A DIWALI OF AMMA’S LIGHT

A Diwali of Amma’s Light

Story about Diwali Eve & Diwali Day…

Diwali Eve always felt like Diwali itself.

The night before, Amma and I would plan and agree to wake up like normal and start cooking after breakfast.

But I always knew her well. She would wake up early, quietly moving around the kitchen before dawn; the sound of pots and pans, the fragrance of spices, the rhythm of her love.

Usually, I’d do the marketing the day before. She’d give me her list: mutton, chicken, prawns, squids, fish, crabs, vegetables, etc. We’d clean and store everything together so that it’d be easier the next day.

Every Diwali eve morning, I’d find her already halfway through her magic.

“Maaa, I knew you’d do this! We planned to cook together!” I’d tease, and she’d smile, that knowing smile, “Go sleep a little more. Everything’s almost done.”

Soon, everyone would gather, some family members usually stayed overnight.

First, we would do prayers and serve breakfast for those who had left us, ie my dad, my siblings, our grandparents. Their pictures were arranged in the hall, with food lovingly served and prayers would begin. 

Then all of us will sit down as a family for Amma’s home-cooked feast; breakfast and then followed by lunch, hours later. 

For us, Diwali Eve was always the real Diwali, alive with aroma, laughter, and Amma’s touch.

She was a vegetarian, yet her non-veg dishes were perfect. She never tasted them, only trusted her heart.

And Amma has always been a giver, on birthdays, on Diwali and on other special occasions; always with thought and intention. But last year, she gave beyond her usual amount. Maybe, in some quiet knowing, she felt her time was near.

This year, on Diwali eve, my nephew Jeevan, went to her place during lunch. Jeevan is her golden grandson, her first. He packed some food, and ate there. Just a year ago, we were all there, celebrating Diwali eve together. When he told me that, I could only smile through my tears.

Today is Diwali. Early morning, I brought her breakfast and her favourite coffee. Got her favorite flowers too! I lit two scented tealights beside her photo and prayed.

It’s been nine months now, but her presence fills every sound and silence.

This Diwali, I celebrate her light: the love she poured into every meal, every hug, every small reminder that we were never alone.

Notes / What I Felt:

A moment of stillness, to remember the connection, the unwavering love, the memories and presence.

Lighting the lamp for Amma brought me peace.

It reminded me that love never really leaves. It only changes its form, waiting quietly within us to be remembered.

To my followers: 

If you’re celebrating, Happy Diwali and have a peaceful love-filled day! ❤️

POOLSIDE MOMENTS

After a day filled with movement, laughter, and little pauses, I find myself here, by the poolside, under a sky still holding the memory of rain. 

The world is quiet tonight, even the usual noise of children screaming and playing is gone.

I sit, letting the cool air brush against my skin, and breathe. 

Each inhale reminds me of the small comforts. The warmth of a sauna a while ago, the softness of home, the laughter shared over lunch, and even the unplanned nap that somehow felt like a gift.

Life often moves fast, but tonight is about slowing down, noticing the simple joys, and letting gratitude settle in like gentle ripples across still water.

Pause and breathe.

Notes / What I Felt:

Calm comes in the quiet, ordinary moments.

Small rituals restore the body and heart.

Even an unplanned nap or a warm cup of tea can hold tiny treasures.

Life is gentle if we give ourselves permission to notice.

Closing Note 

Tonight, the world is quiet, my heart is full, and I am present. Resting in the gentle rhythm of life. 

Universe, feel free to tickle me with magic anytime! :))

THE DAY UNFOLDS

Wednesday, 15 October 2025

The Day Unfolds

The gentle rhythm of coffee, light, and unhurried breath; small reminders that peace often hides in the ordinary. No rush, no lists. Just the day arriving softly, and me learning to let it.

Some mornings don’t need big plans or promises.They simply ask us to wake, breathe, and listen. And to let the day arrive at its own pace.

Today, I didn’t rush.

No long list, no heavy thoughts. Just quiet movement, soft light, and the gentle rhythm of being here.

There’s something sacred in that…in letting the day unfold without trying to shape it too soon.

I had my coffee and toast with my favourite Lurpak butter, that perfect balance of warmth and salt. It’s such a simple thing, yet it felt like a quiet celebration. The taste of ordinary joy.

There’s a lightness around these next few days too. 

A corporate yoga session tomorrow evening (a small blessing close to home), my regular Friday class and a long–awaited meet-up with my healer-friend later that afternoon.

The weekend that follows will be slower; the planned road trip can wait, because Diwali is near. And yes! a long weekend, a time to breathe and light lamps of rest instead of travel.

Maybe that’s what this week is about; 

not racing ahead, but allowing life to flow in gentle timing.

The day unfolds, and I unfold with it.

Pause and breathe — what stirred within you?

Notes / What I Felt:

Small rituals create quiet joy.

Blessings often arrive disguised as ordinary days.

Allowing flow is its own form of gratitude.

The heart feels lighter when we stop trying to hurry life.

Closing Note:

Peace in. Love out. Always. 

THE UPSTAIRS QUIET

 The Upstairs Quiet

October Reflections; Leading to Diwali

The house felt lighter today. Maybe it was the breeze through the windows, or maybe it was something quieter; like Amma’s presence softening the air.

The maid and I returned to continue what we’d started last week, the upstairs rooms! They felt as if they’d been waiting quietly, holding the same stillness that greets me each time I return. There’s a rhythm to coming back here actually, the dusting, arranging, pausing and then the remembering.

We worked for hours, and at some point, while soft Healing Mantras played in the background, I dozed off, just for a moment. The kind of nap where your body gives in before your mind can argue. When I opened my eyes, the maid was smiling gently, saying, “All done.” It felt like such a small kindness, but in that moment, it wrapped around me like Amma’s approval.

I walked around doing the final checks, leaving a few lights on as if to keep her company. 

Lunch followed; simple, comforting, shared with the maid before sending her home. There’s still more to do, but slowly, the house feels more like it used to be; lived in, loved and cared for.

Next week, Diwali arrives. We won’t celebrate fully as it’s been less than a year since Amma’s passing. But cleaning, lighting lamps and saying a small prayer feels right in my heart. It’s less about festivity and more about continuing her rhythm of care and devotion.

By the time I locked the doors, I could almost feel her grin in the photo by the wall; that familiar warmth that always said, “You did well.” (Me in response, ‘Thanks, ma…)

Pause and breathe. What stirred within you?

Notes / What I Felt

Healing can happen in the middle of chores.

Quiet smiles carry deep comfort.

A house remembers love through care.

Even gentle rituals can honor those we miss.

Grief changes shape, but love remains constant.

Closing Note:

Sometimes, coming home isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about quiet rooms, soft prayers, and the familiar hum of love that never leaves. 

A CHAI STOP, QUIET CONNECTIONS AND A HUG THAT SPOKE

13 October 2025

A Chai Stop, Quiet Connections, and a Hug That Spoke

A tender return to family, warmth found in everyday rituals, and the quiet joy of reconnection.

Family, evolving relationships, tenderness in the ordinary.

It had been over a month since I last saw him, my nephew, Jeevan who’s my brother’s son. I call him “baby” in the way that only family love can bend words. I mentioned this in my earlier post. 

So, as I was taking a rest after my chores, he called me, to meet at mom’s! 

So, today, he took the train, and I went to pick him up, feeling the small thrill of seeing him again after time apart.

Before heading to my mom’s, we stopped nearby for chai. Steam rising from the cups, the familiar warmth between sips; 

it was a small, ordinary pause, but in it, I felt the subtle joy of being together, of sharing a moment that belonged only to us.

At home, I showed him the house, the worn corners, the kitchen needing attention, the promise of a maid returning tomorrow to clean the rest. 

In those small updates, he noticed the care, and I felt the comfort of our easy rhythm together.

He has always been closer to my mom and sister, softly nurtured by their love; but our connection has its own shape. 

I was stricter, firmer, the visiting aunt, the daughter, the sister roles that demanded presence in a different way. 

Yet even in that structure, he leaned into me, and I into him, today in quiet gestures; a shared chai, a tour of a lived-in home, a moment of laughter and observation.

When he was leaving, he hugged me, tight and unhurried. In that instant, I was gently reminded of a moment nine months ago, in the hospital when Amma was passing. He had been the only one to turn me around and hold me when I needed it most. 

That same quiet comfort echoed in today’s hug, a single gesture bridging past grief and present love.

Being with him reminded me that love wears many faces: sometimes tender, sometimes steady, sometimes annoyed-upset-angry too and sometimes gentle enough to let you lean on it without asking for anything. 

And in that love, time apart only makes the return sweeter.

Pause… and breathe.

Notes / What I Felt:

Even small, everyday moments carry deep connection.

Love has many forms, soft, steady, structured, instinctive.

Presence matters more than perfection; showing up is enough.

Time apart makes reunions sweeter, even in ordinary routines.

Family bonds are layered: some closeness is gentle and nurtured, some firm and guiding, yet both are equally meaningful.

Shared rituals (chai, walks, house tours) create lasting, quiet memories.

One hug can carry past grief and present warmth, bridging memories and today’s connection.

Closing Note:

In the warmth of shared chai, quiet rooms, and a single, unspoken hug, love often speaks the loudest.