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A Simple Anniversary Filled with Gratitude

Today, 9th February 2026, marks our 12th wedding anniversary , and my heart feels full in the simplest, most beautiful way. The day became special right from the morning because a few people remembered. My husband’s friend Jeevan , Uma Chitti , my cousin Sandhiya anni , and my Wipro friend Lakshmi took a moment to send their wishes. That thoughtfulness alone made me feel so happy and deeply blessed. What made the day even better was my husband reaching home early from work — a rare and precious gift in itself. Together, we visited Shri Jai Ambe Karthik Swamy Temple, Vadodara , and the experience was calm, divine, and grounding. As a small token of love and gratitude, we donated ₹1,000 to the temple and requested them to prepare evening prasadham for two days . It felt peaceful and meaningful. After the temple visit, we did a little shopping at the Tamil shop below — picking up Thangaiah mixture, Mysorepa , and a few groceries. Those familiar flavours always bring a sense of home an...
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Mathur Aqueduct, Kanyakumari: Where Engineering Meets Timeless Strength

Some structures don’t just serve a purpose—they quietly stand as reminders of human intelligence, patience, and vision. The Mathur Aqueduct , located near Thiruvattar in Kanyakumari district , is one such marvel that continues to amaze visitors decades after it was built. Often referred to as the Mathur Hanging Trough , this aqueduct is one of the longest and tallest aqueducts in Asia . Constructed in the late 1950s, its primary purpose was to carry water from the Pahrali River to irrigate agricultural lands in the surrounding villages. What makes it extraordinary is not just its size, but the fact that it still performs its duty efficiently even today. A Structure Ahead of Its Time The aqueduct stretches for nearly 1 kilometer and is supported by massive concrete pillars, some rising to a height of over 100 feet . Built across a deep valley, the structure looks almost suspended in air, earning it the name “hanging trough.” Despite being exposed to sun, rain, wind, and decades of ...

A Colourful Tiffin, A Happier Heart

My daughter studies at Kidzee, Sayajipura, Vadodara , and one thing I truly appreciate about her school is the emphasis on healthy food. Over time, she has naturally adapted to Gujarati meals, and as a mother, that makes me incredibly happy. Once a month, the school celebrates a home feast —a day when children can bring healthy food prepared at home. Every month, I try to make something thoughtful and nourishing. In the past, I’ve packed her kolukattai, paniyaram, poori , and a few other homemade delicacies. But this January, I wanted to do something different. Something colourful. Something fun. The night before the home feast, my daughter and I sat together scrolling through YouTube, hunting for cooking inspiration. After watching several videos, we finally decided to try a healthy, vibrant idea inspired by this video: 👉 YouTube inspiration : https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=7kToQQB1jj0 We made purées using spinach, beetroot, and carrot , and used them to prepare the ...

Roots That Never Leave Us: Chapter 10

The Smell of Soil in a Distant Land In 2026, living far away in Gujarat, I watched the movie Kadaisi Vivasayi . As the scenes unfolded, something stirred inside me. The wells. The farms. The animals. The festivals. Suddenly, I wasn’t in Gujarat anymore. I could smell the soil of Supparayapuram. I could hear hens clucking, cows mooing, goats bleating, temple bells ringing. Tears filled my eyes — not of sadness, but of longing. Immediately, I called the tenant staying in our Pandarapuram house and asked about the goats, cows, cats, and hens. It felt like checking on family. That day, a thought took firm root in my heart. I wanted to do some kind of farming in our village home. Not for profit. But for connection. So every year when we visit, I could look forward to seeing something grow. So my daughter could taste vegetables fresh from the soil. So she could know the joy I once knew. In a world rushing forward, I wanted to hold on to something timeless. Because roots, once nur...

Roots That Never Leave Us: Chapter 9

Life Returns to the Village In 2025, we visited the Pandarapuram house with the family. My husband’s brothers, their wives, and children — all together. Laughter filled the rooms again. Footsteps echoed. The house felt alive. Just like my grandfather’s home once did. I realized something then. Homes don’t die. They only sleep — waiting for families to return. ** To be Continued**

Roots That Never Leave Us: Chapter 8

A New Home, A New Beginning In 2024, something unexpected happened. My father-in-law had been trying to sell his ancestral house in Pandarapuram , near Sathankulam in Tuticorin district. With no luck, he finally decided to gift it to us. My daughter was thrilled. When we visited, I felt an instant connection. It was the house where my father-in-law was born and married. Where my husband’s brothers’ wedding rituals took place. Where grandparents once lived, laughed, and prayed. The neighbors shared beautiful stories. They told me my mother-in-law used to perform Kanni Pooja there — a ritual I myself have been doing devotedly for over ten years. They also said that during Aadi Thiruvizha , our family deity used to visit that very house. It stood close to our family temple. The house wasn’t just bricks and walls. It had devotion woven into it. It felt like destiny welcoming me back to my roots. **To be Continued**

Roots That Never Leave Us: Chapter 7

The House That Aged With Time Our ancestral home, built in 1964, slowly weakened. Years of low maintenance made it unsafe. Now, when we visit the village, we only stand outside and look at it. The walls are tired. The roof fragile. We don’t dare enter. Yet every crack holds laughter. Every corner holds memories. It waits quietly — like an old guardian watching generations move on. **To be Continued**