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Breaking with tradition

Diwali is a celebration of good over evil, darkness over light and knowledge over ignorance. In India, Diwali surrounds us with excitement, extravagant shopping, fire crackers, exchanging gifts, feasting on lavish meals, wearing new clothes, buying jewelry and lighting up homes and neighborhoods with oil lamps. Streets are transformed into a whole new world, bustling with life, glittering with dazzling light bulbs, the air oozing with cheer, laughter and the spirit of festivity. A long stretch of holidays at work and school makes it possible for everyone to meet and greet loved ones living far away and spend quality time with those near and dear. Celebrations begin early in the day and last for days after the festival is over, leaving precious memories to linger in our minds. After moving to the United States in 2015, my definition of Diwali changed drastically. Though I followed all the traditions as I had in my home country, the feeling was never the same. The five-day festival that
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New blessings

  Trees are beginning to feel a little lighter. Leaves are changing their costumes, putting their make-up on, getting dressed to leave their old lives, making place for the new to take shape.  I try to add a spring in my step, crunching the dried leaves resting on the sidewalk. Patches of orange and green leaves, specks of yellow on a few others, deep reds peeping from the fresh greens are a welcoming sight for me. I am amazed at the way in which fall walks in year after year, accompanied by a quiet grace, making for gentle celebrations. There is a common thought that crosses my mind at the same time every year. Have I changed? What parts of me have I let go, fall away like the dried leaves that I just stomped upon? Where are my branches leading me? How much longer can I hold on to the green leaves? Am I prettier when I change color? This year is astonishingly different. The virus has changed nearly everything. It has taken away so much from us, including loved ones, jobs and the
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The two of US

  The month of March is dedicated to my late grandmother. Just like March brings everything to life, she would add beauty and grace to everything around her. It is also her birthday month. Here’s a piece that brings back memories of my relationship with her. It’s the two of US There are times when I think she is me and I am her, Two peas in a pod, Two friends on a picnic, Two granddaughters playing board games, Two daughters on a stroll, Two mothers in prayer, Two artists soaked in inspiration, Two singers hitting the same notes in the song, Two minds with brilliant ideas, Two hearts overflowing with love, Two writers with unfinished novels, Two cooks with the same secrets in our recipes, Two creative souls with the same amazing genes, It’s true, I am HER and she is ME!
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