Here’s to the Beginning

It’s 6:05 p.m. on a blissful Monday evening here in Toronto. Today it’s 16 degrees, and for the first time in months, air feels softer and kinder, wrapping the city in a gentle warmth. Snow is melting, and if you look closely, little hints of green are starting to appear.

Spring is just a few weeks away, and I can’t wait to explore the city without a heavy jacket and to take y’all along on some of those little side quests.

Unlike my usual blog style, I’m typing this as a letter, which is something new for me. My old website was beautiful, but keeping it running became… a lot. I tried (read: forced myself) to learn website development, SEO, and twenty other things, and eventually had to admit it was too much for my non-coder brain.

So I finally decided to start here.

What followed were a series of follow-ups, tutorial sessions, and a few disappointing attempts at getting the aesthetics just right. This site still doesn’t quite have the look I imagined, but I figured it might just need some time to get there.

In the meantime, I’d rather focus on what I came here to do: write my heart out.

So allow me a few tries to get this right, get comfortable, and slowly shape this space into a comfy corner.

I hope you’ll stick around and welcome these newsletters into your inbox. This time, we’ll also be able to interact more, which makes it feel a little less like writing into the void and a little more like a conversation.

So grab a cup of chai, get comfortable, and keep scrolling.

Let’s finally talk with Zindagi together.

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Heart Note

Some notes might make you smile, some might spark a thought, and some might just make you pause for a moment. Either way, this section is all about finding a little hope in the everyday.

Talking about seasons, growing up, I never really experienced snow. I’m from Gujarat, India, where winter is gentle and the lowest temperature hovers around 3 or 4 degrees. Snow always felt like something distant and magical.

Because of that, I always found myself romanticizing the idea of living in snowy mountains, especially somewhere in North India. I imagined a life that moved more slowly, and intentionally. I believe life in the mountains follows the rhythm of nature, far from the city’s constant rush. It’s slower and simpler, though not always easy.

I imagine that every day struggles must exist there too, sometimes even more than in the cities. But somehow that makes it even more beautiful. It feels like people there learn to appreciate the small things a little more, like sunrise, a warm cup of chai, the comfort of a mountain cafe, and the sound of a stream flowing somewhere nearby. Those little moments feel bigger in the mountains.

I remember watching a series called The Reunion (a comfy, light-hearted show about friends’ reunion after 10 years, which I totally recommend.) One of the characters owned a strawberry farm in the mountains, and I was instantly fascinated by that kind of life.

Toronto winters are a little different. After experiencing extreme snow for the past three years, I now sometimes catch myself dreaming of sunny beaches somewhere in Latin America. (Anyway, I guess this is just my tendency to romanticize the “what-ifs.”)

Toronto has its own magic. I like the pause that winter gives. Toronto, in many ways, reminds me of Mumbai, a city that never sleeps, always rushing toward something, never taking a breath. But when winter comes, Toronto slows down. It’s like it’s going into hibernation, curling up like a cute panda.

Most of the outdoor adventures are over, and suddenly all you crave is a cup of hot chocolate. There’s a magic in staying in, wrapped in a cozy blanket, letting your favorite show play on loop, feeling like doing nothing is doing everything. The cold outside makes the warmth inside feel so sacred.

Winter days teach you (okay, sometimes force you) to slow down, enjoy the hush, and savor the small comforts and simple joys that the rest of the year often skips past.

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Letter to Zindagi

I feel like life itself deserves a letter. In this section, I’ll write directly to it, asking the questions I don’t always have answers to. Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments below, and I’ll gather them all together to weave into the next newsletter.

All these thoughts make me wonder… Why is it that we humans always long for the things we’re far from? Why do the places we haven’t been to, the moments we don’t have, the experiences that feel just out of reach, always fascinate us the most?

Is it life’s way of keeping us curious, restless, and searching… or is there something I’m missing? How does one learn to find contentment amidst this constant restlessness?

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The little things

Life can be overwhelming, but it’s also full of tiny moments that make it beautiful. A song that speaks to your heart, a quote that moves you, a movie that warms you, a conversation that feels like home, and so on. Here, I gather them before they fade.

• I’ve started listening to the radio in the mornings, and I love it. It’s such a simple way to stumble upon new music I might’ve missed otherwise.
• I went for cycling after 3-4 months, and wow… it was humbling. Just 8–10 minutes in, and I was already breathing heavily.
• My 9-year-old nephew asked me a question the other day, “Why do we call it a building, even though it’s already built?” and I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s so funny, and kind of brilliant at the same time. I mean…he’s got a point, right?
• I stumbled upon this quote while scrolling Insta, “First make something, then make it beautiful’ Simple, but somehow it stuck with me.
• Just finished Bridgerton Season 4, and I have to admit… Benedict is officially my favorite brother of all, ISTG.

Thanks for reading! I’ll be back soon with more musings. Until then, take care, cheer for the right voices, and be ridiculously kind.