If the salary was the same, what job would you be doing right now and why?
If the salary was the same, what job would you be doing right now and why?
Apparently, I have already answered this question once—many years ago.
And guess what?
Same answer. 😂
I’d still be a homemaker.
Not because I had some grand plan of becoming one. Life just… happened. I was working, I was happy working, and then I had children.
And somehow, the idea of leaving them at home and going to work never sat quite right with me.
Even with a nanny at home, there was this strange little voice in my head saying, “But you’re their mother. Shouldn’t you be here?”
I tried negotiating with that voice.
It won. Every. Single. Time. 😄
Maybe I wasn’t as strong as I thought I should be. Maybe I should have been more practical, more ambitious, more “I can have it all!”
Well… apparently I couldn’t.
Or perhaps I simply didn’t want to.
Because while I sometimes wonder what my career would look like today, I have absolutely no regrets about the life I chose.
I was happy when I worked.
I am ridiculously, embarrassingly, wonderfully happy being a homemaker now.
So, if the salary was the same?
I’d still choose this job.
Although I’d definitely ask for a salary revision this time.
The cost of living has gone up. The children have grown up. And my unpaid overtime is getting ridiculous. 😂
What about you? If money wasn’t a factor, would you still choose the life you’re living—or would you finally follow that random dream you’ve been secretly entertaining? 😄
I’ve never really been good at having just one hobby.
I like learning things.
New things. Random things. Sometimes useful things. Sometimes things I have absolutely no practical reason to learn. 😄
Over the years, I’ve tried illustration, 3D illustration, drawing on Procreate, painting, glass painting, crocheting, embroidery, music, and trying new recipes. I’ve made quite a few things along the way too.
Some stayed for a while, some were quietly replaced by something new, and a few are probably still sitting somewhere, waiting for me to remember them. 😄
So sometimes I wonder—do I actually have too many hobbies, or is my real hobby simply learning something new?
Maybe it’s just curiosity. I like being a beginner, figuring things out, making mistakes, and seeing what I can create.
And then there is writing.
The Hobby That Found Its Way Back
I started writing again last December.
But writing has actually been a part of me since childhood. I loved making up stories. My mind would create a new one almost every day.
I could look at the stars and imagine stories hidden among them, watch clouds drifting across the sky and wonder where they were going, or follow butterflies in my imagination to some faraway place. Even rainy days had their own magic. I would sit listening to the raindrops and somehow, new words would find their way into my thoughts.
I never really thought of writing as a hobby back then.
It was simply something I loved doing.
When Writing Went Quiet
As life became busier, writing slowly became less and less a part of my everyday life. There was always something else that needed my attention, and without even realising it, I drifted away from it.
I did try to find my way back once. I started a travel blog because I have always loved travelling, discovering new places, and learning about them. I loved collecting little stories from different places and putting them into words.
But that too slowly got lost in the busyness of life.
Until last December.
There was no big plan. Just a quiet voice inside me saying,
You should write again.
And this time, I listened.
I created an account on WordPress. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure if I could still write. It had been a while, and I wondered if the words would come.
So I started.
One thought became a few words, a few words became a paragraph, and slowly, writing found its way back into my everyday life.
The funny thing is, I thought I had lost that part of myself.
I hadn’t.
I had simply stopped listening to it.
Maybe Curiosity Is My Real Hobby
Looking at all the things I’ve tried over the years, I think there is a pattern.
I simply like learning.
I don’t necessarily need to become an expert. Sometimes I just want to know, Can I do this?
And then I try.
Some things stay. Some don’t. Some get forgotten and come back years later.
Writing did.
And now, my next plan is to learn the guitar. 🎸
I have no idea how that will go, but I’m curious enough to find out.
I don’t want to reach the end of my life saying, “I always wanted to try that.”
I’d rather say, “I tried.”
Even if I wasn’t very good at it.
There is only one life. I want to keep learning, keep creating, and keep following that little voice that says, Why not?
And perhaps the most beautiful part of this journey has been seeing where those words have travelled.
I started writing again without knowing where it would take me.
Today, when I look at this map and see readers from so many different parts of the world, I have to smile.
I guess my words decided to travel even when I wasn’t. 🌍
Maybe that’s what happens when you make room for something you love again. You never quite know where it might take you.
Now it’s your turn. What’s your hobby? Have you picked up something new recently, or is there an old hobby waiting for you to return to it? What got you into it? I’d love to hear your story.
Friends becoming enemies. Strangers becoming important. A shaatir haseena making an appearance. A maa ka laadla entering the scene. And somewhere in the story, a perfectly normal wife apparently gets promoted to shakki biwi. 👀🤣
Seriously, who needs fiction when my life is already writing its own screenplay?
And the funniest part?
I don’t even know what happens next. 😂
I started this book, but I have no idea how many chapters are left. There’s no table of contents, no spoilers, and definitely no option to sneak a peek at the last page.
Just like any good story, I wake up every morning wondering what the next chapter is going to bring.
Will it be a quiet little chapter?
A happy one?
A completely unexpected adventure?
Or will life casually walk in, throw something completely unplanned at me, and wait for my reaction?
At this point, I’ve stopped asking “Why me?”
I’ve upgraded to:
“Okay… interesting. What happens next?” 😂
Because just when I think I’ve finally figured out the storyline, life seems to turn another page before I’m ready.
Maybe there’s a new adventure waiting.
Maybe an old character suddenly walks back into the story.
Maybe I discover something I never knew I could do.
Or maybe tomorrow is just going to be gloriously ordinary—and honestly, I’ll take that too. 😁
Who knows?
That’s the fun of an unfinished book.
I’ve read so many pages already—some I’d happily revisit, some I’d rather skip, and some I’m still trying to understand. 😂
But the last page?
Not yet.
I’m still reading it. Still living it. Still turning the pages.
And honestly, I have no idea how it ends.
But I can promise you one thing—
the book may be unfinished, but it is definitely not boring. 🤭📖😂
Which fictional world would be the most fun to vacation in?
Take Me to Berk. I Have a Dragon to Catch. 🐉😂
If I could vacation in any fictional world, I think I’d pick Berk from How to Train Your Dragon.
Because… DRAGONS.
Imagine having one waiting outside your house and knowing that instead of getting into a car, you can just climb on and fly away.
Where?
No idea.
That’s the best part. 😂
Maybe over the mountains. Maybe across the sea. Maybe somewhere I’ve never even heard of.
I’d probably keep saying, “Let’s just go a little further.”
And then a little further.
And then, somehow, we’d be on the other side of the world.
I’d want to fly when it’s windy, fly when it’s raining, fly through the clouds, race another dragon, find ridiculous little islands and watch the world from above.
And yes, I’d absolutely name my dragon something dramatic and then spend half my vacation talking to it as if it understands every word.
Actually… it probably would.
It’s a dragon. 😂
The thought of being able to simply take off whenever I feel like it sounds ridiculously exciting to me.
No traffic. No tickets. No packing half your house for a trip.
Just you, your dragon and a whole world underneath you.
Okay, Berk. Where do I sign up? 🐉
So, what’s your fictional escape plan? And please make it interesting—I want to steal some ideas. 😂
After thinking about today’s prompt way too seriously, I think I’ve finally found my answer. 😂
“If you could go back and witness any historical event, which one would you pick?”
At first, I thought witnessing some great historical moment would be fascinating. 🦋
Then I thought—maybe I should go all the way back and witness the beginning of the universe. 🌌✨
Then I wondered what women were actually doing throughout all those historical eras. Were they also just managing homes, raising children, cooking, and somehow keeping everything running while men were busy making “history”? 🧐
Then I imagined myself actually going back.
Wars. Crowds. Long journeys. No electricity. No Wi-Fi. No comfortable bed. And absolutely no coffee machine. 😳
And then I had a very important realization—
Why exactly am I doing this to myself? 😂
I’m perfectly happy right here.
At home.
With my coffee.
Let history happen wherever it wants to happen. Let kings conquer, explorers explore, scientists discover, and everyone else make history.
I’ll happily read about it from the comfort of my sofa. 😁
Because some historical events are much more enjoyable when you’re not actually there.
So, time machine…
Cancel my booking.
My coffee is still warm. ☕😂
Now I’d love to hear your answer. What historical event would you choose? Or, better yet, join me for a coffee—we’ll talk about history, life, and probably a hundred other things along the way. ☕😊
Finding myself again was never a planned journey. For years, I was busy being everything everyone needed me to be—a daughter, a wife, a mother, and a woman who always put others first. Somewhere between responsibilities and expectations, I forgot a small but important part of myself. Until one day, I finally met the person I had been searching for all along—me.
They asked me, “How did you meet your significant other?”
I smiled.
Because my answer is a little unexpected.
I didn’t meet her at a café. I didn’t find her in a crowd. I didn’t recognise her in a first glance.
I met her after years of searching.
She was there all along.
Hidden behind the woman who was always busy taking care of everyone else.
The daughter who learned to adjust.
The wife who tried to create a happy home.
The mother who remembered everyone’s needs before her own.
The woman who knew exactly how everyone liked their tea, what made everyone happy, and what everyone needed…
But sometimes forgot to ask herself—
“What do I need?”
She was always there.
But somewhere between responsibilities and expectations, her voice became softer.
Her dreams waited patiently in a corner.
Her hobbies waited for “someday.”
Her wishes waited for “after everyone is settled.”
And she kept telling herself—
“Later.”
Until one day, she stopped.
Not because the world changed.
But because she did.
She picked up the book she had left unfinished.
She listened to the song she loved.
She created something just because it made her happy.
She sat quietly without feeling guilty.
And slowly…
she heard her own voice again.
The woman she had lost in the noise of everyday life was finding her way back.
She was not selfish.
She was not changing.
She was simply returning home.
To herself.
So, how did I meet my significant other?
I met her in the mirror after years of looking everywhere else.
She was older.
She was wiser.
She had scars, stories, and a thousand silent battles behind her smile.
But she was beautiful.
Because she was finally free to be herself.
My significant other was never someone I had to find.
She was the woman I had been carrying inside me all along.
What’s a cultural tradition from your country that you love?
If you ask me about a cultural tradition from India that I love, I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin.
India is practically a treasure chest of traditions. Open one drawer and you’ll find festivals. Open another and there’s a puja. Then come the flowers, mehendi, pattu sarees, family gatherings, elaborate feasts, banana leaves, sweets, prayers—and enough food to make you wonder whether we came to pray or attend a royal banquet. 😄
One tradition very close to my heart is Varalakshmi Vratam, which I celebrate with my family.
There is something beautiful about getting ready for it. I wear a traditional pattu saree, decorate with flowers, prepare for the pooja, and slowly the house begins to feel different. More festive. More alive. More… Indian.
But my favourite part of this tradition comes with a little story.
The first time I performed Varalakshmi Vratam after my marriage, my mother-in-law lovingly prepared 11 different kinds of naivedyam for Lakshmi Maa.
She was so happy doing it, and I simply assumed, Okay, this is how it is done.
The following year, however, my mother-in-law was visiting the US and spending some time there.
And suddenly, I had an extremely important question.
“How many naivedyams am I supposed to make—9 or 11?”
So, naturally, I called my mother.
Her response?
“That is between you and your in-laws. Don’t involve me.” 😂
Thank you, Mumma. Very helpful.
It was nighttime in the US, so I couldn’t call my mother-in-law either.
And there I was—standing in the kitchen, facing a serious spiritual dilemma.
Nine?
Eleven?
Apparently, divine blessings come with a little bit of mathematical uncertainty too. 😁
Finally, I decided to play safe.
I made 11.
Later, I discovered that the first year had 11 because it was my first Varalakshmi Vratam, and the following years were supposed to have 9.
Oops.
But by then, it was too late.
The mistake had already become a tradition.
And now?
I still make 11.
At this point, I have decided that if Lakshmi Maa has been happily accepting 11 all these years, I am not going to be the one questioning the arrangement. 😂
And then comes my favourite part—the feast.
Every year, after the pooja, we serve the meal traditionally on a banana leaf.
And this is where the entire family suddenly develops extraordinary patience.
Everyone waits.
Quietly.
Politely.
Respectfully.
Until the bhog is offered.
And the moment the food is blessed, the transformation is remarkable.
The same people who were patiently waiting a few minutes ago suddenly become extremely efficient.
One by one, things begin disappearing from the banana leaf.
A little rice vanishes.
Then the curry.
Then the sweet.
Then something else that I was quite sure I had just served.
And before I know it, the beautifully arranged feast has become a very convincing piece of evidence that good food should never be left unattended. 😄
But beyond the sarees, flowers, mehendi, pooja and food, what I truly love about this tradition is the togetherness.
It brings everyone into the same space.
We dress up.
We pray.
We laugh.
We eat together.
We wait for the bhog.
We tell old stories.
And somehow, in the middle of all these rituals, ordinary moments become memories.
Perhaps that is what I love most about Indian traditions.
They are not merely rituals passed down through generations. They are little threads that quietly connect one generation to another— from a mother teaching her daughter, a mother-in-law welcoming a new daughter into an old tradition, to children growing up watching these rituals and someday carrying a few of them forward in their own way.
Somewhere along the way, a saree, a flower, a prayer, a recipe, or a meal served on a banana leaf becomes more than a tradition. It becomes a memory. And then, without us even realising it, the memory becomes part of who we are.
And perhaps that is why I still make eleven. Not because I forgot the correct number… but because, after all these years, those eleven offerings have become a little piece of my own story. ❤️
Traditions are not just rituals; they are memories wrapped in love, passed from one generation to another. 🦋🌸 I would love to hear your story too… What’s a cultural tradition from your country that you deeply love?
मैं साँझ लिखूँ, तुम उसे एक एहसास समझ लेना, मेरी खामोशी को भी दिल की आवाज़ समझ लेना। हर बात लफ़्ज़ों से कहना ज़रूरी तो नहीं होता, मेरी आँखों में छुपी हर बात को अंदाज़ समझ लेना।
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जो दूर रहकर भी दिल के करीब रहते हैं, उन रिश्तों को तुम एक खूबसूरत राज़ समझ लेना। कभी मौसम बदलें, कभी रास्ते बदल जाएँ, पर जो दिल में बसे रहें, उन्हें अपना आज समझ लेना।
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मैं चाँद लिखूँ, तुम उसे कोई अधूरी कहानी समझ लेना, मेरी हर दुआ में छुपी तुम्हारी निशानी समझ लेना। वक़्त की धूल से कुछ यादें धुंधली हो जाएँ अगर, दिल में बची मुस्कान को मेरी सौगात समझ लेना।
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Unspoken Feelings 🌙✨
I write of twilight, you understand it as a feeling, I write of my silence, you hear the voice of my heart. Not every emotion needs to be expressed in words, Understand the stories hidden in my eyes through their quiet expressions.
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Those who remain close to the heart even from afar, Let those bonds be cherished as a beautiful secret. Seasons may change, and paths may turn different, But those who live in the heart remain a part of our today.
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I write of the moon, you see it as an unfinished story, I write of my prayers, you find your presence hidden within them. If time ever covers some memories with dust, Hold on to the smile left behind as my precious gift. ❤️
If you could relive one day from your past, which day would it be and why?
I Wouldn’t Relive a Single Day From My Past… And Here’s Why
If I ever got a magical time machine, I think I would politely return the ticket. 😄
Not because my past wasn’t beautiful… It was.
There are days I still visit in my memories — the laughter, the people, the little moments, the innocent happiness, the silly conversations that felt so ordinary back then but feel priceless today.
But would I go back and live them again?
No.
Because some moments are like a perfect handwritten letter. Their beauty lies in the fact that they happened once. Open the same letter again and again, and the words may remain the same… but the feeling of receiving it for the first time can never return.
And honestly, imagine going back and disturbing the timeline! 😄 Who knows… maybe my younger self would look at me and say, “Excuse me, who are you and why do you know so much about my future?” 😂
The past gave me memories, lessons, scars, smiles, and a version of myself that helped me become who I am today.
The beautiful days should remain beautiful. The painful days should remain lessons. The people, the emotions, the laughter, the tears — everything belongs exactly where it happened.
I don’t want to relive my past.
I want to thank it.
Because some chapters are so perfect that they don’t need a rewrite… they only need a place in our hearts. ❤️
And maybe that is the magic of memories — they allow us to visit yesterday without ever having to leave today. ✨
Those moments are not waiting for me in the past… they are living quietly within me. In my thoughts, my choices, my kindness, and the way I see the world today. Maybe that is the most beautiful way memories stay alive — by becoming a part of us.
What do you think? Are some memories more beautiful when we simply hold them close to our hearts, instead of trying to experience them again?
I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. ✨
