Saving Stories With Purva Grover

So, what happens now? Nothing. We pick up from where we left last night. We hope today would be better than yesterday. We make ourselves believe in the good, in the bad. We, once again, try to look at the silver lining. We tell ourselves, this too shall pass. We lose hope, but then we gather ourselves.

Yes, it takes a lot to be an Indian. Pollution wali deep breath lena, apne state ki elections ko defend karna. Woh saffron, white and green, pehena. Skirt pehne na, aur phir bhi night shift kaam karne ki courage rakhna. Spicy food kahna, Amitabh Bachchan and Rajnikanth ko worship karna. Shah Rukh Se Sacha wala pyaar karna aur Katrina Ki shaadi sunkar dukhi ho jana...

But then can death ever come at the right time? What is the correct time to go? To call it quits, to bid goodbye. 

Friendships are unique, especially the ones that can't be defined by name, age or the pandemic.

A few friendships can’t be defined by age, geography or proximity. Can you guess which author’s word I quoted right at the end of this tale?

Match-making in 2022; the regressive, traditional way of getting married. Over chai, samosa, and chutney, let’s talk of the unsaid. (Dobara on request)

Years go by, and do we ever tell mum how honoured we are to have the chance to love her, know her and be nurtured in her arms?

There’s a word for every emotion, occasion, and situation. What then is the word for 2020? We know not.

There’s a word for every emotion, occasion, and situation. What then is the word for 2020? We know not.