Six Word Spins

Wow.  I haven’t done six word spins in a long time. Like in over a couple of years, methinks. SO fun to forget about these for a while, and then suddenly remember. You know what I mean.

So, here they are – most recent happenings in my corner:

  • Kala channa for dinner, super yum!
  • Instant pot fills me with joy
  • And warm, delicious food as well
  • Fast food genocide – mind-blowing read
  • Grocery store aisles filled with crap
  • Processed junk everywhere – God help us!!
  • Wish Whole Foods wasn’t so pricey
  • Or I wasn’t so super thrifty 😉
  • Qarib qarib single – really cute flick
  • Check it out, you’ll like it
  • Two super busy bees here today
  • Is March the month of homework?
  • Snow days – school closed, everyone home
  • Cat-like idle, and cozy too
  • Please, can we have couple more? 🙂


Little A and I walked upstairs last night for her bedtime routine.  As I reached the stairway landing, I saw little N standing on the top step ready to come down.  I paused at the landing so she could go first.  Little N saw me standing there and said, “should I jump down to you, Mommy?”

It took me a minute to realize what she was referring to.  When little N and little A were (really) little, they would stand at the top of the stairs, and I would stand on that landing (four steps below).  The girls would leap from the top step into my waiting arms (oh, what a giant leap it seemed back then!), squeal with delight, and clamber back up the stairs to repeat (and repeat again).  Such a little activity (and ahem, not particularly safe), but I recall that we enjoyed it so much back then. We would sometimes finish up with me carrying both munchkins downstairs, one on each arm.

Were the girls ever that little?

Felt so happy yesterday to suddenly remember those fun little moments from our past.

Felt happier that little N remembered them first.

The Beginning of the End

Kannil vazhigindra kanneer kaadhal solgindradhu…

I have told you before that I started writing this blog in January 2012 to get out of the fog that I was in after Appa’s passing. I actually started writing a few months before that. I poured my heart out in an essay “The Beginning of the End” and sent it to my friend L to read. Perhaps N and Amma also read it at that time, but I don’t remember that I shared it with any others. I remember that L only responded with “hugs” but that was enough.  More than enough. To dissect all the raw feelings that I had poured out there was impossible.

This morning, for some reason, instead of getting on with my work, I looked in my “Sent” emails to see if my essay was still there from when I sent it to L years ago. I have actually searched for this before and have not found it. But today I did.

So, here’s a brief excerpt from that essay, which was so painful but so essential for me to write at that time. I am sharing the most mundane part that I could find from that essay. Because the rest, after all these years, is still too raw, too sacred to share (yes, even with you).

So what makes me share this today, you ask? I don’t know, actually. Maybe it’s because Appa passed away in March seven years ago, and sometimes, it still seems like yesterday. Maybe, after all these years, I still want to tell you the full story at some point.


December 7, 2010. I had gone to the airlines house that afternoon to get some of Appa’s paperwork signed when I got a call from Amma saying that the doctor had authorized Appa’s discharge from the hospital. It wasn’t clear to me that Appa’s breathing had stabilized enough for him to be discharged. So I called the doctor to ask for his opinion. The doctor advised that he would be monitoring Appa frequently and that he “needs to be released into the community” at some point.

Driving back home from the hospital was a nightmare. Pondy Bazaar was unbelievably crowded and with the exhaust fumes from the cars, Appa’s breathing had already turned shallow. It was incredibly painful to watch Appa struggle to breathe. Somehow, we reached home an hour later. N and the kids, D chittappa and B chitti had all come to celebrate Appa’s return from the hospital. It was my doing, of course, optimistically inviting everyone over and assuming that getting out of the hospital was reason enough to celebrate. The food that I had ordered for everyone arrived but neither Appa nor I could eat a bite. I called the doctor to inform him about Appa’s difficulty with breathing and the doctor advised me to bring him right back if I wanted to.

Easy for him to say but it was not my choice at that point. Appa, who was relieved to be back home after a brief but scary stint at the hospital, was not one for going back anytime soon. And Chittappa, who was not aware of how serious Appa’s condition was, and shared Appa’s distaste for doctors, advised him to just chant “Om” and listen to a repetitive chanting of the Dhanvantri (“Doctor God”) shlokam. After pleading with Appa several times that night to return to the hospital and not having the stomach for the Dhanvantri shlokam, I fell into a troubled sleep after midnight.

Amma woke me up around 6 am to tell me that Appa had agreed to go back to the hospital to have his breathing checked again. We ate breakfast – later, when I would have time to think, I would be deeply ashamed that we stopped to eat breakfast instead of rushing Appa to the hospital. But at that point, my brain was numbed by three days of no sleep and an overload of unprocessable information. I did not fully comprehend the urgency of the situation, even after living it for three days.

We reached the hospital and checked Appa into the ER. Amma and I spent the rest of the morning sitting around in the reception area, checking on Appa, crying off and on, and comforting each other in turn. They gave Appa oxygen in the ER but a part of me was terrified that he would be put on a ventilator that day and that would be the end. That didn’t happen though, luckily. Appa was given oxygen for several hours at the end of which he was checked into the hospital for further observation and treatment.

Wandering around Chennai on my own was surreal. I, who had led a very sheltered existence there and therefore reverted back to that existence each time I visited, was suddenly negotiating the system alone. I was humbled by the kindness of strangers. An auto driver, trying to make small talk, asked me if I was a doctor at the hospital. When I indicated that my dad was a patient there, he offered to keep me in his prayers with a simplicity and  genuineness that touched me. When I was at my MIL’s place, a woman called and directly started talking to “Mataji”. Mildly annoyed, I told her that I wasn’t “Mataji”. The woman asked me if I was the daughter in law, and when I said yes, she asked how Appa was doing, and told me that they had been doing group prayers daily for Appa’s recovery. I was dumbstruck.

That visit to India – watching Appa’s health deteriorate, going through difficult times like never before, having to make tough decisions, and experiencing the kindness of total strangers – made me lose a large part of the arrogance that undoubtedly defined me to that point.

Driver’s Ed

Road mele car, car mele yaar?

Little N is taking driver’s ed in school. After all, she is 15 and will be driving in less than a year (super yikes, but no need to go there just yet).  In anticipation of obtaining some version of a driver’s permit in a few months, little N has been hard at work learning the rules of the road. Unfortunately, driver’s ed doesn’t come as easily to the munchkin as, say, pre-calc or chemistry, so she has been working extra hard at it.

Didn’t realize how hard, until today.

I was driving her to the library when a pedestrian suddenly crossed the road (while the traffic light was a clear green for me). Not just crossing, but confidently striding across incoming traffic and texting non-stop on top it. “Yov s. graaki, vootla sollitu vandhuttiya”, I wanted to shout. But controlled myself. After all, had impressionable young teenager in the car with me. I turned to look at little N. She was looking at me googly-eyed with disbelief.

“Mommy, did you know that it’s a punishable offence? If he is caught by the cops and he is under 17, he would be fined $22; if he is over 17, he would be fined $54; and if you hit him, that would be 8 points on your driver’s license, which would likely be super expensive”, she exclaimed.

Who do you think was all googly-eyed now? 😉

My Favorite Things

Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” ~ The Sound of Music (well, duh!)

On a recent podcast, Gretchen Rubin (actually, her 12-year old daughter, who was a guest on her podcast that day) had a suggestion to have a running list – a journal – of your favorite things. I liked the idea – some thing easy (always important), some thing to look back on and keep track of (oh, how I love to keep track of stuff), some thing that let’s you see how your list of favorite things changes over time – super cool!

So. I started a new page on my blog to keep track of my favorite things. Check it out at

I am finding it so much fun to update this list as things keep popping into my head.

What are some of your favorite things? 🙂

More Social Media


After announcing here in March of 2017 that I was going to do more with Instagram, I did absolutely nothing (but you knew that already, didn’t you?).

But little N made some fantabulous green tea almond croissants last week, and little A painted a stunning silhouette of a girl and a dog today (subtle hint to parents to go puppy shopping soon) that I absolutely had to share.

I was headed over here to have a braggy moment when I suddenly remembered Instagram. After spending 15 minutes trying to find the Instagram app on my phone, and then another 15 minutes trying to figure out how to tag someone (duh, you just type it right there in the caption with the hashtag), gave up and asked the chikis to help me. Surely, this is how the paatis feel when they plunge into Facebook for the first time! Quite tricky (hearted and un-hearted my own pictures several times) and felt super tentative typing in captions – like I was typing in Spanish or Chinese. Hmmm… really got to do better with figuring this thing out.

Anyway, at least pictures are up now. My poor Instagram account had been decaying with pictures of a blender full of fruit and my blackboard wisdom for almost a year (ada che!).

For all the trouble I went through, I am going to post the pictures again here. At least this time, I know what I am doing! 🙂