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?

Continue reading “Let’s talk about Mental Health..”

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?”

Thakuma

I waited for months, trying to find the right time to write this. It is a Sunday afternoon. I am sitting in an open cafe in Griffith called ‘Trails’. Trees everywhere. Benches with people talking to each other. Kids playing in the sun. A steady commotion of voices, footsteps, laughter. Yet, this isn’t noise. There is a sort of calm with this breeze. My books are on the table and my iced coffee glistens in the sun. And then, there is Albert.

70 year old Albert. Sitting in Trails all by himself. A smile on his face. Holding on to his cup of coffee. White hair, a pair of glasses and a light sweater. Observing people, like I am. I sit in front of him and he smiles. I ask if it is okay to share the table. And he immediately nods. Continue reading “Thakuma”

Why Don’t You?

I know it’s Mother’s Day. And no, this post isn’t about Ma. Because my every other post is. Let’s just talk about something else? So, I started volunteering at The Trevor Project few weeks back. If Marvel super heroes had real life versions, I would bet my money on the fact that more than half of them (if not all) work here. These are not super humans, but regular folks who just have hearts so big, it kind of does seem like a super power. So, Trevor Project is a teenage LGBTQ support group, with a focus on crisis intervention and suicide prevention. In this world of dirty orange politics and increasing bias, their presence is that silver lining over a dark cloud. Hope on a miserable day. And you know what they say about hope. 🙂

Remember, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies. – Shawshank Redemption

Continue reading “Why Don’t You?”

Ranjish hi sahi..

I love ghazals. Not because they used to resonate during heart break, and I have had my fair share. But ghazals have been my company during travel, while reading books, while running (yes!), while cooking and just about everything else I like to do. I had cried when Jagjit Singh had passed away. Yes, I am that person. I can spend evenings listening to ghazals. Lyrics so beautiful, most of my favorites run in a loop.  Continue reading “Ranjish hi sahi..”

The long flight from home

I ask for my macchiato. The  barista signals that it is a small espresso cup. I nod in agreement. It is 7.30 am and Berkeley Espresso is running full. I pick my coffee and ask for honey. Pat comes a ‘honey’ joke. It is more common than you’d think. This time the guy goes ‘I always have honey, honey’. Depending on how well versed you are with double entendres, I leave this to you for interpretation. As far as I am concerned, I like them. So I top it off with another joke, put honey in my coffee and take my seat by the window. Continue reading “The long flight from home”

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