Mysterious Realizations!

  Recently, I found myself caught in what feels like a never-ending search for a nanny. Almost everyone in my family has, at some point, said, “Dikri to amari bov j dhayi che, jate j rami ley che, khali koi akho divas ene joya karee evu joiye” “our daughter is sensible, she plays on her own; we just need someone to watch her through the day .” My daughter is two. Her world is measured in nap times, picture books, and carefully cut fruit. Her biggest worry is whether her stuffed toy is within reach. When we began looking for someone to stay with her full-time, it felt like a practical, even ordinary decision; something urban families do. That is how we landed in that living room. The family we were visiting had a “house help” who mentioned that she had a friend willing to come stay with us 24/7 for ₹5,000–6,000 a month. A “Too good to be true” deal. As we waited, the girl, about twelve or thirteen walked in with chai and biscuits. She moved with the quiet efficiency of ...

  Calling them a supporting cast feels almost unfair, because in 2025 , they didn’t stay in the background; they quietly shaped the rhythm of my days. This year didn’t arrive with fireworks or dramatic shifts. Instead, it unfolded slowly, gently, through moments of showing up, encouragement, and small kindnesses that carried more weight than they probably realized. 2025 wasn’t easy. It asked questions I didn’t have ready answers for. It nudged me to sit with uncertainty, to listen to myself more closely, and to keep going even when progress felt invisible. And somewhere in the middle of all that, these became my anchors. I want to share just one moment for each of them here. Not because these moments define their impact, but because they reflect how meaningful small gestures can be when you’re finding your footing again. Blogchatter  became a constant in my 2025. The weekly Bloghops gave structure to my thoughts when my mind felt scattered. Even on days when...

  It’s funny how, over the years, I’ve moved through a handful of bosses probably five or six by now and, if I’m being honest, I never really liked any of them. I mean, who does, right? But recently, the disdain I’ve held for them has slowly shifted to something more like pity. Maybe it’s just a natural shift that happens as you gain experience, or maybe it’s the result of certain events. Either way, it’s been on my mind lately. For as long as I can remember, the go-to office pastime has always been “bashing the boss.” You know, that whole ritual of gossiping about their quirks, criticizing their decisions, or poking fun at their management style. And in a way, it’s a bonding activity for colleagues a way to release stress and feel like we’re all in the same boat. But recently, an old Gujarati saying has been sticking with me: “ પીપળ પાન ખરતાં હસતી કુંપળીયાં , મુજ વીતી તુ જ વીતશે , ધીરી બાપુડીયાં …” (Translation: As the old leaves of the peepal tree fall, the younger ...

  Something I Once Gave Up But Keep Returning To I was fortunate to be surrounded by people with extraordinary talent. Almost everyone in my friend circle was deeply engaged in something — there were painters, dancers, football players, chess enthusiasts — all pursuing their interests alongside academics. Looking back, I realize how much the company I kept shaped who I am today. But at the time, I often felt intimidated. Everyone around me seemed to know exactly what they cared about, what they wanted to master. And there I was, wondering what my own thing was. While they were out there honing their skills, I was usually at home, reading for hours and delighting in discovering two new words a day — collecting words was my quiet obsession. Or I’d be on my computer, completely absorbed in Age of Empires . Even now, I still crave the thrill of that game; it never really left me. Over the years, I kept putting my books aside in search of a “real” calling. I joined music classe...

  I have never been very fond of teddy bears like the other girls in my class. I never even asked my parents to get me one. I think I got it on my birthday when I was in 11th grade. Even though I was not a fan of teddy bears, it was gifted to me by my only best friend at the time. I decided to name it “Fluffy.” I remember being an extremely sensitive girl in high school. My mother not tying my braid for school would break my heart. I was often clueless about most things in my life then, and my only support system was my best friend. I would confide in them about all my trivial and non-trivial matters. I kept the teddy bear on top of the cupboard, still wrapped in the plastic. It was the first thing I saw when I woke up and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep. Even though I never talked to it or anything, it was the only thing in the world that had seen my most vulnerable side—probably even more than my best friend. I remember taking it to my hostel room. There, too, it wa...