Bonfires. Burn them old memories, let that ash settle and let the ground grow new ones. Its all about you forgiving and ignoring. Thats what makes you strong and wise. Realities of love are not one and the same as those you build in your head. Learnt that too. Work is great, but it ain’t easy always accepting you’re the bitch. Watching a film brought tears to my eyes over how much I miss home. Not the suburban part of north west england, but the one where the mitti matches the power of my soul. Meri Dharti. ****walla continues to develop. I will open it in the next year or two. Preserving vegetables and the art of using them to create both savoury and sweet captivates me. I love serving and hosting, I love intimate gatherings, parties, dinners, social gatherings. I bring people together then walk the empty path home alone, sleep in that bed alone and come back from dates.. alone. But loneliness isn’t being alone, its feeling alone. I don’t feel like either tbh, life shows me different colours of myself everyday. Booking tickets today, confirming accommodations, can’t wait to wake up in a different city with new sights and smells and people. I’m going to let go, because to have experience is to have a story. Whether that translates in a cookbook or just something that helps me shape a dinner conversation, it doesn’t matter. I think I just need to do, be so inspired and be so deep in knowledge, and happiness. Discovered some old videos today, some of me and Rohan in the back of a few rickshaws, talking about being young, enjoying life, living in the best cities in the world. I found one of Sarah making me tea in our hotel room. I found one of just the hills and the roads of mahableshwar. I found true joy and happiness when i watched all of these. They made me smile, cringe, laugh. I feel like I’m on this ladder, this long ass ladder, and I’m going and going, and there are little motions here and there, but I’m not at the extreme of happiness and love like I have been when I’m surrounded by my best friends, and that feeling of AZAADI. Because you see, Azaadi is much more than just freedom in a political sense. Its emotional, physical, intellectual and creative liberation from everything. There are no strings, or bars or windows. Just doors that lead to more doors that lead to infinity. Just love and doom and alcohol and sex and crime and passion and determination and self-actualisation and learning and running and sitting, waiting,wishing and singing and going on and on and on until every cell in you is about to burst with excitement and fulfilment. That is AZAADI. Lets light our bonfires right now, burn that old shit, burn them residual feelings of love and hate and gloom and grow them new trees of experience. Travel, Talk, Taste, Discover, Love. Just don’t stop.
And finally never say TBC, because the time is always now.
My demotivation to blog isn’t to do with lack of opinion. Hell, I have a ton of opinion about everything, maybe too much so. But right now, I am being more affected by the core disciplines in life. Following passions, being with family, reconnecting with friends and thinking of the future with a sense of nostalgia for the time that is now, that I’m currently floating through. I feel like I want to dip my toes into everything. Do a website, make a tea shop, explore desserts, perfumery, interiors.
I just want to do anything and everything at once. Patience is not my virtue and maybe thats why I’m suffering in my own unique way.
The celebrity chef and master marketer reveals how he cultivates his brand.
In the three decades since Wolfgang Puck opened Spago in West Hollywood, the groundbreaking gourmet has parlayed his food-world stardom into one successful venture after another: packaged foods in grocery stores, a burgeoning line of kitchen appliances, and more than 100 fine dining and express restaurants in the U.S., Europe, and Asia. Quality food, it turns out, is only part of Puck’s recipe for building an epicurean empire. Here he reveals the ingredients he has used to spice up his career.
They invited her into our family room in our old house. Wet outside as always, rain bashing the thin frames of glass, wind whistling through the trees, our honda civic parked gloriously on our sloping driveway. She was wearing what I can only describe as typical gypsy clothing. Multicoloured, plenty of beads and silverware dangling off her. We sat in a dark corner of the room, my parents above me, my brother to my left, and the dark musty scent of her to my right. This should be cleared at the very beginning. I never actually saw her face, just heard her voice, smelt her spicy perfume and imagined her face in the dark silence of the room quietly disturbed by the clanking of the silver jewellery.
First she held my brothers right hand in between both of her own making almost a hand sandwich. She whispered about great things that would come to him, how he would travel, see sun baked lands, learn about great culture and for a brief moment I was overcome by jealousy. I wanted just that, I had been having recent dreams of an old ruined riverside town in Italy. Cobbled streets, live and dormant brothels, crumbling youth hostels and a wild relentless monster that meandered around it every hour of the day. Her hand first touched mine just as I came back from my daydream. I could hear my brother smiling as it lifted notes of every word he came back with saying ‘Thank you’ and ‘I hope to see you soon’.
Her skin was soft, wrinkly, warm but comforting. She told me to close my eyes and lie back, and as I did I felt my parents leave the room for a brief moment of time. It was just me and her, alone and scarily close in this dark room of our old house in that dead town on the other side of manchester. I felt her left hand caress my hair, and her hot steamy breath whisper into my ear “Think of a future memory of your car” and I will decode it for you. I delved deep into my imagination, and saw me happy behind the wheel of my golf. I was smiling… no, I was frowning. My head was hurting. The car was stationary. The hood of the car was lifted up and I could see a mixture of steam and smoke rising in front of me. There were screams in my ears, I couldn’t move… infact it felt like I was looking down upon myself. With every line and realisation of what I was seeing, I felt her suddenly become agitated. She then suddenly told me to stop, pushed her palms down on my eyes. I awoke from the vision, and heard her sobbing in my ear, her hands shaking above my eyes. She was sorry I had to see that, and that there was nothing she could do, and that she couldn’t help ‘us’ anymore.
At that very moment I realised I had just been hit with my biggest fear. A fortune teller telling me about an upcoming obstacle in my life. My death. My end. And as I tried to reason with myself saying, maybe its not true what she says, or I’ll just avoid driving my car, or anything that would make me feel better. It doesn’t. I just hurt, I wake myself up from this horrible dream which is now my reality and I’m lying in my new house, on the nice side of manchester in bed next to my brother. I tell myself its a dream. But I’m not sure who I believe. It could be a dream, but it could also be the truth. It could be a vision and it could be an overhanging nightmare which never lets me sleep again. I sleep and wake up again and remember nothing of the night before except the ability to tell this story when given a pen and a piece of paper.
This is what we call big indian weddings. Congratulations Yash and Rad! #instapic #indian #weddings #groomsonhorses #bhangrainthemorning #nevertooearly
Words on failure #nickmiller #inspiration #instaquote #howifeelerrday
I couldn’t decide on one so i bought both! #Nike #fkyknit #sorrynotsorry #toocomfortable #shoeporn #instapic