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.
I spent holidays reflecting on my 2018. I am not a person who makes resolutions in December, draws attention to forty eight likes by declaring it on facebook, and forgets all of them by February. I kind of figured out how my life functions every year and the most important goal focuses on only one thing – keeping the old me alive in a world that kills human souls every second. Continue reading “Onward- not another new year resolution”→
My two year old has been fascinated by “Santa” this year; she describes him as the old man who wears a belt on his big red outfit, and says, “Ho Ho Ho.” So when she spotted an old man in a red tee shirt and a white cotton bordered red hat in the weekend Farmers’ Market, she merrily pointed out, “Santa Santa Santa.” Continue reading “On stories, on ends, on perceiving”→
My mom taught me forgiveness: smile more, smile heals hurting hearts. Push yourself more to forget. Then some more. Don’t think the unthinkables. Include everyone, even the ones who exclude your part. Give them what they want. Say yes often.Continue reading “A strange place”→
“Loss is nothing else but change, and change is nature’s delight.” — Marcus Aurelius
In modern era, too many hushed expectations are set for you if you are a person of my gender. You have to be exceptionally good at everything you do. You have to look beautiful from morning to night year after years. You have to make a home. You have to be perfectly congenial, at least as your virtual reality. You have to be the best mother that social media ever produced. You have to create a perfect human. You have to make magic in the kitchen. You have to hold a smile until your lips hurt. And if there is time, you have to shatter some glass ceilings, while looking like a diva. You have to chase your dreams after doing the dishes in night. You have to make your life worth living. You have to leave a legacy. Continue reading “Transformation”→
My mother holds my childhood very dearly in a couple of photobooks . She keeps them safe and doesn’t let me take any photo away from her even for a day. She used to be our family photographer until I grew old. I learned from her how to romanticize the past every now and then.Continue reading “The Unphotographer”→
Good people are blessings, but they are so aloof. It’s what I sense in everyday life, at elevator door, in the hallway, and crowded train, at traffic signal, on lonely gratutude lists, face to face conversations, or in the presence of preachers and wordy liars.Continue reading “Forgive my disappearance”→
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.