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 ...
"You always say you don’t see many movies, but still, you seem to have seen every one of them," commented my husband. ‘Yes, I used to see all the movies in my younger years that came on television, and besides this, we have always been blessed to stay in houses that had cinema halls just within walking distance. Living in a joint family with uncles and aunts was another privilege.
The good old days are gone. Never mind, we now have theaters in every house. Fifty-five-inch screens and Netflix, backed by home theater systems, suffice for the theaters. Soon I too disappeared into my phone, tablet, and the next smart thing, all too tempting to disengage.
Google's recommendation to watch ten movies before Netflix decided to remove them drew my attention to a classic. It was also recommended once by my sister; by name, it was a woman-oriented movie, and not one but two women, and lastly, it appeared in the comedy section. I was all eyes and ears to ‘Julie and Julia.'
After two and a half hours of movie-length that I finished in three days, I could imagine how Julie must have felt as an employee, an entrepreneur, a cook, a wife, and an author. It was all too hilarious: the lobster trying to peep out, Julie down on the kitchen floor expressing herself, her excitement at the museum, and her gift to Julia’s poster celebrating her success.
Julie Powell, the writer who chronicled her way through the recipes in Julia Child's 'Mastering the Art of French Cooking' to a popular blog and later a biopic, passed away at age 49 on 26 October 2022.
R.I.P. Julie Powell
To all the Julies of today, I say, "May you find a Julia." After all, we stand tall on the shoulders of our previous generation, looking beyond and seeing clearly.
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