Just like that

When my husband announced an orange and red weather alert for Chennai and nearby areas, with schools shutting down, my brain didn’t go to “emergency prep” or “stock up on snacks.” No. My first thought was:   “Ah, perfect. Time to wash the bed sheets. They’ve been waiting forever.” He stared at me, baffled. “When they predict rain,” I added casually, “it’s definitely going to be sunny.” The science reporter in him gave me a death glare and walked away. But am I really wrong? How does the Tamil Nadu Meteorological Department so often miss the mark? Sure, the weather is unpredictable — always shifting, just like our thoughts and emotions. Still, I can’t help but wonder: if mindfulness helps me manage my emotional storms, what would it take for our weather experts to predict the skies? Being a K-drama fan, I recently watched Forecasting Love and Weather . A young meteorologist joins the national weather bureau and ends up predicting typhoons perfectly, saving countless lives. If ...

This morning, I made a grand declaration: “I’m going to write a book!” My husband, deep in his weekly-column trance, mumbled something without lifting his eyes from the screen. I don’t know if he heard me — his automatic, half-conscious response sounded like pure gibberish. I’d like to think it meant, “Mind-blah-blah-blah…” For the past few days, I’ve been consumed by an unstoppable urge to write. I left journalism because I was tired of turning in stories every single day — and now here I am, planning a book . Oh, the irony. But somewhere beneath the irony, I sense a quiet calling — maybe this urge to write is less about producing something and more about pausing long enough to listen to what wants to be expressed. A mindful whisper from within, perhaps. Two ideas are swirling in my head, both aimed at helping educators. Having shifted from journalism to elementary teaching, I have enormous respect (and plenty of empathy) for this tribe. My first idea is a practical phonics work...