An ode to the past

the-pastHis arms are no longer home to my soul, my room no longer smells his perfume, my skin no longer has his touch all over it. Why me? For the third time; why me? Trust is like feather; soft and breakable, and do not forget, it’s equally non-repairable. I am lying on my bed but the crumbles on my sheet are no longer made by his strong toes, my room no more has his silhouettes walking across the room. I looked at myself in bathroom mirror and all I saw was a single reflection. He is no more standing behind me to hold me from behind, clutching me tightly in his arms, wishing me a better day to come. His extra pair of clothes in my room, his toothbrush, his wallet and his aura has found their way to another abode.

I feel the vacuum in my ribs and then I cry; and then I laugh as I remember how happy we were together. A flashback of past and “could have been: future plays in my mind. It’s my redemption; at least that’s the way I look at it. May be that water taking him in, drowning him, taking his soul somewhere far away with its crashing way is the fate’s way of reminding me that even if he returns all those “could have been”, the thoughts leading him back to me, I would always hate him. And then I dream again. Today is the day for happy dream, I dream about we being infinite, him an I, we are happy today. At least in dreams he cannot take himself away from me.

So here’s the thing, we all should have just been born with the inability to love anyone, at least that’s what I feel. Life would be feel so much repaired instead of the damage beyond repairs. No tears, no drama, no pain and most of the movie songs would be happy songs. Love makes a man selfish and guilty but here’s a thing; I don’t know what’s worst? Drowning in the ocean of love or Craving for more love.

Why Me Quest 

I’m so excited to announce our project this summer, The “WhyMeQuest”!!! This is a personal project that my friends and I have initiated.

What is it about? Well, Life is a book that has chapters – some good, some bad. “Whymequest” is one such platform where one can unveil those chapters of life because after all this world isn’t made of atoms, but million of stories stringed together to make us whole.

The idea is to encourage people to share their stories – stories of struggle and success. Sharing is the first step to moving on. Unless you talk about it, let it out and share; you will always remain stuck. By sharing half the battle is won if you ask us. This is what Whymequest is about: To pave a way for people who need that extra push to move ahead or a little bit of inspiration or a tad bit of wisdom.
This is your opportunity to inspire others with your story or if you feel like something is bothering you that you need help with. PLEASE HELP US SPREAD THE WORD BY LIKING AND SHARING OUR PAGE!
Life itself is a story, so what does yours say?
(Everyone is free to share their stories.anonymously or with their names at “” or you can personally email me at or feel free to inbox me for any queries! )

A Ballerina’s Story

Early in life, I learned to view my body as a sort of prison. While other little girls spent time playing and living carefree young lives, I struggled my way through ballet class– attempting to forcefully train my body to be graceful, obedient, and beautiful. Through my journey from student to professional, no matter my efforts, no matter how low my weight, or expertly I executed choreography, I never felt it was enough.

At the root of it all, I felt that my body held me back. “If I’d only been born with narrower shoulders, higher arched feet, longer legs,” I dreamed, “I would be better and do betterMy life would somehow be easier”, I thought. My soul was that of an artist, choosing dance as the medium within which to come alive, but my very human body never seemed good enough to match the ambitions I held for my dance career.

Over time, I began to resent the body I was born with, feeling limited by the “hand I’d been dealt”. I realized that while I couldn’t control the body I was given at birth, I could control how I operated it– working harder, training longer, and being as skinny as possible in order to be the best dancer I could be.

Eyes firmly on the goal to curate my identity as professional ballerina, I adopted so many ways to control, shape, and demand from my body. I used this discipline to transcend and ignore my basic human needs for rest and food– in true “no pain, no gain” fashion.

These habits served me fairly well, or so I thought, until my first major injury at age 29 forced me to take some time away from the stage in order to heal.  Forced to truly partner with my body (instead of dominating and controlling) for the first time in my life, I began a continually unfolding journey of healing and awakening, coming back home to myself.

When I began to understand that my body was something to respect and honor– that I had limits and finite energy that had to be acknowledged—and began acting as such, I realized that my body was an extension of me, my soul made flesh. I realized that my one, greatest responsibility in life was caring for this body every day, because she is my home in this lifetime.

Embodying this realization meant no more excuses, no more blurred boundaries with others, no crappy, convenient, or emotionally-charged food choices. It was time to go beyond the surface level frustrations I held and tap into what really mattered most.

I realized essentially that to hate my body was to, in fact, hate myself. And when I realized just how much I had been unconsciously hating myself all those years, I was heart-broken. I resolved to return to myself– treating myself as a loved one each moment.  Creating love, peace, calm and strength from within, first.

Here are a few of the tools I used:

I studied my unique, individual body.

Not the body, but my body, learning which foods, relationships, activities and movement helped me to feel good vs. relying on mass (confusing) opinions about what worked and what didn’t. When I got to the roots of what my particular body wanted and needed to thrive, my relationship to food changed drastically, I started taking more time for myself and releasing relationships and things that no longer served me. Most importantly, I became more confident about my body and within my life.

I stopped torturing my body with exercise I hated and found movement I loved.

As a dancer, I was taught to “suck it up” and push through intense pain on a daily basis. This meant smiling beautifully– tutu and tiara in tow– regardless of whether my feet were bleeding in my pointe shoes, or my muscles ached and burned from exhaustion.  Ballet requires fierce determination, training, and skill.  Pushing is required. But so is listening to the body and acknowledging the body’s limitations. When I committed to doing things differently—with honor and respect for my body– I realized I seriously disliked most of the ways I’d been keeping myself in shape.  As I began to explore different types of movement that felt great to me, I created space to witness, in awe, all that my body was capable of. It took time for me to release these patterns of forcing and pushing, but come to find out, both my body and I do much better with a gentler approach.

I healed my relationship to food and healed my body in the process.  

Like many of my clients, I was constantly confused and frustrated in my relationship to food.  I never knew what to eat (or what not to eat) and I struggled with consistency and emotionally charged eating.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, I also suffered from a lifetime of food allergies that left me feeling bloated, ill and lethargic regularly.  By returning food to its rightful role in my life—as fuel, nourishment, and a source of healing instead of comfort, stress-relief, or a mindless sport—I began to witness my body change.  My digestion healed, my weight stabilized, my energy increased, and my skin became clear for the first time in my life. By eliminating the foods and eating habits that plagued me, I was able to focus more fully on what I wanted in life.  I finally felt healthy and strong and had the energy and vitality to do more than just constantly obsess over food.

I released obligations, relationships and things that no longer served me. 

Most women are chronic “over-givers”. Our time, energy, and nurturance often go toward everything and everyone else except ourselves.  Recognizing that I needed to make some serious changes in my life starting with my relationship to myself, I knew I had to make my own well-being a priority.  Not out of selfishness or laziness, but out of self-love and self-respect. I implemented stronger boundaries on my time, saying no more frequently and made downtime, relaxation and stress management necessary components of each day instead of occasional luxuries to be had when everything else was complete. Subsequently, I released those people, relationships, and commitments that no longer served me or left me feeling drained.  I made the activities and relationships I needed to feel incredible in my life mandatory priorities.

I transformed my inner dialogue.  

As a dancer, I thought I was happy and healthy because I was thin and active, but my inner world anything but.  I was uncomfortable in my skin and felt like something was missing from my life.  The more I studied holistic well-being, the more I realized that true health goes much deeper than yoga, quinoa and size 2 jeans. If I was cruel and cold to myself internally, no amount of green juice or Pilates would change that (and I love green juice and Pilates!). I had to change the way I spoke to and related to myself on a fundamental level in order for things to really shift. Once I began to treat myself like a loved one, I flourished in all areas of my life and became more consistent in my habits from a place of devotion vs. rigidity.

I started relating to my body as a “she” not an “it”.

When I began to see my body as a living, breathing, female animal with needs all her own– instead of a disobedient beast that held me back from what I really wanted– it became difficult for me to refer to my body as an inanimate object, an “it”.  If I could acknowledge my pets for their innate being-ness with pronouns like “he” or “she”, but not my body, there was a serious disconnect happening.  As I changed this one, simple way of referring to myself, I began to see that my body was truly my best friend, supporting and carrying me through each day like a loyal companion who deserved love, honor, and respect.

As my relationship to my body healed, I began to think of my lineage– my mother, my grandmother, and women and children of future generations. How would their lives be different if they were taught to honor and respect their bodies from the beginning? To feed themselves exquisite food as fuel vs. stuff themselves out of boredom, for comfort, or as a way to soothe painful emotions? If women came to love the bodies they call home—these miraculous creatures we’re entrusted with care of—what would that change in our world?

Our bodies are our windows to life. When we are overweight, sick, tired, overwhelmed, stressed, and downright abusive to ourselves, it seriously inhibits the way we show up in the world. Most women are taught that their bodies are flawed. They receive images in media, comments from others and other constant reminders of all the ways in which they don’t add up, but it’s time for us to rewrite this story starting with ourselves.

It is my deepest belief that when a woman loves the body she calls home, she embraces her power to create the life she was born to live. I am living proof of this as are the hundreds of women I’ve worked with in my Nutrition & Lifestyle Coaching practice.  I am consistently inspired and amazed when women take these lessons to heart and I’ve seen lives heal and change in major ways as a result of reconnecting to their amazing bodies.

I invite you to love the body you call home.


I miss thunderstorms. Like suddenly from the past few days. I have always loved thunderstorms; the darkness, the mist, the smell of early rain drops, the sound of leaves hustling through wind, window panels making weird little noises, everything about thunderstorm is so beautiful in my mind. The bolts of lightening, a streak of light illuminating the night sky, California is sunny and beautiful and my present residence but I MISS THUNDERSTORMS

When i arrived in United States 6 months back, Houston was my home town. Houston is like a hub of thunderstorm and while majority of the people seem to hate it, i totally love it. Probably because i have an alter ego that is dark 😉

Let me share a story

I remember vividly.

It was raining that afternoon. They were wrapped under covers eating hummus off each other’s fingers and cuddling away like there’s no tomorrow. His face had the biggest smile and her eyes sparkled brighter than the North Star. They watched a sappy Bollywood movie and kept mocking each other about all the things they get annoyed by.
When they made love that afternoon, it thundered. It took time and effort for both of them to separate themselves from each other. As she got dressed, she found him with his head buried in his hand. She sat down on her knees.
‘Did i do something wrong?’ she hesitantly asked well aware of the fact that his answer might once again stab her heart.
He looked at her and smirked. He lifted his face and put his hand over her head. Gently he kissed her on his forehead. She felt the drop of tears that ran down from his eye. In an almost broken voice, he said ‘You won’t ever leave me, no?’

She said, “I crave the depth of your mouth and I won’t pull away from you any sooner. Time is a temporary glitch in our insignificant lives. I’d rather kiss your hard and walk away than stare at you for hours not knowing if we’ll ever burn bridges again.”
“You’re the other kind of selfish.” he said. “You make me want to want you all for myself.”

And then, they made love again, until the sky was no longer blue.

When he woke up later that night because of her routine stirring in her sleep, he thought to himself, ‘I will be the last man standing, for her.’ He kissed her on her forehead again and went back in time to think how she came into his life and found him.
She sang Young and Beautiful that night. That voice in his head whispered slowly, assuming that in the loud music of the bar, he would miss it. When he took that sip of his whiskey on the rocks and looked at her that very minute, he knew. She is the one.
I still remember how he said his story. I still remember how much he ached to love her. I still remember how much he tried.
I still believe him.
But She, does not.

From known to UNKNOWN


IMG_1571Often i blog to share my thoughts, or some inspiration but today i am blogging because its a realization. Such a sad word it is, especially when you finally know how stupid you were (trust me i am laughing while writing this, coz i realized something about myself).

7 months back when i shifted to United States i got tearful goodbyes and puppy faces telling me how much their life would be empty without my presence around it. Note the number*** 7 months, just 7 months. While i was in United States my best friends ( i have (or had) three) messaged me about how much they missed me and all the future plans of what we would be doing when i am back visiting them. It was like an umbilical cord of hope tethering my feelings to their planning and sadly when i was here it was a time to snip snip snip. I did not lift the scissors, they did.

“Judge nothing, you will be happy. Forgive everything, you will be happier. Love everything, you will be happiest.” ~Sri Chinmoy

From the moment you decide to move abroad, your life turns into a powerful mix of emotions – learning, improvising, dealing with the unexpected and the only wish was moving back to my home country, meet my family and friends, above all my dog and just be happy for once, once again in my life. How can i forget telling you about a someone who once told me “I will wait for you forever. I decided to choose me, my happiness, forgive him and myself to be free. I still have a place for him in my heart and I wonder how things could be if we could’ve found balance and compromise, but I cannot be the only one making the effort.

And then i was talking to myself “Sometimes, it’s not about us – it’s about them. You shouldn’t take it personally if the other person is behaving badly. Sometimes it’s best to walk away and leave them to it… even though you want to stay and help – it’s sometimes the best way to deal with things. There’s only so much you can do, and there’s only so much you can take”

  1. None of my friends really had time for me
  2. None of the people i expected showed me their faces
  3. unexpected people came to my doorstep and stood by me to show how much happy they were to have me
  4. My best friend has not met me yet on my 12th day in cpuntry (shez very busy as she says)

About my other friends, well trust me everyone that talks to me talks because they have soemthing to gain from it and i can see it clearly now.

For my best friend:

I have mixed feelings on this part of it. Even though the friend I let go will probably never admit to any wrong-doing, I know she knows and she knows I know she knows. There was a lesson to be learned – a strong lesson on her part. There was never any closure – no final argument, no climax, no discussion. I just stopped speaking to her and when I saw her today and she approached me, I said nothing. I stared at her and spoke not one word. I was angry and hurt. She knew it and nothing needed to be said. She will never ever have a friend like me again.

I was there for her through thick and thin since we were kids. I was the giver in that relationship. She took and took but gave nothing back other than single-white femaling me while maligning me to others and saying outright nasty things in groups of people to embarrass me. She never thought I’d just walk away from our friendship. I’ll bet if she ever does have another close friend, she will not take them for granted. She would do well, though, to choose friends beneath her because she can’t handle relationships with people she feels are more successful or happier than she is. Who knows? She is a narcissist. I think most toxic people are. They tend to justify their own actions and don’t think about other people’s feelings.

There is nothing worse than losing a best girlfriend. It cuts your heart in two and is very painful – not something many people talk about but it does happen. The only thing that was mine and remained mine was my 4 legged fur baby.