Homecoming

It is 9 degrees C in Patna right now. I have forgotten what wintery mornings feel like here. Can’t blame my memory. It has been 20 years since I left home. Twenty years since Baba and I dropped Ma to school, on our way to the train station. And Ma couldn’t turn around to say bye, because it was all too hard. Kids leaving the nest can never be easy, no matter how big a brat the said child has been. Ever since, my presence in Patna has been guest-like. Luxuriating in the presence of top notch food and zero chores for those measly 10 days a year.

Continue reading “Homecoming”

Covid Diaries (contd.)

It is a clear, crisp day in LA. Summer is (almost) out of the door. Yes, you will say it is always summer in LA. But, it isn’t. If it is not 70 degrees, it is not summer. I have become a hipster nomad, which is an actual term coined by Airbnb folks for people who live in Airbnbs. Essentially, I have become the opposite of parent talk for ‘you need to settle down‘. Predictably, I love it. In spite of the fact that this year is batshit crazy and every time you think it can’t get worse, it does.

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Covid Diaries

No one teaches you how to live through a watershed year. It comes without notice, flips the life that was and you are sitting in the middle of it and wondering what the hell just happened. 2020 – A year that started like any other year. With fireworks and new year resolutions. I remember sitting with loved ones in Goa, staring at a lit up sky at midnight and thinking this year is going to be hard. Not because I knew about Covid, but just because of all the things that were lined up on the personal front. Part nervous and part excited about the year, I was packing up to go back to San Francisco after a month long break at home. Little did I know that coming home will become an improbable ask very soon.

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Maasi!

Dear Kubo,

You call me Maasi now! 🙂 You also know that ‘Su’ refers to me. Though, instead of ‘Su’, you call me ‘Shoe’. And that’s perfectly okay. My heart predictably explodes every time you call my name.

You are all of 19 months now. Your vocabulary has expanded. Thankfully, no terrible words yet. We all are trying to be as cautious as possible with our language around you. That’s quite an achievement for my expletive-ridden vocab. Self pat on my back. Continue reading “Maasi!”

Let’s talk about Mental Health..

Few weeks back, Ma sent a photo of the two of us and wished me ‘Happy Daughters’ Day’. I grinned and immediately responded with a cheeky ‘Every day is daughters’ day Ma’. And we moved on from there. It is a daily struggle for me to remember such days. Birthdays, anniversaries, mothers’ day, fathers’ day. The struggle is real. And this world has seen to it that there is no dearth of such days and the drill that follows on social media (which I fall prey to, many a times as well). Few days back I started seeing posts on National Mental Health day and that has stuck around in my head. It is comforting to finally see people talk about it. Yet, do we really talk about it?

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The Goodbye Post?

I have finally found the perfect coffee shop. Wait, I keep saying perfect is a trap. But, right in this moment, this is as close as it gets. This place is a couple of miles from my apartment, with free street parking et al. I could have biked here. The walls are all glass. The sun comes in pretty generously. The coffee; top notch. Additional bonus is a chocolate cake made of olive oil. Where was this place all these years! I am (in)famous for (over)scrutinising neighbourhoods for good coffee and food. Yet, I missed this place for four years. Continue reading “The Goodbye Post?”

New Zealand

I can never decide whether I love or hate Sundays. The thought of Monday is rarely pleasant, yet I always find calm in Sunday mornings. Often spent with a book and coffee in a nearby cafe. Today was spent, sitting in the warmth of a summer that is fading away quickly. Finished this book called ‘The Outsider’ by Albert Camus. Beautiful read. A man who doesn’t lie. A man who didn’t cry at his mother’s funeral. And a society which doesn’t understand people who exist beyond the boundaries of norms defined by them. Maybe this deserves a separate post. Continue reading “New Zealand”

Fourteen Months

Dear Kubo,

Last I wrote to you was when this year began. And the year is almost wrapping up now.  Time, as usual, flew by. Yet, it made its presence felt on good and bad days. You are fourteen months old now. It is a Saturday morning and the adults in your life are doing their usual things. I am sitting in a coffee shop, sipping on lukewarm coffee and reading a book. I am pretty sure that your parents and Nani are running around you, trying to feed you something healthy. And you kid, you must be throwing a tantrum, refusing food and insisting on standing on the dustbin and looking at trucks go by. Continue reading “Fourteen Months”

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