A day spent in a school with my Dad

 

No matter how old we grow, a part of us always longs to return to our childhood—to the school where we learned, the home where we grew up, and the familiar paths that shaped who we are. Our roots never leave us.

One of my Dad's wishes at 90 was to revisit Veliankode and his high school in Mookkuthala, built on five acres of land donated by my husband's Pakaravoor family to the government for just one rupee. Life has a beautiful way of coming full circle—my husband's grandfather was my Dad's teacher, and years later, his grandson married that teacher's student's daughter. What an incredible connection.

As we drove through the villages, Dad recalled walking miles to school, crossing the river by boat every day before continuing on foot. Watching those roads from the comfort of a car made me realize how much determination education demanded in those days, especially in rural India.

The moment we entered his school, his face lit up. He pointed to the walls and said, "Gandhiji came here during his dandi yatra." Looking at the playground, he smiled and remembered running on that very track during sports day. Instantly, I was transported to my own school days at Kendriya Vidyalaya Khadakwasla, Pune, where I too loved sprinting and winning trophies. Some memories truly bridge generations.

As he quietly looked around, I knew he had gone back to being that little boy again, remembering his teachers, classmates, and simpler times. One curious young boy watched us, and when I told him that my 90-year-old father had once studied there, his eyes widened with amazement.

As we drove away, I couldn't stop thinking about that little boy my Dad once was. Life may have been simple, with very little, but it was rich in resilience, dreams, and joy. Seeing him relive those precious memories was one of the greatest gifts this journey gave me.

Time is important!

 

They say time is life's greatest gift. It's never about how much of it we have, but the choice to make someone feel special.

The past few weeks have been a whirlwind—juggling work across multiple time zones, weekdays blending into weekends, and preparing for my India trip by ensuring my team is empowered to thrive in my absence. For me, sharing knowledge has never been about creating dependency; it's always been about enabling others.

Amidst all this, two dear friends had birthdays. Knowing I'd be in India when our group celebrated, I asked if we could steal a weekday lunch together. They didn't have to say yes. It wouldn't have changed our friendship. But they chose to make time, and that small gesture meant more to me than words can express.

It reminded me that friendship is often found in the little efforts we make for one another. Those moments don't need to be grand—they just need to be shared.

One lesson my Dad taught me has stayed with me forever: Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is yet to come. So live this moment.

Find that moment with your loved ones. Hold it close. Those are the memories that stay with us forever. ❤️

~Dawn

Ginger is not just a pet

 

In her innocent eyes lives the sweetest little spark,

In Ginger’s every gentle way, love leaves its mark.

With those ears raised high, as if she has something to say,

Even in silence, her sweetness writes its own way.

Sitting beside her tiny toys, so carefree and light,

In her simple little world lives pure delight.

She asks for no crown, no grand desire to claim,

Just a little love—and that alone is her reign.

In every corner of home, her tender footsteps stay,

Ginger is not just a pet—she’s my heart’s softest way.

~ Dawn

Keep searching...

 

The road moves on in quiet grace,

Like an unfinished journey finding space.

Clouds drape the sky in silver-gray,

As though the heart holds words it cannot say.

Somewhere behind those drifting skies,

Sunlight still waits to softly rise,

Like hope that lingers through troubled air,

A gentle smile still hidden there.

The trees stand still in whispered lines,

Swaying slowly with the hands of time,

Even the bare and weathered trees,

Seem to wait for kinder seasons and breeze.

The roads may seem empty, silent, wide,

Yet every path holds a dream inside.

Beyond the haze, beyond the unknown,

Light still travels, softly shown.

And the sky seems to quietly say—

Keep moving on, come what may.

No matter how heavy the clouds above,

Keep searching for your share of sun.

~ Dawn

Crispy golden curl

 

In every crispy golden curl, flavor makes its grand refrain,

This gathering of fritters feels like joy on a plate again.

Wrapped in spice and warmth so deep, each bite holds a little art,

Like hidden cravings softly dancing close beside the heart.

Ginger whispers through the air, with herbs in fragrant delight,

In this humble bowl, even ordinary moments shine bright.

Pair it with a cup of chai—and oh, the story sweeter grows,

Yet even on its own, this simple pleasure proudly glows.

Dawn says—these tender tastes are small celebrations we find,

Little tales of comfort and calm in life’s rushing tide.

~ Dawn

Velvet red

 Velvet red in layers deep,

A little sweetness meant to keep.

Soft white clouds of creamy light,

Turning simple moments bright.

Each slice reveals a tender cheer,

A taste of joy we hold so near.

More than cake upon a plate,

It feels like happiness we celebrate.

~ Dawn

A tiny little gardener

 

A tiny little gardener stands with such a cheerful grace,

Pink watering can in hand, dreams blooming on its face.

In this small potted world, it tends its patch of green,

Just a toy perhaps—yet the sweetest gardener ever seen.

With innocence so gentle, like a smile that knows no end,

Too much or too little water—still love is what it sends.

Among pebbles and quiet soil, it builds a garden bright,

As though within its little heart blooms a meadow full of light.

And watching it, one can’t help but smile at such sweet art,

So tiny, yet a royal soul in the world of growing hearts.

~ Dawn