There’s something magical about a first experience. The first day at school, the first time you rode a bicycle without training wheels, your first crush, or even the first meal you cooked on your own—these moments stay with us forever. They are often filled with a mix of excitement, fear, and wonder, and that intensity of emotion makes them unforgettable.

When we do something for the first time, everything feels bigger, brighter, and more meaningful. Our senses are sharper, our heart beats faster, and even small details: the smell, the sound, the laughter get etched into memory. It’s like life is handing us a small, sparkling gem, and we hold it carefully because we know it’s precious.

But when we repeat the same thing a second or third time, it never feels the same. The surprise is gone, the thrill fades, and the little butterflies in our stomach disappear. The moment loses that magic, no matter how much we try to recreate it. Firsts are unique because they are new, raw, and filled with genuine emotion that repetition cannot capture.

First experiences also shape us. They teach us lessons,sometimes big, sometimes small that stick with us. They build our confidence, curiosity, and courage. Even when a first experience is awkward, scary, or ends in failure, it leaves a lasting footprint in our hearts. It reminds us of growth, bravery, and the beauty of stepping into the unknown.

That’s why we remember the taste of our first street-side pani puri, the nervous excitement of our first train journey alone, or our first job interview. First experiences are more than memories, they are milestones in our life story, quietly shaping who we are and who we become.

“First experiences remind us that life’s true magic lies in the new, the unknown, and the moments that make our hearts race so cherish them, for they shape the stories we carry forever.”

Living away from home often makes one crave the familiar sights, sounds, and flavors of our roots. But I’ve always believed that if you carry traditions in your heart, you can recreate them anywhere—and that’s exactly what we’ve done.

Year after year, our little circle of friends has turned into family through festivals.

Every year, our home transforms into a little India. Ganesh Chaturthi arrives with five days of devotion, laughter, and togetherness. The soft chantings during aarti, the fragrance of incense, the smiles of friends gathered close—all remind us of the celebrations we grew up with. The immersion, though far from the bustling streets of home, carries the same emotion—tears in our eyes, prayers on our lips, and gratitude in our hearts.

Soon after, Navratri brings its own magic and grace. We lovingly arrange the Golu, step by step, placing dolls and idols that narrate stories of gods, goddesses and saints\gurus etc.Some of these dolls have traveled with us for years, others are lovingly added over time, and together they tell stories that bind generations. Children’s eyes light up as they listen to the tales behind each figure, while elders find joy in passing down their wisdom. Each evening, the Golu glows with lamps, chantings fill the air, and our home becomes a space of devotion and storytelling.

And then comes the warmth of Haldi Kumkum—a tradition that celebrates womanhood, friendship, and prosperity. Ladies arrive in bright saris, carrying little trays of kumkum, turmeric, and small gifts. Smiles and blessings are exchanged, bangles and bindis passed around, and the air rings with laughter and conversation. What seems like a simple ritual becomes a beautiful reminder of solidarity and shared strength among women.

And then, as Diwali approaches, our kitchen comes alive—sweets and savories made by hand, wrapped with love, and shared with friends who are no longer just friends, but family.

Each festival is not just a ritual; it’s a bond. Friends wait eagerly for the aartis, for the prasadam, for the laughter we share. Over the years, what began as our small effort to keep traditions alive has grown into a community celebration. Today, more hands join in decorating, cooking, chanting, serving. Festivals have become larger, warmer, and even more heartfelt, because they belong to all of us.

In this home away from home, we’ve built a culture, a trust, and a rhythm of togetherness. Our children watch us, participate with us, and slowly absorb what these moments mean.

✨ For us, festivals are not just celebrations—they are a promise to live by example, to keep our roots alive, and to gift the next generation a culture they can carry proudly into their tomorrow. ✨

There was a time when our lane wasn’t just a stretch of concrete,it was a world in itself.
Buildings that stood for 45–50 years held not just bricks and walls, but stories, laughter, and festivals that lasted for days. Wide open grounds gave children space to play cricket until the sun dipped, and adults too joined in—because joy was never reserved for the young.

The same grounds transformed into stages of celebration. Holi coloured the streets with laughter, Ganpati meant five days of programs, dinners, housie games, sports days, even Christmas gatherings that filled hearts with cheer. We didn’t need malls or clubs—our playgrounds, our people, and our togetherness were enough.

Today, redevelopment has swept across these familiar lanes. Tall towers now stand where humble buildings once did. Gyms and swimming pools add sparkle, shops at ground level add convenience. It’s modern, it’s efficient, it’s impressive—but the open skies and shared spaces have quietly disappeared.

For those of us who grew up in the warmth of that older charm, the loss is palpable. A new generation will adapt with ease, finding comfort in elevators and amenities. But in our hearts, the echo of that cricket ball, the sound of laughter under the open sky, and the magic of festivals celebrated together will forever linger.

“The familiar lane may look different today, yet every corner still whispers the stories of who we once were.”

Childhood had its own secret menu—no recipes, no five-star chefs, just mothers, grandmothers, and their endless pinch of love.

Our first dessert wasn’t a cake, but a warm roti smeared with ghee and sugar sprinkled over it rolled tight in our little hands. The finger fry rings? We wore them like jewelry on all ten fingers before crunching them away.

Summers were scented with mango petis hidden under the bed—ripe ones on top, raw ones below. We would count the days, then race with cousins to see who could eat the most—sticky hands, dripping elbows, and mango-smeared smiles.

How can we forget the Pepsi colas—tall ice sticks in plastic covers for just one rupee, painting our tongues red, green, and purple. A rainbow you could taste, proudly sticking out your tongue to show the color—pure, innocent days.”

Rainy evenings meant hot bhajiyas with family huddled close, while cranky days were healed instantly with bananas sliced into milk and sugar. Dipping Parle-G in tea—only to watch one slip, sink, and disappear—was enough to break our little hearts.

These weren’t just foods but stories. They were emotions—moments packed into flavors that will never come back, yet stay alive in our hearts forever. They were the taste of love, of family, of a time when happiness was measured not in calories but in crumbs left behind.

And today, no matter how much the world offers, nothing tastes the same—because the missing ingredient is the love-filled hands that once fed us. ❤️

💭 What’s your strongest childhood food memory? The mango petis? The Pepsi colas? Or the magic of ghee-sugar roti rolled by your mom’s hands?

Do share❤️

Every home has its own little treasure chest. Not the kind filled with gold and jewels, but that one mystery drawer, the almirah corner stacked beyond imagination, or the kitchen shelf that always looks like it’s hiding secrets. Open it, and you’ll find memories quietly tucked away, waiting to be rediscovered.

An old greeting card with handwriting that feels like a warm hug, a single earring that once completed your favorite pair, a bunch of rubber bands carefully saved “just in case,” an empty Nutella bottle lovingly repurposed into a pickle jar, or even keys whose locks have long forgotten them.

They may look like forgotten odds and ends, but in truth, they are storytellers. They whisper of childhood afternoons, festive seasons, relatives who visited, or friendships that grew with folded notes and birthday wishes.

Sometimes, in the middle of this clutter of memories, you stumble upon something that makes your eyes well up—a grandmother’s saree still carrying her faint fragrance, a grandfather’s watch that has long stopped ticking but still beats in your heart, a father’s rusted pen that once signed your report cards, or a mother’s recipe book with food stains that feel like her fingerprints.

These are not just things. They are echoes of love. They remind us that while time takes people away, it kindly leaves behind their essence in the things they touched, the habits they left behind, the memories stitched into fabric and scribbled on paper.

The beauty of it is when we stumble upon them we don’t just see an old belonging—we feel their presence once more, as if they paused for a moment to sit beside us and smile.

The real treasures of a home aren’t locked in lockers.They’re quietly resting in forgotten corners, holding our memories gently, until we are ready to find them again.

In those forgotten corners of our homes, we don’t just find things,we find the people and moments we thought time had taken away.

Sometimes, opening that old drawer feels like opening a door—and for a fleeting moment, our parents and grandparents are right there with us, smiling the way they always did.🌸

Today marks 50 days of daily posting on Abstracts by Anita. What started as a small commitment to show up each day has become a rhythm of its own—some days words flowed like a river, and some days they arrived like late guests at a wedding. But they always showed up!

This streak is a reminder that consistency is a celebration in itself. It’s not about perfection, it’s about presence. And every single like, read, and smile from you all has been my fuel.

Here’s to the next milestone… one day, one thought, one abstract at a time. 💛

#AbstractsByAnita #50DaysOfWriting #DailyThoughts #ConsistencyWins

Asking our mothers, grandmothers, or aunts for a recipe is like opening a treasure box… only to realize the treasure has no map.

You’ll never hear, “Take one cup of rice and half teaspoon of salt.”
Instead, this is how they start- 

It’s very simple (they’ll begin confidently) and then:

• “Rice? Just take enough so that it fills your palm… maybe two palms if guests are coming.”
• “Salt? Put until it feels right.”
• “Haldi? Just a pinch… not too much, otherwise it’ll taste like medicine.”

You stand there blinking, wondering if you’ve accidentally signed up for a treasure hunt instead of a recipe.

But here’s the catch: their food always turns out heavenly. Be it your paati’s rasam, your chitti’s payasam, or your amma’s kesari, not one thing is out of place, not one flavour overpowering. And the irony? They’ve never measured a single thing in their lives.

Meanwhile, here we are—armed with digital weighing scales, measuring cups, YouTube tutorials paused at 0.05 seconds, and alarms on our phones. Still, our rasam misses that depth, our kesari lacks that warmth, and our payasam never tastes quite “like theirs.”

They weren’t just adding ingredients but what they added instead was stories, patience, and a secret seasoning called love. Every stir carried a memory, every pinch of spice carried a blessing.

Maybe that’s why, even today, when we sit down to eat their food, it doesn’t just fill our stomach but fills our hearts.

After all, recipes can be written, but love cannot and that’s the taste that lingers forever.

Maybe that’s why, no matter how many videos we watch, scales we buy, or recipes we print… their andaaz will always beat our Google tutorials, and our hearts will forever crave that magical taste of home.

Some lies are so legendary, they travel from one generation to the next without losing their shine.

1. The Clock Conspiracy
“Wake up, it’s 8 o’clock!”
Actual time: 6:30. Moral: Indian parents invented time travel.

2. The Ice Cream Myth
“Cold things will give you a cough.”
Translation: I don’t want to buy you another one.

3. The School Bus Drama

“Bus is here! Run!”

Meanwhile the bus is still one kilometre away, honking in someone else’s lane.

4.The Hairy Lie

“Don’t swallow seeds, a guava tree will grow in your stomach.”

We checked every morning—no branches.

5.The Lost Channel Trick
“Cartoon Network isn’t working today.”
Years later: realized it was the TV remote batteries.

6.The Travel Deception

“We’re almost there.”

Three hours into the bus journey. Destination still two states away.

7.The Sleep Blackmail

“Sleep now, or police uncle will come.”

Some of us still wake up looking for that police uncle.

8.The Cousin Comparison
“Fine, don’t study. Your cousin will become collector, you become conductor.”
Thank you cousins, for unknowingly pushing us through exams.

9.Hair Drama 

“Apply coconut oil regularly otherwise you will become like your ……. (referring to any bald family member)

And yet, despite knowing every one of these tricks, kids still fall for them—just like we did. That’s the magic of Indian households: the lies are harmless, the laughter is timeless, and the cycle of mischief continues happily ever after.

✨ Some truths may change.The oil may change, the syllabus may change, but these parental lies? They’re preserved better than homemade mango pickle.

Today, my health is a little under the weather, my thoughts are nowhere to be found, and yet… here I am, loyal to this page, writing about nothing. Ideas? On a permanent coffee break. Creativity? Out on an extended vacation. Me? Staring at a blank page like it personally offended me.

I tried bribing my brain with coffee but it did not work.The page just sat there,blank, silently judging me. So I thought, why fight it? If my thoughts won’t show up, I’ll at least keep my fingers busy.

Somehow, writing about nothing feels… something. So cheers to under-the-weather days, rebellious thoughts, and a loyalty that refuses to quit because even when life gives you blanks, you can still fill a page.

And if today brain is on vacation, tomorrow I will probably send a postcard.

And if my brain returns, I’ll ask for receipts for all the fun it had without me.

Spending 25 years with your partner means you’ve seen every mood swing, every dramatic sigh, and every punchline. What outsiders might think is an “argument” is, in reality, your daily dose of laughter.

It still works as our fresh entertainment every single day.

Here are some of the most classic nok-jhok moments every couple knows too well:

1. The Blanket Tug-of-War
Night after night, it’s the same drama. One person hogs the blanket like they’re protecting treasure, while the other is left shivering at 3 a.m. Morning verdict? (And you call me a 3am person)
“You sleep like a hurricane!”
“Well, at least I’m warm!”

2.The Eternal ‘Where’s My…?’ Question

“Where’s my wallet?”

“Check your jeans pocket.”

“It’s not there.” (Classic accusation- you must have kept it somewhere you and your OCD)

(After a dramatic search, guess where it turns up? In the jeans pocket).

3.The Wardrobe Comment
“You’re wearing that again?”
“Well, at least I fit into my old clothes…”
(Oops. Dangerous territory.)

4.The Cooking Commentary
One says gently, “Thoda namak zyada hai…”
The other snaps, “Next time you cook, MasterChef!”

5.The “I Told You So” Moment

Every couple’s favorite sport. One gets proved right. The other sulks.

6.The Laundry Confusion

“Why is my white shirt pink?”

“Because you washed it with my red dupatta!”

“Exactly. So technically it’s your fault.”

7.The Selective Hearing Issue
“I told you this yesterday.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. You were scrolling on your phone!”
(That’s the beauty of marriage—one talks, the other nods, but only Wi-Fi signals are truly absorbed.)

8.The “Let’s Order Food” Cycle
“What should we order?”
“Anything.”
“Pizza?”
“No.”
“Chinese?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I said anything!”

These banters aren’t irritations—they’re traditions. They’re the sound effects of a life lived together. Without them, the house wouldn’t feel alive; it would feel like a waiting room.

Because after 25 years, love isn’t about roses and candlelight dinners—it’s about laughing at each other’s quirks, rolling your eyes at the same jokes, and realizing that nok-jhok is the glue holding everything together.