The NYC Love Affair

The NYC Love Affair So, this happened! 

 If someone ever ask me, even during my last breath, which place I admired the most, I’d say without hesitation Manhattan!. 

 For those unfamiliar, New York is a state, and New York City, often called NYC, is just one of its city. NYC is made up of five boroughs—Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, and Staten Island. To me, they’re like tiny islands strung together, floating proudly in the ocean. It’s like a “pichu potta porotta” (a delicate layered flatbread) hanging out in the water. Reaching these magical places means traveling through underground tunnels or tubes that run beneath the Manhattan River. 

 But let me focus on the heart of it all—Manhattan. Oh, Manhattan! This is the city that stole my heart. It’s the city that never sleeps, and I never missed a single chance to wander its bustling streets whenever I could. Manhattan is home to iconic landmarks, the Twin Towers Memorial, Empire State Building, Madame Tussauds, and my absolute favorite, Times Square. 

 Times Square! It’s a place that stays with you long after you’ve left it. For me, it’s not just a tourist attraction; it’s an electrifying experience that feels like the very heartbeat of New York City.

 My first visit was unforgettable. Standing in the heart of the “Crossroads of the World,” I was utterly captivated by the energy swirling around me. The first thing that hit me were the neon lights, billboards, towering screens, and endless advertisements lighting up the night sky. It was like the stars of the universe had been caught and placed right there, just for us.

 Being surrounded by so much light and color was magical, it made me feel like a tiny but vital part of something far greater. 

 The diversity and connection in Times Square are what I love most. Accents from all corners of the world fill the air as tourists pose for photos and line up for Broadway shows. Street performers bring their unique flair, musicians strum soulful tunes, dancers spin to pulsating beats, and living statues freeze in impossible poses for tips. It’s a melting pot of stories, with each person adding their own chapter to the vibrant Times Square saga. 

 One of my fondest memories? Grabbing a masala dosa from a food cart and sitting on the iconic red steps. From that perch, I could see life swirling below, a mix of hurried New Yorkers, curious tourists, and even a few who seemed lost in their own worlds, moving to the city’s relentless rhythm. 

 Times Square has a unique way of making time stand still, even though it’s a place of perpetual motion. The lights flash, music plays, and sometimes a spontaneous dance performance erupts, it feels like every moment matters, like the city is whispering to you to stop and soak it all in. For me, Times Square isn’t just a destination; it’s a celebration of life’s vibrancy. It’s where dreams, big and small, coexist in a whirlwind of light, sound, and emotion. Every visit felt like stepping into a world of endless possibilities. And that’s why I love it. One day, I’ll be back, standing amidst the glow, and I’ll remember this story—the story of how Times Square captured my heart.❤️

The Day I Jumped Out of a Plane

The Day I Jumped Out of a Plane

 Have you ever jumped out of a plane? Well, I did. Yeah, I really did. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this recurring dream: floating in the air like a feather, weightless and free. It was the kind of dream that made you wake up smiling, wishing you could hold on to that feeling forever. So one day, when my friends suggested we try skydiving, I thought, Why not turn the dream into reality?

 We booked a tandem dive because, I wasn’t brave enough to try a solo free fall. Tandem meant someone experienced would be strapped to me, handling all the complicated stuff, while I just held on for dear life. Even so, the idea of hurtling toward the earth at breakneck speed gave me butterflies from the moment we made the decision. 

The Morning of the Dive 

 The company instructed us to arrive early for a half-day session. The morning was a blur of training how to position your body, what to do in an emergency, and a lot of pep talks from the instructors. My heart was racing, my hands clammy. After the session, the team started dressing me in the gear, harness, helmet, goggles. Each buckle and strap felt like it was sealing my fate. Then, the moment arrived. A small plane rolled onto the runway and stopped in front of us. My stomach dropped. Before boarding, they recorded a short video. I must have looked terrified, but I forced a shaky smile and waved at the camera. “I’m doing this,” I kept telling myself.

The Ascent 

 The plane took off, climbing higher and higher into the sky. My nerves were in overdrive. The earth below shrank, turning into a patchwork quilt of greens and browns. My thoughts ran wild: Should I back out? Should I go through with this?At 9,000 feet above sea level, my instructor leaned in and yelled over the roar of the engine, “It’s time!” 

 The Jump Time seemed to slow as I shuffled toward the open door of the plane. The wind was deafening, whipping against my face. My instructor gave me a final nudge, and I let myself fall. For a split second, the fear evaporated, replaced by pure, unadulterated awe. I was weightless, suspended in the sky. The clouds enveloped me, soft and white like cotton candy. I remembered the dream, the dream of floating like a feather and for a moment, I was living it.

The Parachute 

After a few exhilarating seconds of free fall, the parachute deployed with a sharp tug, pulling us upright. The world came into view, and my breath caught in my throat. Below me, the earth stretched endlessly, its beauty indescribable. Rivers sparkled like silver ribbons, forests spread out like green carpets, and tiny roads snaked through fields and towns. Hanging there in the sky, I felt like I was seeing the world for the very first time. 

 The Landing As we descended, the instructor guided the parachute, and I realized something profound: I wasn’t afraid anymore. The fear of life, the fear of death, it was gone. We landed smoothly, my legs wobbling as they touched the ground. My friends ran to greet me, cheering, but I barely heard them. My mind was still up there, in the sky, reliving every moment. That day, I didn’t just conquer my fear; I found a piece of myself I didn’t know existed. Skydiving wasn’t just an adventure, it was freedom, beauty, and life all rolled into one breathtaking moment. And I’ll never forget it.

Here are some pics. 🪂

The 14-Hour Trek That Turned Into a Nightmare

 So this happened....

On a warm summer day in Virginia, with the Shenandoah Mountains basking in 14 hours of sunlight, my friends and I set out for an ambitious trek. Our plan was simple: start at the eastern base of the mountain, climb to the summit, and descend back in daylight. We were confident, despite the known dangers of wild bears and other wildlife. Daylight offered some assurance, encounters with animals were rare during the day.

Several groups of trekkers were on the trail, some ahead of us, some lagging behind. The camaraderie of fellow adventurers added to the excitement. After an exhausting eight-hour climb, we reached the summit around 2 PM, our spirits high and the views breathtaking.

But while others wisely opted for a shorter route down, we, for reasons only God knows, decided to retrace our steps back through the eastern trail.

The Three Fatal Missteps

1. Exhaustion: Climbing up for eight hours had drained us, yet we chose the longer descent.
2. The Sun’s Betrayal: As the sun shifted westward, the eastern side of the mountain plunged into shadow.
3. Isolation: With most trekkers taking the shorter route, we were alone, and any encounter with wildlife would leave us helpless.

As we began our four-hour descent, we laughed and chatted, trying to distract ourselves from the growing darkness. I took the lead, with my two friends following close behind. The trail was eerily quiet, and the dense forest around us seemed to close in with every step.

The Encounter

An hour into our descent, it happened.

Suddenly, I heard my friend behind me scream: "Lie down! Lie down now!"

Confused, I froze and turned. Two massive bears stood just a few feet away, their dark eyes fixed on me. My heart sank.

I dropped to the ground, trembling but doing my best to stay calm. "Hold your neck tight with both hands," my friend hissed. I held it as still as I could, knowing full well that I might not make it out of that forest alive.

The bears edged closer. Their growls rumbled like thunder in the silence.

Then, out of nowhere, my other friend fumbled with his phone. He turned the volume up and played a song as loud as the tiny speaker would allow. The sudden noise startled the bears. They paused, sniffed the air, and, miraculously, ran off into the forest.

The Escape

We waited, hearts pounding, for half an hour to ensure the bears were gone. When we were certain they wouldn’t return, we didn’t walk—we ran. Adrenaline fueled our legs as we sprinted toward the base of the mountain, the eerie silence of the forest amplifying every rustle and crack of a twig.

Finally, we reached the starting point, gasping for breath, covered in sweat and fear. We were alive, but the thought of what could have happened haunted us.

That day, the Shenandoah Mountains tested our strength, courage, and foolishness. And though we came back with our lives, the memory of those two bears will remain with me forever, a chilling reminder of nature's unpredictable power.

That's not me in the picture! But that is the summit we reached...😉

The win

 So this happened! 

It had always been a dream of mine—not to compete with anyone else, but to be a better runner than I was yesterday. That’s all I ever wanted.

In 2019, when the announcement for the MWC Marathon was made, I decided this was it—my chance to prove to myself how far I’d come. My goal wasn’t just to finish but to clock a better time than the previous year. So, I sketched out a plan, a serious one, with a mix of cardio, weightlifting, and relentless training sessions.

The marathon day arrived. All I could think about was completing that daunting 21k. The venue was my home ground—my training ground. I knew every twist, turn, and incline, where to push harder and where to ease up. That familiarity was my silent advantage.

As the marathon began, I paced myself steadily. But somewhere along the course, I started feeling drained. My energy was dwindling, my legs felt like lead, and my lungs were burning. Yet, amidst the exhaustion, I heard voices—cheers from volunteers shouting, “Come on, Priyanka! You’re leading! Keep going!” The crowd clapped, their energy feeding my determination.

I told myself, Don’t stop. Don’t walk. Be slow if you must, but don’t stop running.

As I neared the final stretch, I saw a familiar face—my son(4yr old then). He ran toward me, his arms open wide, and hugged me tightly. For a moment, my exhaustion melted away. I signaled to my better half to take him and meet me at the finish line. That final kilometer was the hardest. With every ounce of breath and sweat pouring from me, I pushed forward, refusing to let my legs give up.

And then, I crossed the finish line. I’d done it.

While catching my breath and savoring the moment with a few pictures, something unexpected happened. My name boomed over the speakers, “Priyanka!” with a winning announcement, I was being called to the stage.

I remember running toward the stage, adrenaline kicking in once more as the crowd erupted in cheers. My heart swelled with pride as I raised my hands high, thanking everyone for their support.

For a brief, glorious moment, I was the local celebrity. And oh, how sweet that moment was.

That's me 😁