Sami the Mindful Scribbler

The last two days,  though tiring, were fun.  We, as friends spent some quality time. I doubted the time, but our company with each other proved it wrong as we kept joking, throwing mokka jokes, bringing them back even though those jokes were dead. Time was never fast, As we had many slow  and steady conversations. Going back to childhood, slowly to the bits of trauma — what we remember, what we try to forget. Then to the most important phase, the college life. Since the first meeting of us to the silly fights till now, everything was talked about, shared, reminisced. Going back to the gutters feels like home. Eating lays along with rice feels like your long-distance friend’s presence. Laughing until tears roll down and make the floor slippery🤣, stomach begging us to stop so it could get some rest from those loud laughs. And at last, feeling like we have wasted the whole day, later realising we didn't waste it, just lived and loved.

In the midst of this happiness, I miss someone whom I’m searching for  in everyone. Every trip to my hometown feels happy and heavy these last few years. I never ever thought I would miss someone’s voice, smell, laugh, cooking, love, care, their presence itself. Still, I don’t like to believe that his presence is absent, as I could feel him while having parotta. With every bite, I feel like he is sitting next to me, admiring the way I eat, yelling at the server to serve more salna. While watching TV, a voice telling me, “Da, keep whatever channel you want,” also sharing his time cinema rumours, never compromising when calling out his favourite actor, Sivaji. While eating snacks, I’m reminded of a voice From the kitchen  saying, “Sami, nala sapdu da, appom tha sathu podum.” While riding a bike, I remember the rides since childhood, beginning with TVS Xl till Pulsar. I was the same child, hugging him tightly, without any fear or hesitation, till the last moment. While everyone i...

 As I mentioned in my blog, I’m taking my sweet readers along with me to my hometown through my blogs. Day 2 of this travel. 🩷 So My day began with uluntha vadai. One thing that I miss in Chennai is uluntha vadai. The size, consistency, rate, and taste — everything here is just perfect. Even if you go to a very small shop with low maintenance, the taste still feels like home. So after having a sip of hot water (as I easily get a cold due to change of water), I first gargled with salt water. Then, as usual, another sip of hot water. Then came the day beginner — vadai. Only when I come here, I have two vadas, and they always offer sambar and katti chutney. No matter how many vadas we get, we get this. Guess what for breakfast? Uluntha kali. After so long, I got to eat this — that too specially made by my grandma for me. So it was extra special. It is very healthy, especially for women and children. It helps with menstrual issues and is excellent for strengthening bones and the spine...

 It really touched my heart to see people as they are — without masks, without pretension, without doubts. They initiate conversations just out of pure love, pure innocence, pure hearts. After a small gap, I’m back in my native place. From the auto anna who made sure we got down safely and reached home since it was early morning… to another auto anna who carefully helped my grandma get down, held her hand, and made her sit comfortably. Even though he had his next savari waiting, he didn’t rush us. He chose customer satisfaction over urgency. Everyone here calls you “papa.” No matter how young or old you are. You could be a child or a mother of children — they still call you papa. More than customers and owners, it feels like we’re talking to relatives. That’s how they treat you. At the tea shop, we were waiting while a patti ma was preparing vengayam vadai and bajji. A batch was already ready, and my mom was about to take one. “Wait da papa… suda suda coming. Take two papers, it’ll...

 Yesterday evening, I watched a video about a small monkey at a zoo in Japan. His name is Punch-kun. He was born in July 2025, but just hours after his birth, his mother abandoned him. The zookeeper fed him on time and took good care of him. But no matter how much care he received, he still needed the warmth of his mother. There is a place that no one can replace — having someone to hold onto, someone to share your joy and sorrow with, someone to receive love from and share warm hugs. Realizing this, the zookeeper gave him a stuffed orangutan plushie. And he never let it go. He slept with it. Wherever he went, he carried it — as if it were his mother. After a few months, when he was introduced to other monkeys, he was bullied by the older ones. He was beaten. He searched for love in them… but they rejected both him and his plushie. In pain and agony, he ran back to his “mother”,  the toy and hugged it tightly, as if expecting it to hug him back and console him. In another vide...

Today in one of our major classes, my professor uttered this line: “Even stagnation involves a lot of movement — it’s not being static.” This statement literally seized and paused my mind for a second. It made me think. A few days back, I had a presentation based on the short story Araby by James Joyce- How this story represents the lives of the people in Dubliners. Araby is a short story about the character narrator, who is a young boy, bored of the mundane routines of the grey streets of Dublin, who develops a love interest in his friend’s sister. But he fails to articulate his desires, and one day in their brief conversation she says she wants to go to the bazaar — Araby — but she can't due to religious reasons. Since he hears the name of the bazaar, he feels like it casts an eastern enchantment in him. He thinks that place would be magical, make him forget his harsh reality, and help him win her love too. But that bazaar is exactly the same as his dull Dublin, which disappoints...

 Alin Sherin Abraham We have been hearing this name for the past few days. And through her charitable act, she will be remembered forever — not only in her parents' hearts but also in each and every one of us. When I saw the picture of the baby, my heart was beating more than the normal rate. It was really difficult to digest. It was really difficult to accept that smile is no more. But her parents did such a great thing with such strong mentality. Yes, after she had been declared brain dead, her parents, accepted to donate her organs. Because of this choice 5 persons received a second chance to live. She is the youngest organ donor of Kerala. Just think for a minute how much strength and courage would have been needed for parents to take such a decision. That too in our society — as I had a conversation with my friend regarding this, she shared that we don’t really allow the dead ones to be touched by a knife again. Still, there are people who avoid postmortem for this reason, e...

  " Even empathy needs beauty standards." I came across this line in an Instagram reel video. For a second, I thought about it, and it really felt like a sharp pin was being inserted into my heart. Thinking about it made me realize it's not just a reel, but a truth. I'm happy that it hasn't become a universalized truth yet. But we can't ignore the fragments of truth in it as well. With this quote, they added a video of a very famous actress who cried in an interview, sharing about her poor health condition and how she wasn't even able to eat a normal meal a day. As we know, it went very viral. Of course, we were empathetic towards her, and even now we are. In that way, we are empathetic towards her not only because she is an actress, but also because she is a human being. But when the same issue is shared by the same sex, the only difference being she is a common person, someone who doesn’t fit the narrow beauty standards our society often upholds. And ...

 Does love require a specific day to celebrate? Today, we had a debate on this topic. Honestly, we were initially on the “No” side. But the entire class had chosen “No,” and no one stood for the “Yes” side that's 'yes we do need a special day to celebrate love'. So the three of us decided to shift. It was fun — debating against such a large group. Especially my two friends — they were just rocking. More than their points, I admired their spontaneity. The way they articulated thoughtful ideas using such simple words was impressive. After a long gap, I participated in a debate again 😊. I used to be a good speaker, and I still believe those fragments are there. They surface especially when I’m asked to speak about something I love or something that inspires me. But debate is different. You have to stand both against and for an idea, and that shift must come easily. That has never really been my cup of tea. No matter the version of myself — past or present — this was something...

 Having been born and brought up in the down south, whenever we go to weddings, especially for breakfast, they serve a variety of dishes. Beginning with kesari, vada, two chutneys, pongal, dosa, poori kilangu, and ice cream. If it’s a bit of a grand wedding, they add even more varieties like chilli parotta, milk sweet, idiyappam, etc. For lunch, it’s mostly meals. I don’t remember eating non-veg at any marriages, even though the hosts themselves are non-vegetarians. For dinner, a few more items are added along with the breakfast menu—rasagulla, cutlet, chilli parotta, veg pulao, noodles, payasam in a cup—ending with popcorn, fruit salad, cotton candy, and ice cream. If you are already late and you think you can eat all these snacks after dinner, you might want to hurry, because those annas stop their machines around 9 pm. Many times, I’ve encountered that costly miss. 😅 After coming to Chennai and living here for the past seven years, one thing I’ve observed is that their first go...

All of a sudden, we were no longer the guests. It feels like today we had just met, danced at the freshers’ party, and suddenly three years flew by and we stood together at farewell. We came as nobodies, we left with everybody. And today, we walk in different paths, live in different worlds, with different mindsets. Suddenly, an invite— not to conduct an event, but to be part of one. Not as students, but as family. Friends extended into family. A place of celebration, a place full of smiles and surprisingly, a place of reunion. Stories resumed right where we left them. Not all the pearls of the sea were there, but seeing those few felt special. The same smiles, the same excitement, the same love and care and the same goodbye. This time the place of ending was different, but the feeling remained the same. In these few months, we have grown up, tuned into different versions of ourselves. Yet the same charisma still shines in our eyes The whole 3 years (UG) Came at once. It was special!

Once, it was a dream—to invite all our friends, on our birthday, show them the dolls we had, and our small space in that small house. Those cake cuttings felt natural and momentary. There weren’t many cameras around. The smile didn’t come for the camera, but for the people around you, and for the love and gifts you were receiving. The setting wasn’t grand by today’s standards. It was just ten balloons, a tea poy covered with a bedsheet, a small chair to sit on, and the cute height difference that made it hard to blow out the pink number (age) candle. You’d lean toward the cake, waiting to blow it out and taste it as fast as you could. The dresses we chose were bright—unlike now, where we go for subtle colours. Wearing a happy birthday cone cap, owning and celebrating yourself without a care. And the best part was the snacks: a plate with a piece of cake, five or six eclairs, a samosa, and some mixture. That was the best treat 🥺. Those days are truly special and hold a great place in o...

 Today, I was spending time with my neighbour’s kid, who is just 4 years old. You can find a few blogs about her. She is my  muse at times, because this little child has made me think in ways I never expected and has truly inspired me to write. I was sitting in the hall, resting my legs on the wooden teapoy, while she was scribbling something in her diary. One thing I’ve observed about her is that no matter what she is doing, she is always aware of what’s happening around her. She is all ears, very quickly she would respond to what we say. And today was such a day.  There was a little distance between me and the teapoy. All of a sudden, she said, “Akka porumaya okaru, careful. Table ah munnadi thalli potuko.” Meaning: Akka, be careful. Sit patiently. Bring the table forward so you’ll be more comfortable. I was completely overwhelmed 🥺. I kept thinking, how is this tiny being able to speak with so much care? She even moved the table closer to me herself so that I could si...

A child’s growth feels magical and full of surprises. Till yesterday, Those small legs were scared to take big steps. Those soft hands were hesitant to hold hard objects. Those delicate lips uttered words that formed a new language of their own. Those sparkling eyes saw everything with wonder. That little soul was choosy— with people, with food, with places. That tiny creature who spread happiness to everyone around… And all of a sudden, runs like Subway Surfers Jake The one who was once fed now feeds us, and even the hardest heart softens. Imitates everyone— from father to Rajinikanth. Every word it utters makes sense, switching between languages as effortlessly as play. Those eyes now understand people with just a glance. The choosy version slowly fades as it begins to understand life to love people, to love food, to love everything. Yet, no matter what, the innocence and the happiness the child creates  'Remain'. In fact, they only grow they double.