Milwaukee Masala

How anniversaries, national holidays, and teenage chaos collide across two continents. Anniversary circled. PTO denied. Laundry wins. Any time an Indian learns the date of my wedding anniversary, there’s a pause. Then a smirk. “Ohhh… poor guy. Lost his independence forever.” Cue my eye roll. Everyone sympathizes with the groom.  A nd me? I’m just the extra in this rom-com called life, clutching a wilted rose. The truth is, in our family, anniversaries don’t just mark romance—they come stamped with historical significance. Stick with me—there’s a surprising logic to it all. From dinner cruises and hot air balloons to a single rose grabbed on the way home with a quick,  “Happy Anniversary, I guess” —after a quarter century, I’ll take it. Especially in a family where anniversary dates are picked not just for sentiment, but for their spot on the national calendar. My parents got married on January 26—India’s Republic Day. Patriotic. Poetic. Comes with a guaranteed parade and a pub...

  How Far Friendship Travels ☕️❤️ Zoom out: Kolkata. Friendships weren’t declared, they just were — forged in mango-sticky afternoons and fights over kul (sour plum), sealed by pinky promises and whispered secrets. My earliest BFFs were family: Dida (grandmother), Mama (maternal uncle), and Chhoto Kaka (father’s youngest brother) — the ones who told stories, were my caregivers and babysitters, and were there when the world felt too big to handle. Summer vacations back in Kolkata stitched those bonds tighter — my first cousin would patiently take out fish bones from my plate, gently mending our out-of-practice bond from Delhi. Friendship, after all, often looked like small acts of care. Cut to: Delhi. Friendships cemented over twelve years of school — secret crushes, Saraswati Puja celebrations where we dressed in saris, making us feel grown-up, heard, and seen, and student council politics fought with more passion than any exam. College days meant sneaking out of lecture...