The Candid Life of Meena Dave

by Namrata Patel

Identity is something most of us examine at some point in our lives. It is universal to feel comfortable or uncomfortable in our bodies, our skins, our commonness, and our otherness.

“She had not known the weight, until she felt the freedom.”

He gave her a broad grin. “You haven’t lived if you are not trying to forget.” She gave him a soft smile. “My grandfather says it,” Odkell said. “It’s our family motto. We believe in making mistakes and having regrets. As long as it hurts no one.” “But it’s OK if you hurt yourself?” He shrugged. “Why not? It is your experience. If you die, it is a good way to go.” “You’re not afraid?” “Of pain? No. I am a good healer,” Odkell answered. “I have scars as my memories. To fear is to torture yourself.”

Aloneness was a choice, but loneliness felt different. A disconnection from others that felt more like a condition of how she lived her life.

Bravery isn’t in big battles; it is in small acts.

Once you are over the age of 30 you can no longer blame the past or your parents for the way you are. Fix yourself, it’s within your control.

It was never too late to fix yourself.

“Indian cooking,” Sabina said, “is about feel and instinct, not exact. Artful, not scientific. The more you do it, the better you get.”

I mean have you met you? You’re smart, fiercely independent, talented, and I know you’ve looked in a mirror enough to know you’re beautiful in an obvious way.”