RAYS OF SUNSHINE.

“For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice.” ― T.S. Eliot @Mahabalipuram with my father. The bandages are from the fight-or-flight incident mentioned below. Never bunker dive or run away screaming from wild monkeys into gardens walled by stone.  This year has been a trying one, but I am so grateful for how much I've grown emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. I questioned and hardened my core beliefs and values, which were tried beyond their limits. This year marked many firsts and surprises for me. I quit school--stepping away from an institution most revere-- to examine what brought me there in the first place. I found that many situations were of the "right place, wrong time" variety or even  the "wrong place, wrong time", with only time illuminating the difference. My favorite meal in Hyderabad. Paneer Tikka Masala Dosa, South Indian filter coffee, and mango ice cream.  ...

AMRITA SAIGAL  On my fifth birthday, we had only been in the United States for barely 2 and half months. Our big party for me was an undertaking, inviting all the Indian families in the apartment complex and friends of my father’s from work. There were only a few kids, and they were all a few years older than me, and palling around with my brother while I struggled to blow out my reigniting candles for the wishes, not for the act of wishing, not realizing my deepest desires were just about to come true. After my party, my parents packed me and my brother up in the car. We headed to the “nice” suburban part of town, where the apartment complexes turned into two-story colonials, and every tree hummed with the energy of summer birdsongs. We turned into the parking lot of one Ranjani Saigal, a classical Indian dance (Bharatanatyam) teacher recommended by one of the family’s new Amreekan friends. And though it started out as dance, the four within their Saigal clan have taught...