“Can you show me a picture of thatha?” Laddu asks, thrusting an old album at me. “Sure!” I say as I flip open the book. In my head, I am thinking Giri thatha, my Appa who never knew his granddaughters. I know though that she is talking about Rajamani thatha, the only one she has […]
Read moreIn Rainbows And Colors, She Rests
It arrives in the form of a grave email, the somber tone, the weight of the words taking time to sink. It steeps in me, slowly. I feel it in my eyes, in my throat, in the pit of my stomach. I call out to my children who are working on Math. I share with […]
Read moreTriggers
My eyes are crusty when I wake. In the dim light of dawn, I scrub my face and realize I have been crying. The kind of heaving, sobbing, heavy crying, deep in the throes of sleep. I went to bed thinking of my father in law who is recovering from an infection. Somewhere in my […]
Read moreOf Sobfests And Deep Learnings
I walk down, groggy from a nap that did nothing to wash away the bone-deep exhaustion I am feeling. I hear the giggles quiet down, the TV is turned off and a hush descends on the home. I wince trying to ignore the effect I have on my children. We array ourselves around the kitchen […]
Read moreGrief And Regrets
I sit up wide awake from what must have been a light sleep. The clock reads 4:00 AM. I pick my phone as is habit. The first status on my newsfeed is a cryptic message mourning the loss of someone who was once dear to me. A childhood friend, a friend from my teenage, a […]
Read moreTen Years Of Grief
I pause at the doorway, my eyes lingering on the monthly planner. The kids have been crossing out days religiously since the beginning of the month to Thanksgiving. My eyes however, have been on a different date. The funk has been closing in on me like an ominous bubble. Sometimes they are visceral, sometimes they […]
Read moreWhen Love Is Not Enough
“She reminds me so much of my daughter when she was this age!” “She is so much like you.” “Perfect mix of you and Saathi.” The comments make me smile. I touch my daughters cheeks and mine as if the contours tell a story that only my fingers understand. She looks at me, eyes bright […]
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