A moment yesterday, where I was looking straight through the front door, light filtering in, soft conversation of family in the background, loud glaring of a work laptop screen in the foreground, the exhaustion of many days of gruelling mental work, the gentle lethargy from exercise and a small meal after, the occasional blinking of notifications on the mobile phone, just sound and light and feeling, life as sensorial, life as all heart.


Sometimes, I am amazed by the human capacity to love. That despite hardships and being subject to terrible behaviour, a human soul still has the capacity to keep giving, keep sharing, keep hoping. There is something truly awe-inspiring about people who know how to love, who do the act of loving so well, so whole-heartedly, so effortlessly. To be at the receiving end of such a love, be it familial or romantic, is a humbling life-changing experience.


The other day, I took the bus and I was carrying many bags. I managed to find an aisle seat but it was awkward for me to sit comfortably. The bus took a sharp turn and I had to brace my right foot against the side step so that I would not slide off my seat. It was a bit of a struggle. The man beside me, after watching me for a few seconds, tapped me on my shoulder (I was wearing my large, noise-cancelling headphones so that I wouldn’t hear my own kerfuffling), and said he was moving to another seat so that I could move in to the window seat and it would be more comfortable for me. An unexpected act of kindness. I held that feeling of pleasant surprise and gratitude with me for the rest of the day. It was a good day.


While I write this now, the taste of cold coffee continues to linger in my mouth. Right outside, in our little garden, two birds are frolicking and singing to each other. My cat is asleep by my feet. The house is cool and quiet, restful for a Monday. It is a moment filed away in my memory, titled “Content”.

I spent so much of this year living, and doing, and feeling. Now that I have some to sit, breathe, and process, the enormity of this year strikes me like a sledgehammer. A lot has happened. Lessons have been learnt. There have been many endings. There have also been some wonderful and beautiful beginnings.

A list below, to remind myself of what this year has taught me, of what to take with me into the new year, and of what to leave behind for the better.

  1. I am not just what I do. I am not just what I create. I am not just what I make others feel.  I am not just a body or a mind. I am not just who I know. I am not just anything. I am (fortunately, or unfortunately) a sum of all these awkward bits and pieces. I am the dark and the light. I am reminded time and again, that I am a balance, and that I want to achieve balance. And this is not a goal for the coming year or the next. It is the goal of my existence. There is a tattoo on my left wrist that has the root word of karma (“karm”) inscribed in a symmetrical lotus. To always maintain balance in life like a lotus, which flowers even in the most muddiest of waters. A reminder, a reminder.
  2. My fear is a convenient security blanket. All security blankets must be outgrown with time. They can be looked back with fondness, sometimes even nostalgia. But they cease to serve a purpose over time; they become ragged and obsolete. Discard the fears that you (I) hold onto so closely because you’ve (I’ve) become comfortable with them. If life is to be lived, one has to evolve. One has to thrust aside one’s security blanket and face the outside world. This too, is part of the process.
  3. Love is easy and hard. Love is giving and taking. Love is being unapologetic and apologetic. Love is tiring and life-giving. Love for another usually is borne from some version of the love we have for ourselves. Sometimes we need to learn how to love ourselves better to love others better. Sometimes we love others and in loving them, we learn to love ourselves better.
  4. People can take many things from you but never your dignity and grace. There were several incidents this year which I am grateful for, in retrospect, for dealing with more grace than I thought was possible. This is a reminder to me that I have grown, cos the A from years ago would have behaved very differently. Gratitude and grace. Grace and gratitude.
  5. What is life without learning? Nothing.
  6. Nature always heals. Nothing is quite like being in the mountains. Be a tree. Be a mountain. Watch the relentless love a sea has for the seashore. See the magnitude of life that this universe contains and be aware that you are a tiny (but irreplaceable) part of this existence. Also be aware that in any man-made institution, you are replaceable. The world can and does spin on its axis without you. But that does not mean your existence is without a purpose. Jewish astrology speaks of the striking of the yod in a person’s life. When the yod is triggered, there is no holding back your seeking, achieving, creating. Create the yod for yourself. You are your yod.
  7. Sleep well and drink a lot of water and eat healthily and exercise. This is literally all you need to do like clockwork.
  8. Don’t be rude.
  9. Take time to be silent if you think your words are not going to be useful to you, to someone else, to a relationship, to a task. The right words will arrive when they must.
  10. Be kind.

*Likely to be applicable for the next 10, 20, 50 years*


  1. Health is your greatest wealth. Health is your greatest wealth. Health is your greatest wealth. (Repeat this to yourself 29 times, and then another 10 times for good measure).
  2. There is nothing quite as liberating as the first full breath of fresh air that you will draw deep into your lungs after days of struggling with swollen sinuses. Don’t let your sinuses swell like that again. Oxygen is life. Literally.
  3. When you wake up every morning, have a glass of water. It helps you deal with hunger pangs, and mood pangs, and is mildly meditative. It will set the tone for you for the rest of your day, because you’ve already started your day doing something good for your body.
  4. After day 3 of no-exercising, and the alarm goes, and you think you’re too tired and you can get to your workout tomorrow, because tomorrow will come anyway, NO. Get your butt out of that bed, into your workout gear, and out of that door. You will not regret it. Even if it’s a half-hearted attempt, you will not regret it.
  5. Greed and gluttony will do you no good. When your body tells you that it has had enough food, listen to it. You will regret that extra whatever-it-is-that-you-took 15 minutes after you’ve consumed it. Save yourself while you can.
  6. Don’t stop reading. Read everything, and read widely. Even when you’re writing, try to read. Find new things to read. Deviate from what you usually read. You will only be better off for it.
  7. Write a few words every day. Even when you think you have nothing to say, open up the Notes tab on your iPhone and write about what you see around you. Exercise your writing muscles every single day no matter how difficult it is to write something because one day, it will stop being so hard, and it will get easier.
  8. Write to someone you love at least once a month – pen to paper, hand to heart, at your desk with music for your company. You don’t even have to send the letter if you don’t want to, but write to someone you love. Often, the words you share with your loved ones are the words you would also need to hear for yourself.
  9. Never underestimate the power of a good haircut, good colour, and a good outfit. Even when you feel like you’ve been run over by a truck, at least wear one item that gives you some form of pleasure. You will feel that much better about dealing with the world. (P.S: Don’t postpone getting a haircut for too long – it messes with your mind)
  10. You really don’t need to deal with unnecessary, toxic drama. You don’t even need to process it – not yours, not anybody else’s. Delete.
  11. Water the plants and feed the animals every single day. You need them more than they need you.
  12. Get some sunlight often. There is something about being alive in sunlight that no amount of books/tv/art can give you.
  13. Speaking of TV, learn to savour the process of watching and learning about TV. There is a lot to explore, and not everything is worth bulldozing through. Slowly. Savour. The. Process.
  14. Celebrate your victories and analyse your failures equally. You have won in some ways, and lost in others. Both deserve equal attention, and play an equal part in moulding you.
  15. Write lists whenever you feel tired/confused/overwhelmed/etc because they help you to make sense (and even if they don’t make sense, they give you a false sense of assurance that you are doing something to organise chaos and sometimes, that is all you need).
  16. It is okay to cry. Just don’t spend all your time crying cos there’s a lot to do, a lot to see, and a life to live.

In the bus: a little Indian girl and her father are sitting across from each other. The child is tired, her little feet dangling in the air, red velcro sandals swinging gently as she slips into slumber.

Her father watches her as she nods off a little more violently, her little body lurching with sleep.

He tries to wake her up. Her eyes open blurrily for a second, she nods without processing what her father says and falls back asleep again.

This time her father scoops her up into his arms, holding her close as she curls into him and continues sleeping.

I have no doubt that one day, this little girl will grow up to see a similar scene in a bus and smile, remembering her father. Just like how this grown up girl, who’s witnessing this scene, smiles.

And she will furiously type into her phone to capture this memory, before life shifts it into a corner of her brain where she will forget.

It is this safety that we seek in love. The safety of letting our guard down, and trusting that the person/people we love, will hold onto us when we are barely able to hold onto ourselves.

Sometimes love really is as simple as that.

It is another Sunday afternoon. My father and I have just returned from the gym. I can barely feel my legs as I lower myself onto the floor, by the sofa where my mother is seated. She is perusing the newspapers for the day- her morning ritual, reading out parts of articles that amuse her.

It is the 8th of May 2016.

This time last year, my mother was fighting for her life in the CCU Unit in a derelict hospital in Varanasi. I was away at that time, traveling through the less explored parts of China. I only knew about her condition when I landed in Singapore several days later. I still remember receiving the call from my father, telling me to make the necessary arrangements to come down as soon as possible because he didn’t know if my mother was going to make it.

I was 24 years old, and my mother was dying in a hospital very far away from me.

There are some moments in your existence where life makes sure that you are aware of your priorities very, very quickly. It is like a shock to your system – a violent, tumultuous shift of tectonic plates somewhere deep inside your soul that forces you to remember exactly what is important in life, exactly what matters most.

My life has been filled with those moments, and most of them have to do with my mother. To cut a long story short, I made it to India in time, my mother eventually made it out alive, and here we are today, her methodically reading her papers, and me sitting on the floor after a hectic morning workout.

My mother mispronounces a word and I quickly correct her, my voice laced with irritation. This is not an unusual occurence.

I wrote several days ago that I am very unforgiving of home. What I really meant to say was, I am very unforgiving of my mother. I expect perfection from her, in her deeds and in her thoughts, because to me, my mother is the pinnacle. She’s it. If she falters, then what more can one expect from mere mortals, random strangers, friends?

(A deeper fear is, if she falters, then what more can I expect from myself, her daughter, who is so far removed from all that she is?)

I don’t know how to rationalise these expectations. So instead, I unleash my derision on her. Picking on her for little things. Getting angry when there is no reason to be. Etc. Etc.

You would think that as someone who has nearly lost her mother several times in her life, I would have more perspective (what happened last year is just the tip of the iceberg that is my mother’s fantastical, almost miraculous life). But, I forget. It is easy to take for granted someone who gives unconditionally. It is easy to take for granted someone who is so good at what she does, and who she is – be it keeping the house clean, managing the finances, having excellent aesthetic sense, giving advice, etc – that it is easy to forget that she too is human, with her mood swings, her good and bad days, her insecurities, her infinite human complexes.

It is easy to let the little things cloud the bigger picture.

This period since I’ve been back home has been an exciting, sometimes turbulent, mostly joyful experience of getting to know my mother as the woman she is. It has been a journey of rediscovery, and a renewal of a relationship that has seen its fair share of wear and tear. It has been a journey of detaching enough to understand that my mother is her own woman, as much as I am my own woman. Our personalities are very similar, and yet, so different. Acknowledging the similarities and taking pride in that has been my journey. Acknowledging the differences and accepting that her daughter is her own person, has been her journey.

On most days, we meet in the middle, and laugh at each other. On other days, we yell at each other, our quick tempers rising to the fore and abating, with one of us eventually conceding and raising the peace flag.

And so life goes on, my mother and I walking our paths together, yet separate.

And today, there is only gratitude, that we have both arrived at this together, and that we will both continue together.

What more can any daughter ask for?

Happy Mother’s Day, dearie. For everything that you are, and for everything you’ve taught me to be.