Milwaukee Masala

 There’s a quiet humor in family life — the teasing, the little critiques, the unexpected ways love shows up. My oldest once whispered in horror before a parent-teacher meeting: “Mama… you’re not wearing that, are you?” And that was just shorts and a t-shirt. Fashion has never been my strong suit. I’m too practical, too lazy, too me to chase trends. But every now and then, I try something different — a dress, a kurta, a bit of color. And my sons? They notice. They comment. They tease. From calling me a cult leader because of my kurta, to nudging me when I fumble in the kitchen, to helping with frozen shoulder exercises, they have quietly learned to care in ways that both surprise and humble me. They are my critics, my helpers, my little sages — and, in their own teen ways, they mother me. It’s a strange and wonderful shift, one that makes me laugh, makes me pause, and makes me grateful for the small, steady ways love moves through our family. If you want to read the full st...

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...

 For Shejo Kaka Some uncles buy you toys. Mine smuggled me into theaters with leaky roofs, slipped me warm biscuits off conveyor belts, and re-routed grocery runs into full-blown snack pilgrimages. A few short months ago, he passed away. This is my tribute—part love letter, part food tour, part mischievous field guide. My Shejo Kaka didn’t just take me places. He revealed them. (For the uninitiated: Shejo Kaka was my father’s younger brother—the third of four sons. But no family chart could capture what he truly meant to me.) He opened doors into secret worlds. Picture a Bengali Willy Wonka—not in a purple coat, but in a soft white kurta, eyes twinkling, with a look that said, "Let’s make some trouble." And trouble? He understood it intimately—from both sides. He was, shall we say, an early adopter of creative asset management. Imagine a schoolboy in rural Bengal, cash-strapped, needing some pocket money... maybe for a kite or a mutton cutlet. There’s a big drum of rice in th...

How a Lychee Tree, a Net, and My Mama’s Love Made Summers Unforgettable When you’re the firstborn of the next generation, you’re often laden with expectations — but on the flip side, you’re also lavished with love and attention. I was blessed with uncles on both sides of the family — my mama (maternal uncle) and kaka (paternal uncle) — who were more like friends than adults, and happily doubled as my babysitters. Even after I moved from Kolkata to Delhi, those bonds didn’t fade. In fact, they grew stronger every summer vacation, each trip back home a reaffirmation of their love. My mama in particular always wanted to share the summer bounty of Bengal with his poor, starved niece living so far away in heathen Delhi — aam (mango), jamrul (rose apple), lichu (lychee), kul (Indian jujube)... It was a constant battle with the bats and birds to keep the fruits on the trees long enough for them to ripen naturally. One summer, when we stepped into the courtyard, we saw mama’s handi...

  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...