Discovering Life
Sunday, January 04, 2026
Reading and related quotes
Sunday, December 14, 2025
Teatime restored
Jules sat down listlessly at the dining table. Sleep wouldn't come to her again. Every day at 5 a.m., she woke up with a jolt—ever since her father passed away.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he had died early in the morning.
It had been five months. The shock of his sudden cardiac arrest had worn off, but the grief—it had no end. No respite.
She had returned to the office, offering herself and the family a semblance of routine. But it did nothing to ease her aching heart. She needed him every day. She missed him deeply.
She thought about their tea times—a ritual that had remained unchanged, even after she got married. Today, as always, she had made tea and automatically set out a second cup—his cup—his favorite one.
Memories surged. Before she could hold on to them, they all converged into that one moment. The moment everything was lost. The helplessness.
It shattered her again.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, holding first her cup, then his. The old mug—a constancy since childhood.
“He loved you, you know,” a deep voice said.
She startled.
“Who... who spoke?”
“Why, it’s me of course, dear.”
The cup—his cup—had eyes. And a mouth.
“I’m hallucinating. You... you can’t be real!” she gasped, withdrawing her hands.
“That’s just how he reacted the first time too. And his father before him.”
“He knew about you? But... what? How?” Her voice trembled, words slipping away.
“Let me show you.”
And then, the cup shimmered—projecting memories across its glazed surface. Her father as a child. As a young man. Holding the same cup. Laughing. Thinking.
Her childhood—tea rituals with him. Quiet moments. Meaningful talks.
And finally—a special message:
“When the day comes that she finds out about you and I’m gone, do tell her how very proud I am of the woman she’s become. And how much I love her.”
Tears streamed down her face. But for the first time since he left, Jules felt something different.
Maybe she didn’t have to carry the grief alone.
Maybe—she could carry a part of him with her.
Maybe, just, maybe, she would be ok.
Sunday, April 06, 2025
Reading between spaces
Trying some writing experiments these days based on specific prompts. Will avoid the prompt here to add a bit mystery:
Sally looked at Mark with a surprising sense of longing. They’d only met today, yet it felt like she’d always known him. There was a sparkle in his eyes, a softness in his voice, and a way he instinctively understood her—like he could read the spaces between her words.
He was the son of the owner of Words and Us, her favorite bookshop. But their first meeting hadn’t been intentional—they’d practically crashed into each other reaching for the same book: Onyx Storm.
“You read this too?” she asked, laughing as they both held onto the worn spine.
He smiled, boyish and charming. “Love the series. Can’t believe the author left us hanging like that—and now a break?”
She groaned. “It’s torture.”
Mark chuckled. “Hey, would you maybe want to… discuss the agony further over coffee? Or, sorry—tea?”
Her eyes widened slightly. “How’d you know I prefer tea?”
He shrugged with a sheepish grin. “Just a lucky guess.”
“There’s a tea café near here—Lavender’s,” she said, almost hopefully.
“Lavender’s?” His eyes lit up. “I love that place.”
He loves tea and books, she thought. So unlike Solomon, who wouldn’t hear a word about any book, let alone read one.
“Let’s go?” he asked, gently slipping an arm around her waist. His touch was light, his eyes questioning.
She smiled shyly. “Sure.”
So chivalrous… so unlike Jeremy, who always just assumed I wanted whatever he did.
As they walked, her foot caught on a broken patch of pavement.
“Careful!” Mark exclaimed, catching her before she stumbled.
“Thanks,” she said, breathless. Such strong arms… and wow, manly, she thought, cheeks warming as he held the door open for her.
They took a cozy corner at Lavender’s, the aroma of steeped herbs and fresh pastries wrapping around them.
“They have lovely blueberry cupcakes here,” he said, handing her a menu. “Want to try one?”
“Sure. I really like blueberry flavor.”
As they settled in, Sally noticed something on the back of his hand. A symbol—intricate and otherworldly. Her breath hitched.
“What’s that… on your hand?” she whispered.
He turned his palm slightly, revealing it more clearly. The symbol was elaborate: an eternity loop, twin eyes nested within, each eye holding a tiny heart. Surrounding the whole design were ancient-looking runes, shimmering faintly.
Her eyes widened.
“Wait… Gared had the eyes. Jeremy had the heart. And Solomon… the runes.” Her voice trembled. “All in the same colors.”
She looked up at him, stunned. “Who… who are you?”
He held her gaze, calm and certain. “I’m all of them. But more importantly—I’m your fated mate.”
Before she could speak, he gently reached for her wrist. “Now that the pieces are in place…”
As she looked down, light shimmered across her skin. Slowly, the same intricate symbol began to appear on her wrist, glowing softly as if it had always been a part of her—just waiting.
She gasped. “It’s real…”
Thursday, February 27, 2025
Reading quotes
Sunday, February 09, 2025
Grief varies
Tuesday, December 10, 2024
My mother, my first best friend
It is with profound grief that I announce that on 23rd November, my mother, Mrs. Anuradha Kapoor passed on to her heavenly abode Here I am penning down some thoughts about her.
My mother was my first best friend. From secrets to gossip to clothes to tea, we shared it all. From coloring books and matching pairs to reading to late night studies, she was always there for me. She was the one who shopped for earrings and stole, who helped me develop a unique sense of style.
She was the glue that held the entire family together. She took care of us all, grandparents, my dad, myself and the entire family including Adhyayan, our son.
She struggled with a lot but she never complained. She created the most fabulous feasts when we were on foreign postings. From extended family to our foreign embassy family to neighbors everywhere, she charmed everyone with her smile, chats, delicious meals and comforting warmth.
She warmed my feet on chilly nights and heart when I was upset.
Cooking was many times her way of caring. Like the way catered to my food whims during childhood, making chicken soup for grandparents when they were unwell or changing the family diet entirely when my dad lost his kidney.
She was close to all our house-helps across the years and would know all their life details, would take care of them but them gifts, make teas and snacks for them.
She was a modern woman who also valued herself and taught me the same. She enjoyed a good life, good food: within her set standards of discipline!, shopping, going out and celebrating every occasion. She played Dholak on my Sangeet and on our wedding , she was all grins. She looked fabulous.
She used to watch Flintstones with me with gusto equal to my childish wonder and do word search with me when I would be ill. She would tell me Kathas and yet used to love reading Filmfare and Stardust magazines. She introduced me to my first M & B! And our son to his first nursery rhymes.
I never saw her cry till my dad passed away. She was a brave and strong woman. But she really missed him. It was heartbreaking to see her lose the sparkle in her eyes then. But she tried to hold it together. She remembered all occasions but Jo was the apple of her eye. The last thing she ever said to me was to take care of him. And in those last few days, she kept mentioning papaji. I hope and pray that they are reunited above.