A message to all my readers When I first began writing down my stories in this quiet space, it was nothing more than an open diary. A place to put memories that needed somewhere to rest, reflections gathered over a lifetime, and thoughts that felt too personal—or perhaps simply too ordinary—to share in conversation. Conventional wisdom often suggests that personal musings rarely accomplish much on the wider internet. There are no frameworks here, no quick advice, and no polished agendas. Just the raw textures of life as I have experienced it: the sudden turns, the quiet routines, the moments of doubt, and the steady work of beginning again. Recently, as a small corner quietly crossed 30,000 reads, I paused to look more closely at the numbers. What moved me was not just the milestone itself, but where those visits were coming from. While some readers join from home here in India, so many of you are reading from entirely different corners of the earth—from Singapore across the seas ...
As a student I had to commute in local buses as prevalent during those times. My wait for the arrival of the next bus forced me to notice an old lady curiously observing me. I pretended to ignore her but still found myself to be a subject of her curiosity. Undeterred she stared, unabashed I turned my back towards her, only to find her blatantly changing sides to face me again. Realizing my awkwardness in avoiding her she questioned me about my grandparents and excitedly mentioned my mother’s name to confirm my filial descent. She then introduced herself as an old neighbour of my grandparents who had seen my mother as a teenager and my resemblance to her. Thank God! I whispered as I took a seat and bade a farewell to my new acquaintance. Genetics and not Facebook turned out to be the most potent tool in uniting the long-lost, figures in my mind. As I was having my morning walk session, I could see groups of people performing yoga and yet another group indulged in a discourse on a...