My Notebook

You simply cannot match the wild, beautiful variety of characters walking the streets of Udupi during Vitla Pindi, the grand finale of Krishna Janmashtami. For a day, the streets come alive with music, processions and vesha, with people of all ages dressing up as characters from stories, folklore and tradition. A little bit of chaos, a lot of colour, and a tradition that turns the whole town into a stage. Photographed by my cousin, Ria, who has a lovely eye for beauty.

Every time I see a bird that isn’t a crow, I’m taken back to our birdwatching days. We’d wake up ridiculously early, drive or walk to some remote spot, and spend the morning hoping to spot something uncommon. When we finally did, out came the little notebooks. We’d make notes about its size, colours, markings and whatever else we could remember, then pull out our trusty Salim Ali book to see if we could match the description. And when we were convinced we’d identified it correctly, it proudly went into our little bird book. This time, a Red whiskered Bulbul decided to build its nest inside the house I live in. And I get to teach my nephew about it. Trying to get him to love birdwatching as much as we cousins did.

I play Crossplay with friends and family quite often. There’s no pressure to finish a game in a day. You make a move when you have time and pick it up again whenever you get around to it. Some days I realise I haven’t actually spoken to the friend or the family member I’m playing with. I suppose that’s our way of saying hello.

Rain drumming on the roof, the earthy scent of the monsoon, and a banana leaf slowly filling with the flavours of our heritage. Aati Onji Oota represents a time of simplicity, community, and resilience in coastal Karnataka. Sitting cross legged on the floor, sharing what the season provides, you wonder if you will ever be able to carry on the traditions your mother and foremothers have carried for so long. But for now, I am happy to do my part by sitting down, eating this wholesome meal, and appreciating every bit of what they have passed down.

I’ve been playing badminton with some old school friends for a couple of weeks now. I’m still figuring out the racket, the shuttle and occasionally which direction I’m supposed to be facing. This week a friend said, “You’ve gotten slightly better.” I am still the weakest player of the lot. But I am now a slightly better version of the weakest player. Progress is progress.

I have always believed that weaknesses are just things you haven’t learned to deal with yet. I’m a constant learner, so professionally, there’s very little I think I can’t figure out. Personally? Put a dessert menu in front of me and I become a person with no transferable skills.