I cannot explain just how much it means to me to bring the dreams I had as a teen alive. At points I felt like it would have to sit on the sidelines while I focused on reality and battled my depression and situation. For three years since, leading up to and after my dad passing, I gave up reading and writing, my two most beloved passions. I didn't have the energy or desire to pursue anything. But one day, I lifted my virtual pen on a whim, and thought whatever happens happens. I admit, I'm a pessimist, but I shouldn't be one, because you bring back the energy you put out. Sometimes you just have to let life lead you. Good or bad, let it lead and take the risks with beautiful patience.
Look at this place. Isn't it gorgeous? I just had my book launch here. >.<
Excerpt from my story, 'Next to Bitter Gourds':
'Ayana imagined it like a movie, a tapestry woven so delicately but this time, not with thread but with the varying orange and maroon hues of mehndi. The freshly rolled, green henna leaves danced elegantly, melting onto a canvas with every grind of the pestle against the mortar, like the haldi smeared on her bridal hands. There was history in those swirls, bittersweet songs in the paisleys and a fragrance around the vines that meandered into Bengal rivers sketching an elaborate family tree.' — Choudhury, A. (2024), Tales in the Kitchen. Bradford: Fox and Windmill.
