An Instinctual Odyssey

Today is my man’s birthday. I’m pretty sure this love I have for him is not just from this life, I think he was my baby or someone I dearly loved even in my past lives. I remember the day he day he shouted at me for the very first time, I was crying at the school gate, we were already late and he said ‘Stop Crying’ a little louder and that’s it, I was heartbroken. I remember feeling devastated. I think I was mad at him for a day until he bought an ice-cream that made things right! He made me feel like a princess. Always. Even when our reality was far from a fairy tale, he made us feel like we’re part of one. So when my daughter asks me for stories, I don’t tell her fairy tales. I tell her about our family tales instead, the struggles, the happy times, our first house and all the houses we’ve moved, our holidays, our Saturday evenings, dad’s operations, his survival, my feelings, mom’s grit, Avaneesh & I fighting over the silliest of things, Nanamma & Tatayya, Osmania Prof...

I'm reading and loving this book - 'Nobody will tell you this but me'. The writer talks about her mother, her grand mother and about her great grand mother. Their characters, their lives, their troubles, their stories all integrating to make up the writer's story (in real life). While reading this book I really felt I should've recorded my mom's songs, her voice notes or recordings, should've taken pictures of her when she's her usual funny self, should've written down the most valuable advices she gave me even without asking, should've gone with her to those morning walks and most importantly should've written down those recipes which are now delicious memories! But ofcourse I rummaged through her stuff after she was gone and put together what I call a 'Memory Box' of all her things. The comb, powder, hair bands she last used, her diary with no entries about her day or thoughts but expenses and some phones numbers, the lyrics of the ...