Coffee Isn’t My Addiction — I’m Coffee’s Addiction!

Let’s get one thing straight: I am not addicted to coffee.

Coffee is addicted to me.

Yes, yes, I know that’s what every coffee lover says… right before their third cup of the morning. But honestly, in my case, it’s true. If coffee could swipe right, I’d be its top match. I’m the reason beans blush when they see me coming.

It all started years ago with that simple morning cup — the warm hug in a mug, the scent that could make even Monday mornings slightly less murderous. But over time, my love for coffee evolved into a full-blown relationship. No messy breakups, no ghosting, no awkward “let’s just be friends.” Coffee and I are in it for life.

And yes, we made it official — I bought a coffee machine.

Now my kitchen looks less like a cooking space and more like an international coffee embassy. Turkish coffee with its rich, thick glory? Check. Lebanese coffee that smells like poetry? Absolutely. German coffee that’s strong enough to make you file your taxes early? Yes, please. South Indian filter coffee that feels like a warm monsoon morning? Heaven. And don’t get me started on South Korean coffee — it’s smooth, chic, and just the right amount of Instagrammable.

My coffee corner is my happy place. Stainless steel, frothing wands, beans from different continents — all lined up like my own personal Avengers team. People collect stamps; I collect blends and roasts.

And here’s the magic: coffee isn’t just a drink for me. It’s my pause button. The three cups (sometimes four — don’t judge) I have each day are like little lifeboats in the sea of chaos.

After a day of dodging work hassles, enduring crabby moods, and surviving that colleague who thinks breathing loudly is a personality trait, I come home to my coffee. The moment my favorite mug is in my hands, no one else has space to trouble me. Not the inbox, not the bills, not the drama — nada.

Coffee listens. Coffee understands. Coffee doesn’t tell me to “calm down.” Coffee knows I am calm… once I’ve had coffee.

And the best part? Each cup feels like a tiny vacation. I could be in a bustling Istanbul bazaar with Turkish brew in the morning, wandering through the streets of Vienna with an afternoon Viennese blend, and sipping Seoul’s smooth creations by evening. Travel without the jet lag, thank you very much.

People often ask me, “But Rachita, what if one day you can’t have coffee?”
And I say, “What if one day the sun doesn’t rise?”

Because between you and me, I’m convinced the sun only comes up because it knows I’ll be making coffee.

So here’s to the magic bean, my caffeinated soulmate. I don’t drink coffee to live — coffee lives to be drunk by me.

He’s Off to College… and I’m Off My Rocker

What do you do when your firstborn is all set to leave the nest?

Well… for those who don’t know me, I’m a single, badass mom to two amazing teenagers.
Now, I know I’ve always said I’ll be the happiest when both the kids are off to college—finally free time, quiet meals, and a house that stays clean for more than 10 minutes. But now that the day is here… turns out, 99% of me is a puddle of emotions I wasn’t ready for.

There was a time when I dreamt of this moment. Of them soaring high, chasing dreams, discovering life. But now that it's actually happening, all I can think about is how I won’t be hearing, “Maa, where are my socks?” or “Can I have Maggi?” at random hours. I won’t be on emergency medicine duty when he’s got a cold or reminding him (again!) to drink water. That void is suddenly very real.

My son, my firstborn, is stepping into a whole new world—college, adulthood, freedom—and while I’m bursting with pride, I can’t lie… I’m also terrified. Not because I doubt him, but because being his mom, being their mom, has been the core of my identity for so long.

And next year, when my daughter leaves too… well, there goes the last piece of noise and chaos that made my world whole.

People talk about empty nest syndrome like it’s just a phase. But for a single parent who’s given everything to raise strong, kind, resilient kids—it’s more than that. It’s like rewriting your identity from scratch. Who am I if I’m not cooking for them, cleaning up after them, worrying obsessively over every fever or missed meal?

But I guess this is the part where I learn to fly again too. Maybe rediscover myself. Maybe finally write the book I’ve been pushing to the backburner, take that solo trip I never dared to, or learn to sleep without waiting for a door to open late at night.

So here’s to every parent quietly breaking down in the grocery aisle because they won’t need to buy his favorite snack anymore. Here’s to growth, to letting go, and to finding yourself all over again.

And to my son—I’ll always be your biggest cheerleader, your safe place, and your loudest prayer.

A Place called HOME

They say “Home is where the heart is,” so where is your home? Mine…I don’t know.

Hi my name is Maya and I need help in figuring out where my home is!

For 10 years I thought I knew where my home was and now I seem a little lost! No, I do not have amnesia and I am not kidding. Well here is my story!

Sitting in my room, all alone, on a cold gloomy day, I can’t help but think of a place called ‘home.’ A place where I belong. Being married for 10 years and single for more, I sometimes long for HOME! Being young and in love for me home was where you were…my heart was with you and yours with me.

Now that I’m older and wiser, what was once my home, is no longer mine. I see strange faces, people and memories I can’t relate with. So, I decide to look for my home…a place I call home.

I look everywhere, can’t find my home. I start focusing on myself. I work on myself, my work and yes I am and will always be a work in progress. I find friends, family, friends like family…but no place that I can call home! I am with friends, but still lonely. I know I’m not alone, I’m lonely!

I sit here on a cold, dark night; I hear a voice withstanding the wind, trying to deliver words. I hear your voice…calling me from afar. My heart trembles, I want to hold your hand. Who are you?

Why is your voice calling me? It brings a tear in my eyes. Does it answer your question of why I’m crying? Your haunting voice envelopes me, I am lost. How do I find you? Who are you?

It could be stupidity, your voice is familiar and it brings parts of memories I cannot recall. I want you to notice me, come to me. Is this a dream or are you real?

I don’t care anymore, I know it is YOU I want and need. You are my home…my place I can call home. In the desert you are my oasis. Your voice is louder and my heart pulls me towards you more. I want you to come to me or give me a way to come to you.

I may not know where home is or has been for you but I will tell you where home is for me….YOU ARE MY HOME and all the decisions and choices I make now, will only make me come closer to you.

Have you seen the Sky?

“Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are, Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky!”

No, I’m not reciting the nursery rhyme…these lines popped into my head as I stared into the sky at 2am.

Have you ever looked at the sky late at night, when everyone is fast asleep, no soul on the street and no sounds from anywhere? I did this last week and trust me it changed a little.

I am not the philosophical types; definitely not a deep thinker…but have you ever seen the sky post 2pm?

All alone with just a few stars and clouds to give it company, the sky still feels lonely. Not a single bird or plane in sight, it spreads through the vast universe covered in stars…stars that hold secrets. Secrets that they share, the sky and the stars.

Looking at the sky, made me realize…we all look for beauty everywhere else; but have you seen the sky post 2pm?

The sky reminded me of Vincent Van Gogh’s famous painting, “The starry night”..with the stars, as radiating orbs spread across the sky with clouds swirls. The sky doesn’t know how many stars it holds, each star bigger than the other and yet they all live harmoniously together…so why can’t we live like the stars?

Now, I am no motivational speaker, or a Tedx Talk speaker, but have you seen the sky post 2pm?

It somehow soothes you, makes you realize that you are brave and strong! You have come a long way from where you were and that the sky is the limit and the stars are always there to guide you when you feel lost. Just how stars shine brightly, so are you shining brightly in your own way!

I am not a writer or a poet, but have you seen the sky post 2pm?

The beauty of the stars can make just about anyone a poet or a singer or even a writer. the silence all around and the massive sky in all darkness with just a few stars twinkling, makes you realize that even in pure darkness, there is light, there is hope and we just have to find that and never let go!

With music playing in the background, my mind takes me places in my past…now, I am not depressed, anxious or troubled; but have you seen the sky post 2am?

The stars are at home in the sky, it took me back to my childhood home, all the decisions and choices I made since then and where they have brought me today. All the houses that were once a home to me and now are just places in memory. I know I will never regret any choices I made, for they made me who I am, a star in my own way, in my own sky!

Like I said, I am not a philosopher, but have you seen the sky post 2pm?