Author Kriti Mukherjee

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“Diwali is one holiday I sorely missed when I lived in the US. I remember visiting the Indian stores in the neighborhood to buy my earthen ‘diyas’ (lamps), calling my cleaning service to come and give our home a professionally cleaned look, buying sweetmeats from wherever it was possible.
But I also remember being alone while performing these rituals. I would sheepishly light the diyas on my deck, the window ledges, and the house entrance, guilty that it was against the rules for being a fire hazard!” Guest Blog – Chatty Divas

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While the new world continues to discover brand new diseases with fancy names, we haven’t quite been able to cope with the existing ones plaguing us for years now.

Water borne diseases have become an all pervading evil around us at present times. Humanity is being made to become cowards like never before. We are made to fear not just the age old demons but things that were close to our hearts always ; blessings like food, water, fellow human beings, darkness, school, transport are now also things to fear!

24/7 Talk is Cheap - The Blog Ricardo Mazal's Kora at Sundaram Tagore Gallery draws inspiration from his pilgrimage to Mount Kailash.
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“It is almost criminal in Calcutta to start any discussion around this time without a reference to the shopping done for the upcoming festival ‘Dasherra’ or ‘Pujo’. This is a time not only of shopping for your wardrobe but for the entire battalion of extended family. It is a time to give and receive gifts. The markets thrive and throb during these months and when the festival is over it’s almost as if a war has just got over! And so our conversation began with my mother-in-law and Maashi exchanging notes on each other’s bargains, new styles and various other subjects associated with ‘Pujo’.

Anyone who is familiar with wearing or buying ‘sarees’ will know the challenges of finding an ace tailor to make a perfect blouse to go with the coveted piece of new garment. A blouse gone wrong could prove to be disastrous to the festive spirit of looking perfect; it could dampen the entire annual celebration and hence the rest of the year! A good blouse is an imperative for a Bengali wrapped in Tangail, Tant or other special saris.”
Guest Blog – Chatty Divas

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“Once in the US, much like in most Jhumpa Lahiri stories, my husband plunged into his work leaving me to figure out the foreign land and how much we would like each other.
Well, we had our tussles but America finally gave in and I made a place there. All this took a little more than a year. I finally found a job and discovered a life I could actually fall in love with. However, I remember us being really stubborn about our resolve of returning to our country ‘no matter what.'”
Guest Blog – Chatty Divas

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“Meet Amma, 85, who sits all day smoking weed! She has a farmhouse and lives in a lavish set up with some 12 -15 rooms. She grows weed in her backyard, tends to it in the morning with immense love; orders her tea and carries it to the lawn where she smokes up some of her creation.
She puts on her thick rimmed glasses and controls her shaking hands till they settle on the page of her diary where she writes a new story every day! When I heard that, I knew immediately who I wanted to be when I ‘grew up’.” Guest Blog – Chatty Divas. Photo: Marilena Benini

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“This is really my account of a year of returning to India. It’s strange how eight years of living somewhere else changes your entire outlook. I came back thinking I was coming home and home it was but it was eons away from where I had left it.
It is only when more than a year has gone by in a place that it starts spreading its tentacles around you, shaping you to fit to its contours, nipping you a little here and molding an extension there.”
Guest Blog: Chatty Divas

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“I grew up in a small and close-knit family in the hills of Darjeeling. Our two bedroom wooden house sheltered me, my elder sister, our parents and my paternal grandfather whenever he would visit. It was a life of happiness, giving and comfort. Our needs were almost nil; our days fulfilling to say the least – except we had no brother, and there was a void, especially at the time of Bhai Dhooj.

What North India calls Bhai Dooj, Nepalis call “Bhai Tika”, we Bengalis call “Bhai Phota”. It’s one of my most favorite Hindu festivals, where a sister follows a set of customs to extract a promise of her brother’s protection throughout her life and under all circumstances. The brother in turn makes that promise through various customs and a token of cash or a gift. After the exchange of money and gifts, an out of the ordinary feast follows.”
Guest Blog – Chatty Divas

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It’s been more than a year since I moved to Gurgaon, India, from the US. While my routine still is very similar to what it was in Connecticut, social life in India has created a drastic change in the quality of my days. And with that one single change my life has transformed in entirety.

It was raining friends in the city of Delhi and Gurgaon; the excitement and anticipation of their visits is peaked because of the stories they carry with them enriching my knowledge in the process. This occurrence reminds me of the folk tales in Bengali literature called “Thakur Mar Jhuli”. Am I becoming the “Thakur Ma” (paternal grandmother) with the sack of stories then?

24/7 Talk is Cheap - The Blog
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For most women, conceiving a child is natural, a fact of life. But what about those who just cannot conceive? Is surrogacy the answer? Kriti Mukherjee describes a heart-rending obstacle race on the part of a young couple to finally become parents – and the silent partner who helped them get there.
Guest Blog – Chatty Divas

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“In a country with the 2nd largest population in the world there have to be preposterous systems of elimination. We must keep in mind that it is this same country that is producing some of the best brains in the world.
In the meantime, all I am seeking is a way to get my daughter to join that stream of screaming thousands for an academic certificate. An extremely ambitious dream to have in a country where expectations go beyond just the crazy procedure of admissions.
These are just the entry tickets to an endless journey of prodding for things that have limited “seats”, like delightful careers or cushy lives.” Guest blog – Chatty Divas

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