Milwaukee Masala

College bunking — or as we liked to call it, “strategic absences” — might not be a staple of American college vocabulary, but if you haven’t skipped a few classes with friends, you’re missing a rite of passage. (Of course, this rule applies to everyone except my kids…and my friends’ kids. Naturally.) Whether it was a daring escape from canteen mystery meals in search of crispy masala dosas, a cup of kadak adrak chai that made us feel like rebels (pre-Starbucks, thank you very much), or a desperate attempt to catch the latest Bollywood heartthrob on the big screen, we had our priorities straight. First rule of the college hitchhiker’s club? Thumbs out. Hitch a ride. Safety in numbers — a giggling gaggle of friends is far less likely to be abducted, right? And honestly, if anyone stupid enough tried, they’d probably end up paying our families to take us back. Second rule? Plan your routes carefully. There’s no quicker way to end a bunking spree than bumping into your parents — or ...

  Ladies — when you’re of a certain age, home alone, and (most importantly) sporting a frozen shoulder, what must you absolutely not do? Well, no housework or chores, obviously — that doesn’t even need to be said. But here’s the one you won’t think of until it’s too late: do not try on rompers or jumpsuits — especially if they’re not the stretchy kind. Believe me, you do not want to find yourself half-in, half-out of a one-piece prison, contemplating whether to call your neighborhood friends (if you’re lucky enough to have friends you’d even consider calling) to come bail you out. Sure, it would make for great entertainment — and bringing laughter into your friends’ lives is a noble cause. But maybe, just maybe, there are less… compromising ways to achieve that. This serene Ghibli-style heroine is clearly just a dramatic re-enactment. AI flat-out refused to capture the actual scene, which involved curse words, contortions, and a level of shoulder mobility that would make Cir...

The Midwest thunderstorm — a fast lane to Bengal. At this point in my life, I’ve lived longer in the U.S. than I ever did in India. Yet, there’s a special tie — maybe an umbilical one — that binds us to the places where we’re born. Don’t you think? No matter how far we travel, something about where we begin quietly tugs at us in unexpected moments. My favorite color has always been that vibrant yellow-green of a freshly unfurled banana leaf — a quiet nod to Kolkata. And the green of Bengal, especially after monsoon rains? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. You’d think the Midwest, with its tender blades of grass poking through after winter, might come close. It’s magical, yes — but it’s not the same. And dirt. Who knew I’d get nostalgic over dirt? The first thunderstorm of spring in the Midwest hits, the rain soaks in, and that earthy smell rises up — like the ground just exhaled. It takes me right back to my birthplace. Not the city exactly, but the outskirts — ...

  So, what’s this all about, you ask? Well, I thought it would be fun to keep a sort of journal filled with anecdotes uniquely mine—snapshots from my life’s journey stretching continents and culture. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find yourself chuckling, or spotting some parallels in your own story. Alongside these stories, you’ll find a few dreamlike images inspired by the places that have shaped me across continents. See if you can spot hints of where I’ve been—and maybe where I’m headed. Drop your guesses in the comments! Now, I’m not saying you’re a Midwest mom with roots in India, but I’m betting you can at least relate to the “joy” (read: chaos) of parenting—or not parenting—smart-ass teens. Because honestly, “smart-ass” and “teen” might as well be synonyms at this point. I think my childhood was charmed—I must’ve been cashing in on some serious good karma banked by my parents or grandparents. For context: Kolkata is bursting silly with ponds. They’re everywhere. And no, they...