My grandmother went missing on a bright summer day. It was the kind of day that reminded me of the shirtless joggers in the neighborhood park and the shouts of joy filling the air as children licked dripping ice-cream cones handed to them by the vendors lined outside.
She was visiting our new home in the fast-paced cosmopolitan that is Delhi, where no one spoke a word of our native Telugu. My grandmother, out for her regular afternoon walk, hadn’t returned home after the usual hour. I was on my way to watch a movie when my mother called me. I could barely understand her breathless outpour as she told me I needed to search for a 70-year-old woman, lost in a sea of people who didn’t speak the same language as her.
My first instinct was to run around the block a couple of times and in the event that I didn’t find her, hope that she would return home before I missed too much of the latest Bollywood blockbuster. It was only when guilt and fear of my mother’s wrath kicked in that I thought of checking the neighborhood park, a space that my grandmother often said gave her a sense of peace.
My grandmother lived in Hyderabad, a South Indian city two hours away from Delhi by flight. During my visits, I would often find her sitting on her bed, bangles clinking as she adjusted her dark-colored sari falling on the pages of her prayer book.
My earliest memories of my grandmother consist of her daily routine. She was a woman who commanded attention with every movement she made. I would watch with fascination as she twisted her wiry hair into a bun and twirled a string of Jasmine flowers around it, shifting between chanting prayers and humming Telugu movie songs as she went about her work.
My grandmother’s hands felt coarse when she held mine, roughened by years of cooking and cleaning for her thirteen children. Her eyes were often lined with the black kohl that she made by burning charcoal over the fire. She would offer to put some on me, a cultural sign of beauty, but I would squirm from her grip and run to my mother in the fear that she would gouge my eyes.
After I finished high school and chose to purchase branded eyeliners, I began to envy the meticulous way in which she had dressed herself up every morning. Though we spoke the same language, I preferred to communicate with her through gestures as they conveyed much more than my awkward phrasing of Telugu.
Of India’s 22 official languages spoken across the 1.1 million square miles of Indian soil, my grandmother was fluent in one. Telugu, the language of my ancestors, sounded like dripping honey and poetry when spoken by her, but when it came out of my lips it sounded like someone who was just learning how to drive a car, hesitant and halting. It echoed a generation that was gradually losing its roots to fit into a more modernized world.
British colonizers left India almost 70 years ago, but they left behind a people who now grappled with insecurity if they didn’t speak English well — the more fluent you were at English, the more respect you deserved.
Every summer, I gave my grandmother English lessons. My chubby fingers would guide her wrinkled ones across a page with 26 squiggles, but halfway through my class, she would lose interest and go back to her Telugu books.
To return the favor, my grandmother would try entertaining me by narrating native folktales. She weaved stories of brave kings and noble warriors while I struggled to compete with my ABCs. I interpreted her indifference to keep up with the times as an unspoken fear of failing. When I voiced my opinion I was greeted with her tinkling laugh, followed by affectionate mocking of the “strange” way I enunciated my words in Telugu and her disregard for the changing face of the country.
As I wandered around the park that day, I wondered how my grandmother had found her way without speaking the language. I approached the ice-cream vendor outside the park, who said she had entered an hour ago by using simple hand gestures for directions. For a woman who didn’t speak a word of Hindi or English, she seemed to be communicating fluently with her surroundings.
I finally found her sitting under a Neem tree in the park. Bathed in the shade of the tree, her face was serene despite the shouts of children playing cricket and swings creaking under the weight of toddlers. She turned and caught me staring, then beckoned me to come sit next to her. Watching her soak in the happenings in the park reminded me of our summer lessons, and how her face would light up when she narrated Telugu folktales.
Her statement always stayed with me, “My stories sound better than yours.” And they always did.
Vishakha Darbha is a videographer and a feature writer, with particular interest in creating profiles of ordinary humans doing extraordinary things. When not hunting for stories, she spends her time singing, backpacking, consuming and/or analyzing pop culture and reading biographies. She is currently pursuing her master’s at Medill School of Journalism, Northwestern University.
March 7, 2023March 7, 2023 3min readBy Taneet Grewal
Holi is a Hindu festival that celebrates the coming of spring and is observed near the end of winter. It’s also referred to as the festival of colors or the festival of love. Although my daughters and I are not Hindus, (we are Sikhs) we still celebrate Holi. Our Holi celebrations always include reading about this festival, making colorful art, playing with the colorful powders, and making some delicious, traditional sweets. This is always such a great occasion to discuss the diversity of Indian culture with my daughters. I use this opportunity to teach them about inclusivity and respect for different cultures around the world. All across India, different states celebrate this festival in their own meaningful ways.
My first experience celebrating this beautiful festival was in university. My roommates, friends and international students put together a lovely day of Holi celebrations outside. We were completely covered in variety of colors — pinks, purples, and blues. There was music, laughter, dancing, and an overall joyous atmosphere (including bhang, which is essentially a cannabis milkshake). It was particularly heartwarming to see so many Indian students coming together as a community, so far from home, to connect with such a beloved tradition.
For those of us, brought up in Canada, such celebrations were amazing opportunities to genuinely experience the true spirit of Holi. Similar to how it is done in India, everyone became one – there were no small groups or cliques doing their own thing; class lines and caste systems, predominant across India, disappeared. Everyone joined together; our skin tones hidden under the bright colours of the Holi powders. It surely was an unforgettable time.
As a child, I got to experience Holi only through Indian Cinema. Bollywood films like “Silsila,” “Darr,” and “Mohabbatein” stand out in my memory. The actors are dressed completely in white at the beginning of the song, enjoying Holi celebrations, and are then painted from head to toe, in various bright colours, by the end of the song. Since then, I’ve learned that certain colours hold meaning and significance. Red symbolizes love, fertility, and matrimony; blue represents the Lord Krishna; and green stands for new beginnings.
Now, as a mother, I don’t want my children to experience our culture through a screen. So we bring these Holi traditions into our home in our own creative ways. We certainly tend to get creative since around March there is still ample snow on the ground outside and a chill in the air!
The activities we have fun doing are:
Making rangoli designs using coloured powders (this is a helpful site we’ve used)
Making paper flowers to decorate the house with (like the ones here)
Making tie-dye shirts (we’ve got a kit for this because the girls love it)
Baking a traditional Indian snack, like gujiya (we bake them because I get paranoid about the girls being around hot oil).
“Let’s Celebrate Holi!” by Ajanta Chakraborty and Vivek Kumar (for three to seven-year-olds)
“Festival of Colors” by Surishtha Seghal and Kabir Seghal (for two to eight-year-olds)
“Why Do We Celebrate Holi” by Anitha Rathod (for eight years old and above)
This year, Holi falls on the same date as International Women’s Day! To combine the two celebrations, my daughters and I plan on sketching South Asian females we look up to the most, and then adding bright colours using different types of paint. For another element of texture, we might add the paper flowers to these as well. I’m thinking these are going to be frame-worthy pieces of art!
July 29, 2023July 29, 2023 6min readBy Taneet Grewal
We survived several long months of frigid winter, wondering when sunshine, blue skies and a healthy amount of humidity would return. Now that it’s all here, we wish we had planned out and meticulously scheduled the days. If you’re like me and aren’t sending your kids to a summer camp this year, here are some ideas to ensure your little ones stay entertained and you stay sane. All while being connected in the best ways and making the most cherished memories for years to come.
Beautiful Bakes
The year 2020 saw many loaves of banana bread so make this summer slightly spicier with something different. My daughters love getting their hands messy and bringing creativity into the kitchen. There are two different types of foods we love to snack on; something savory and something sweet. For a savory snack, we enjoy a Punjabi favourite: samosas! I know you may be thinking that it would be a better idea to just hop over to the Indian store and order a box of them, but where’s the fun in that? Also, it’s not as hard as it may seem. If you’ve made aloo parathe before then you’re already ahead of the game! You won’t even have to do much of the grunt work if your kids enjoy being involved in the process. They can get their little fingers in the wheat flour and knead the dough, stuff the triangles with the potato mixture and pinch the edges closed! Here is a super simple and quick recipe you can use (I personally love that you can bake them in the oven, so it keeps the process completely safe for the kids). These samosas will be perfect with a lovely cup of chai! For sweet, one of our favourite desserts to make is a combination of two heavenly treats: gulab jamun ice cream. It doesn’t get any better than this! Don’t worry, you do not need to own a fancy ice cream maker. In fact, you don’t even have to do any churning! If you have heavy cream and condensed milk, just grab a box of frozen khoya from the Indian store, and you are good to go. Here is a 10-minute recipe that does not disappoint!
We were recently invited to a destination wedding in the Dominican Republic which would have cost upwards of $6,000. For a lot of parents — more so single parents — those funds have only one destination: the mortgage company. There’s an easier way to get to a body of water and some sand! What I like to do is search the area for local beaches. For a good, clean beach, I’m willing to drive two hours and spend a full day there. What I look out for when researching beaches are: Is it dog-friendly? Are washrooms clean and easily accessible? Is there a fee for parking? Are there enough picnic tables? (You bet I’ll be packing food from home instead of purchasing from the snack bar at the venue! When I do this it takes me back to my own childhood, when my family would all get together at Canada’s Wonderland, and my parents, Massis, Mamajis, and cousins would spread blankets on the grass and open up the foil-wrapped piles of steaming parathas). Last summer, we made a goal to try and visit a different beach every couple of weeks. Trust me, the kids won’t care that it’s not an all-inclusive resort. Remember, the earlier you get to the beach, the better to avoid big crowds! My daughters made me promise that this summer I will actually get in the water. So put on the bathing suit and start splashing your kids, mama!
Brunch and Books
Sunday morning cafes and bookstores (and/or libraries) are, in my humble opinion, the absolute superior road to relaxation and bliss. Books and the spaces they are kept in are my place of calm. When you arrive at the cafe (and I mean an independent cafe, not Starbucks) each person orders something they have never tried before and everyone shares what they love or didn’t love about the pastries or sandwiches or drinks. You can ask your kids questions like, what did the food make them feel? Joy? Sadness? Confusion? Why? Did what they tasted remind them of anything? Did it make them think of any colours? Sometimes, my daughters and I like to pretend we are judges from “The Great British Baking Show,” and talk about the textures of cake or if the lavender is really “coming through” in that scone. After the café experience, head over to the closest independent bookstore or library and browse through the children’s/youth section for books you and your kids haven’t read before. I recommend books written by BIPOC authors and/or culturally specific stories that your kids can really relate to (one of our favourite authors for children’s books is Supriya Kelkar). Get cozy in a little reading nook and read together.
In my household, we are a little obsessed with staring at the sky when it’s lit up in various hues of pinks, reds, oranges and purples (taking photos of them never does the beauty justice!). Being in the presence of the sun, whether it’s rising or setting is such a spiritually refreshing, humbling and moving experience. I strongly urge you to pick one day a week to wake up with the sun and create your own little sunrise ritual. This could be praying to the sun, trying a few new yoga poses or a simple sun salutation. Sit with your kids on the floor and each of you takes turns setting your intention for the day and stating something you are grateful for. For example, “My intention for today is to create something new. I am grateful for our home and the family in it.” Closing your eyes and taking a few deep belly breaths releases negative energy and gets you in the best mindset to start the day. When it’s time for sunset, sit together again and this time each person says out loud what they love about themselves. This small practice, when done consistently (not just in the summer), actually does wonders for your kids’ mental health and self-compassion.
Homemade Henna
My youngest daughter is always experimenting with various items in the house, whether it’s ingredients from the kitchen or old boxes and paint. One day she somehow made her own version of mehndi! She called out to me to come and get my mehndi done and showcased what she had already done for her sister. She mixed together different colours of water-based paint, pink, yellow, a bit of purple, and some green. The outcome was a nice “chocolatey brown, almost caramel,” she described. She used a thin paintbrush to make small designs on the palms of our hands and along our fingers. The paint dried and fell off (similar to mehndi) and washed off after a day or so. She was really proud of herself and we had so much fun with it. If you want to make actual mehndi at home, that’s another great activity for the kids. Here are really great instructions for a DIY henna paste. You don’t have to wait for a wedding to adorn your skin; do it on a Wednesday afternoon!
Printing Photos
Remember the days when photographs didn’t just exist inside our phones? They were on a reel of film inside of a physical camera and if we ever wanted to look at those memories again, we had to visit a photo center to have them printed, and wait at least 48 hours! (And sometimes we waited just to find that the photos were blurry or we all had red vampire eyes). I am here to tell you please don’t leave those photos on your phone! They aren’t just meant to be posted on Instagram. Make an afternoon of going to your local printer and physically print out photographs from the last 10-12 months. I suggest making a folder on your phone where you and the kids have already selected the photos you want to print, otherwise, it will take forever to load at the photo kiosk! Then head to the art store or even the dollar store for a scrapbook, and fun art supplies. Anything from glitter to googly eyes. Have the kids come up with a theme or a storyline for the photos (for example, visits to the park, school photos, sibling love, etc). Just have fun with it. Another idea is to gift the scrapbook to grandparents! They’ll love it.
We hope you have a really magical and smooth summer with your families! Find small moments for yourself too — don’t forget, you can’t pour from an empty cup! May your days be as refreshing as biting into a cool slice of watermelon.
Eid-ul-Fitr is a special holiday that marks the end of Ramadan — the month of fasting — for Muslims worldwide. Ramadan is a time of gratitude, spiritual focus, forgiveness, celebrating community and helping the needy. Eid-ul-Fitr celebrations mark the conclusion of the holy month of Ramadan.
This Ramadan, Brown Girl Magazine had the opportunity to connect with five popular immigrant moms and discuss how they make Eid celebrations meaningful and memorable for their children.
Rubab Bukhari is a busy mom of five based in Calgary, Canada. She shared that Eid, for her family, is a day of gathering with loved ones and sharing a delicious meal together as a symbol for breaking fast. “Eid is celebrated as the most joyous occasion where we put up Eid decorations and exchange gifts with everyone in the house. New clothes are made for everyone; the girls get excited about getting henna on their hands and the boys get more excited about receiving their Eidi (gifts/money).”
While many family traditions are often passed down from generation to generation, these moms have added some newer customs to the Eid celebrations, giving the festival a personal touch.
A published author, spoken word artist and dance fitness instructor, Nazhah Khawaja shares how she’s built new traditions with her two children and husband in Illinois, Chicago despite not being exposed to the “Eid flavor” herself while growing up.
“My sister suggested decorating the house for Eid with the goal of getting the kids in the holiday mood,” she said. Regardless of the exhaustion that followed due to decorating while fasting, Khawaja realized that her sister “was onto something.” She added that “kids are very visual learners and interpreters — the visual display of decorations helps them to feel the festivity more. Forever grateful to my sister for encouraging this tradition that our family has embraced.”
Another new tradition that she has embraced is celebrating Eid festivities with her husband’s family who are non-Muslim. Furthermore, she insists on taking photographs during Eid-ul-Fitr to keep memories alive because one never really knows if the people in the photos will be there next time around. She also includes that the “Eid nap is a must — which means adults are dozing off while the kids are running wild; ample heavenly chaos and beautiful noise.”
Passing down familial customs from her mother, Khawaja remembers a story she had told her of how as soon as the dawn of Eid arrived, the villagers in Pakistan walked down unpaved streets welcoming Eid with a tune: “Mubarak Eid Mubarak/ Mubarak Khair Mubarak/ Saheliyon Eid Mubarak!” Khawaja’s mother used to sing it every time. “Growing up, my siblings and I would sing this tune in our not-so-refined Urdu, giggle at one another, create our own, often goofy lyrics, and even dance silly moves,” she shared.
Meanwhile, Bengali shemai, Kashmiri kheer and ma’amoul are the favorite Eid desserts in Janan’s household! She is the founder and CEO of the publishing company, Global Bookshelves Intl., a pharmacist by profession and a mother of three young girls, based in Louisville, Kentucky. They look forward to dressing up their best for Eid prayers the most.
Likewise, Ursula Sarah Khan who is a mom influencer and an accountant by trade, said that they fill their Eid-themed gift bags with all sorts of goodies like candy, bubbles and pencils. On Eid-ul-Fitr, her eight-year-old son, Ibrahim, distributes these bags amongst the boys after Eid prayers, while her five-year-old daughter, Eliyah, hands them to the girls.
They also bake Eid cookies together in addition to swapping their Ramadan decor with Eid decor, while still in their Eid pajamas in their Northern Virginia home!
Blending older traditions with some newer ones, Sarah carries on her mother’s age-old tradition of making sheer khorma — a Pakistani dessert made with vermicelli, milk, dates and nuts — in the morning.
She also explains to her children the importance of Zakat or charity, which is what her mother taught her: “I now take this same approach with my children to ensure they have a deep understanding of the generosity Islam teaches.”
Speaking of home and family, Haffsa Rizwani — a Canadian, currently residing in Stockholm, Sweden, as a PhD candidate — said: “Living away from home, Canada, where my immediate family resides, we have a tradition of traveling from Stockholm to my aunt’s house in Oslo, Norway, every Eid. Especially to mark the celebration as a family event for my children.” Together with her aunt, Haffsa’s daughter gets her henna done and goes shopping for bangles! She goes on to explain how Eid-ul-Fitr is an opportunity to not only dress up, but also regain that morning ritual of chai and evenings with games like carrom board; “a game played till my uncle wins.”
As Rizwani so eloquently puts it, “While my children are still quite small, my daughter is now of age to appreciate and understand the meaning of gratitude, blessings, and giving back. She now has the empathy to comprehend the inequalities and injustices in the world. Ramadan is therefore a month of being thankful and making extra duas. Eid is a day of celebration with gratitude and blessings.”
What these moms wish for their children to learn from the spirit of Eid are the values of gratitude, generosity, compassion, togetherness and knowledge.
Vishakha Darbha is a videographer and a feature writer, with particular interest in creating profiles of ordinary humans doing extraordinary things. When not hunting for stories, she spends her time singing, backpacking, consuming and/or analyzing pop culture and reading biographies. She is currently pursuing her master’s at Medill School of Journalism, Northwestern University.
