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Nothing But Bhangra

Once upon a time there was a blossoming young brown girl who loved to dance. By no means was this girl a dancing queen. She was barely able to coordinate her lanky arms and legs to a decent rhythm. But dancing melted away the awkward adolescent years. Dancing was a way to connect to her roots. It was a way for her to make friends. The young girl loved this hobby, it fulfilled her like the music filling her ears. All through out childhood she had memories of going round and round in a circle of women clapping and twirling and singing along in exuberance. She couldn't remember the exact moment she first stepped into the dance circle, it could have been during a family wedding or at her home when the aunties turned the boom box on after dinner. What a glorious moment it must have been! The moment a young girl learned to become one with her body and culture.



Memories of dance practice in a school ground, giggling with a group of nervous girls getting ready to perform; getting yelled …

Fire-breathing Dragon

After detaching myself from social media and taking the first tiny baby steps towards understanding myself, I have come to a few rudimentary AHA! realizations. Right now I am focusing on a part of my authentic self that comes alive as a fire-breathing dragon. When this part of my personality is awake and in charge, every living being is afraid to approach me because I have smoke coming out of my nostrils and I WILL torch anyone to smithereens. I don't just blast people with my blazing fire, I then eat them and make it known that I will not go down without a full fledged fight. This version of myself is the hardest to control and I become an untamable beast. Lets call dragon Gags what she is - a scary bitch!

My journey in the realm of adulting means taming my inner bitchy beast. If I am honest, I doubt I will ever be able to fully tame her, but I can watch out for her and train her to at least not burn people to crisp. I make my beast sound badass but the truth is, it's a beas…

When it Rains it Pours

When it rains it pours
Pours like tears streaming down your cheeks
Unable to turn the faucet off
Tears for all reasons.
Someone says it's going to be okay
Are you able to hear that affirmation?
Or is it just lost in the fog after the rain
The fog that takes over your brain
The haze blankets clarity.
The feelings are as varied as individual vapors of fog
Loneliness is magnified, it's dark and quiet.
Fear comes alive and spreads like a fire
This fire demolishes everything
Ashes like 9/11
Ground Zero is what you are staring at.
Is it possible to rebuild and be even stronger, you don't know
The uncertainty is a slow suffocation
Like the fumes that disable you
The flames are in the distance, the fire is a force you cannot control.
A voice tells you to let the pain in
Let others rescue you from the inferno
Can you find me in the fog and ashes?
Here is my plea for love and support.
Or maybe this is meant to be a lonely path.
If you believe in God and miracles and faith
You ar…

I Can Do All Things

I can do all things, no not through Christ, but through my own enduring soul. There are days, weeks even months where it might feel like no I can't do all things, I can't even do one small thing, but still I persist. The greatest threat to success is my own doubt and lethargy; since doubt and lethargy exist only in my head, I have the power to disrupt them. I might stare at a pair of jeans that fit my ass perfectly last fall and now won't zip up and hear the little voice in my brain viciously attacking. I might open up an incomplete document at work and the critical thoughts might scatter across my forehead like commuters in traffic. For an outwardly chill and confident person, I might not seem like I deal with the burden of negative self-talk. Imagine being at the gym at the squat rack, trying to push back up after you put on way too much weight. It feels like your body is physically incapable, it feels panicky and mostly it feels like someone is watching and laughing at …

Davis Dayzzzz

Let's talk about life as it was 10 years back. What kind of Gagan was the world dealing with a decade ago? Tall, lanky, freshly faced with independence and adulthood. Its Fall time and a nervous energy starts taking over. What is college going to be like? Will I make friends? Is homesickness going to consume me? On day one of moving into the dorms, another tall lanky Punjabi girl comes up to me and out of nowhere knows exactly who I am, where I'm coming from and feels we have too much in common to not be friends - fast forward 10 years and she marries her college sweetheart, all of us day one dorm girls celebrating with her.

Living on an all girls floor of the dorms - rushing to class, skipping class to sleep, making lifelong friends - all of it is a blur of laughs, stress, and occasional drama. We get in food fights, covering the walls of our dorm in chocolate syrup and ketchup. We drive to Denny's at 3am, two people stuffed into the trunk, ordering cheese fries until ou…

Musings Break

Do you ever have so much energy and excitement for something that it 100% consumes you, only to see it slowly fizzle out? Picture a shaken up bottle of soda, or a tea kettle on a hot stove, or a firecracker bursting, loud and full of light before disappearing into the night.

That is basically me when it comes to most things I am passionate about, including reading and writing, even this very blog. I find so much joy in writing but the minute it starts feeling like a task on a to-do list, my excitement takes a turn towards anxiety and I never fully recover. If I tell myself, 'You have to post every Monday, because, like "Monday Musings" is so catchy..' then every Monday morning I wake up feeling like I have my work cut out for me. Don't get me wrong, almost all of my posts were written in one session, on a Monday morning, about whatever happened to be on my mind at the moment. Even if writing sometimes felt like a task, I was still satisfied enough with my mornin…

Warrior Spirit

I have a vague memory of a man on an airplane who left a lasting impression in the span of two hours. I was on my way to the European vacation of a lifetime that started off with a short flight to Denver before the cross-Atlantic leg. I usually prefer sitting next to family or friends that I am travelling with but on this particular flight I was sitting next to a stranger. The first thing I noticed about the stranger was that he immediately took out a small, worn out journal once we sat down. He began writing in the journal which was sitting on his lap horizontally; he was jotting things down in random order, not meant to follow a lined paper route. His pen was full of midnight colored ink that made every word jump off the page in 3D. Every so often he stopped and stared at the page as if pondering the meaning of his own words.

His writing hand was full of rings that were spectacularly one of a kind. Each ring had its own personality and immeasurable value I imagined. One held a gian…