25 years ago, I saw him for the very first time (07/11/2000)— in the bank where we worked. I had just joined as a trainee, waiting for my results, and he was a sales manager then.
Honestly, I wasn’t even keen to join the bank — it was meant to be a temporary job, just something to fill time. But destiny clearly had other plans… that temporary job gave me my permanent partner. 💫

We both came from families who weren’t in their best financial phase. There was pressure, uncertainty, and a constant struggle to keep going. But that’s what drew us closer — our shared background, our will to stand tall for our families, and our belief that no matter what, we must keep doing our best.

Somewhere between long workdays and small talks, we realised we were walking the same path — with the same dreams and goals. And then, on the 6th day — 13th November — he proposed to me in the most amusing way… at a railway station! 🚉
He had planned it perfectly — had done his homework well. He knew that in that time slot, we’d have to skip the first three trains since they wouldn’t stop at our destination — giving him those precious 10–15 minutes to talk. Just enough time to propose!
And my reply? A classic one: “Speak to my mom, she decides!” 😅

My mother was impressed with him in the very first meeting itself. Both families accepted it easily — there was no drama, no resistance, even though we were quite young. When you’re destined for something, I guess everything just falls into place. 💫

We didn’t believe in casual dating or complicating things. We both came from simple, middle-class homes where relationships meant commitment. So when we knew, we knew. We decided to marry and take charge of life — together.

Nothing came to us on a silver platter. We had to make things happen — with our sweat, sacrifices, and hard work. Life tested us, but God has always been kind. Every time He threw challenges our way, He also gave us the strength to rise again. We never gave up — not on each other, and not on the life we were building.

It’s been 25 years since that first meeting — and this year, we also complete 24 years of marriage. ❤️
Sometimes destiny doesn’t arrive with fireworks — it just quietly places two people in the same frame, gives them a few missed trains, a 10-minute window, and a lifetime to cherish.
And that’s what we did — turned that moment into forever. 💞

There’s one question that never fails to echo in every DESI household — “Aaj kya banau?”
It’s that one line every mother repeats, hoping someone will help her decide the day’s menu.

We adults are still adjusting, trying to balance taste, time, and tradition. But the kids? They can’t be happy eating the simple, homely dishes we once relished. For them, it’s all about paneer, pasta,manchurian, noodles,quesadillas and every possible multicuisine dish they can think of!

The daily kitchen debate continues —
Mothers asking lovingly, “What would you like to eat today?”
And fathers saying, “Don’t give them a choice, let them learn to eat everything!”

But ma toh ma hai — she’ll still make their favourite sabzi or paratha, adding that extra dollop of ghee just to see them smile. Because deep down, she knows… once they grow up and move out, they will  learn to eat what’s on the plate and adjust.

And then there’s the weekly vegetable shopping — the real struggle!
The same tendli, bhindi, baingan staring back at you from the baskets, as if to say, “Pick us again!” You almost roll your eyes, wondering how many more ways there are to cook them.

But just when the monotony starts to set in, winter arrives — like a much-needed breath of freshness. Suddenly, the sabzi basket looks cheerful again — brighter, greener, and full of life. The markets overflow with fresh methi, palak, peas, and those red carrots that make your eyes light up. One look and you’re already dreaming of gajar ka halwa slowly simmering in ghee. ❤️

Winters bring a special kind of joy to every vegetarian home — undhiyu, pav bhaji, and gajar ka halwa become seasonal must-haves. The aroma of these dishes fills the house, and the laughter and banter around food make every meal feel like a celebration.

Because in the end, food in a DESI home is never just about what’s cooked —
it’s about the love stirred into every dish, the comfort of routine,
and those everyday “Aaj kya banau?” moments that one day become our sweetest memories. ❤️

After a few years it won’t be the dishes we remember, but the love and laughter that came with every “Aaj kya banau?”

When the house falls silent and the kitchen isn’t as busy, we’ll miss even that one question — “Aaj kya banau?”❤️

Sharing some beloved dishes prepared in our homes during this cozy season — from steaming undhiyu to sweet, fragrant gajar ka halwa. Let the warmth of these winter flavors brighten your day.

We do talk every day — a quick call here, a forwarded meme there — but that one weekly video call of the three of us has now become a beautiful ritual.

For a long time, that rhythm was lost. Life, as it does, scattered us into our own worlds, our own routines. But somehow, God found a way to bring it back — as if he knew how much our hearts needed it.

Now, every week, when Mom, my sibling, and I come together on that little phone screen, it feels like time folds back. The laughter, the teasing, the memories — they all come rushing in.

And then begins our favorite part — the “what did you cook today” segment. Three different houses, three different kitchens, and three very different menus!
Mom always starts first, lovingly sharing what she had for breakfast and what’s on the stove for lunch. Then my sibling, now quite the chef, talks about his latest dish. Finally, my turn comes — usually with a laugh and some improvised recipe that still somehow tastes like home.

It’s funny how these food talks connect us. Once upon a time, we sat around the same table, eating mom’s food — her flavors, her love, her warmth. Today, even from miles apart, those same flavors keep us tied together.

Mom is our teacher, she is the one who taught both of us to cook, who made us curious about ingredients, who made us love the act of feeding others. It’s her recipes we follow, her methods we imitate, her little tricks we still recall with a smile.

And though the video screen shows how she’s aging, her smile still shines with the same glow that once lit up our childhood. Her laughter still fills the gap between us, and her presence — even through a screen — still feels like home.

These calls aren’t just about catching up. They’re small redemptions of love, reminders that even in our busy, scattered lives, we can always find our way back to each other — and back to her.

Because those few minutes spent with your aging parents, listening, laughing, and just being there — they’re not ordinary moments.
They’re the moments you’ll hold closest to your heart one day. ❤️

We all get inspired by movies at some point in life.
Some people love those goal-oriented, win-against-all-odds types.
Some get drawn into mushy love stories or family dramas.
And then there are people like me — who get inspired by thriller movies, something like a murder mystery… but of course, I’m not recreating that scene at home 😅 — no matter how dramatic life gets!

This year, our wedding anniversary almost turned into a tragedy (not the romantic kind).
Work pressure, late-night calls, endless deadlines — basically, everything except candlelight and celebration.
Our holiday got cancelled, all bookings for the day scrapped, and even those fun tickets we were so excited about went poof!

If this had happened a few years ago, we would have sat and sulked, maybe eaten a slice of leftover cake and said, “It’s okay, next year.”
But not this time.

This time, we decided to take a page from the movie Drishyam — and recreate the day with a twist of positivity, training our minds to believe that our day isn’t over yet.

On the very same day, when we realized our D-day wouldn’t be a free day, we picked up the phone, changed all our bookings to another weekday, and told ourselves,
“Anniversary or not, we’re celebrating today!”

And guess what? It worked!
We went ahead with every small thing we’d planned — just shifted the timeline a bit.
Honestly, it felt even better: less crowd, more fun, and absolutely zero guilt.

That’s when it hit me — it’s all about how you train your mind.
Life will always throw plot twists, but you get to decide whether you want to pause the movie or re-shoot the scene.

We chose to re-shoot — and had a total blast.
No regrets, no complaints, just laughter and love.
Because sometimes, all it takes is a flexible plan and a positive head to turn a flop day into a blockbuster! 🎉

When plans fail, creativity begins.It’s not about the perfect day — it’s about making the day perfect.

I sometimes feel like I belong to a generation that’s slowly getting extinct.
Not because we didn’t evolve or adapt, but because the essence of how we lived, felt, and connected is fading away.

We were a generation that spoke with eyes and not emojis.
We waited for letters, calls, and moments — and every pause had a story behind it.
Conversations were warm, layered, and filled with emotions that didn’t need filters or edits.
We expressed through silences, through the way we asked “had lunch?” instead of saying “I love you.”

And now, I watch the new generation — Gen Z — take over.
They are fierce, witty, charming, and unbelievably sharp.
Their exposure to the world is a zillion times more than what we ever had.
They think fast, talk smart, and move on faster than we can process.

We lived life with pauses; they live it in reels.
We waited; they swipe.
We saved moments; they share them instantly.
We had hang-ups; they have clarity.
We feared being judged; they don’t care who’s watching.

And that’s what makes them powerful.
Their practicality and intellect will take them places our emotions couldn’t.
They know their worth and they draw boundaries fearlessly — something we learned much later in life.
They’re bold, expressive, and brutally honest.
But maybe, just maybe, they’ll miss the sweetness that comes from uncertainty, the depth that comes from waiting, the love that comes without words.

Our generation held onto relationships, even the broken ones, trying to fix and mend.
Theirs believe in letting go — in peace, not in pieces.
We were raised to adjust; they’re raised to choose.
We found meaning in compromise; they find it in self-respect.

And I can’t decide if that’s beautiful or heartbreaking.
Maybe it’s both.

Everything is evolving — and rightly so.
Maybe I won’t live long enough to see how this world finally shapes under their rule.
But I surely see how it all began — how conversations became captions, emotions turned into reactions, and connections started depending on Wi-Fi.

We belonged to the era of warmth; they belong to the era of wisdom.
Maybe the balance lies somewhere in between — where emotion meets intellect, and heart meets logic.
Until then, I’ll quietly watch this transition — a little proud, a little nostalgic —
as my generation slowly turns into a beautiful memory.

There was a time when our kids followed us like our shadows. Wherever we went, they went too. Grocery runs, short walks, even the bank — they just wanted to come along. “Mumma, can I come?” used to be their favourite line.

They’d sit right next to our legs when we cooked in the kitchen, playing with spoons, boxes, and toys that were never meant to be toys. Just being near us made them feel safe. Sometimes they’d hold on to our dupatta, tugging gently — not letting us go too far.

They had a hundred little tricks just to get our attention — fake crying, funny dances, loud singing, or just sitting there with that cute innocent face until we gave in. Irony is — today we are the ones doing a thousand tricks to get theirattention.

Once upon a time, they wouldn’t even let us take a peaceful bath. They’d sit outside the bathroom door, calling out every minute — “Are you done, Mumma?” In those days of small nuclear families, we’d keep talking from inside just so they didn’t get scared.

And today? We’re the ones calling out — “Beta, dinner’s ready!” “Beta, come out in five minutes!” — and they’re inside the bathroom watching reels! or scrolling endlessly, pretending not to hear.

How the tables have turned! Once we wanted a few minutes of peace, and now we’d give anything just to have them follow us around again.

Now, they have their own world — their friends, their space, their privacy. We’ve gone from being the center of their little universe to being a side planet they visit only when they feel like it. And though it stings sometimes, there’s also pride — pride in seeing them grow, become independent, find themselves.

But still, once in a while, when they say, “Okay fine, I’ll come,” our hearts do that silent happy dance. We act normal — “as you wish” — but inside, we’re glowing.

Because no matter how big they get, for us they’ll always be that little child sitting by the kitchen floor, holding our dupatta, waiting for us to finish cooking — just to be close.

So when your teen locks the door and says, “I need some space,” smile. Someday they’ll knock on your door and say, “Mumma, let’s go out — just us.” And that day, the world will feel warm again. ❤️

Some people fight every single day just for the basics — food, rent, peace, dignity.
And then there are some who have more than enough, yet walk around as if nothing is ever enough.
Strange, isn’t it?
How the ones with empty plates still smile, and the ones with full tables often forget to even say thank you.

Why this imbalance? Why so much difference in what life gives?
Maybe it’s not about what we have, but what we feel about what we have.
When things come too easily, their value fades.
When we fight for something, even a drop of water feels like gold.

And discrimination — that’s the cruelest part of it all.
We judge people for what they wear, where they live, or what they earn, forgetting that under all of it, we are just humans trying to survive our own battles.
Some are fighting silently. Some are pretending they don’t have to.

Life was never fair — but we can be.
All it takes is a little more heart, a little less ego, and the courage to care even when others don’t.

It’s strange, isn’t it?
How people in different corners of the world live such different lives — and yet, so much of it feels the same.

A movie and a tub of popcorn — from Mumbai to Madrid.
Rain tapping on windows — and that instant craving for something fried (bhaiya or fritters all the same)
A cup of tea, and a biscuit dipped just long enough not to break.
It’s the same comfort, just different accents.

Birthdays still mean cake and candles.
Children everywhere wait for weekends.
Mothers keep calling out, “Have you eaten?” in a thousand languages.
Friends still laugh too loud in cafés, and lovers still argue over where to eat.

Somewhere, someone is staring at the night sky making a wish.
Someone is dancing in their kitchen while cooking dinner.
Someone is sitting alone in a café, missing someone miles away.
And someone, right now, is sharing a story that sounds exactly like yours.

The world feels divided — by borders, beliefs, and flags —
but hearts? They’ve always spoken one language.
The language of love, worry, laughter, and hope.

Beaches and sunsets.
Blankets and winter nights.
Festivals and lights.
Airports and goodbyes that sting the same in every country.

We all find joy in little things —
the smell of rain, the sound of an old song, the warmth of home after a long day.
No matter who we are, where we live, or what we speak —
the heart beats to the same rhythm everywhere.

So maybe the world isn’t as divided as it looks.
Maybe it’s one big home with different doors.
And above every roof, no matter how far apart —
the same moon quietly shines. 🌙✨

Have you noticed how people hesitate to share something good these days?
A helpful contact, a great opportunity, a life-changing app — and suddenly it becomes a secret.
Why? Why this “keep it to myself” attitude?
When did generosity start needing calculation?

There was a time when sharing came so naturally. You’d discover something nice and immediately think, “Oh, this will help so-and-so!”
Now, it’s more like, “Let me not tell anyone — what if they get ahead of me?”
It’s almost as if kindness has gone out of style.

Somewhere between chasing success and survival, we’ve forgotten that the world was meant to be a little kinder. Helping one another used to feel good — not risky.
Today, we call it “competition,” but sometimes it’s just plain greed wearing a fancy word.

The truth is, when you share something helpful, you don’t lose anything.
You multiply good energy. You build trust. You create that quiet ripple that makes life beautiful again.

Let’s bring that back — the habit of passing goodness around.
Because this world doesn’t need more winners… it needs more warm hearts who still care to share. 💫

Helping one another should never go out of fashion.

Sometimes love doesn’t arrive with fireworks or grand gestures.
It walks in quietly, sits beside you, and never leaves.
It grows through shared dreams, little fights, and the calm that follows every storm.

As we celebrate 24 years of marriage today, my heart feels full — full of memories, laughter, tears, lessons, and above all, love.

When I look back, it still amazes me — a Palakkad Iyer girl from Mumbai meeting an Ambalavasi boy from Gujarat at work. That job, in a way, was destiny — created just for us to meet. Neither of us had marriage on our minds back then. We were content where we were, until destiny quietly took over. Six days of knowing each other — just six days — and what started as an unexpected proposal turned into a promise for a lifetime. Sometimes I still wonder how two complete strangers could feel so certain, so quickly. But that’s the beauty of something meant to be.

We started from zero. Built our lives, built our home. Faced career highs and lows, and every storm that came our way — together, as one. Nothing was yours, everything was ours. We took every responsibility hand in hand — towards our families, our work, and later, our children. Even when we had little, we were happy. And today, though we may be more settled, that hasn’t changed. We’re still grounded, still grateful, and we’ve never forgotten where we started from.

Walking into your home of four — your parents and your college-going sister — was a whole new chapter for me. From being the new bride trying to fit into unfamiliar rhythms to slowly finding my own place there, every moment taught me something. Like most marriages, it took time — for comfort to grow, for spaces to blend, and for two families to truly become one. Somewhere along the way, the I and you turned into us.

We are more friends now than partners — and that’s what happens when you marry young and grow up together. Over the years, we’ve learned that love doesn’t need grand gestures. It lives quietly in shared decisions, in unspoken understanding, and in the comfort of knowing you’re never alone. We’ve never believed in displaying our love publicly; our actions and choices have always spoken louder than words.

It’s not that we don’t argue or fight — oh yes, we have our share of that! But nothing ever crosses midnight. That’s a rule we made long ago: no one goes to bed with unsettled issues. So yes, we fight, but we always make peace before the day ends. That simple promise has kept our hearts light and our bond stronger through the years.

One of the biggest turning points for me was when I decided to stay back home for our children. I was doing well in my career, but that phase needed me more as a mother than as a professional. You stood by me completely — never once making me feel small, never letting anyone’s loose comment shake my confidence. You’ve always stood like a rock beside me.

Yes, there are days when I feel low or disconnected from the world — days when I rant about the missed years or the pause in my career. But thank you for always listening, for understanding, and for reminding me that I am no less than you. That together, we run this show. That kind of reassurance — that quiet strength — is what makes a marriage last.

We’ve seen our share of highs and lows, but every challenge shaped us, every laugh healed us, and every day built another layer of trust and togetherness.

And today, when I look at our two beautiful children — the best parts of both of us — and the life we’ve built with love, laughter, and some madness in between, I can only smile and say: it was all worth it. Every single bit.

Twenty-five years of knowing each other, twenty-four years of marriage — and the comfort, warmth, and friendship between us still feel as strong as ever. Destiny didn’t just bring us together; it built a life I’ll forever be grateful for.

Happy 24th Anniversary hubby — and here’s wishing us many more years of togetherness. ❤️