Red White and Desi

 

I was in Paris for a mere six weeks when I started craving pancakes. Not the French crepe. A big fat American pancake with butter, maple syrup, and a heaping of fresh bananas. Thankfully Paris with its sizeable American expat community and being the cosmopolitan city that it is, had its share of American restaurants. Thus my friends and I were able to get our fix. It was a funny thing being an Indian-American in Paris. In America, I always..... Continue reading here.

 

Desperately Seeking Desi

 

Since I was a child, I have been desperately trying to learn Hindi to no avail. I had finally given up until 2008 when I decided to go back to India after ten long years. This was the perfect time to revisit my Indian roots and try to learn the language again. Although I understood some Hindi, I couldn’t converse with any fluency, much less Kachi or Tulu, my parents’ native tongues. I didn’t know how to cook any of my grandmother’s family recipes..... Continue reading here.

 

Say My Name

 

I peered stealthily over the apples. Like a panther I was watching my prey. I knew even from behind that it was him. His shoulder length, chocolate brown hair, his tall slim stature, I was SURE he was the one. I made way over to the melons so I could get a better glimpse. I pretended to be examining the melons when I decided to make my move. “Excuse me, do you know what aisle the pickles are in?”  Omigod, did I really just ask what aisle the pickles are in?.... Continue reading here.