I stayed in boarding school since I was a child. Being away from home for so many years was not always easy. While the days were filled with classes, chatter, and routine, the nights often brought a quiet ache. There were many nights when I missed my parents deeply. But whenever I looked up at the night sky and saw the moon shining, I used to feel a bit better.
Taken at 7 pm, but the daylight still lingers.
I would tell myself, “My parents must be looking at the same moon from miles away.” That thought gave me comfort. It felt like the moon was the one thing connecting us, even when we were far from each other. It felt like a quiet bridge between our hearts. That soft silver light became my silent companion, gently reminding me that love has no limits.
At 7:28 PM, twilight gave way to moonlight.
Tonight, when I stepped outside for an unplanned dinner with my brother and cousin, I happened to see the moon again. That same comforting feeling returned, but this time, it felt even deeper. Now, when I look at the moon, I think of all the people I love and all the people who love me, no matter where they are in the world. Friends, family, and even those I do not meet often. We are all under the same sky, sharing the same moment.
Paused for paniyaram – The moon followed me.
The moon has a special way of making the world feel smaller and warmer. It shows me that distance only exists on the outside. Inside, love, memories, and connection move freely, faster than anything else. The same moonlight that touches me tonight is touching those I care about too, wrapping us all in a quiet and gentle connection.
So the next time you miss someone, try looking at the moon. Maybe they are looking at it too. And maybe, just like it did for me all these years, the moon will carry your thoughts to them.
Stopped for dosa and she followed me there too.
Do you ever think of someone when you see the moon? Have you felt a little less alone when you looked up at the sky? Who do you feel closest to when the moonlight shines gently around you?
The moon is always there, softly reminding us that love can reach across any distance.
I have this habit of reading good articles and admiring people who have a way with words. The kind of writers who can take everyday thoughts and shape them beautifully.
Back when I was in Chennai, I stayed in Velachery. It was close to IIT Madras, and our church had students from IIT attending Sunday mass. A few of them had become friends overtime. One day, while scrolling through Facebook, I came across some friend suggestions. Most of them were IIT students, probably because of the mutual connections.
Like many of us do, I started clicking through the profiles out of curiosity. One of them was a guy (let us call him X) who used to come to my church and was studying at IIT. I was going through the posts on his wall and one particular post caught my eye. It was a thoughtful post about how someone had helped him prepare for exams and crack the GATE exam. The tone, the language, the flow, the feel, everything about that post felt different. That post led me to search for the author, and that search brought me to Sreedish.
It all began with this post. The one that made me follow him and changed everything.
He was also from IIT, though not from the Madras campus. The post I had stumbled upon was one of his ‘signature Saturday drunk reflections’, written with the perfect mix of humour and insight. I kept scrolling through most of his posts and found myself enjoying every single one. His writing had a certain rawness, a quiet intelligence, and a dry wit that I loved. So, I followed him on Facebook. He kept writing. I kept reading and liking his posts.
One day, he put up a post saying he was going to make his profile private and only those who liked that post would continue seeing his updates. I hit like immediately. Not just because I enjoyed his writing, but also because I discovered we shared a mutual dislike for a certain political party. That just made the connection feel a little more personal.
His post about going private on Facebook.
What happened next was unexpected.
I received a message from him asking how I had found his profile. He said he had tried every possible combination to figure it out but failed. I explained the whole story, from scrolling through IIT profiles to landing on X’s post and finding him through it. That message turned out to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
This was way back in 2016.
At the time, I had just quit my job and was taking a career break. When he heard that, he asked me to share my resume so he could forward it to some of his friends. I sent him a Word file, and he immediately pointed out a funny mistake, I had written “martial status” instead of “marital status.” He also asked for a PDF version. Since I did not have a personal laptop or system, he converted it himself and passed it on.
That kind gesture stayed with me.
Over time, we kept in touch. We did not speak often, but when we did, the conversations would go on for two hours or more. There was something unfiltered about those chats. No pretence, no judgement, just two people talking about anything under the sun. Over the years, he became someone I looked up to. Someone I trusted.
Sreedish and his wonderful partner in life.
In moments of confusion, especially in personal matters, he was the one I turned to. While I would get stuck in a loop of overthinking and seeing the worst in situations, he had this quiet ability to look at the same problem and find clarity. Talking to him always made things feel lighter. His words would help me take a step back and breathe.
My UK friend, Meta by profession, magic by conversation
Today, he works at Meta in the United Kingdom. Among my close friends, he is simply known as my UK friend.
Yesterday, something strange and wonderful happened. I was lost in a stream of thoughts, and for a moment, he crossed my mind. I smiled to myself and moved on. Just a few minutes later, my phone rang.
Spoke for two hours straight, about life, food, memories, and midlife flourishes.
It was him. We spoke for two hours straight. We touched on everything, from cooking, career choices, and friendships to what we both call our midlife journey. By the end of the call, we agreed that it was not a midlife crisis. It was a midlife flourish. A time of awareness, growth, and quiet transformation.
Looking back, it is beautiful how a simple scroll on Facebook gave me a friend like him. A person I have never met in real life, but who has become such an important part of mine. Friendships like these are rare. They do not shout for attention, but they stay. They grow with time and become steady anchors. So, if you have a Sreedish in your life, someone who understands you, listens with patience, speaks with honesty, and makes you feel lighter, hold on to them. Because not everyone gets to find a friend like that.
Who is your Sreedish? The one you met by chance, but stayed for all the right reasons?
During my college years in Coimbatore, I stayed in a private hostel tucked away near campus. It was not just students from my college but young women from various colleges across the city who shared that space, creating a vibrant mix of backgrounds, dreams, and stories. That is where I met Sr. Rosline.
Sr. Rosline — A nun with a heart full of mischief, kindness, and memories that still make me smile.
She was doing her postgraduation at a different college, and we connected instantly. Perhaps it was our shared roots. She hailed from Idukki, and that simple geographical bond became the foundation for our friendship. We discovered we had so much in common, especially when it came to food. Our taste buds seemed to speak the same language, and we would often laugh about how our friendship could easily revolve around a plate of rice and a good curry.
Since she was a nun, she had a single room to herself. Naturally, that became our space. I was always in her room, chatting, sharing stories, and watching old Malayalam films on her Discman. We would recite dialogues, laugh till our stomachs hurt, and forget the world outside. Every time she returned from a vacation to her convent in Kerala, she would bring back a container of Chakkakuru Manga curry. We would devour it with rice, savoring not just the flavor but the joy of home it brought with it.
Hostel walls, shared stories, and friendships that stood the test of time.
She had a sharp wit and an easy charm. My father adored her when she visited my village home. She was smart, funny, and always stood up for me. I remember when my first mobile, a Nokia 1100, started swelling due to a battery issue. She was the one who called my father and convinced him to get me a Sony phone. That was just who she was !! supportive, bold, and always looking out for those she cared about. I still smile when I think of the little things we used to do during the weekends. I used to paint transparent nail polish on her fingers, and she’d come running to me later, half-laughing and half-scolding, saying her college mates had noticed. We both knew it was all in good fun and it became one of our many inside jokes.
One of my favorite memories is of us sneaking off to pluck mangoes from the nearby convent trees. I always tagged along without a second thought, convinced that if she got caught, nothing would happen, after all, she was a nun. We were each other’s safe space during our Coimbatore days. We traveled together, roamed the city in search of every Kerala hotel that promised a homely meal, and spent countless evenings talking about everything under the sun – especially food and old Malayalam movies. It was a bond built on simplicity and shared comfort.
We believed every mango tree was planted for us to conquer. Mango missions were always led by her with me as the willing sidekick.
One Christmas, our hostel had the usual secret Santa game. Since she was a nun, the warden asked her to begin the event by revealing her Chris Child. She stood up in front of everyone and said, “My Chris Child has the most complete smile in the world.” I knew in that moment it was me. She had always said that I had a complete smile, one that lit up a room. She told me many times that I had been an important part of her life in Coimbatore. What she may never fully know is how much she meant to me too.
After our college days ended, life quietly moved us along different paths. She returned to Idukki to continue her spiritual journey, and I moved to Chennai to begin working. We did not have WhatsApp or easy ways to stay in touch back then, and she did not have a mobile phone of her own. And just like that, the daily conversations faded but not the memories. Not a year has passed without her crossing my mind whenever I think of my Coimbatore days. Once, I even called her provincial house hoping to reconnect. The first time, I was told she was in Africa. The second time, they said she had gone for a 40 day prayer retreat. I kept hoping.
Sr. Anusha – Her call was he beginning of a reunion I had long wished for.
Recently, on June 1st, Sunday, I received a call from Sr. Anusha, another nun who had briefly shared a room with Sr. Rosline during her internship in Coimbatore. We had stayed in touch through email, and I had shared my number with her. That call felt like a journey back in time. We spoke about those beautiful days, the laughter we shared, and the people who had touched our lives in unforgettable ways. Then, with gentle words, she told me that Sr. Rosline had met with an accident and was now bedridden. I was taken aback. It was hard to imagine someone as full of life and energy as her in such a state. Ever since that call, I could not stop thinking about her and wanted to find out where she was and how she was doing.
Who knew this simple photo would travel through hearts and hands to bring two old friends together again? This is the pic I shared with Fr. Wilson
And just yesterday, I reached out to Fr. Wilson, my friend and former vicar from Chennai. and told him how much I wished to find Sr. Rosline. It wasn’t the first time I had spoken to him about her over the years, I must have told him at least thrice how much I wanted to reconnect. I shared everything I remembered (her congregation, the province she belonged to, and even a cherished photograph of the two of us). This time, I told him it truly mattered to me.
Sometimes, God answers through people. Fr. Wilson was that answer for me.
Long story short, thanks to his kind efforts and connections, he was able to find her contact number. This evening, I finally dialed that number,with hope, a little nervousness, and a heart full of memories. And there she was. We spoke for a while. Yes, she confirmed she had met with an accident while in Africa and had been bedridden for some time. But now, with strength and grace, she is getting back on her feet. She is currently serving as the principal of a school in Idukki district.
We spoke about all the memories I had poured into this blog. Our hostel days, mango stealing adventures, Malayalam movie marathons, and the Chakkakuru Manga curry. She laughed, paused, and told me she was truly happy to hear my voice. She said it felt like a little miracle, like God had gently nudged the universe to bring us back into each other’s lives. And maybe He did. Some friendships, no matter how many years pass or how far the roads stretch, always find their way back. I believe ours just did.
Not all angels have wings, some wear a habit, share your rice and curry, and make you feel like home.
If there is someone whose name still lives quietly in a corner of your heart, do not hesitate. Reach out. Sometimes, the universe listens. And sometimes, it responds with a quiet miracle.
Have you ever reconnected with someone after years of silence? Is there someone from your past who still lives in a quiet corner of your heart? Do you have memories tied to a place, a plate of food, or a small act of kindness? Have you ever felt the universe bring someone back into your life just when you needed it most? If you had the chance to say one thing to an old friend today, who would it be, and what would you say?
Home between the hills 