The Homes That Have Defined Me

Until recently, I have always struggled to answer the question, “Where is home?” The answer I found isn’t anything special. There is a good chance you can actually find it at your neighborhood’s home décor store, plastered across a wall hanging, “Home is where the family is. ” 

Now, to be a little more specific, that puts us in Calgary, Alberta. For someone who has spent much of his life moving from one place to another, my hope is that Calgary will become a permanent settlement, in terms of longitude and latitude.

This doesn’t take away the valuable lessons I have learned living a life in transit. It has taught me that nothing is permanent, that every beginning has an end, and most importantly, that change is natural. Knowing and literally living these statements finds me grateful for the opportunities I have been given, the wonderful people I have met along the way, and the experiences I have had thus far in my life.

The journey came with its share of good and bad, but I’m thinking I will lean more on the good side of things for today. 2026 is a year of commitment, and it sees me embark on a lifelong dream: becoming a full-time writer. The Pensive Reverie has been all about sharing this journey with my readers, so I felt it was right to share a little more about this up-and-coming author’s origins.

As in most stories, this calls for a flashback that demonstrates the why behind our hero’s journey and what has led him to where he is now. If you haven’t caught on, that mildly unimpressive hero with wildly elaborate dreams is yours truly. The flashback concerns the different homes that defined my personal growth and continue to inspire my writing.

Our journey begins in Madurai, India.

The city of temples is where I grew up. Today, it is a time capsule of sorts. A few years back, when I returned to India (after nearly six years away), I had to accept that the Madurai I knew was long gone. It is now a core memory of my childhood. Back then, I was in my element and at home. I got a whole lot of love from my grandparents, who lived practically next door to us. My grandfather introduced me to the concept of faith and religion, while my parents served as a reference point to my culture. I took in everything without question. The world was small, and I felt secure about who I was and wanted to be, until the land of the pharaohs stole me away.

My family moved to Cairo, Egypt, in the early 2000s. The bubble that represented my worldview till that point fell apart. Here was a beautiful city with such a rich history. There was so much to learn, so much to see, just so much of a lot. I discovered the World Wide Web, and I also got to knock heads with racism. Here, in the land of the pyramids, I learned a new language, was introduced to a very different culture and religion, and just about everything that wasn’t India. I also began to question who I could be and where I could go. I never really thought much about it, but looking back now, the seeds of change had begun to take root in my psyche and worldview. Eventually, my journey with the pharaohs pushed me further into the desert.

My family moved to Khartoum, Sudan, where I would see off my high school days. My tangle with racism still hung over me like a cloud. I was depressed and unsure of myself. Thankfully, the winds of the desert helped me dispose of these feelings. During my time in Sudan, I fully recognized the dilemma of my identity, lost and floundering between the cultures I grew up with and the one I was born into. I mused about the future and wondered how my family and loved ones would receive the differences in perspective I had begun to harbor about myself and the person I was becoming. To resolve this issue, I embarked on a journey across the oceans to Edmonton, Canada.

What followed was the rollercoaster ride of university life. There, in that battleground, I confronted my personal insecurities and settled an identity crisis spanning several years of my life. I discovered the expectations I had set on myself and those that had been set upon me, and in that process, I found myself and someone else who believed in me. Now, I’m married to that someone and have a family of my own.

Which brings us back to where I am now in Calgary. As for all those homes of my past, they exist as a well of inspiration for me to continue my journey of personal growth. The places I left behind over the years have changed, and I can never go back to how things used to be, making those memories all the more special.

Amidst all these years of transition, my love for writing has remained the one constant. It is now my safehouse and the place where I’m happiest when I’m by myself. I love being immersed in the worlds of my imagination, and now I’m finally taking the steps to bring them closer to reality so I can share them with everyone.

They say that sometimes the journey can be the destination, and it certainly has been for me. Where the road leads next, I will have to wait and see!

Remembering Our Faults

For starters, my absence the prior week was for naught. When your wife starts sounding like the second coming of Arnold Schwarzenneger and your own voice reverts to prepubescent days, you know the flu game is strong this season. Feeling under the weather is not enough to describe the hell that has been the past week, but here I am now, and all the merrier to finally be over with it.

That being said, today’s post relays what went missing earlier. Falling sick gives you a good reason to relax. After all, rest is the best medicine. While the flu had destroyed my voice, my mental faculties remained sharp, and I had a lot to introspect about. Earlier, during my weekly visit to the local public library, I learned that January 27th observed International Holocaust Remembrance Day. Across from the reception desk was a table with several books and graphic novels related to the Holocaust. Perusing the selection reminded me of the last time I had read a book on the same topic. That was all the way back in high school.

From Art Spiegelman’s Maus to Elie Wiesel’s Night, my younger self had retreated in horror learning about the Holocaust. Wiesel’s graphic descriptions of his own survival at Auschwitz and Buchenwald had given me nightmares. The depravity that was in full flow leapt off the pages recounting the experiences of Holocaust victims. Those experiences also spoke to the enduring strength of those who survived and remain to this day.

That day at the library, I felt compelled to be drawn back into said world, now seemingly lost to memory. I picked out two titles that I found intriguing:

A few days later, I fell sick with the flu and spent my time reading the two books. My younger self had struggled to come to terms with the reality of the Holocaust, but as an adult, I felt more pensive revisiting this chapter in human history.

Who Owns the Clouds? and The Librarian of Auschwitz related the experiences of two young female protagonists, the impact the war and the Holocaust had on their families, their childhood, and their future. (Of course, there is a lot more to it, but I don’t want to give it all away; I highly recommend both titles!) Both protagonists undergo profound personal transformations (not always positive) that help them survive this tumultuous period of human affairs. The Holocaust is a telling moment in history that demonstrated the human capacity to inflict suffering and destruction. The subsequent horror took different forms in every generation. Both these books provide plenty of that, but that isn’t all there is to their purpose. Despite being two very different experiences, the two stories reitereate that even in the darkest of moments, not all is lost. The protagonists are uplifted by the actions of those who were courageous enough to stand up for their beliefs, to fight the good fight, and instill hope for the future.

My reading wasn’t a continuous process. I had to take breaks, and not for lack of focus, but due to frequent visits from my daughter, who took it upon herself to take care of her supposedly “ailing” father. Observing my daughter’s actions, I couldn’t help but juxtapose the protagonists’ realities onto hers. How would I react if something similar happened to my daughter? How would I protect her from a world that is torn asunder? It was not a pleasant thought, and it probably aggregated from a source of concern that has been on my mind of late.

Currently, there just doesn’t seem to be a pause button for the chaos unfolding across the world. Differences speak louder, and unity seems trivial. Social media has become a global echo chamber for negativity. Fall into this rabbit hole, and you are not coming out of it in one piece. As a person of color, I have experienced my fair share of racism and segregation. Now, here was my daughter, growing up as a biracial kid in a world where diversity was an excuse for division. What could I do to keep my daughter safe? What could I do to ensure that she would neither be a victim nor an instigator of the same negativity that seems to be running rampant in a global period of uncertainty and rapidly changing political landscapes (much like the history related by the books I had just read)?

It was not easy to mull these things over while battling the flu. Writing about it, I guess, is my way of finding courage and staying hopeful. It also helped that my daughter had all the answers. Much like the protagonists in the two books, whose innocence empowers their actions and guides them through their trials to do what is right, I found strength in my daughter’s actions. In a misplaced belief that I had fallen ill because of her, my daughter forced me to accept an apology on her part, later going on to reaffirm the importance of saying “Sorry” when one is at fault.

There was my answer. Making mistakes is part of being human, but it is more important to remember and learn from our faults. History teaches us a lot, and while it may seem distant from our present, the lessons of our past can help us move forward. This resonates with the discord of today’s global affairs and how the world just seems to want to tear itself up. Differences aren’t what set us apart, they serve as a gateway to connection and strength. It is in our courage to bridge them that we define our humanity.

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom. – Victor Frankl

The Art and Storytelling of Stan Sakai

When I was a kid, the weekend was something to look forward to, beyond just an excuse not to do homework. The two days brought with them the excitement of reading the weekly children’s magazine delivered to my grandfather’s home. The Siruvar Malar (literally, “Children’s Flower”) and Thanga Malar (“Golden Flower”) were filled with folktales, comics, arts-and-crafts activities, and ads for local art contests.

When I was in my tweens, I graduated from these magazines to reading full-blown comics that my father would purchase on his business trips. These were the still-ongoing (mostly online now) and highly popular Tinkle Comics. Tinkle’s pantheon of characters, including Suppandi, Shikari Shambu, Ramu and Shamu, Tantri the Mantri, were my childhood heroes.

These comics were rife with cultural humor and folk inspiration. I prayed to be a lot more adept than the reckless hunter Shikari Shambu and the hilarious ignoramus Suppandi. I found inspiration in the deviousness of Ramu and Shamu in annoying my own family, and delighted in the constant failures of the evil Tantri the Mantri.

More than just a passing form of entertainment, these comics were relatable to life and Indian culture, and also helped cultivate my understanding of the English language. The nostalgia that I attributed to these stories hit me like a truck when I came across Stan Sakai’s Usagi Yojimbo in my early twenties.

As a young adult and an exam-hardened undergraduate student at university, I found Sakai’s magnum opus stacked up in a corner at the public library. It wasn’t too long before I fell in love with what Sakai had to offer. A while back, I wrote about the man who drew from memory, Kim Jung Gi. If Gi was all about the awe and spectacle of art in full flow, Sakai, for me, was the finest mix of storytelling and art in the comic form. Usagi Yojimbo, or “rabbit bodyguard,” is set at the beginning of the Edo period of Japanese history and features anthropomorphic animals in place of humans.

Our protagonist is the rabbit ronin, Miyamoto Usagi, based on the famous Japanese legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi. Wandering the lands of Edo Japan, Usagi sells his services as a bodyguard while going on adventures that have him fighting off his enemies. As a Japanese-born American cartoonist, Sakai draws on both Japanese and Western pop-culture elements. Usagi meets all kinds of friends and enemies, from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to Godzilla. Here was someone I aspired to be in my own ambition to be a storyteller and comic book writer. Sakai’s artwork was detailed, complemented by amazing inking and lettering.

Despite being anthropomorphic, Sakai’s character lived their experiences, and you could relate to them as though they were fellow human beings. Usagi’s growth from a battle-hardened samurai to a philosophical warrior who gains a host of friends and family, whom he would go to any extremes to protect, is heartwarming. The art was further elevated by Sakai’s storytelling. Usagi’s adventures included many references to Japanese history and folklore, featuring architecture, clothes, weapons, mythical creatures, and ancient festivals. Sakai’s ability to skillfully weave facts and legends into the adventures of his samurai rabbit is a genuine masterclass in storytelling. I was (and still am) enamored by Sakai’s art and stories. Usagi’s swashbuckling adventures brought back childhood memories of Tinkle Comics and the Panchatantra (an ancient collection of animal fables). The vivid splashes of folklore, mythology, and traditional arts that span the pages of his magnum opus also made me fall irrevocably in love with Japanese culture and history. Book 41 of Usagi Yojimbo was released in 2025, and Sakai is still going strong.

Usagi is now a cultural phenomenon with an animated series that released in 2022 titled Samurai Rabbit: The Usagi Chronicles. Although the comics cater to an older audience, the animated series is perfect for kids who wish to venture into Usagi’s world, albeit through the eyes of his descendant, Yuichi Usagi. At the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, I got the chance to attend my first online (and in general) art and animation expo, LightBox 2020. Attending the event reinforced my passion for creative storytelling and for pursuing a career in writing. It has been a rollercoaster ride since, and to be honest, I have not made much progress. That may not sound encouraging, but if there is one thing I’ve learned from Usagi, it’s that the journey can sometimes be the destination. All thanks to Stan Sakai!

In the years since 2020, what was once a dream has evolved into a coherent career I’ve now fully committed to in 2026. Where the road leads from here is another adventure that beckons.

Celebrating Pongal – May the Rice Overflow!

As a multicultural family, my wife and I celebrate diverse cultural traditions. I wrote about this a while back (check it out here), describing how embracing something new and different can expand our worldview, foster personal growth, and deepen our appreciation of what we already have. Celebrating Pongal is one of those things.

Pongal, also known as Thamizhar Thirunal, or “festival of Tamils,” is a major harvest festival observed by the Tamil diaspora. The word Pongal literally means to “boil over” or “overflow.” It also refers to the festival’s signature dish that combines rice and lentils and comes in two main varieties: Sakkarai Pongal (sweet, made with jaggery) and Ven Pongal (savory, made with spices like black pepper and cumin).

  • Sakkarai Pongal (Left) and Ven Pongal (Right)

Hailing from Tamil Nadu myself, I grew up in a Christian family. As such, we didn’t really celebrate Pongal, a Hindu festival, in our household. But Tamils are known for their love of food and strong sense of community, and make no mistake, Pongal is one occasion when this holds true. During the festival, our neighbors often invited us to join and share in the day’s festivities. Even though we weren’t Hindus per se, the festival and its celebrants didn’t care about it. For me, growing up in India, this perspective deepened my connection to cultural identity rather than religious distinctions.

Pongal is a multi-day harvest festival with several legends attached to its religious significance. There is the tale of the Hindu God Shiva and his bull, Nandi, who mistakenly advises humans to eat daily and bathe monthly, rather than the other way around. Another tale involves a second member of the Hindu trinity, Lord Krishna, who protects humans from Indra’s wrath (the god of thunder). These legends are incorporated within the four days of the festival, starting with Bhogi, and followed by Thai Pongal, Mattu Pongal, and Kaanum Pongal.

Krishna’s battle with Indra
Nandi in anthropomorphic form

During Bhogi, people discard and burn old belongings, clean their homes, and celebrate the arrival of new possessions. The day after, Thai Pongal, represents the principal theme of the festival: tribute is paid to the Sun god Surya and the start of his six-month-long journey northwards, when the Sun enters the constellation of Capricorn. The ensuing celebrations also thank the land’s overflowing bounty and the year’s harvest. On Mattu Pongal, farm animals, primarily cows, are celebrated as sources of wealth for their provision of dairy and fertilizer and for their use in agriculture. The festivities are brought to a close on the fourth day of Kaanum Pongal, when families visit one another and reunite before embarking on the new year.

Needless to say, there is much to celebrate and plenty of food to go around during Pongal. Living in Calgary, Canada, it is not so easy to celebrate Pongal the traditional way in the freezing cold. Instead, I take some liberties and focus more on the festival’s contextual and spiritual meaning. For Bhogi, I aim for an eco-friendly approach, reflecting on the previous year, letting go of regrets and negativity, and setting positive resolutions for the new year. Having a little kid around also means there are old clothes (my daughter has outgrown) to discard, so instead of burning them, we donate them. On Thai Pongal, while I can’t really decorate my house with banana and mango leaves, I can certainly make the day’s traditional dishes, dress up for the occasion, and practice drawing kolams (a decorative art drawn using rice flour with natural or synthetic color powder, or, in my case, chalk markers and a blackboard). The last two days of Pongal are wrapped together in eating the leftovers, thanking, and spending quality time with family.

  • A traditional platter of Pongal cuisine served on a banana leaf, including rice, lentil curries, fried vegetables, fritters, and pongal itself!

That being said, our 2026 celebration has a caveat. My daughter took Bhogi a little too literally and fell sick. Since then, my wife and I have carried on the prestigious parental tradition of sharing in her sickness and feeling miserable. We are getting better, though, as we gradually expel and cleanse all the “sick” from our bodies into a rising pile of tissues. These developments mean Pongal will be postponed to the weekend, when we will bundle all the exuberant festivities into two days, and as the saying goes, “Pongalo Pongal, let the rice overflow!”

The Importance of Making Time

Life has a habit of getting incredibly busy, especially as a parent. Expectations must be met when you have a sassy little four-year-old to look after. We are in the first week of a new year, and I’m already swamped trying to keep up with an ever-growing list of ambitious tasks. Ironically, the seeming lack of time has also helped me understand something even more important.

When the reality of a full-time career in writing settled in my mind, it also knocked a few screws loose. I felt compelled to meet a daily writing quota, and that was probably the worst thing to do. I have always been amazed by those who register for and successfully complete NaNoWriMo and other write-a-thons. Consistency is the secret ingredient behind a creative’s success, but I learned early on that my approach didn’t pass the popular vote.

It was a lesson delivered by the very real circumstances of my life. I never expected the rollercoaster ride that followed after I wrapped up my academic career in 2021. I have worn many hats since then as a sleep-deprived father, a passionate workaholic, a supportive husband, and a frustrated creative who just couldn’t put pen to paper. Barring the occasional post, I was isolated from my writing projects for nearly four years, and, to be honest, it was probably the best thing that could have happened to me.

A career bordering on a passion can sometimes lack healthy boundaries. I had lofty ambitions, just like every other aspiring writer, but I was also incoherent. Sometimes it is good to let your writing stew a bit.

Good cooking takes time. If you are made to wait, it is to serve you better, and to ensure that you are served a meal fit for a king. 

In my case, it wasn’t just what I wrote (or cooked), but my entire creative process (or kitchen). My stew (or curry) has been four years in the making, and it led me to realize the secret ingredient behind my creative process: making time for the things I love.

I couldn’t write, but I could still imagine, and much like an artist’s sketchbook, I now have a compendium of ideas for projects that I have outlined over the last four years. This new-age wave of imagination was the result of giving myself some slack, taking things a little more slowly, and learning to enjoy the small moments. It meant spending time with my daughter. It meant helping my wife recover when she was at her worst. It meant dropping surprises for my family. Most importantly, it meant enjoying the moment for what it is.

Life is too short not to have some fun. To love yesterday, I needed to live today to the fullest, without regrets, so I could live tomorrow with the same feeling. Waltzing into 2026, I have found greater clarity towards my goals and personal ambitions, including completing my graphic novel and pursuing traditional publishing. For more than four years, I have been writing the script for a graphic novel, and this year, I will complete it. But that isn’t all. I am now ready to dive into the deep end and take a shot at the traditional publishing industry. A few projects are in the queue, and I hope to share all that I have learned and continue to learn on the path toward becoming a traditionally published author.

As to when I will actually make it onto the podium of winners, I have no clue. The podium isn’t the end goal either. I just want to write and bring my stories to life. Hey, there is something incredible about believing in the beauty of our dreams, no matter how small or how great. That being said, I hope everyone is having a great start to their 2026! I will see you all next week with another story to share!

There and Back Again

A writer’s journey towards finding purpose

Recently, I have been binging Peter Jackson’s “The Lord of the Rings”, and by that, I mean, having it playing in the background throughout the day. Relistening to the familiar scenes made one thing clear to me: the last decade of my life is no different than a Baggins’ adventure.

“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.”

Bilbo was right about that one. I have experienced a lot of being “swept off” over the last few years. The latest twist in my journey came right around today except in late 2024: I got laid off from my job.

Now, getting laid off is a dangerous business, and it can do a lot to you. When the Balrog of Unemployment came trotting along, my wife consoled me, and I did my best Gandalf the Grey impression as I fell into a pit of depression:

Unfortunately, the popular mantra of “this too shall pass” didn’t stand a chance in my confrontation with this demon of the corporate world for it certainly “did not pass.” Getting laid off meant a lot of things. For one, it emptied a large portion of my savings. Second, it scrambled my brain and packed a wallop of stress. Sounds terrible, yes. But there was still hope.

So, while I sat there, much like Frodo,

In my case, replace “the ring” with “the lay off”.

I realized something else:

And I did. I got perspective. A year’s worth of bountiful perspective when all I could do was to continue walking and seeking. Being lost was the first step to finding the right path, and this was undoubtedly my eureka moment. Being unemployed helped me realize what I really wanted my day-to-day life to be. To make it happen, I had to wait patiently and bid my time.

It was challenging but I somehow persevered, and a job prospect, much like the esteemed reputation of the wizards of Middle-Earth arrived precisely when it had to.

So, what exactly am I up to?

Well, I’m diving headfirst into a full-time writing career. Freelancing is one way to put it, but I get to try the entire palette, at least from the writer’s perspective. The opportunities that await are multifaceted with a tablespoon of science writing, a teaspoon of script writing, a dash of tutoring, and a boat load of creative writing and art.

The journey up to this point has been very much a “there and back again” tale. Yes, there is a veritable measure of uncertainty attached to freelancing. Still, I’ve realized it offers me the freedom to indulge in my creative spirit as an individual and flexibly juggle my responsibilities as a father. Do enough of it and the savings eventually start adding up too. Further twists may yet come to pass, but for now, I’m more committed than ever before toward my writing and creative aspirations. As such, it felt great to jump into the tail end of the year by sharing with you my latest success in the science writing realm.

I’ve always enjoyed writing about the what and why of science, but now and then, I love taking a deep dive into the how. How did we get to where we are now? Whose contributions have set the foundations for modern-day innovation and knowledge?

Science history allows writers to unravel stories of the past. This year, I got the chance to do the same with a lesser-known ancient scholar, and the first of the major mathematician-astronomers of the Indian subcontinent: Aryabhata. From explaining solar and lunar eclipses to proposing Earth’s rotation, Aryabhata was far ahead of his peers. His contributions to astronomy and mathematics profoundly influenced Middle Eastern and Western thought.

I’m all the merrier to wrap up this year with the opportunity to publish a feature about this great scholar in the December 2025 issue of Sky & Telescope magazine. It is now available at your nearest bookstore! You can order your copy here.

Let’s stop here for today. This is just a taste of what is to come. After all, keeping up with the Lord of the Rings metaphors,

All in preparation for what will be a glorious 2026.

Embracing Differences: Lessons from My Brother’s Husband – Manga Review

Life is strange. One moment, we find ourselves surrounded by family and friends. These are people who we believe have our best interests at heart, provide valuable counsel on our beliefs and convictions, and accept us for who we are and who we wish to be. But, now and then, life presents a situation where those very people seem like strangers. In their place, someone else comes along. Someone we have never met before. Someone who, with no immediate cause or reason, and by the simple honesty of their actions, becomes family.

This is the reality that hits Yaichi, a work-at-home suburban dad in contemporary Tokyo. Formerly married to Natsuki and father to their young daughter Kana, Yaichi’s life takes a turn when a hulking Canadian named Mike Flanagan arrives at their doorstep. But Mike is no ordinary person. He is the widower of Yaichi’s estranged gay twin, Ryoji. What follows is a melancholic and beautiful story, authored by the critically acclaimed Gengoroh Tagame, that sheds light on the highly closeted Japanese gay culture and how the next generation can positively influence its future.  

Confronting Differences

For Yaichi, Mike’s arrival is akin to opening Pandora’s box. Hidden within its depths aren’t sickness, death, and misfortune, but Yaichi’s own inhibitions, fears, regrets, remorse, and apathy. As the story unfolds, Yaichi wrestles with these emotions in extended inner monologues, amid moments that highlight the disruptive influence of Mike’s presence.

These monologues are brutally straightforward and describe the void that separates Mike’s world from Yaichi’s and vice versa. Their relationship, in its infancy, involves a fair share of prejudices and veiled preconceptions that Yaichi holds about Mike’s identity as a gay man. Yaichi feigns ignorance as a coping mechanism. While he is aware of his personal inhibitions, Yaichi takes the easy way out, rather than coming to terms with his feelings. Mike’s arrival forces Yaichi to face his inner demons.

It is a rocky start. Both men are seemingly lost on how to proceed with their relationship as in-laws. On one side, we have Yaichi wrestling with his twin’s past. On the other hand, we have Mike, who wishes to complete his family. It is like an awkward tea party, until Kana comes along.

Our Children Are a Reflection of Us

“Daddy has a brother?! Men can marry each other?! Is that even allowed?!”

“Well, it’s like…In Japan, it’s not allowed, but I guess it’s possible in other parts of the world.”

“Huh? That’s weird. It’s weird that it’s ok over there, but not here.”

Growing up, we are taught about the systematic rules that govern our day to day lives. Somewhere along the way, we lose our ability to question and engage, as well as our capacity to change the world dynamically. Early childhood remains an exception. Filters are meaningless to children. They don’t see the world the way we do as adults. It is their greatest strength, and it is what makes them so damn endearing. It is also for this very reason that we adults have to keep ourselves in check. Our behavior, worldview, and the answers we provide to their questions are crucial. It is not an easy task, and in many cases, it is through our eyes that our children’s worlds often lose their colors.

Yaichi is cautious in his approach to raising Kana. Mike’s appearance throws a wrench in what is a mistakenly ignorant lifestyle. Unlike her father, Kana has no inhibitions and becomes immediately attached to her Canadian uncle. Her curiosity and willingness to ask complex questions often catch both men off guard. At the same time, Kana’s innocence guides the two men to have the conversations they need. Gradually, Yaichi begins to change, and as he does, he begins to recognize the weight of his responsibility as a father. He understands the burden he has inadvertently placed upon his daughter. Kana never needed protection from Mike. Rather, he had been protecting himself from coming to terms with his past.

Chasing Shadows

There is one more thing children are great at, and that is calling out adults for their double standards. Especially true when it is about making excuses for ourselves. Kana does the same to Yaichi, setting the stage for the latter to accept his shortcomings as a brother and a father. This ultimately enables Yaichi to seek redemption.

With Mike for company, he relives the childhood memories of his brother; memories buried deep in his heart. The resulting journey is one of fulfillment for both men and something that brings the whole family together. Yaichi’s redemption operates on multiple levels, illustrating how every individual is a product of various threads of influence, including family, cultural stereotypes, religious beliefs, and traditions. On the other hand, helping Yaichi through this process also ensures that Mike fulfills his husband’s wish for the latter to meet his family. From being reluctant about Mike’s presence in their lives, by the conclusion of the story, Yaichi feels encouraged by his company. Finding happiness in their differences, he openly states that Mike is a part of his family.

That pieces together the final message of the story. In this world, our lives are a transient phenomenon. There are very few who we get to meet, know, live with, and who live for us. In the short time that we have together, rather than dividing ourselves over our differences, let’s live with acceptance.

Gengoroh Tagame

The author of dozens of graphic novels, Gengoroh Tagame’s past works have primarily catered to the adult gay manga audience. My Brother’s Husband is his first all-ages title and an Eisner award-winning title at that. In a dramatic change from the graphic depictions of hypermasculinity, sadomasochism, and sexual violence common to his works, Tagame relies on various cultural motifs to elevate and distinguish the polarizing and heartbreaking nature of life in a highly closeted Japanese gay culture. My personal favorite in My Brother’s Husband involves varying cultural interpretations of otherwise structured sushi dishes to relate to Yaichi’s changing perception of Mike.

My Brother’s Husband is a heart-warming story describing how familial connections can originate from surprising corners of the world. The world is not as big as it used to be. Social media has contributed to this, and we are all caught up in its rapid frenzy, some of which is not entirely positive. My Brother’s Husband switches up the pace. It is heartbreaking, yet hopeful. It is painful, yet healing. It asks us to slow down and look around. It asks us to not throw our judgments upon others so haphazardly. It asks us to be willing to have a conversation. All this and more, in a beautifully rendered story that emphasizes the importance of compassion.

Passing Clouds – Confronting Setbacks

“You are never too old to set a new goal or to dream a new dream.” – C.S. Lewis

I have been away for the past year. I was lost. I still am to a certain degree, but I don’t want to admit it. Writing this, I guess, is an acceptance of sorts.

I have faced several setbacks in my life, but I have never let them break my spirit. It is far more challenging to do the same when that setback not only affects you but also your loved ones.

Life is strange. One minute, you have everything you have always wanted. Next, you seemingly lose it all. In my case, I was laid off, and with that, a whole lot of other things just fell into disarray.

The past year has been about coming to terms with the reality of an unpredictable future. Nothing that I haven’t confronted before, but it hurt a lot more knowing that my setback would also affect my family.

There is a certain levity with which you can live your life when you are alone, assuming you are in the right headspace. For some, this is not fun. After all, who likes being alone?

I was alone for a long time, and that journey involved a significant amount of soul-searching until I met my wife. With her by my side, I found a reassuring certainty, and nothing seemed impossible. Now, we are a family, and as a result, my responsibilities have grown. There is now a little one to look after; someone who makes my day brighter, no matter what happens.

Getting laid off was a crushing experience and quite unexpected. It put a wrench in my career aspirations. No one was to blame, and when the news hit, all I could think about was how to move forward.

Children wear their emotions on their sleeves. They do not hesitate to express their feelings vocally, either by shouting, screaming, or crying. Adults, on the other hand, are a complicated mess. I’m the type who restrains their emotions, holding them all in like an overinflated balloon. I do not know why, but it has something to do with being strong.

Being laid off was different. It wasn’t about restraint. There was simply no time to reconcile with my emotions. At one end was my wife, suffering from post-partum depression, and on the other was my loving daughter, who, like all kids do, sought 24/7 attention.

I had to be strong for them. So, I dove back into the hectic world of an unemployed individual seeking jobs. The world has not been too kind to those in the same boat as myself.

It has been tiring.

But this morning, I woke up to the sound of my daughter’s voice as she said, “Appa, good morning! Happy Father’s Day!” She held a gift bag in her hands, and within, were an assortment of crafts she had made for me.

That is when it struck me. I had been waiting so long to find the time and space to confront my deep-seated frustrations, anger, and disappointment; to somehow overcome my nagging insecurities. However, in that moment, as I experienced the happiness surrounding me, I realized I had already moved past my insecurities, thanks to the two individuals sitting across from me.

Dreams are like passing clouds. They are never set in stone. They mutate and transform. When I started this blog in 2016, I dreamt of a career in scientific research. I faced setbacks. I rued not being given a chance to prove myself. I fell down and I got back up. What matters most to me now is a life where I can keep my loved ones happy. That means sharing my highest AND lowest moments with them. Writing allows me to achieve this when I’m unable to speak for myself.

It is now time to go back to the drawing board. A fresh start is no different than staring at a blank piece of paper. The emptiness is daunting but also invites adventure and opportunity. I only have to take a step forward.

Building a Legacy – Farewell, Akira Toriyama Sensei

Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened. – Dr. Seuss

There are a few individuals I consider my heroes and role models. Foremost among them is my grandfather. The very manner of his passing dealt a big blow to everyone in my family and left an everlasting impact on my life. His death forced me to understand the reality of time and come to terms with what is a natural aspect of life. From my struggles to my greatest triumphs, my grandfather remains an inspiration in everything I do. His legacy is the deeply cherished memories we shaerd in our time together.

I can say much of the same with regards to the works of Toriyama sensei, and in particular, the Dragon Ball franchise. I didn’t grow up with the franchise as many others did. In fact, it all started with Dragon Ball Z, the official sequel to the original Dragon Ball. I was in Singapore at the time, on a family trip with my parents and my sister. My parents were eager to take us out shopping and touring but I wasn’t having any of it.

No, I was too busy hooked onto the TV watching an incredibly buff guy, with crazy hair, falling off what looked like a gigantic snake supported by clouds, and into hell. Amazingly enough, he would pat off the damage from his fall as if it were nothing, and then proceed immediately to fly straight back up to the clouds willling himself to find a way back onto the path.

And that is all I would remember about this character for some time. My parents dragged me out of the room and took us out for the day. A few years later, I would reunite with this character again at my friend’s home while playing Dragon Ball Z: Budokai on his PlayStation 2 (incidentally, also my first PlayStation 2 game ever). I was hooked and would soon get fully immersed and acquainted with the world of Dragon Ball Z and its diverse array of characters.

The series’ protagonist Son Goku was (and remains) my favorite. Goku’s ability to overcome seemingly insurmountable challanges, his enduring willpower, his undying love for friends and family, as well as his healthy appetite and joyful approach to life (a major shonen trope these days, after all, Toriyama pioneered the modern shonen manga) made it look like he had it all. For a teenager like me who was experiencing racism and segregation at school, and with barely any friends to relate to, Goku was a hero. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to be courageous enough to accept my weaknesses and strong enough to overcome them.

Now, looking back, I can proudly say I accomplished exactly that. From overcoming my personal inhibitions to putting 100% towards my goals, I am a confident individual happily pursuing my dreams. Most importantly, through Goku, I learned the lessson of humility and to acknoweldge those who have supported and encouraged me in my journey. A quick call out to Master Roshi, I have also done my best to work hard, eat well, and sleep well, too! (Though, it has been a little more difficult, recently, with a hyperactive toddler!)

It is funny what invisible strings connect us all. I still remember those days, lying on my bed, lost in my imagination, in scenarios where I’m saving the world or facing my demons, while imitating Goku’s signature Kamahameha. Those moments are now cherished memories. Berserk’s Kentaro Miura, Yugioh’s Kazuki Takahashi, and now, Dragon Ball’s Akira Toriyama. It truly feels like the end of an era. Toriyama sensei, you have left behind a monumental legacy. Dragon Ball was my initiation into the worlds you created. Thank you for everything you did to bring your characters to life and to share their stories, as well as yours, in what has been an inspirational journey.

When Dreams Fade – Battling Depression and Finding Purpose

What can you do when a loved one sinks into a pit of despair and you are relegated to being a silent bystander, watching it all unravel?

It has been a while everyone. The daily circumstances of my life took a sharp nose dive since my last post on March 15, 2023. To provide some context, I need to go back to 2021 when my wife and I received the greatest gift we could ask for, our baby daughter. Her birth brought forth an enormous amount of change in our lives. We moved from Edmonton, our “20s” home, to Calgary. I landed the ideal job in a career that allowed me to equally indulge my appetite for science, writing, and other creative pursuits.

Our journey as parents hasn’t been easy and remains a struggle to this day but we love our little girl. Ups and downs are the norm and we had to postpone some of our plans and goals but the ensuing joy we found in our daughter’s company made it all worth it.

My wife played an enormous role in motivating me toward a career in writing. She wholeheartedly wished that I pursue my dreams to the fullest and to never give up on my goals. Going into 2022, I wanted to do the same for her. After our daughter’s one-year birthday, I encouraged her to pursue doctoral studies, and so, it began.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

Several factors must come together when you are working toward your dreams and living as a family. In our case, it just was not meant to be. With my remote, work-from-home job, we thought the stage was set for a glorious transition. We were off to a great start in the fall of 2022, with my wife heading to university, and our daughter coping well in her absence. In fact, it was better than expected and I had the opportunity to experience several special moments as a father while taking care of our daughter at home.

But in due time, things would get increasingly difficult, especially from a work-life balance front. Having the support of your family is one thing and we were doing great in that aspect but my wife lacked the same in her career. A supportive, encouraging, and understanding supervisor is crucial for a student’s success. Unfortunately, my wife did not get that option. The insurmountable stress from her work would carry into our day-to-day lives. Gradually, our nights became sleepless, there were arguments, struggles in understanding each other’s frustrations, desperation in wanting to support each other’s dreams, and just trying to keep it all together.

Unexpected health emergencies involving our daughter would add to the caustic mood that pervaded our home. After several months of bitterness, fatigue, and exhaustion, we realized that this state of affairs was not sustainable. When the simple act of driving to your workplace sets you mad with stress, you know that something is wrong. As such, my wife decided to give up on her studies. Standing in the wake of her decision, as her dreams fell apart, all I could do was to hold her tight and let her know that everything would be all right.

A Short-Lived Peace

Despite how awful it felt initially, we knew it was the right decision. This was evident in the immediate and immense sense of relief that followed, as though a massive burden was lifted off of our shoulders. With it, there were fewer arguments, peaceful nights, and a lot more laughter in our home.

My wife missed spending time together as a family. She missed her daughter. She missed us. Putting everything aside, we strolled happily into March 2023. Our days were rife with adventure and our nights were filled with hope and wonder. Everything seemed perfect again. Never did I expect what followed afterward.

Sinking

I liken it to an instant fury. An explosion of emotions that carried me away and in its passing, I felt like I was drowning. I didn’t understand what happened but over a few days, I observed my wife slowly retreat into a corner within herself. No matter how much I tried to help, it didn’t make a difference.

The physical symptoms came first. It happened after my wife had stopped breastfeeding. Weekly cycles of nausea, fainting spells, and absolute fatigue. There seemed to be no end to it, and with every consecutive wave, I could sense my wife’s mental strength seep away.

Where there had once been renewed hope and happiness, and excitement for newer beginnings, there was now emptiness, apathy, and extreme grief. Two years after her pregnancy, my wife was diagnosed with severe postpartum depression.

Finding ourselves

For the rest of 2023, I felt like a spectator looking in on my wife’s struggles. Nothing I did seemed to help and all I could do was to just be there by her side. I felt like I had lost my partner while my wife felt that she had lost herself.

I wished to help her find her way back and I acknowledged that she needed this support from someone other than myself. A few months later, in the summer of 2023, my wife started therapy. It was on a need-to basis but it provided her a safe space to vent, gather her thoughts, and come to terms with her life. Old scars re-emerged, new wounds dug deeper, and dreams faded.

Closure

Reflecting on all of this, what my wife and I envisioned for our life after a child was in stark contrast to the reality we experienced. We frequently kept wishing about recovering lost time. It was most difficult for my wife. From the denial that she faced such a reality, to the anger for all the complications throughout her pregnancy, to bargaining on her goals and sinking in the depression that followed, to finally mourning for all that had come to pass.

Acceptance was not easy but we somehow made it. Our days and nights are better. We stumble on occasion but we have learned to pick ourselves up. Our daughter has been the light in the darkness. Living with her has all been about living in the moment and in that sense, we have grown stronger as a family. As for my wife and myself, this experience has only brought us closer. 2024 now lies ahead in an opportunity to rediscover ourselves and push ahead with renewed hope. We have remained steadfast in our promises to keep seeking our dreams and to be there for each other.

Now, it is back to the drawing board. I intend to pick up the pieces that were left behind, re-collect the dreams that had faded, and give them new purpose. After all, isn’t that what life is all about?