#dad is going to kerala

[bakingrecipe]

why does every phone call with my parents make me want to kms

[not-so-superheroine]

[indigoraysoflight]

“Spicy food in India” | Caryl prompt

requested by @that-left-turn ❤️

~

Cardamom & Curry

Carol stared at the fish. They’d been in Munnar for three days, and Carol had already gathered three South Indian recipes to take home. She decided to try making fish curry for lunch instead of finding a local restaurant, but there was one problem. Carol had never filleted a pomfret before. Daryl was the one who always filleted fish in their home, but he was asleep, so she was on her own.

Henry and his dad, Ezekiel, had planned a trip to Kerala, South India and wanted Lydia to go with them. Lydia and Henry had been dating for three years, and Carol adored Henry. He was respectful – if a little spoiled – and he loved Lydia. She knew Daryl liked him too but was extra grumpy around the boy who was dating his adopted daughter. Henry and his dad travelled a lot and often took Lydia with them. But Daryl refused to let their kid go across the world by herself, even though their kid wasn't really 'a kid'. So, Ezekiel generously extended the invitation to Lydia’s adoptive mom and her adoptive mom’s platonic best friend, who also happened to be Lydia’s adoptive father. To say their first dinner together had been awkward would be an understatement. 

They’d been saving up for a big vacation for a year and a half now, so the timing worked out. Her catering business was going well this year, but Carol doubted they’d ever be able to afford this expensive rental. The luxury cottage was built with rustic stone and wood, and nestled on top of a hill, surrounded by tea and cardamom plantations. Ezekiel had given them the tour when they arrived, but the space was too big for her taste; she would’ve preferred a cozy but comfortable cottage with a view of the rolling hills. Still, she’d smiled graciously every time he pointed out an expensive feature on the property while Daryl sulked in the back. There was an odd tension between Daryl and Ezekiel, and she'd figured out why after what happened yesterday. Carol thought it best to stay with Daryl today and take some time to think–

“You tryna fillet the fish with your mind? Just gotta use a knife.” 

Carol blinked, realizing she had zoned out and she was still staring at the pomfret. “Is that how it works? I thought if I stared at it sternly, it would fillet itself.”

“Gimme.” He limped over and started filleting the pomfrets with impressive precision. 

“Show off,” she muttered under her breath.

His hair was dishevelled, and he wore cargo shorts and a faded tie-dye t-shirt that Sophia had made for him years ago. She pushed his fringe back to examine the cut on his face, held together by butterfly bandages. They'd been more generous with their touches lately – especially since they got here – but she didn't mind, and she didn't think he minded either by the way he leaned into her touch.  

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” he said without looking up at her. 

“You’re lucky you didn't need stitches.” He looked up at her then, his eyes intense as they flicked down to her lips. She realized she was just running her fingers through his hair now and stepped back. 

She and Daryl woke up before dawn the last two mornings and, in a jetlagged daze, walked along the path through the tea plantation to catch the sunrise. They didn’t expect it to rain on their way back yesterday. She slipped and would’ve tumbled down the path, but Daryl steadied her, lost his balance, and landed in the tea plantation. Besides a large cut on the left side of his face, tea leaves stuck to his elbows and knees, and a sprained ankle — he was intact. His eyes held a fear she hadn’t seen in five years –  fear and something else – as he frantically checked her for injuries and then held her in his arms for a solid minute in the rain.  

“This fish isn't going to marinate itself,” she said in a chipper voice and mixed the spices in a bowl to calm her heart rate before smearing a generous amount of the paste on the fish. 

“That’s enough. Dunno if I need more spice.”

Carol smirked and batted her eyelashes at him. “But I thought you liked it when I’m spicy, Pookie.”   

“Stop.” 

They fell into the rhythm they had in their own kitchen. She sauteed the onions with the spice mixture while he squinted at the recipe she’d scribbled on a paper pad and started cutting the tomatoes – stopping every few seconds to pop a slice in his mouth. Carol took a deep breath and focused on the onions. Something had viscerally shifted between them on the long flight over here. She’d clung to him on the plane during turbulence, and after they landed, they kept reaching for an excuse to touch each other. She’d been so unguarded in the way she leered at him that Lydia and Henry had given her a knowing look more than once.  

“Where’s the royal family? I’m guessing Lydia is with them?” Daryl casually fed her a slice of tomato and then sucked the juice off his fingers. 

They’re gone, and I’m in trouble. Carol steadied her voice. “Lydia, Henry, and Zeke went sightseeing; they won’t return until after dinner.” It’s just us, and you keep doing that thing with your mouth, she thought.

Carol let the curry simmer while they stepped onto the balcony and lounged on the chairs, staring at the green expanse. The air was dewy and perpetually scented with a hint of cardamom. Sophia would’ve loved this place. She would be perched on the balcony with her sketchbook, scribbling away and absentmindedly picking at her nails. 

“Why didn’t ya go with them? I’m sure Henry’s dad will miss you.” Daryl growled and picked at his nail. 

The tension between Daryl and Ezekiel got worse when he limped on their way back yesterday, and Ezekiel offered to pay for a doctor to take a look at him. Carol knew he would refuse, and thankfully she had packed some first aid supplies because she knew this man too damn well.

Carol rolled her eyes. “I wanted to stay and take care of Lydia’s dad, so he understood.”

Daryl’s lips quirked up, summoning a flutter in her belly. What are we doing here, Daryl? She wanted to ask. They’d been tip-toeing around each other for years now. Or she thought they were. Maybe this is all they’d ever be – platonic best friends who lived together, who raised a daughter and lost another. Two people who let their touches linger too long, reached for each other when they were afraid, longed for each other when they were apart, and sometimes slept in each other’s arms but never crossed that line. Always something more, but never quite enough. 

“Surprised he hasn’t asked ya out yet.” 

Carol blinked at Daryl, wanting to point out the irony in what he’d said. Irritation coursed through her as the curry burbled away, and she decided to come clean about what had happened the previous evening. 

“He did after dinner last night.”

“What?” Daryl looked like he’d been punched in the gut; Carol tried to ignore the twinge of guilt and failed. 

Ezekiel had helped her load the dishwasher in the kitchen and asked her out before they retired to their rooms last night. He’d been a perfect gentleman – charming, respectful, and chivalrous. But all she’d thought about was how Daryl’s eyes had lingered on her lips before dinner when he’d told her she looked beautiful. 

“I told him I’ll think about it.” They weren’t in a position to anger their host, even though she felt that Ezekiel would accept defeat graciously and not put them in an awkward position. 

“Why didn’t ya say yes?”

“Why does it matter?”

Daryl’s behaviour was giving her whiplash. He practically undressed her with his eyes last night and almost launched himself at Ezekiel for complimenting her at dinner. Now, he was pushing her to date the man.

Daryl peered through his fringe, his eyes earnest. “He’s real charming, rich, generous, and clearly has a thing for ya.”

Carol crossed her arms. “If he’s so great, why don't you go out with him?”

“Pfft. Ain’t my type.” 

“What is your type?” Carol raised her eyebrows, ignoring the heat that crept up her cheeks as Daryl’s eyes roamed her face and lingered on her lips before he pried his gaze away.

“Don’t change the subject. He’s corny and a bit pretentious, but he doesn’t seem like an asshole.”

“So, that’s what you want then? For me to date Ezekiel?” Her voice wavered, but she held his gaze, her anger now simmering to the surface and prickling at her eyes. Is that what he wanted? Then why did he look at her like that all the time — like he was afraid of losing her? Had she gotten this all wrong? Did she spend years pining after a man who was finally telling her he was not interested? 

Daryl looked away. “I want ya to be happy. He’d treat you like a Queen and-”

“-I should get started on the appam.” 

Carol went to the kitchen before the tears formed in her eyes, hating the open plan of the cottage where she could feel Daryl’s eyes follow her. Her hand reached for the pink bauble pendant resting on her chest. After Sophia died, they’d grown closer and built a wall between them at the same time. But when Lydia came into their lives, the wall started breaking down. She hoped, in time, they could pick up where they left off. Now, she didn’t know why she thought this vacation would be a new beginning for them. Daryl was never going to see her as anything but his best friend. She’d waited too long. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl loved watching her cook. Her hair was tied up in a bun; she wore a loose Bowie t-shirt, baggy sweats, and soft fuzzy elf socks Lydia got for her last Christmas. The aroma of cardamom and chilli lingered in the air as she poured rice batter on a pan to make the rice crepes they called appam. He wished he could walk up and wrap his arms around her, kiss the nape of her neck and see if he could taste cardamom on her skin. I bet Ezekiel didn't think this hard before he made his move. He sighed. 

Daryl didn’t know how many days he had left to savour her presence, reach for her hand when they walked up a crooked path and watch the sunrise wash over her freckles. She looked radiant last night in the blue dress that hugged her form and illuminated her eyes. He knew sooner or later, she’d meet a man who deserved her. I didn’t think it would be this soon. To think he’d hoped this vacation would give them time to figure out what their future looked like. Even if Daryl selfishly wished to be with her, Carol deserved someone who could offer her the world. Ezekiel sure as hell checked all the boxes.

Carol deserved all of this. Lavish vacations, a charming partner, and children who adored her – who were safe and in her arms. She deserved a comfortable life after everything she’d been through.  

Daryl’s work as a contractor was unpredictable, and renting a cottage of this size for twelve days was out of the question. He thought the trip he’d taken her and Sophia on to the Grand Canyon had been extravagant because he’d spent a chunk of his savings to upgrade them to a big cabin with a mini-pool. Now Henry’s rich father entered the picture and showed him up with one effortless, generous gesture and an offhanded “We vacation here every summer”. The universe could’ve kicked him in the balls, and it would’ve hurt less. 

Daryl walked into the kitchen and started slicing some red onions to soak in lemon juice because he needed something to do before his thoughts choked him. Carol’s eyes were far away when she held up a spoon so he could taste the curry; the heat from the spices hit him straight in the back of his throat and lingered on his palate. 

“Why did you stay after Sophia died?” 

Daryl coughed. “What?”

“You heard me.”

It didn’t even occur to him to leave after Sophia died. When he’d rented the basement apartment in Carol’s house all those years ago, he only wanted a cheap place to rest his head as he went through trade school. Daryl hadn’t expected to fall so deeply in love with Carol and co-parent her child with her. Before he knew it, he'd moved upstairs into the spare room, and he walked the kid to school every day and helped with her homework. He’d come to love Sophia like she was his own daughter. When she died, he and Carol had anchored each other through their shared grief over the loss of their little girl. Then, another kid walked through the doors, and they were given another chance.  

“I loved that kid. I know Sophia wasn’t mine, but she was.” He didn’t expect his voice to break as his eyes lingered on Carol's pink bauble necklace. 

“I know. But that’s not what I asked.” her voice was soft, her eyes crystal in the afternoon light – she was crying in the kitchen when he was busy leering at her. He wanted to kick himself for being an idiot again. 

Carol pinned him with her gaze. “Why’d you stay?” 

“Why didn’t ya say yes to Ezekiel?” he deflected.

“I’m not interested in him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t love him.” Carol’s voice was a desperate whisper. “Ezekiel wasn’t the one who held me through my grief. He didn’t take my daughter trick-or-treating or scour ten game stores to find the obscure video game she wanted. He didn’t make her chicken soup with alphabet pasta when she was sick. He didn’t treat me and my daughter like we were the center of his universe-” Carol’s voice broke, and she wiped her tears. 

“Carol-” 

“-I thought we were on the same page, Daryl, and hoped we’d have a stroke of luck with the change of scenery, but I guess I was wrong.” 

Did she really not know? Had he not been clear enough about how he felt? He loved her so much he’d let her walk into a pretentious rich guy’s arms—shit. As he played the thoughts over in his mind, he realized how they must’ve sounded out loud. I fucked up. Words chased each other in his mind as he struggled to explain. 

“Our luck’s run out,” Carol sighed and turned to leave.

Before he could think too hard, he pulled her close and kissed her. Her lips tasted of cardamom, and her. Carol. A small part of his mind worried about her shoving him away, but instead, she melted in his embrace and drew him in for more. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His lips were softer than she’d imagined. He kissed her deeply and slowly like he had all the time in the world. His hands were everywhere – caressing her face, gripping her waist, tangled in her hair – like he was tracing her silhouette in his memory. When they came up for air, her mind was molasses, and her thoughts returned to her slowly. He traced her jawline with a featherlight touch and looked at her like he worried she would disappear. Carol blinked away the tears and ran a finger alongside the butterfly bandages on his face. Their eyes met, and he held her hand to his cheek and kissed it. 

“Why’d you stay?” she asked again. 

“I stayed because I belong with you.”

There was nothing else she could say but kiss him again and wonder why she hadn’t done it sooner. 

“Why did you tell me to date Ezekiel?” she asked between kisses. 

“I’m an idiot.” He kissed her back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After their make-out session, they took a quick break to catch a breath and have lunch – a bowl of fish curry with rice crepes or appam. They’d been eating spicy food for days, and he always regretted it in the morning, but that didn't stop him. He dove in immediately, savouring every bite as the sharp taste of chilli and cardamom hit his palate. Sooo good. He could still taste the fish, and it melted in his mouth. He couldn’t slow down if he tried, so he helped himself to a red onion slice soaked in lemon juice and hummed as the acid cut through the savoury richness of the curry.

Carol watched him with a smile – her gaze soft and open. Most of her hair had escaped the bun, her cheeks were flushed, and her lips looked swollen and kissable. His brain short-circuited; he didn’t know whether to continue eating the curry or kiss her. She solved his problem by scooping some fish with the appam and feeding it to him; Daryl held her gaze as he ate and licked the pads of her fingers with his tongue. 

He didn’t know which one of them closed the gap. He didn’t care because he was kissing the woman he loved. His hands pulled her close, and her fingers grabbed his hair as they stumbled toward her bedroom. The taste of cardamon and curry lingered on his tongue as he pressed openmouthed kisses to her neck.   

“Your lips taste spicy, Pookie.” 

“Thought you like it when I’m spicy.”

Her laughter bounced off the walls as he kicked the bedroom door shut behind him. 

_________________________________________________________

A few notes: 

Munnar: Munnar is a hillstation in India’s Kerala state. It's surrounded by rolling hills dotted with tea, coffee, and cardamom plantations.

Appam: Appam is a thin and lacy fermented rice pancake. Traditionally, it’s eaten with stew or coconut chutney. 

Pomfret: This delicate white fish is a staple in coastal regions of India.  

Fish curry recipe for the curious minds (if you plan on making it, please don’t forget to marinate your protein). 

[pumpkinsy0]

So basically my dad doesn’t talk a lot much. But when he does he’s either talking abt how he lived in India or the bible( even tho he doesn’t believe in it ik weird asf💀)

But like basically he’s super antisocial. But my mom said that he used to be super social and funny and stuff. I figured she was js making it up to say smth yk. But like when we went back to India to his state Kerala, he was super talkative and smiling and laughing.

And I was like ????huhh?? Who tf is this guy?? This is not my dad???🤨🤨

And I was js thinking abt ur hc for Steve being African and I lowk think this is how his dad is. Like he is kind of disassociated cuz he js never got used to America. And he loves Steve but he can’t rlly show it cuz like he is js completely out of place w his life.😕

And like maybe one time they got the money to go to a trip back home. And Steve was kind of like annoyed cuz he didn’t want to get stuck w his dad for 2 months. But when he went he saw like this whole new side of him.

And like my dad speaks Malayalam and he loves speaking it cuz it’s his native language obv. But me and my brother never learned cuz our parents speak diff languages and our dad never spoke it to our mother or around us. So like I hc Steve the same like he feels kind of guilty or whatever for not knowing it. And like his dad obv beats on him and shit and Steve will get bitter over it(justified). But he knows he loves him in his own way and after that trip feels guilty for not knowing more abt his roots and not being able to make him feel at home.

Sorry for going on a rant lmfao but js felt like relating to Steve and ur hc was so perfect for it so I had to let u know☺️☺️

hope u had (or have) fun on ur trip!!!thats so cool i always wanted to travel out the country and see haiti, yall r so lucky

YEA THATS KINDA WHAT IT IS, i would say that the reason why steves father is the way he is is for a multitude of reasons, but one of them is bc he just never rlly understands america and the frustrates him a lot that he cant “fit in”, he wants to take care of his family just doesnt know how to in this new environment

i keep forgetting some ppl actually remember my other ethnicity hcs for these characters, so when i read this and u brought up steve being african i verbally went “u remember that??”😭😭

this is one of the realest things an anon has sent me about steve, thank u for letting me know about this, it WILL b cherished🙏🏽🙏🏽🫶🏽

[artistic-pussy-power]

An Ode to the Dust and the Potholes of India 

Inside India’s most beautiful state, Kerala, is its most beautiful town: Kodanchery, my hometown of dusty streets and polluted corners. (I think if you told some Indians burning plastic is bad, they would throw their personalities into the fire just to be spiteful). 

Kodanchery is loud and, as with every town in India, filled with rickety old shops. There’s the fish shop where my brother would live if he could. I’m sure the owner would quite like him to because there’s nothing that lights up his face as much as hearing my brother’s foreign English inside his smelly shop. 

Then there’s the open market stalls my achachan limps along, browsing for fruits and vegetables. They’re gathering with fruit files, but no one seems to care. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a wash anyway.  

Today, my cousins are home for the weekend and working away in their father’s “teashop” I guess you could call it. The shop is small but about six tables are shoved in there anyway. Like all "teashops” in my little state, there are no windows or doors, just the open, inviting front and spluttering fans whirling away. As we sit, my aunt comes from the small kitchen with a smile. She has my brother’s egg puffs, my neyyappam and all our chai in hand already. The snacks are held in a heated shelf just steps away from us, but she plates them anyway.  

In another life, we would make the 30-minute trek home on foot and my achachan would spend the entire time talking about the importance of daily exercise. In this life, his grotesquely swollen leg will bid us to call our other uncle. My ‘papapa’ picks us up in the autorickshaw he’s had as long as I’ve known him and achachan gives the lecture as we bump along.  

A later day, I will drive along our neighbourhood with my dad, learning the frustrations of manual. We skitter along the asphalt road, avoiding the edges that lead to unsupervised pits (there are many of them) and turn left at the small “Cross N’ Church” (it sounds better in Malayalam). The forest of rubber trees that give our little neighbourhood its livelihood rise above us and drip with white. We go over roads that might make my friends in New Zealand faint at the sheer sight and laugh about the time we crossed the border between Kerala and Tamil Nadu––how the potholes and eroded asphalt disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

On the way back, I wave to the house on the hill where my Malayalam teacher lives. Her guard dogs bark at us, and in the evening, when I go over to learn my mother tongue, the aggression will startle me. In a couple of weeks, I will start to smile at their roar. Today, I think they were cute—very cute.m

[greywritesrandom]

Kethuvalam

A sudden presence filled the air, and I found myself in the company of a man whose simplicity radiated warmth and wisdom. He was in his sixties, I believe, his face clean-shaven, save for a dignified grey moustache that seemed to match his serene demeanour. The moment I saw him, I felt safe—like I’d known him forever. 

Oddly enough, I wasn’t the 21-year-old man I knew myself to be. Instead, I looked like a 10-year-old child, slightly chubby and smaller than most kids my age. Not particularly tall, and far from smart, at least that’s how I felt. Yet, in that moment, none of it mattered. We sat there, the two of us, as though there was an eternity of stories between us—stories filled with laughter, curiosity, and a profound connection.

I was sitting on his lap in a small house by a lonely harbour. It was cozy, humble, yet full of character. He sold little boats, handmade kettuvallams, crafted delicately from bamboo and paper. Each boat was a work of art, some adorned with houses, others with temples, and even some with modern buildings. They were mesmerizing, their craftsmanship flawless, as though each was its own tiny world. His shop was his home, and I found myself visiting him often, even though I never lived there permanently.  

Something about the place felt maternal, nurturing, like a warm embrace. As the days passed, I came to learn I was in Kerala. Time seemed to slip through my fingers there, but when it was time to leave, my heart ached. I fought with my dad, pleading to stay longer, but it was no use. The man, with a gentle smile, carried me and promised my dad that we’d visit again. Tears streamed down my face as I left the small house, the harbour slipping away as we rode off in a rickshaw. 

I had only spent ten days with this man—a stranger—and yet, I loved him more than anyone in my life. He had become the closest person to my heart, despite the brief time we’d shared.

Years passed, but home never quite felt like home after that. Then, the opportunity came—we were going back to Kerala. Though it wasn’t my hometown, nor did I have any relatives there, I was beyond excited. I was older now, maybe 15, thinner than I had been, but none of that mattered. All I could think about was seeing him again.

The train ride flew by as anticipation buzzed inside me. The moment we arrived at the station, I rushed to the rickshaw driver, eager to give him the address. My family had other plans, but my dad reassured them that we’d meet up later. Together, we headed to the harbour.

When we arrived, my heart raced. There were more shops now, but his—his was still the best. I could feel it. I ran toward the familiar doorway, bursting inside with a grin, only to be met by an unfamiliar face. A girl stood there, her long black hair slicked with oil, short and slightly chubby, but there was something about her presence—something that reminded me of him. I rushed past her, my eyes falling on the boats—the kettuvalams—each one beautifully crafted as I remembered.

One, in particular, caught my eye. It was the largest of them all, with the Padmanabhan Swamy temple’s gopuram majestically built onto the boat and a crane standing next to it. It was captivating, like nothing I’d ever seen before. I bent down, pulling out my phone, which seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, trying to capture the perfect angle of this stunning masterpiece.

As I fumbled with the phone, my dad finished explaining who we were to the girl. She told him the man had just stepped out and would be back in an hour. My dad left to explore the other shops, but I stayed behind, engrossed by the boats. A sudden gust of wind swept through the shop, and a massive wave crashed onto the harbour outside. I looked back at the kettuvalam just in time to see the temple’s structure rip apart from the boat, splintering all the way down to its base.

My heart dropped. I felt something inside me break at that very moment. The phone on the counter rang sharply, shattering the silence, but I couldn’t move. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision, and soon, I found myself crying uncontrollably. I wailed, overcome with an unbearable sense of loss. I didn’t even fully understand what I had lost, but it felt monumental. 

The girl behind the counter was trembling, holding back tears of her own. I looked at her, and seeing her struggle only made me cry harder. I felt like I had lost something—someone—someone precious, as if a piece of me had been torn away. My dad, hearing the commotion, rushed in and wrapped his arms around me, lifting me into a piggyback hold. He walked for what felt like hours, just holding me as I sobbed.

We returned to the hotel, but I couldn’t stop crying. Even though I didn’t fully grasp what had happened, I felt it deeply—like a void had opened in my chest, swallowing me whole. For days, I kept to myself, grieving something I couldn’t name.

Now, I’m 21, and I find myself returning to Kerala again, this time alone. Time has blurred the edges of my memory, but as I wandered aimlessly, I found myself in front of his shop once more. It was almost empty now. The girl, now in her thirties, recognized me instantly, though I hadn’t said a word. She quietly let me in, handing me a piece of paper before vanishing from the shop, leaving me alone in the familiar silence.

I looked around, breathing in the nostalgic scent of the place. I had only spent ten days with this man, but those ten days felt like a lifetime—more of a family than my real one. I missed him so much. Ten days was far too little, far too short. A hole remained in my heart, a wound that never healed.

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, trying to stay strong, but my fists clenched, and I realized I was crushing the piece of paper in my hand. Slowly, I opened it, smoothing out the crumpled edges to read the last message he had left for me:

*"I don’t know where you came from, and I didn’t know who you were, but as soon as I bent down to hold your hand, I felt my lost son in you. You might not know this, but I lost my son when he was eight—two years before you visited. He drowned in the harbor right outside the shop, and I wasn’t there to save him. I missed him so much, and you were so much like him. I wished you could stay with me longer. I even wished you’d stay forever, knowing full well it was impossible. Thank you for those precious days. I thank Sree Ananta for the time I had with you. It might be selfish of me, and I’m guilty of that, but I wanted you to be my son. Thank you! I’ll be waiting for you to visit again and take over this place, so we can be together once more."*

Midway through the letter, tears began to stream down my face again, and by the time I finished, I was on my knees, sobbing louder than I had ever cried before. My chest heaved with regret, my heart aching with the weight of everything I never got to say.

I opened my eyes, and I was back in my bed. It was a dream. A dream of a man I had never met, of a place I had never been, and of things I never once knew existed. But the tears—the tears were real. The grief was real. My heart ached for someone I had never known, and yet, it felt as though I had lost everything.

Whoever he was, wherever he was from, I missed him. I missed him more than I could ever explain.

[hereforb99]

I'm posting sthg that I posted last year on my Instagram. Back then, I couldn't find many srk fangirls on Tumblr, but now I do. So, sharing it here:

I don't exactly remember when I was introduced to Shah Rukh Khan, but growing up in Kerala, he was the only Bollywood actor that people talked about. I could see pictures of him everywhere outside home. I still vividly remember seeing a Sunfeast ad poster of him at my aunt's house. Women around me liked him. It was my sister who introduced me to most of his films through her flawless narration. I used to visualize the scenes as she narrated. It was only much later that I actually saw most of his movies. Over time, I became obsessed with him. I learnt and started to love everything about him - the language he spoke and the city he lived in. Everybody knew about my obsession so much so that my classmates used to wish me on his birthday. I still get excited for his birthday more than mine. I used to promote his movies at home just so that dad would take me to the cinema. I don't know why I like him so much, but I do. Just like Shah Rukh mentioned in one of his interviews that he's an employee of the myth of Shah Rukh Khan, the Shah Rukh I love and adore is also a mythical man, not the living breathing Shah Rukh. He was the first medium through which I tried to make sense of heterosexual romantic relationships. I thought I was pretty much over him once I started college, but all it took me was one rewatch of Kuch Kuch Hota Hai to be back. Andy Sambergs and Song Joong-kis may come and go, but Shah Rukh Khan is here to stay! Happy Birthday, Shah Rukh Khan! 🥰 Congratulations on being one of the very few men that I respect.

Your forever fangirl 🤭

[chocolattefeverdreams]

This is my self-love altar. It's really small, but now I'm using one table for both studies and everything else, so I made this small and on a tray instead. It's really simple to make!

Things on my altar:

3 tealight candles - 2 pink and 1 white. I would rather put 1 white, 1 pink, and 1 red candle but honestly, it doesn't matter as long as the intention is there. The bad thing about tealights is that they don't last for so long, so I'm only going to light them when I say my affirmations.

1 sigil - I got the idea from Pinterest. I like how it turned out.

4 shells - these are also associated with love. I don't work with deities, but for those who do, shells are connected to Aphrodite. Water is generally connected to emotions, and I added them because my zodiac sign (both sun and moon) is Cancer ♋.

1 moonstone - also can be associated with my sign, and the moon, and intuitive abilities. I don't have a rose quartz but this is also associated with love sometimes. It's best to put a crystal that you like, and it doesn't always have to be associated with love.

4 jasmine flowers - also can be used if you don't have roses. There's a jasmine plant in my garden, and I pick the flowers from there. I also personally like it as it works well for intuition. Jasmine is also a popular flower in Kerala (my state, in India) so there's the cultural aspect of it too.

1 love poem - from the poet Rumi. The poem I chose is 'The Beauty of the Heart'. I read it when I'm working with my altar.

1 bracelet - which I enchanted. It was a gift to me from my dad, and I wear it whenever I go outside. It's also got diamonds, which are also associated with love.

1 lip balm - I enchanted this too with some intentions

1 mirror - because the only person that matters the most in your life is you! I look into it every day to say my affirmations.

The affirmations I use:

I am beautiful, inside and out.

I love myself, and so I attract love.

[the-chronicles-of-a-bookworm]

Hi baby! 💙

Im giving you some numbers for the ask game and a lot of kisses!

34, 41,48, 49, 50 (wildcard so I'm gonna put the question here feel free to skip if too personal)

50. Let's talk about love. What are the things (character and body) that attract you in a person? Do you have a type?

Hi <33

34. What’s your favorite flower? 

Hyacinths. I actually learned flower language for fun and even though i'm not an expert, I know the basic meaning of general flowers. Hyacinths represent prayers for a loved one or loneliness. I don't know why but I love the flower, both the meaning and how it looks.

41. What’s your favorite cartoon? 

I really loved this question! I'm actually from Kerala, but the amount of malayalam cartoons are dangerously low (according to my grandaunt smh) but there's Kathu which is the best (and only) malayalam cartoon I watched. it's about this cat and her family and her best friend who's a squirrel. There's also another cat who always wants to eat kathu or smth which i dont get why. But if you're looking for english cartoons, it's gonna be my little pony. I've religiously watched my little pony on ejunior everyday at 5 p.m. (TLDR; my little pony or kathu (which is a malayalam cartoon) Tell me yours too, Vesper!

48. Who’s someone you can trust with your life? 

My grandma or my parents. Leaning more towards my grandma. She would do anything for me. Anything. I can't give you examples because there's too much, but I remember she stayed up for 48 whole hours when my mum and dad were out so that i was fine (i had a bad fever). it may not seem like much, but its not an easy feat to stay up for 48 hours without rest just to make sure your granddaughter's temperature doesn't go up.

49. What does your last text say? 

it was to my friend manjita. she's reading one of our fav series ever, percy jackson and she's on the heroes of olympus so we geek out about it. the downside is, she's a slower reader than me, so I have to wait or else i'll accidentally give spoilers. this is the text i sent her when she said she was on the house of hades (the 4th book of the 5 book series)

50. Let's talk about love. What are the things (character and body) that attract you in a person? Do you have a type?

I'm not sure if i'll ever seriously pursue a romantic relationship. it's not that i don't love, but i've never felt those 'love at first sight' or 'oh my god i love them so much' feelings. ever. sure i would say stuff like '(fictional character) is the best i love them so much' but im not crazy. like many people, i know we can't exactly have a relationship with people who are not real. i dont think i have a type. when it comes to personality, i dont know what i want. i want a polite person. but then again, there are times when someone is too polite. ughhhh i dont knowwww im so clueless

[weddingfilmskl]

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[ladyeloisee]

It was just us. Inside that messed up room. Standing close to each other, feeling only the breath of us. He tucks me towards him. I am wearing that black chiffon textured saree, pairing with a black three fourth handed t-shirt blouse, obviously making me look sexier than ever. He is in his black casual shirt, ironed stiff, with a light blue jean. We look at our lips for some time, and we kiss. We get into that. I wrap my hands around his neck and his hands are around my waist and moving towards my neck and we are into us. Feeling us deep. That longing of being away…

Damn, wake up. Welcoming you all to another set of stories, which I want to make up into something someday. Kahani Suno about my first flight.

It was on a fine June day that I decided to runaway, because I was stuck between my family without a job and found myself falling into depression. There I found that invitation, that woke my brain. My friend had sent his sister’s wedding invitation and has been constantly reminding about it. Well, I did want to go, but I know that I can't leave. God had given me some good souls far away, who is always there for me. Let's put this girl as S. so I texted S. “hey, I am planning to come there, can we hangout for a couple of days? I actually got to attend a wedding and got plans with that.” No wonder why I call her my friend. She was ready to accept my quick decision. She planned for a peaceful Pondicherry trip as well. Well, I always wanted to visit that place when I was living at Chennai, and it did happen. so, I was ready with a fake orientation plans at Chennai, to produce in house. Obviously, my mum wasn’t happy. And I don’t wonder about that either. My dad booked tickets for me. I boarded the train, madras mail from Coimbatore. God, every single time I board I could smell that freedom I am going to experience. That space of just me and my things. So, I boarded early morning, reaching there at Chennai by around afternoon. I was planned about just that day. I knew my dad is getting back to Coimbatore that night I had enough time to decide about the next day. The wedding is suppose to be on 12th of June. So a day more. Dad picked me up. He was packing up his stuff, and had my lunch, rested, he bought me a new handbag hoping I would get that job which I applied for their sake. And which I am currently doing out of little survival interest.

He, left at night, having a peg. Me and dad together had a peg and I ordered my food in his presence. I freshened up. There was a new bathroom inside this time, which made it more comfortable. A shower. Wow. I didn’t know about the means of transport to Pathanamtitta, which is there as the third district of Kerala. Bus, no, lazy to travel and a bit conscious about people recognizing me. Train? No, when would I reach. The last option left was flight. God! I ever got into the plane. I wanted to. I had been to airports. When I was a kid of 5 or 6, I went with my family to pick my uncle, when he used to work at the West. So, as in Malayalam, rendumkalpich, I went to Makemytrip.com and booked a ticket from Chennai to Trivandrum.

Well, that was such a quick decision I took. I had no other option left. I couldn’t miss him. Not this time again. I might get married. I might get trapped. So, I decided to do this.

will be continued....

[sridharm-1980]

Hi 👋 MY DEAR LOVABLE ♥

WORLDWIDE PUBLIC PEOPLE OF INDIA 🇮🇳....AND

MAHARASTRA,DELHI, TAMILNADU,

ANDHRA PRADESH,

TELANGANA,

KARNATAKA,KOLKATA,

AHMADABAD,

PUNE,CHANDIGARH,

KERALA,LUCKNOW

BOYS 👦,GIRLS 👧,

YOUNGSTERS ,

FAMILYS 👪 👪 👪 👪 👪,KIDS AND

PUBLIC PEOPLE OF INDIA 🇮🇳....

"GOOD AFTERNOON,

FESTIVALS PONGAL,SANKRANTI

MAKAR SANKRANTI ARE COMING

OUR HOME 🏡 LET'S SAVE

HARD EARNED MONEY 💰

TO CELEBRATE BY GOING

TO MALLS,SHOPPING 🛍,

RESTAURANTS,HOTELS 🏨,

BEACH ⛱, TOURIST PLACES🏝

WITH OUR DAD, MOM, KIDS,

BROTHERS, SISTERS, GRANDFATHER,

GRANDMOTHER,UNCLE,

AUNTY TO ENJOY "

HUMANITY

ALWAYS NO.1

MASTERMIND

YOUR DON SRIDHAR.M

LOVE YOU ALL MY LOVABLE ❤

WORLDWIDE PUBLIC PEOPLE OF INDIA 🇮🇳....AND

MAHARASTRA,DELHI, TAMILNADU,

ANDHRA PRADESH,

TELANGANA,

KARNATAKA,KOLKATA,

AHMADABAD,

PUNE,CHANDIGARH,

KERALA,LUCKNOW

BOYS 👦, GIRLS 👧, YOUNGSTERS,

FAMILYS 👪, KIDS AND

PUBLIC PEOPLE OF INDIA 🇮🇳....💋💋 💋 💖💓💗💯🙏

THIS IS SRIDHAR.M☝

[gfmima]

mima!!

nonnie who went to india btw!

we reached safely today, we spent 12 hours there, and where i'm from in india is called kerala, and it's so rainy, like we got stranded on the road for a good 2 hours. We reached and I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw my house, it was so small now, like the doors where up to my twin sisters height and i'm a bit shorter than her so i was a few inches short. But theres alot of insects in here, especially lizards. AND I HATE THEM, I'M SO SCARED OF LIZARDS.

But, tmr we're going out to meet my moms siblings so.. yay?

byeeee

i can imagine the jet lag </3 same!!!!!! i cant w lizards :,) ever since i saw that scene of the lizard going inside the dads gfs mouth in the parent trap, i was never the same

also gl!!!!!! hopefully meeting ur relatives goes smoothly 😭 fingers crossed the weather gets better n u dont encounter any more insects

[penhive]

December 1st 2022

Yesterday I was pondering on the word miracle and then God spoke to me in a vision and I defined miracle as the victorious anticipated expectation of reality and hope it bears fruit in all my endeavors. I had only one class today and it was taking the tenses of the English to 5th graders. The kids were nerds and upon my slightest hint, they were able to coin sentences. I am an avid follower of the UAE lottery website and to my surprise they have enlarged the prize amount of the January 2023 draw to 35 Million Dirhams. For buying the ticket, I have to go to Dubai and I don’t have the moolah for it. I hope I can win a small amount of 5000 Rupees from a Kerala lottery and activate my dormant bank account and then take a loan from the Provident Fund. Again I exhort my existential philosophy of life: life is the celebration of meaning. I read the Bible and I have read the stories of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob.  It is surprising that Abraham was the grand old dad who created the Jews from Isaac and the Muslims from his maid’s son Ishmael. God blessed and multiplied Abraham in his later years. I am wondering what would be Abraham’s state of mind when he was asked by God to sacrifice his son Isaac and he willingly complied and at the last minute of the sacrifice: God provided him a ram. Yes, God’s victories are last-minute ones and God loves his subjects to keep on guessing his moves.  And that is God‘s privilege and pleasure. It is a mystery as to why God is harsh and kind, gentle and tough at the same time. I also fascinated with the villain and rogue Jacob who stole the inheritance and birth rite from his brother Esau. Yet, I wonder why God loved Jacob more than Esau. Again I read the story of Cain and how he murdered Abel. Why God show preferential treatment when he liked Abel’s offering more than Cain’s. And that was the reason for jealousy and hatred of Cain for his brother Abel. Yes God is God and no respecter of persons! No one on earth can question the will of God. I am coming to a new word: museicality. Museicality comes from Muse and Music and it’s a free narrative form of writing. Thoughts in museicality become an inner feeling and it is somewhat akin to streams of consciousness. I take Isaac’s blessing of Jacob upon myself: may you be blessed with Heaven’s dew, the earth’s riches, abundant grain and new wine.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

what the fuck I--why is some of this actually so relatable oh no

that is fucking awful. i am so sorry.

oh yeah. hindi as a second language at school, absolute fucking nightmare. even the kids whose native tongue was hindi couldn't do well in the exams. thank SOMEONE i switched to french. it's so bad because i learned more hindi speaking to north indian folks for a few days than I did in ten years of hindi education. someone fix the system.

not even in families. everyone hates each other especially in families.

SUGAR CANEEEEE.

yeah it's. so many cows. I usually forget the word cow now though, because I point them out to roxie, my doggy lil sister, and my mum and I call them moo-moos to her. we say look locho/roxie, a moo-moo! and she'll stare out of the car to watch it go by.

OH THIS. THIS. LIKE BIO? MEDICINE. LEFT BIO? ENGINEERING. I BEEN THERE.

EYYYYY FAMILY DISAPPOINTMENTS UNITE!

Oh dear god I know this isn't true of every family but. But. It is very common, yes. Have I experienced it? Yes. Yes, I have.

Take a virtual hug right back.

Oh yeah it depends on the area.

Point stands, I love you maggots.

PANI PURI I LOVE WHEN I FIND NON-SPICY PANI-PURI. AND THE GRILLED CORN YES IT'S NOT LIKE AMERICAN CORN, IT'S INDIAN CORN AND IT'S CALLED BUTTA I BELIEVE? THEY ROAST THEM ON LIL CARTS.

Doggies!! They're much better behaved than humans, and this is a global phenomenon.

I have got to watch more Indian films.

YOU NEED TO SEE SOME MORE DESERTED BEACHES IN KERALA I WENT ON HOLIDAY THERE YEARS AGO. PRISTINE. EMPTY.

Sigh

Sigh

traffic suggestions more like traffic you can follow these suggestions if you want to but please don't feel pressured no one else is going to anyway

Now that I'm sober, I'll have to revise that, we also have a fucked up healthcare system, better than America for sure, but fucked in a different way.

YES. HOLY SHIT. LIKE DAMN OKAY I GET THAT I'M BUTCHERING YOUR LANGUAGE, BUT WHO FUCKING RAISED ME? YOU. WHY DIDN'T YOU TEACH ME THEN? WHY IS IT MY FAULT NOW? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LEARN IF ALL YOU DO IS LAUGH--

Still true.

YES AUTOS. YES RAIN. LOVE AUTOS LOVE RAIN.

Oh yeah. The caste system is fucked up and very much still there, whatever they try to tell you.

SO TRUE THOUGH? MY MUM'S SIDE OF THE FAMILY IS EXTREMELY ALCOHOLIC AND MY DAD'S IS EXTREMELY AGAINST IT. My mum cannot stomach alcohol without going loopy, but my dad can. I can. Kind of. Heh. Don't look at the post and point out how loopy I was. Don't do it. Don't.

Yes well to cap all this off, still not out to offend anyone but the bigots. Get offended, bigots. This is all mostly personal experience and not universal, though... a lot are fairly rampant.

i explain india but i'm drunk.

Hello maggots of mine you're all such babygirls and bastards just like Aziraphale and Crowley. I'm so proud of you all for existing. Yes i'm a wholesome drunk you now know this about me. The wine tastes like rotten grapes and smells of battery acid and cost 245 rupees INR. Speaking of INR, thanks to a maggot's ask, I'm here to explain India. I've never set foot outside of this country. But I'm also very very shit at general knowledge.

To any non-Indians reading this, this is a totally legit 1000% everything covered all-inclusive summary. To any Indians reading this, I'm so so fucking sorry.

India, explained.

So there's south india and there's north india and there's north east india. north india is very racist about south india and they're both very racist about north east india. Most of these people are also probably racist either to other countries or they have internalised racism. It's a wild trip.

There are. A lot of languages here. And a LOT of scripts. I can read two scripts, understand four Indian languages and speak in two of them (badly), and those two are not my native tongues. I cannot speak in my native tongues. It's basically English at this point. These aren't dialects, those are separate. Picture like, Europe, but more, in terms of how many languages.

Everyone hates each other which is valid for the entire planet honestly.

In south india we have a lot of coconuts. Like a lot. There are so many coconuts you have no fucking idea guys you cannot escape the coconuts. I was nearly killed by a shower of coconuts when I was 5 I escaped by one second.

There are also cows. People will tell you that you are being racist when you say India has cows everywhere. But it's true. Two weeks ago I had the pleasure to be stuck in a traffic jam. Next to the street barrier thing (what divides a street im too drunk for this) I saw a huge bull fucking HUMPING a cow. The vehicles just had to move around them. They were having sex right there.

If you're a middle class Indian kid, your career options are: doctor, engineer, scientist, CA, lawyer, government official or family disappointment.

Needless to say, I was going to be doctor and am now instead family disappointment. I'm babygirling so hard it's insane. The prodigal son.

It's very ace-friendly and heterophobic in the sense that you are not supposed to be exhibiting any sexuality whatever in a respectable household. Just shut up and give virgin birth already. But be married. That's crucial.

Oh yeah gay marriage isn't legal trans people are constantly othered by society and/or given no respect whatsover and we're just all vibing here this is totally not why I'm finishing a small bottle of cheap wine on a thursday past midnight alone in my room.

Foreigners are like a zoo species you see them you're instantly concerned like what are they doing outside the TV screens and then either people are normal (rarely), they run up and take photos or try to slip into conversation (more often than you'd think, even I've been guilty of the conversation thing as a kid) OR they start talking about how 'this western culture is ruining our culture'. Which is fair but honestly both the 'cultures' these people are talking about usually involve incredible amounts of bigotry and are more similar than they think.

I think the lesson here is that humans just suck as a species. Except for you maggots. I love you all and I will defend you with my life.

THE CHAAT. THE CHAAT IS INSANELY AMAZING. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND THE CHAAT. I HAVE NO SPICE TOLERANCE SO I HAVE TO BEG ON MY KNEES FOR THE SPICES TO BE REDUCED BUT STILL. THE CHAAT. THE CHAAT, YOU GUYS. YOU NEED IT.

Sorry yes I'm normal. ALSO THE STREET DOGS. THE INDIES. THEY'RE SO LOVELY AND SWEET AND CHAOTIC AND I KEEP TALKING TO THEM. Once when I was crying I made the dog distress while and like five dogs that I didn't know came running to me and comforted me and licked me.

INDIAN DANCE MUSIC. I FUCKING LOVE IT IT'S INSANE. My family were elitist as fuck so I never got to listen to Bollywood music as a kid but it's AMAZING I'm so glad it exists. Bhangra too.

Beaches very very pretty hills very very pretty honestly the nature is fucking beautiful if you can just quickly pretend humans don't exist, which again is true of this entire planet. Yeah. Okay I'm so fucking drunk.

Yeah lots of diversity which is very nice when the humans aren't screaming at each other about it but the rest of the time it's very nice

The garbage and sewer stories? yeah they're all true im sorry

Traffic rules more like traffic suggestions amirite

Well, we still have far better healthcare access than america. so. there is that.

If you speak English well you'll be mocked and isolated. If you speak English poorly you'll be mocked and isolated. Honestly, just be rich. That'll fix it all.

All the conservatives hate each other and don't realise they're the exact same but in like different flavours.

Oh yeah we have auto rickshaws. Look them up. They're so much better than cars I don't get motion sick as easily in them. But the drivers all hate you and never want to take you anywhere.

Eyyyyyyyyyy it's so fucking fun here *drinsk more alcohol* I am so fucking not looking forward to college.

Please someone crowdfund me out of here let's all go chill in Alpha Centauri I've heard it's nice this time of the year.

I will, however, miss the casual live cow pornos. A true highlight.

[I got this peer-reviewed by my friend in India's top law school, just in case, because I'm too drunk and generally dumb. They say I will not be killed. And they've been on Twitter so.]

Irrefutable legal proof y'all. I don't mean to offend anyone except bigots. Fuck you, bigots, if you're not offended then I've disappointed my community.

[guillemelgat]

Am having second thoughts about using the Temauke for Malayalam vocab – I think they could be useful as another challenge, i.e. short writing/culture things, but since currently the plan is to ask my dad to help me translate words and I think his vocab skews away from a lot of the topics on the list, it might be more helpful for me to come up with topics on my own. I’m going to think about it a bit more and will possibly post an update list of topics.