos. I spotted an AMUL outlet, and as we were way before the time...