Yes, I ache for the India of my childhood.
~ Dawn
"One may not reach the Dawn save by the path of the night"
Yes, I ache for the India of my childhood.
~ Dawn
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.
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.
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
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
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: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
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.
~ DawnI 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 ...