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Ummeed Waali Dhoop…

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Today was Aarav’s Open Day in school. As always, it was a delight to see the young kids sing, dance, and display amazing yoga poses. Aarav was part of the ensemble where the entire class sang and danced with hand gestures. I stood to the side to capture a video and predictably teared up. A few parents gave me puzzled looks. I knew they were wondering what’s so emotional about the open day. How could I ever explain to anyone that every time I watch Aarav perform or complete a task in front of an audience, all I can think of is what a long, long way we have come. It is impossible to put into words the gratitude that overwhelms me when I see him, and contrast it with the baby I held in my arms, not knowing if I would still be able to hold him the next day. It has been a battle of mammoth proportions, and an ongoing one, but every such performance shows me that if we have reached here, we will get further too. The kids had all put up stalls displaying their models and speaking about them...
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Life

One of the routes I take frequently crosses a cremation ground. Most of the time, I zip past, but sometimes when the traffic slows, I find myself looking around. People rush past the place without giving it a second glance, then stop to bow at the temple right next door. And that is where I feel the dichotomy of our lives lies. We forget that for each of us, at some given point, the cremation ground is our final destination. Everything else is interim. I see people coming out of the ground, heads bowed, carrying the sorrow of having seen the final rites of a loved one. For those few moments they are aware of how fleeting life is. But within a few moments, the irritability returns on their faces, arguments break out over parking and traffic, and the cremation ground stands forgotten.   A few days ago, a close friend told me that her father had been diagnosed with a malignant tumour. There were no warning signs, nothing to prepare them; just a regular check-up that tilted the wor...
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Versions of Me

Today, I visited another version of myself. A younger version, one that smiled without care and laughed uninhibitedly. A version that I had almost forgotten existed. You see, in the last six years I have become someone I never thought I would need to be. It all started quite innocuously. Surfing through Netflix and Prime. Coming across an old movie, “Karma”. Watching bits and pieces of it and discussing favourite scenes with Sameer. Him, being him, insisting on showing me how several old movies’ iconic scenes were copied. And from there, going into the archives of my photo gallery. Ayana as a baby. How, even then, she was all over the place; jumping, climbing, running. Sameer and me, with black hair and chiseled jawlines, learning how to be parents. And then, Aarav. His first smile, his first steps, his first words. We, beaming as proud parents of two blessed kids. Life, as we always hoped and imagined, was perfect. But, as time moved, inevitably as it must, our faces and fates ...
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I Choose to Be...

I have had several people ask me recently why I have stopped writing my blog posts. While I make the usual excuses of lack of time, the truth is, I am no longer sure what to say. My blogging journey started six years ago, sitting by Aarav’s hospital bed. Even then, I believed that everything that began must have an end, and my blogs, too, would end with the grand finale of Aarav’s recovery. Six years later, I know better. While we have come a long, long way from where we started, the road ahead seems equally stretched out and indistinct. When Aarav’s physiotherapist tells me that there are some things beyond the scope of medicine, I find myself wondering- what if we have used up our share of miracles in bringing him to this point? What if this is it? The what-ifs are plenty, far more than the answers. And then, I tell myself that there is so much to be thankful for. I just need to choose what to be. Aarav is a delight. Bringing him up is a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything. H...
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The Topography of Grief

One of the fallouts of growing up is having to accept that life shall inevitably throw us curveballs that go beyond the unexpected. It is having to face the reality that we shall someday have to live without those we love, simply because that’s the law of nature. I have often felt that the most overused phrase is “Time heals all wounds” or “It shall get better with time.” I disagree. Grief doesn’t diminish with time. We just learn to fill our days with distractions and compartmentalize thoughts that hurt us the most, hoping that if we bury them deep enough under the million things on our to-do list, they will quietly lie there. And they do. For several days, these feelings and thoughts lie low, lulling us into a false sense of security. They allow us to believe we are getting to the point where thinking about someone we have lost or remembering a time that no longer exists shall not reduce us to a blubbering mess. Until one day, they throw off the layers they are buried under and remin...
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Sukoon

If there is a word I  want 2025 to be all about, it would be  “Sukoon .” Taken in its simplest form, it means peace, but the word comes with so many connotations. The beauty of it is that it means different things to different people. To some, it means peace from conflict; to others,  it could mean peace within themselves. The word conjures up a group of people with whom I can be myself. An eclectic mix of family and friends like family; sukoon is being with them. It doesn’t matter if we meet often or rarely, the important thing is that when we meet, there is a sense of tranquility that envelops us. Silences are not strained and conversations flow with ease. Sometimes, we even find ourselves completing each other’s sentences! Over the past few years, life has become a roller coaster; not just of activities but also of emotions. I found myself swinging from highs to lows, often within the span of a few hours. One minute I was all smiles and the next a storm of te...
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The Theory of Karma

As a child, I remember believing that our actions are directly proportionate to the kind of life we get to lead. Sunday mornings were dedicated to episodes of the Ramayana and the Mahabharata , both of which espoused that the better a person one was, the richer the fruit of karma in our share. I remember asking Mom once, "What exactly is karma?" She tried her best to explain to my 7-year-old self that karma was the sum of our actions, and it more or less determined the course of our future. As I grew up, I firmly believed that if I were a good person, I would lead a good life. As I crossed from my teens into my 20s and then into my 30s, several gaps appeared in this formula. From whatever I could recall, I hadn’t harmed anyone. Then why were there inexplicable obstacles and sorrows in my path? That is when I came across the theory of karma and reincarnation. It appeared that in our present lives, we not only had to give due for our present deeds but also for deeds which...
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