Blog Posts

The winter that changed my life

  In the quiet of winter night, you could see the snowflakes dancing in the yellow of dimmed street lights. The largest outdoor book market of Kyiv, Petrivka, was bustling. Frozen and lost amidst crowded stalls, I was looking for Christmas presents with a friend. If someone told me back then, it was the winter that will change my life, I would laugh it off. Yet, indeed, it was. I was leafing through the Oxford English dictionary meant for my

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Marianna Sharma: a digital ambassador for happy and peaceful life in India

 Adjustable beautiful individual from Ukraine, who came to India for spiritual experience and found love for life. Staying and working in Pune with her Indian husband, finding balance between eastern and western culture she perfectly fits in as non-Indian Indian wife role. Meet Marianna Sharma, a woman who is a digital ambassador for happy and peaceful life in India, having more than 6 years of Indian life experience and still counting. Hi! I’m Marianna. A designer, unshakable optimist, enthusiastic cook

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Beyond words

 “What about Apple?” – she would drop me a line on Facebook. A few minutes later and few messages more, our plan is ready. I’ll take the car early afternoon, pick up Ameeta from home and drive to one road in Aundh with all our favourite places – Apple, Starbucks and Crossword. An hour in the beauty parlour, followed by a good cup of coffee, – is our way to take a break and unwind. If time is in hand,

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 Trying to finally wake up, still in the bed, I inhaled jolting flavour of black coffee without sugar. It took few minutes to persuade myself to make a call. I dialled the number when confidence in my voice increased. Mother-in-law picked up the phone in a while. “Happy Anniversary!” – I exclaimed. “Thank you! To you too.” – she uttered cheerfully in Hindi, and abruptly hung up the phone amidst my “Will see you tonight!”. I quickly dressed up, packed

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Support system

 First thing in the morning Jaya rushes to get dry laundry from our terrace, later arranging it in the bedroom. When she’s doing jharu-pocha, I sort and pack clothes for ironing in a special bedcover. Mr. Sharma goes through his mails, lazily sipping coffee on the sofa, I retire to the bathroom and get ready for office, letting home work happen side-by-side. We leave that bundle with disheveled garments in the car boot. Rafik, our driver, would give it to

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From Ukraine to India: Mrs. Sharma

 Hi! I’m Marianna. A designer, unshakable optimist, enthusiastic cook & non-Indian Indian wife. A born-and-raised Kyiv girl with keen interest in spirituality, miraculously turned Pune dweller years back. 1. Why did you move abroad? I never thought I could live without picturesque hills, snowy Christmases and jazzy summer nights of Kyiv. But love won over my childhood attachments. And that was love at the first sight. I was eager to visit India and meet my guru. After two years of

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For the Love of Raj Kapoor

 On sunny December morning Mr. Sharma and I went to Mumbai for lunch with my friend’s mom from Kyiv. Heading to Russian Centre of Science and Culture, I enjoyed Sea Link drive and busyness of Peddar road. Mrs. Svetlana appeared at the gate in elegant ankle length dress, hiding behind the bags of Roshen sweets. Her icy blue eyes were sparkling with girlish excitement carefully disguised by delicate demeanour. Hugging and chit-chatting we headed to The Trident. Besides great dining

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Indian Christmas

 There was no snowy wonderland and “Jingle Bells” this year. My Christmas came on a cool breezy morning with bright sunshine of Indian winter. I could feel it among the palm trees while walking in the garden, and in sounds of traffic wafting from afar. It’s our first Christmas at home together. The living room is lit with garlands, fir-tree is shining with gold and silver balls; bhindi is chopped, rajma is soaked, roasted masala is ground and stored in

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Culture differences

 “Something I can help you with?” – Mr. Sharma peeped into the kitchen when i was rolling chapati. “You can make green tea, – i replied, – just boil water in the kettle and pour it over tea leaves.” Imagine my surprise, when I caught sight of glass teapot on gas stove, passing by few minutes later. “No, no, no, no, no! – I muttered lost for words, – no need to boil water on the stove like for Indian

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 Avocado-green melamine plate and spoon are left in the sink for Jaya to wash. It’s 9 am, half an hour as office started, and she’s not around yet. Dressed up, I sink into sofa, sipping green tea from ‘I love you Paris’ mug. Ten minutes later our melodious bell rings. I let Jaya in, going through my Facebook timeline. From our Marathi-Hinglish chit-chat I get the latest news about her husband, children and neighbours on the third floor. Once bustling daily

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