Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed~ Mary Oliver
It was a morning of August. I was standing near the signal after my regular walk, waiting for the traffic light to change its color. She was there, wearing her smile under a blue mask, spreading warmth through her eyes, ” Ninth month?” I nodded, “Yes.” “Must be hard in a pandemic.” I nodded again. Continue reading “On a new life and an old year”→
I didn’t grow up with having too many choices. I re-read books because the choices were limited. I ate the same breakfast on all five weekdays and drank the same kind of milk that local milkman delivered to our house. My childhood was years away from the last decade.
Driving around Northern California in summer is like speeding up time. One afternoon lush green hills give your sweaty eyes comfort and shade. The next afternoon, you see them turning yellow, warning you of the fleeting horizons of seasons. Continue reading “A cup full of sunlight”→
I grew up in India. That means I know a country that kills its girls before they are born. A country where parents of a girl child have to work hard to save money for dowry. A country where wings of women are chopped and dreams are shoved. A country where love happens only on the screen of Bollywood films because marriages are arranged and girls from rural areas and cities still cannot choose love or life partners. Women’s day should have felt special because in a country like that womanhood definitely deserved a day of celebration to cheer up. India is also the country that had a female prime minister, a female president, a lot of warrior queens and princesses, goddesses who killed the evils and saved the goodness. India is also the country where a lot of women fought for independence from the British Government with guns and peace talks until seventy years ago. There are glories to shade the darkness. Continue reading “My thoughts about Women’s Day”→
As I am writing here, rain has returned to the bay. Hills over my shoulder are sleeping, tucked in fog and cloud. This time every year my mind becomes overactive, and creatively wanders on muddy paths, jumps in puddles, rescues fallen leaves, wipes off raindrops on the blurry windows of nostalgia, whispers to the rose bushes, hugs a sad tree, and opens up the refrigerator door multiple times to get some food for thoughts.Continue reading “Petrichor, once more”→
After a long wait, when June was getting over, I made it a farewell party. I packed my kitchen, books, and beloveds to a little chalet by an alpine lake. I sat outside, ignoring the afternoon sun that burnt my skin. I let it burn. They grow again. Skin. Hair. Joy. In night, I read in the dark room, under gigantic pine trees; I looked up often and there were always a handful of stars peeking from the open ceiling, omnipresent like best buds from memory. I cooked good meal, hiked down to collect pine cones, and some memories for the camera.
One morning in May, I went to climb a hill to take photographs of a seasonal view and I had a really bad fall. Next two weeks I spent taking each step carefully, measuring pain and pain medications, ignoring purple marks on the knees. I didn’t fall even once in last a few years. I do not want to fall again. Continue reading “Five Things That Made Me Happy In May”→