Last week, during the record snowfall in the Greater Toronto Area, we set out on a journey that brought together old and new memories. We started in Erindale, enjoying a peaceful walk by the partly frozen Credit River. The cold air and the sound of snow under our boots made everything feel calm. At Richard Memorial, we smiled at a snowman with a carrot nose and twig arms, which reminded us of childhood. Later, we warmed up at Tribeca café, where the smell of coffee mixed with our memories as we wrote in the family register. When Sahil and Mamta shared stories from their recent trip to Mumbai, the lively streets and smells of street food there stood out against the quiet, snowy scenes of Mississauga. These moments helped us think more about what home and identity mean. As we talked, we also remembered a time long ago, when families like ours were shaped by the mix of cultures in British India.

The family register, like a shared journal, made me think about sisterhood. Looking back, I wrote about my father’s sisters, PNB, and their stories of Shimla in the 1940s. Their memories showed how history influenced their lives.

A photo of my mother’s sisters walking in Benares in 2017 made me think of 1967, when my parents got married on January 30. These moments show how our family and heritage are closely linked.

Earlier Perspectives

EARLIER PERSPECTIVES

2018- PALAM AKSA BOMBAY DIARIES

Of the many photographs of the pujas, get-togethers, reunions, this one on the shores of Aksa stands out as a symbol of the many currents that flow across generations.

In taking this Canadian immigration journey, we gain something and lose something.

As my friends from Juma Saaga days of Tripoli used to say- Juma Saaga- where we formed many concepts and revisited many issues- Everything has a plus and a minus.e

This picture is a small poem by the Arabian Sea… a monument to the grandchildren’s love for their dear Nani-ji. When they first came to Malta in 2010, their grandmother had told me in  a sad voice-

“Give them so much love that they do not miss me.”

2012- LIBYA TRIPOLI DIARIES

Have you seen with your eyes?” “No” was the answer many gave.

Yes, the gunshots are heard, even machine gun firing is on, especially at night, but no one has seen the bodies on the streets, though there are blood stains. It seems that the regime is clearing up the bodies the moment they kill. Then I met a person who told me that a friend’s son had been shot in the leg. This was the first person who corroborated that killings were going on. In the hospitals, you cannot take away the bodies unless you sign that the deceased died in a car accident. It was drizzling in Tripoli through most of the day (23/2/2011).   “You have been waiting for this for a long time, since the eighties, isn’t it?” one experienced expatriate staff nurse, a Filipino who has stayed in Tripoli since 1982, asked a doctor who spent 18 years in prison as a political prisoner without any fair trial. The doctor smiled quietly. It is said that three people were shot dead in front of our clinic, but again, no one has seen them.

DOWNLOAD A WORKSHEET WITH PROMPTS AND SUGGESTIONS TO CREATE YOUR OWN FAMILY MEMORIES JOURNAL

DOWNLOAD LIVING KINDNESS WORKSHEET- one can meditate and send good feelings towards mentors, fellow travelers, persons who visit these cafes/parks and persons who maintain them

Counseling Approach