Mysterious Realizations!

  Author: Banu Mushtaq Translated by: Deepa Bhathi.                            Publisher: Penguin Random House India Genre: Short Stories      The Heart Lamp , originally written in Kannada by Banu Mushtaq and translated into English by Deepa Bhasthi, is a collection of twelve short stories spread across roughly 200 pages. Rooted in ordinary, everyday lives, the book explores love, marriage, faith, gender, silence, and suffering with an honesty that is both unsettling and deeply moving. Rather than offering escape or comfort, the collection demands emotional engagement and reflection. Some books entertain. Some books educate. And then there are rare books that do something far more dangerous, they reach inside the reader, light a flame, and refuse to let it die quietly. The Heart Lamp belongs firmly to this last catego...

  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 used to smell like a holiday. Now, it leaves most wondering, “Is it December already?” “December” used to paint pictures of Clear skies with sparkling stars, Fun fairs that lit up the entire city, Laughter echoing through circuses, The thrill of giant wheels, Mouthwatering ice cream, And that unforgettable Christmas candy. Now, on these chilling nights, What most want is a glass of brandy.   While the lucky ones are out there Planning to mark the year’s end, Corporate slaves frown at the calendar, It doesn’t even fall on a weekend. A rare blend of emotions stirs within, Caught in a quiet war between time zones, Suspended somewhere in between. Should the unfinished resolutions be mourned, Or should a fresh start be welcomed? Still, a whole month remains to salvage resolutions, And the hearts of hopeful souls Quietly wish for a Christmas miracle! This post is a part of Blogchatter Blog Hop     #BlogchatterBlogHop

  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 ...

 In the two years since moving to the village, Meena and her husband had settled well into their new life. Their village lay far away from the city, peaceful but isolated. They were now blessed with a baby girl and their little family finally felt complete. Those were the times when maternity leave lasted only three months. To care for her baby while she returned to work, Meena had arranged for a young woman named Rani from a nearby village. She paid Rani in advance and even gave her some food and clothes. Meena didn’t own a mobile phone, so there was no way for her to check on the baby while she was away. Barely fifteen minutes after Meena’s departure, the baby fell into a deep sleep. Rani, bored and restless, decided to take a walk in the fields. Soon, she too dozed off under a tree. A few minutes later, the baby woke up crying loudly. Just then, Baijo happened to be passing by. Through her hazy, drunken state, she noticed the closed door and heard the baby’s cries. Seeing no...

  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 spent the first half of the day crying and cribbing about my canceled vacation, recounting my woes to anyone who would listen. The second half, I sat sulking by the window, staring out at a life that felt unfairly on pause. Suddenly, my niece appeared beside me. "But Chachi, I don't understand," she said, tilting her head. "Why didn’t you just go to your mayka ?" I straightened up. "To teach your Chachu a lesson, of course," I replied quickly, trying to sound firm. "He needs to know how upset I am. I haven’t even left the house!" She didn’t move. She just looked at me and said, "But I still don’t understand how Chachu is suffering. You’re the one whose vacation got canceled, and you’re the one sulking all day instead of visiting your parents. And from his WhatsApp status, Chachu seems to be having the time of his life." I didn’t want to hear it. "You don’t understand, beta ," I said quickly. "I don’t want to fo...