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Showing posts from January, 2026

Kula Deivam and the Act of Returning

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Kunnathur, rebuilt — familiar, and not. When I was growing up, I spent most summers with my grandparents and extended family. My maternal side was based in Pudukkottai, my paternal side in Gobichettipalayam—Gobi, for short—in Tamil Nadu. Like most families, ours has since scattered, pulled toward larger cities and better livelihoods. The structure is new. The pull is old. Back then, our visits were unremarkable in the best way. We stayed home. Visitors came and went through the day. When we were in Gobi, there was one outing we never missed: a visit to our kula deivam at Kunnathur, about twenty-five kilometers away. We would pile into a van or a bus, pack food, and set out like an informal family pilgrimage—grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, all together. My paati would make sweet pongal and offer it to Goddess Angala Parameswari, an avatar of Parvati. There were no restaurant...
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Kula Deivam and the Act of Returning

Image
Kunnathur, rebuilt — familiar, and not. When I was growing up, I spent most summers with my grandparents and extended family. My maternal side was based in Pudukkottai, my paternal side in Gobichettipalayam—Gobi, for short—in Tamil Nadu. Like most families, ours has since scattered, pulled toward larger cities and better livelihoods. The structure is new. The pull is old. Back then, our visits were unremarkable in the best way. We stayed home. Visitors came and went through the day. When we were in Gobi, there was one outing we never missed: a visit to our kula deivam at Kunnathur, about twenty-five kilometers away. We would pile into a van or a bus, pack food, and set out like an informal family pilgrimage—grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, all together. My paati would make sweet pongal and offer it to Goddess Angala Parameswari, an avatar of Parvati. There were no restaurant...
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Colombia: Travel, Time, and Tired Knees

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Cocora Valley — where the fog shows up and leaves whenever it feels like it. I remember our visit to New Zealand and Bora Bora 12 years ago. Our days were packed. We would get up at 6 in the morning and retreat at 8 in the evening. A good breakfast, something quick for lunch, and a proper dinner. Day after day, for two weeks. Lots of travel, hikes, and sightseeing — and somehow, we never felt tired. Today, our travel method has changed. We still pack our days, but at a much more relaxed pace. Ironically, we are far more tired. Age definitely catches up. In the middle of a tour, I now look for opportunities to sneak in a secret nap, or I scan the area for strategic locations where a lonely chair might be waiting just for me. I’ve also reached a point where, if given the option between extra excitement and standing around waiting, I’m strongly leaning toward the latter. Add kids to the mix, and the picture changes entirely. Over the last year and a half, we’ve vis...
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The Years Without Fingerprints

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Some years don’t leave fingerprints. For the last few years, time feels like it has quietly pressed fast-forward. I finished tenth grade in 1997. Twelfth grade in 1999. I exited my teens right as the new millennium arrived. And somewhere along the way, I crossed a strange milestone: I’ve now lived more of my life after 2000 than before it. Yet most of my vivid memories still belong to the pre-2000 world. Maybe childhood memories are denser. Or maybe adult life is just better at overwriting itself. Post-2000 is one thing—but post-2020 is another entirely. The last five years feel like I took a hand towel, wiped my face, and tossed it away. Gone. Just… blur. Nothing makes time’s passage more obvious than children. Akhil and Sahana are growing up fast, each carving out a personality that couldn’t be more different. Akhil’s fascination with basketball has only deepened—remarkably so, given his usual talent for boredom. Middle school is around the corner, and we’re all quie...
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