Rekha's Ramblings

 Gratitude. What are you grateful for today? Last year, a dear friend gifted me a tiny baby fiddle leaf fig . It was small, fragile, almost unsure of itself. My firstborn helped me plant it last June. We pressed the soil down gently, watered it carefully, and placed it near the light — hopeful . Just when I thought it had settled in and taken root, it was attacked by mealy bugs. I did what most of us do these days — I asked Google. The responses were mixed. Some said, “Just toss it. Not worth the trouble.” Others said, “If you treat it carefully, it can survive.” Isn’t that true about so many things in life? My firstborn came to the rescue again. He brought neem oil. We treated the leaves patiently, one by one. It took time. It took consistency. It took care. But slowly, the plant revived. I could have thrown it away. It would have been easier. But it only needed TLC — tender loving care. Today, when I look at that fiddle leaf fig, taller and stronger, it brings me immense ...

Was My Childhood Really Better? Over Christmas break, I was talking to my daughter about my childhood. Like many parents, I found myself saying what we often say: “ Our childhood was better. We didn’t have much, but we were content.” She listened. Then she gently asked, “ Maybe for you, Mom. But what about others in your society? Did they have the freedom to express themselves?” Her question stayed with me. I grew up in a tiny village outside Mumbai in the ’70s, ’80s, and ’90s. We didn’t have much by today’s standards. No television. No refrigerator. Not even 24/7 electricity. We ate mostly what we grew—rice, vegetables, fruit. I breathed clean air. I walked freely through fields and dusty roads without fear. I was surrounded by an abundance of greenery, nature. And I don't have any pictures from my childhood.  But the truth is— I was privileged. Not in the way one would think, no , not money or wealth. My first privilege was my parents. They were loving, present, and dete...

Yesterday, I ran into someone at the gym. They asked how I’ve been and mentioned they don’t see me around much anymore. I smiled, because the truth is simple: I’ve started enjoying my own company. I do my own things now. I walk by myself when I want to. I move at my own pace. But I didn’t get here overnight. After years of trying to fit in—and being deeply hurt by a friendship that once meant the world to me—I have become more cautious about who I let into my life. My peace matters to me deeply, and I’m sure it matters just as much to others. Now I understand something clearly: I was never meant to fit in. With age, I’ve also come to realize that friendships evolve. What once formed easily now asks for something deeper. Time feels more precious. There is no longer room for drama or fake energy. I understand now that not every friendship is meant to last forever, and that doesn’t mean it failed. Sometimes, it simply means we grew in different directions. I will always cherish the good t...