The Sweet Spot

I woke to the calm rhythm of the trees swaying to the summer breeze and took in one deep, refreshing breath, as the cool gentle breeze brushed past my face. As a matter of habit, and a part of a mindfulness exercise called pranayama, I took in a couple more deep breaths. This kind of breathing is normally a great start for my day. I ordinarily continue with a few more minutes of breathing, which leaves me feeling energized by the sequence of the deliberate exercises. I can focus my rested, ready mind towards the day’s events and intended tasks. But that morning my mind was restless with the thought of how a fellow human being had been deprived of the very breath that I was taking for granted as a part of my existence. The vision of the man imploring his captors, who held him in a chokehold, “I can’t breathe”! And right there, for millions to see, the very people who are meant to protect civilians, deprived him of the precious breath he needed to stay alive. I was engulfed in the

“Kya naam hai?” I could hear Mummy ask our cleaning lady’s little girl her name, in Hindi. I wasn’t surprised when the girl responded, as Mummy had this knack of carrying on a conversation in a universal language of love. Our cleaning lady was surprised. “Oh, your mom speaks Portuguese?” When I said no, she explained “Qual é o seu nome?” is how one asks in Portuguese, which sounded very similar in Hindi. Though that day the question was phonetically similar, on other occasions, despite a language barrier, Mummy never stopped herself from getting her point across. She always had a kind tone, and kind words, wrapped in love, that everyone understood! Of the umpteen values I learned from my second mother for the last almost-thirty years, the one I covet most is to be kind rather than right. Among a family of obsessive arguers, she was the calm one to cool down a heated argument. Though she was right many times, she never felt the need to say “I told you so”. She was never the one

I was running late for a conference call with my favorite canine. I had learned that not every dog is comfortable with FaceTime or video calls, but this particular one made eye contact, picked up visual cues and reacted to sounds of interest from the other side of a smartphone. Leia is a shiny black dachshund-chihuahua mix, and at less than 10 lbs, she carries a lot of weight whether present physically or virtually.  She was our house guest for the month of December, while our son was away traveling. True to her name (she is named after Princess Leia from Star Wars), she acted every bit a princess during her whole stay with us. And now an important part of calls to our son include a meaningful conversation with Her Highness!  Leia responding to a Wolf call A typical call with Leia starts with saying her name in a tone she recognizes and saying her special words like "Dawai" (medicine in Hindi). Yes, "dawai" is her favorite word due to her interest in the t

I was starting to become very impatient, with the never-ending grown-up conversation over tea and savory snacks. I was probably six or seven years old and had accompanied my grandmother to visit my Aunty’s parents. In the house full of senior citizens my attraction was the chessmen I had seen Anna (pronounced u-nna) , my Aunt's father, play with the last time we had briefly stopped by at their place. So this time when my grandmother asked me if I would like to join her, I jumped at the idea. The beautifully moulded coins - the king, horses, castles, soldiers - were so fascinating, that it did not matter I would not have any human playmates. Once there, I had looked around the room we were in, and sneaked to other rooms looking for the box of chess coins, but could not find them anywhere. Finally I mustered enough courage to ask, but did not know what they were called. Eventually the description of the tiny horses and castles led me to that day’s prized possession! I

A few days before Mother’s Day, a friend shared an enthralling picture and some videos of New Life. First there was a fascinating picture, from a nest cam, of the deep blue eggs, in a perfectly constructed Robin’s nest in my friend’s rhododendron bush. Then the chicks hatched and came the videos from her nest cam. The cam captured all without disturbing the chicks’ feeding rituals. How the chicks opened their beaks wide and how the parents fed them perfectly! Everyday we were clamoring for more on this new life, excited that it was happening right where we lived. The best was the day before Mother’s Day, when there were some snow flurries at night and the mother Robin created a shield with her wings to protect her little ones! In these uncertain times, in the middle of the lockdown, with news about devastation and destruction coming in from everywhere, I really needed this breath of fresh air. It was a reminder of new life. Of Mother Nature continuing to do its th

“Little Women” movie was out in theaters! It was a very special moment for me for multiple reasons. The novel “Little Women”, by Louisa May Alcott, on which the movie is based, was the first novel I ever read. I was in fifth grade then, and very impressionable, and had found the book, written almost a hundred years before my birth, to be quite progressive. It was inspiring to see that the girls in the book all had dreams and interests and talents that they followed passionately.  I recollected a lot of that novel despite having read the book so long ago. I was excited to see how they picturized it, and wasn’t disappointed. Another reason the movie was special was  because it was filmed in the area that we have lived for the past several years, in Concord, Massachusetts, where it was kind of based in the novel to begin with. While watching the movie as an adult, I reconnected with my reflections as a child, filling in the blanks of questions left unanswered or “aha!” mom

While walking my dog around the neighborhood, an unusual looking object caught my eye. It could have been an Easter egg considering it was around that time. Though the shape wasn’t exactly right for an egg. Curiosity got the better of me, and I knew the neighbor well, so I stepped closer into their yard to examine the intriguing object. It was a smooth flat rock covered with some fun art and an uplifting message. “Paint your worries with Happiness”. It instantly brought a smile to my face. I remembered a conversation on our community chat group about how a group of girls, let me call them the Rocking Fairies, were painting these rocks and leaving them in yards for people to find them. They call the rocks the kindness rocks. In a world full of gloom and doom and worry, what a beautiful way to make someone’s day! A small rock brought a big smile on my face, wiped my worries for a little while, and changed my mood. It relaxed the muscles on my face and brought warmth to my heart.

Every time I returned from visiting my family in Toronto, Canada or Indore, India, I was all pumped up about doing more for the environment. In both these places I am reminded of the importance of separating wet and dry, recyclable waste. Rotting of food or organic wet waste in landfills is the third largest source of methane emissions in the United States. Half of the landfill gas is methane. Methane is a potent greenhouse gas that causes way more harm to the environment than carbon dioxide. And there is a simple way each of us can contribute - by composting our food waste, so it doesn’t end up in landfills, generating tons of methane. I had experienced the Canadian system tens of years ago. Though Indore is a recent star. Only five-six years ago one could see heaps of trash at road sides all over the city. There was no trash collection system from homes, let alone recycling or composting plants. In the past few years there has been consistent, exponential growth in building

The crabapple trees in my yard are awake after being dormant all winter; now covered with bursting buds and fresh young green leaves, where only recently their bare branches were adorned by white powdery snow. I bought this pair of saplings in a sale, some ten years ago, after the associate at the store narrated how the berries on these kind of trees attract birds, among many more of its virtues. The trees haven’t disappointed, starting to flower in spring with pink buds, blossoming into fragrant white flowers. The flowers are a magnet for bees. The leaves fill up into a lush, darker green into summer, as the flowers peep through, slowly turning into clusters of pink mini apples. Towards the end of summer the berries turn red and become glossier and shinier through early fall. True to the associate’s story, it attracted all sorts of local birds. The first few years of having the fruit, I assumed the berries were ornamental, and at best food for the birds. With every passing year, t

With each of our visits to India, we bring a little piece of the culture back - favorite sweets and savory delights, an ethnic outfit or two, a saree in a classical weave, a stylish piece of jewelry , terracotta toys or bell metal figurines, tribal art and paintings, hard to find CDs or records. Indians living in the US, more traditional in some ways than Indians in India, holding on to the India from decades ago, can find almost anything Indian they need, right here in the US. There are enough businesses and stores catering to every Indian need. Moreover, these days all airlines have weight and size restrictions on luggage, so traveling light has become more of a requirement. But nostalgia sweeps in while walking your favorite streets, pulling you towards your favorite shop, towards that one thing you can’t resist. Before you know it that special thing ends up in your luggage back to the US.  A few years ago, wandering the markets in Lucknow, my daughter spotted the ideal Indi