Friday, October 03, 2025

The World I Grew Up In


 

I long for the India of my childhood—
Where faith was only faith, seen through secular eyes,
Where no one asked the last name of a friend in play,
Where Diwali sweets were shared, and from the same hands
came bowls of sevaiyaan in Eid delight—
How free was that India when childhood was mine!

I long for the India of my childhood—
Where patience to listen was still a gift,
Where minds differed but we dined from one plate,
And if words stung, we laughed the hurt away,
How mindful, how gentle, was that India of youth.

I long for the India of my childhood—
Where many tongues wove one conversation of smiles,
Where a gesture alone carried honor and respect,
Where no one feared the other—only reverence reigned,
How tolerant was that India of innocence.

I ache for the India of my childhood—
Where theft was seen through the lens of need,
Where violence gave way to compassion’s hand,
Where Usha and Farzana studied and played as one,
How human, how luminous, was that India of my youth.

Yes, I ache for the India of my childhood.

~ Dawn

Monday, September 29, 2025

Art, Literature & Rhythm: ALF 3.0 Lights Up Chicago

Chicago’s literary crowd gathered for a full day of words, music, and movement as the Art Literature Fest (ALF) 3.0, presented by the American Literature Association (ALA), unfolded into a celebration of creativity.

After the 9:30 a.m. inauguration, the festival jumped straight into stimulating literature sessions.

S. Hareesh opened with a talk in Malayalam that explored the soul of storytelling.
Dr. Manu S. Pillai followed, weaving English and Malayalam to examine how memory shapes our understanding of history.
M. Swaraj closed the morning with an engaging look at the History of the Indian Constitution in Malayalam.





The midday lunch break wasn’t just about food—it was a lively mix of book signings, networking, and casual conversations, where visiting and local authors mingled with readers. A special book release by Chicago and other State based writers highlighted the city’s own literary heartbeat, while young winners of ALA’s writing competitions were celebrated for their fresh voices and bright ideas.  A short “Book on Stage” segment rounded out the literature track.





 Post-lunch, S. Hareesh and M. Swaraj sat down for an intimate fireside chat. Then Dr. Sreevalsan J. Menon and Dr. Rachitha Ravi captivated the audience with Music & Mudras, a seamless dialogue of melody and movement. 


The evening shifted into pure performance. Dr. Rachitha Ravi returned with a spellbinding dance on Karn Mrityunjaya (“The Death Conqueror”) by Shivaji Sawant book, followed by AMMA – Poetry in Motion, each piece marrying tradition with contemporary flair. Finally, Dr. Sreevalsan J. Menon and team delivered a soul-stirring live concert, sending everyone home humming.





The ALA program has a special space in my heart for their exclusive style of planning and curating the festival agenda. Everything was organized so smoothly, without disruption or confusion, that participants could simply immerse themselves in the experience. Kudos to the volunteers, who worked wholeheartedly behind the scenes—not seeking the spotlight but ensuring the event’s success. They function like a family, celebrating the collective achievement of the festival rather than individual recognition, and that spirit of humility is what makes ALA truly remarkable.

What made ALF 3.0 truly memorable was its spirit of connection. Acclaimed authors and performers proved warm and approachable, while festivalgoers formed new friendships across art, literature, and music—a vibrant bouquet of creative minds.

From insightful panels to transcendent performances, ALF 3.0 was not just a festival but an experience—a shining example of how stories, rhythm, and community can light up a Chicago weekend.



“Literature, music, and art are not just performances; they are bridges that connect hearts, histories, and hopes.”

~ Dawn

Sunday, September 07, 2025

Finding Joy in Rhythm, Carrying Amma in Spirit

 

This year began on a difficult note with the loss of our Amma, my mother-in-law, in October. Each of us grieved in our own way, and her absence created a deep void. She had always been present in our lives—either visiting us in person or connecting with us over video calls—and that constant presence is what we miss the most.



In time, I slowly started focusing on healing. Playing the Chenda, making new friends who now feel like family, and being part of our group Bay Melam brought me strength. As my Arangettam approached, our daily in-person Chenda practice camp with our beloved Guru, Mela Kalaratnam Kalamandalam Shivdas Aashaan, began in full swing. His direct, honest feedback kept us sharp and attentive to the finer details—the posture of the hands, the strength of each beat, and most importantly, the joy of dancing with the rhythm as we play.





I never set out with the dream of performing an Arangettam; my only goal was to learn. But this journey gave me the confidence to step onto a stage and perform at events. With Bay Melam (our band name), I had the honor of performing in Manteca for the Onam celebration and later in Fremont at the Vellankanni festival. Through it all, my family’s support has been unwavering. It’s not just me who finds joy in playing the Chenda—my family feels happiness in watching me play with such passion.

I carry immense gratitude for the universe aligning everything to make this possible. If Amma were still with us, she would have proudly shared this with the entire world. I miss her deeply—words will never be enough to capture that feeling.

Today, as a family, we chose to celebrate Onam together—dressing up, sitting down for Sadya, and simply enjoying each other’s company. After such an eventful month, this quiet day of food, laughter, and togetherness feels truly blissful. Happy Onam to all !!!





~ Dawn


Saturday, August 16, 2025

Pattunool Puzhu – A Journey Through Threads of Life


Malayalam, as a language, holds one of the richest treasures of literature in India. Its stories, deeply rooted in people, places, and emotions, have a way of immersing you completely into their world. Listening to the audiobook Pattunool Puzhu was my way of reconnecting with this richness—an experience both powerful and lingering.

The title Pattunool Puzhu translates to silkworm. Just as the silkworm spins delicate yet strong threads, the story too weaves together fragile emotions, relationships, and unspoken desires into a fabric that feels intensely real. Each character is a thread, sometimes shining with hope, sometimes fraying with pain, yet essential to the whole.


The novel by S. Hareesh stands out not just for its theme but for his remarkable style of storytelling. The way he introduces each character—Annie, her son Samson, Vijayan, and others—felt almost cinematic. Their lives, struggles, and connections unfolded gradually, as though I were watching them move around me. The narration of the audiobook added even more depth, making me visualize every place and person as if I were a part of their world.

What stayed with me the most was the emotional weight of the story. Annie and her son Samson’s lives, and even the delicate relationship between Annie and Vijayan, brought moments of quiet sadness. It is not a tale that offers easy answers or a neatly tied happy ending, but one that reflects life in all its complexity.

Days after finishing the audiobook, I found myself thinking about each of the characters—their choices, their silences, their vulnerabilities. That is the power of Hareesh’s writing: he lingers in your thoughts, making you revisit the story again and again in your mind.

It took me a while to sit down and write this review because the story was still living with me, refusing to let go. Pattunool Puzhu is not just a book—it is an experience that wraps around you, like the threads of the silkworm, fragile yet enduring.

Once again Reena thank you for suggesting this book.

~ Dawn

Sunday, August 03, 2025

A Revolutionary Day at Stanford with Garje Marathi Global (GMG)

 I had the privilege of attending Garje Marathi Global’s 9th Anniversary and the launch of the Garje Marathi Global Innovation Academy at Stanford University yesterday —an event filled with purpose, energy, and a shared vision to empower innovation from the grassroots to the global stage.

Inspired by the words of P.L. Deshpande:
"Villages feed cities… Solid villages give rise to solid cities—and ultimately a solid nation."
This philosophy echoed through the sessions, reminding us of the power of rural innovation and inclusive growth.


Alongside keynote talks, there was a live Hackathon—engaging students and professionals in real-time innovation. It was exciting to see how a side event like this could very well spark the next startup idea. The audience included changemakers not just from the Bay Area but also from Chicago, Seattle, New Jersey, India, and China—highlighting GMG’s global impact.
A standout moment was the live demo of Amazon’s Kero AI tool. It was a clear, engaging way to show how AI is not just about automation but about empowerment—how humans can guide and control its outcomes. This made it especially valuable for the students in attendance, showing them how accessible and practical technology can be.

The day was also well-orchestrated—from welcome tea and snacks to a delicious lunch—all thanks to a committed group of volunteers who made the experience seamless and warm.
We heard from inspiring leaders like Anand Ganu, Anurag Mairal, PhD (He/His), Rupali Deshpande, and Sanjay Bhandari —whose journey from patents to IPOs reflects the exact kind of excellence GMG seeks to foster. Their experiences reminded me of the parallels with Go-To-Market strategies, from inception to delivery and measurement.

A heartfelt thank you to my friend Keerti Kulkarni for checking in—your nudge led to a day well spent: learning, connecting, and being part of something meaningful. For just $25, I walked away with knowledge, connections, and the inspiration to get involved in GMG’s mentoring and learning opportunities.
As they say—drop by drop, the ocean is created. 🌊
Let’s rise, build, and give back—together.
hashtag#GarjeMarathiGlobal #InnovationAcademy #Stanford #AIForAll #AmazonKeroAI #Hackathon #StudentsInTech #GoToMarket #VillageToNation #SocialImpact #Leadership #Mentorship #LearningAndGivingBack #IndiaGlobal #VolunteerPower #Inspiration

~ Dawn

Friday, August 01, 2025

Movie Review: Ronth (Malayalam Crime Thriller)


Ronth is a gripping Malayalam crime thriller that truly left me stunned. What a story, what a suspenseful ride! Shahi Kabir has once again proven his strength in storytelling and direction—every scene was taut with tension, emotion, and realism.

Roshan Matthew and Dileesh Pothan delivered phenomenal performances. Their acting felt so effortless and natural that they didn’t just play their characters—they became them. The subtlety, intensity, and emotional depth they brought to their roles was truly commendable.

While the film keeps you on the edge of your seat throughout, the ending leaves you with a sense of sorrow and reflection. It’s heartbreaking. It reminds us how rarely we think about the personal lives and silent struggles of police officers. A few corrupt ones may taint the name of the force, but the pain and sacrifices of the honest ones—and their families—often go unseen and unacknowledged.

Ronth is not just a crime thriller. It’s a mirror to society, and a powerful commentary on justice, morality, and the human cost behind the uniform.

~ Dawn

Tuesday, July 29, 2025

Book Review: Hangwoman – A Journey Through Calcutta’s Streets and Shadows


There are books that entertain you, some that educate you, and then there are those rare ones that unsettle you—profoundly, poetically. Hangwoman (originally written in Malayalam as Aarachaar) by K.R. Meera is one such hauntingly powerful novel. Reena suggested this book to me, and I’m so glad she did—it’s a literary experience I won’t forget. I actually experienced the story through the gripping audiobook narration by Benaifer Mirza.

Set primarily in Kolkata (Calcutta), the story follows Chetna Grddha Mullick, the first woman executioner in India, born into a lineage of hangmen. But Hangwoman is not just about death—it’s about life, patriarchy, journalism, love, politics, and identity. Meera’s writing, masterfully translated from Malayalam to English by J. Devika, is lyrical, intense, and immersive. It speaks volumes of the original's power that its essence and layered complexity could travel across languages and still hit hard.

What struck me the most was the vivid narration. Meera has a way of weaving words that transport you. As I read, I could walk through the crowded streets of Kolkata. I could smell the river at the ghats, hear the bells and chaos, taste the sweet graininess of sondesh. The city wasn’t just a backdrop—it was a living, breathing character in the story. I could see it, feel it, and be a part of it. That is the beauty of Meera’s storytelling.

Chetna’s voice—raw, conflicted, and sharp—is unforgettable. The novel explores generational trauma, the complexity of womanhood, and the moral contradictions of justice and media sensationalism. The father-daughter dynamic is particularly gripping, sometimes suffocating, yet heartbreakingly real.


K.R. Meera, a celebrated journalist and author from Kerala, is known for her powerful portrayals of women and for challenging societal norms. Aarachaar, when published in Malayalam, was met with critical acclaim and went on to win multiple awards including the Kerala Sahitya Akademi Award. The English translation has made this monumental work accessible to a global audience—and I can see why it stirred so many conversations.

This isn’t an easy read. It demands time and attention—but rewards you with emotional depth, literary brilliance, and a strange, dark beauty that lingers.

Thank you, Reena, for introducing me to a book that not only told me a story but took me on a journey—through a city, through a woman’s mind, and through a nation's conscience.

~ Dawn

The World I Grew Up In

  I long for the India of my childhood— Where faith was only faith, seen through secular eyes, Where no one asked the last name of a friend ...