#mga writes

Ah, Sundays—the ultimate cheat day back in the day. It was all about binge-watching Power Rangers on Jetix, fighting with my sister over chicken bone pieces on my plate, playing outside until I couldn’t feel my legs, and in the evening reluctantly thinking about that unfinished homework due on Monday. But Sundays now? A completely different ball game. No more carefree lounging. Instead, I’ve found myself in a different kind of routine—one that’s less about fun and more about maintenance, both for myself and my little world. Today was a typical adult Sunday. I kicked off the day by washing my bike, Eva. Yeah, she’s got a name. Then, I cleaned my office space, making my work-from-home setup look almost like a tech startup—minus the coffee machine and bean bags. I tossed my gym clothes into the wash and scrubbed my shoes until they looked brand new. I even cleaned the doors. At one point, I caught myself doing a double-take at the door frame, thinking, “Damn, that’s a clean door.” Who am

Forget about crashing a party—I danced at this random Vinayaka Chavithi uragempu (procession). I just parked my bike to watch. I was alone and didn’t know anyone there, but the beats were irresistible. My feet started tapping, and I was on the fence—should I dance or not? Sure, I used to practice, but it’s been a while. I’d had a long, stressful day, and part of me thought, "Next year, I’ll dance." Then it hit me—why not now? Why wait? Nobody will judge me, and if they like my dance, they’ll cheer, right? So, I took a deep breath, joined the crowd, and danced. The moment I stepped in, everything else faded away—the stress, the worries, the long day. It was just me, the music, and the rhythm. I felt this incredible sense of release like every step and movement was shaking off the weight I’d been carrying. My body felt alive like it had been waiting for this—like it remembered every move even though my mind had forgotten. There was this sense of freedom, a wild joy bubbling up

Long ago, our brightest minds figured out Earth's escape velocity. It’s so simple, that even an 8th grader could probably calculate Mars’s escape velocity by now. But will we ever, and I mean ever, discover the escape velocity needed to break free from a pothole on an Indian road? Because let's face it, that’s the real scientific breakthrough we’re all waiting for. Whether you're on a scenic country road, or a state-of-the-art expressway, one thing is certain—somewhere along the way, a pothole is lying in wait, eager to swallow you and your vehicle whole. Christopher Nolan may have directed "Interstellar," but we’ve been living it all along! Our very own Tesseract appears every 100 meters, with your car as the unfortunate time-traveller. Our modern AI is trained on tons of data, but what should we be trained on? Probably “India is not for beginners” memes. Honestly, driving here feels like a survival game—you don’t need racing lessons; you need pothole-dodging ski

Last night, I found myself in a bit of a rush to send off the skating shoes I'd bought for my nephew. Staff at the RTC parcel service refused to take them unless they were properly boxed up. It was already 8:45 in the evening, and with closing time at 9, I was running out of options. There were no department stores nearby, so in a bit of desperation, I hurried into a nearby PAN shop. The shopkeeper, a man in his sixties, took one look at the shoes and exclaimed with excitement, "Aren't these skating shoes?" It wasn't surprising to me that he recognized them; it was popularised in mainstream movies. But what caught my attention was the genuine joy he expressed as he carefully packed the shoes. Despite his shop being crowded with customers, he didn't hesitate to roll up his sleeves and handle the task with utmost professionalism. During our conversation, he shared with me his longing for skating. He told me how he had always dreamt of owning a pair himself but n

When you grow together in love, sometimes you pause to watch the person next to you and feel thankful for life. You may wonder where it all started. For me, that moment is our first date, “the pellichupulu date” – the starting point of the trajectory of our love. Ayyira and I met at a traditional pellichupulu, spoke there, and connected on Instagram. We hadn't informed our parents of our decision yet, as we thought we should take some time. We texted for a week, and one weekend, I decided to go meet her in Hyderabad. I still recall that day when I stood in the Tatkal line to book a ticket; my hands were trembling not just from the Tatkal pressure, but also from thoughts of how the day would go when I met her in Hyderabad. I texted her the Saturday evening when I was boarding the train, and she had plans for Sunday to visit her parents. However, she cancelled her plans and decided to meet me. She asked about my plan for the day, and honestly, I had none. My whole intention was to me

Ram and Ayyira's engagement dates had been announced, and their hearts fluttered with happiness. As part of the engagement ceremony, Ram's mother wanted to send a saree to Ayyira. Ram immediately texted Ayyira, “Ayyira, I wanted to see you and give you the first saree with my own hands. Would it be okay if I come on Monday?” “I will be more than happy, Ram.” “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I'm not sure if you have a work shift on that day, so I thought of giving you a heads up.” “Ram, your visit itself is a surprise for me, so don't think, just come over.” Ram boarded the train. It was a double-decker train with sitter compartments, and the seats were so congested that Ram knew he would be awake all night due to the uncomfortable seating. He texted Ayyira, “Hey, I just boarded.” Ayyira was on her shift, yet she replied to him, “Good, take some rest. Dad will pick you up in the morning from the station.” It was one in the morning when Ayyira texted Ram, “You didn'

Ram was fixated on eating sambar and aloo fry all his life, and when he was a bachelor, he used to run errands around curry points. But when the lockdown was enforced, all the curry points were shut, leaving him with no option but to cook. As part of his cooking journey, he decided to learn how to make chapati. It took him nearly six months to master making a properly shaped chapati, at least one that was identifiable. During this chapati-making hustle, his attempts sometimes resembled a Chinese map, and other times, a Russian map. His roommates would tease him, saying, "Are you trying to send some corona genome sequences as cryptic messages to China or what?" Since Ram had embarked on his fitness journey, he preferred chapati for dinner every night, while his wife Ayyira preferred rice. Ayyira complained that if she ate chapati, her tummy would demand a second meal at midnight, and it would be Ram's sole responsibility to fulfill her hunger if he suggested having chapati