Masterchef Australia is one of my favourite shows on television. I don't watch the other editions (Masterchef USA or Masterchef India) but the show with chefs and judges Gary Mehigan, George Calombaris, Matt Preston is one I have followed for a few years now. It's not just an entertaining show but also a great source of learning, especially for something completely unrelated to cooking - writing!

When I first started this blog, it was only a testing platform for me to gauge my writing skills. I also wanted to use it as a platform to showcase my write-ups as samples, while pitching to prospective clients. I hadn't ever expected the response it got. Neither had I expected the paths it would lead me on. The journey (2 years now) has been incredible and the experiences chronicled in detail. It opened some great avenues for me and has been the runway from where my writing took off. Obviously, I am humbled and thrilled every time I think about how far I have come.

“The best place to find God is in a garden. You can dig for him there.”

- George Bernard Shaw

My earliest fondest memories of a garden are from some twenty years ago. This garden, next to a nondescript one-bedroom house in a College staff quarters, was the result of its owner’s relentless hard work, proudly ramped up the aesthetic quotient of its otherwise grey surroundings, and ultimately came to be the neighbour’s pride. Maintaining the garden wasn’t easy, but in fact, painstaking work. Just the act of watering all the plants and trees each day would take at least an hour. In-depth knowledge of the individual growing patterns, flowering seasons, watering and manuring needs were critical and required thorough planning and thought. It needed extensive care and hands-on maintenance that was not just time-consuming but also required the owners, my parents, to be vigilant and attentive.

Anyone who has ever moved homes would know what a painful and yet fun-filled process it is. The process of shifting is as torturous as it can be and yet the adventure and experience of doing up a new home comes with its own share of exciting discoveries and disappointing compromises. Ever since the decision had been made to move to this new house, I had starting mentally decorating my room. 

Dear Me, Or should I say Hey You, You Escaped Alien from Proxima Centauri and Descendant from a Species of Apes that Never Existed, What's Up? Yes, Yes, I know what your answer will be - the sky, the temperature in Delhi, and the pitch of those TV reporters who make a light drizzle sound like a torrential storm that is evidence of God's wrath on mankind! I hate that question as much as you do. But I just thought you may know how to answer it better than me. How does this work anyway? Me talking to you, who in reality is me. Am I supposed to refer to me as 'me' or as 'you'? And if I am me, who are you? And if you are me and me is, of course, me then (once again) who are you? At the end of it, who am I talking to? Me or you?