What's in the middle

  "What a Shocker! Curry Dreams and the Reality of Racism" Well, what can I say? What a shocker, eh? I didn’t see it coming! I genuinely thought we’d have our first Indian black lady—a clever one who speaks with decorum, coherence, and would definitely do what she promised without causing all this fear, retribution, tears, anger, and division like never before. But I was wrong, and so were many others. People are currently navigating the five stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It’s a right rollercoaster! I know we’ll deal with this as best we can, but, blimey, it’s tough. The racism is absolutely off the charts! Just today, I saw someone tell a bloke with a prominent accent that he’d be deported soon. What on earth is going on? These are wild times! And I’m not saying this just for me—I’m genuinely shocked. Kamala Harris did nothing wrong, and now everyone seems to be playing the blame game. It’s all a bit much, isn’t it? We’ll get throug

  So, I’ve just had some revelation about some people—not everyone, mind you, just a select few. Since I’m knee-deep in my therapist programme (only ten months to go—woohoo!), I’ve started viewing other people's problems through a completely different lens. I’ve found that despite my best efforts to preach kindness and self-care—like reminding everyone to cherish their elders and boost their relationships daily—some folks just don’t seem to get it. It’s baffling, really! No matter how often I shout, “Just be decent to one another!” they forget it all until disaster strikes. It’s like they only remember to be nice when the proverbial hits the fan—when someone’s kicked the bucket, they’ve lost a relationship, or life takes a turn for the worse. Suddenly, they have a moment of self-realisation, but give it a week, and they’re returning to their old ways! I mean, I get it. Life gets busy, and we all forget to balance things occasionally. But come on! Shouldn’t we always be kind and

 Recently, something rather peculiar has popped into my head, and I’m wrestling with it like a cat with a laser pointer. As someone who follows comedians religiously and attends comedy shows like they’re a religious experience, I can confidently say that laughter truly is the best medicine. Honestly, it’s helped me navigate the ups and downs of life—who needs therapy when you’ve got stand-up? Now, I’ve always felt that celebrities have a bit of a duty to set a good example. After all, they’re practically role models, whether they like it or not. They’re blessed with fame and fortune, so why not pay it forward by supporting good causes? Even if it means backing someone who isn’t exactly the crowd favourite, it shows us middle-class folk where our hard-earned cash should be going. But here’s where it gets interesting: comedians have a unique role in society. They’re meant to make us laugh about all sorts of things—both the ridiculous and the serious. So when some of them start to speak

A Journey of Gratitude and Rediscovery: Embracing Humanity Beyond Borders Living in sunny California has been like winning the lottery of life, and I’m incredibly grateful to call America my home. But let me tell you, my journey here wasn’t exactly a walk in the park—more like a marathon with obstacles! After 14 years of sweating blood, tears, and a lot of cash, I can finally say I’ve assimilated into life here. But oh boy, it hasn’t been without its challenges! Despite all that, I genuinely appreciate the opportunities the USA has given me. Let’s get one thing straight: no matter how much I’ve integrated, I’ll never forget my roots. Being born in England is like having a secret superpower! I get to enjoy the best of both worlds—living in the USA while spending quality time in the UK to care for my dear mum, who has dementia. This keeps me connected to my birthplace, even if I sometimes miss my fish and chips. Recently, something eye-opening happened. My mum’s carers, all immigrants, w

 Everything Comes in Good Time So, here I am—a person who didn’t do her GCSEs or A Levels because I was a child of trauma. Fast forward, and now I’m strutting around with a computer science degree, a sports science diploma, a biomedical diploma, and a laundry list of fitness teaching qualifications. Seriously, if there were an Olympics for collecting degrees, I’d be the Usain Bolt of academia! I’ve traveled the world, worked as a personal trainer, and even tackled Google’s project management courses. Oh boy, I guess I’m the queen of studying! Maybe I’m just trying to make up for not going to school in my younger years. Either way, learning is my jam! Now, let’s talk about my ten-year quest for a green card. It was like a never-ending episode of Survivor, but with fewer rewards and more paperwork. With all my shiny qualifications, job hunting was a breeze, which definitely helped my green card journey. But here’s the kicker: as much as I wanted to dive into a career as a marriage therap

  Finding Humor in the Chaos of Faith and Family Ah, the age-old question: do we really know the people we’re with? My mum met my dad when she was just a sprightly 21-year-old and decided to marry a man she barely knew. Talk about a plot twist! It’s like signing a lease on a house you’ve never seen—exciting until you find out the backyard is a swamp. Initially, things were okay. My dad had a few quirks, like a secret stash of addictions that my mum, bless her sweet, innocent heart, chose to overlook. It’s a classic case of “if I don’t see it, it’s not there,” right? Fast forward, and things took a turn for the worse. Picture this: a lovely Indian lady living in a soap opera, complete with physical and mental abuse. Not the kind of drama you want in your life, folks! There were times she had bruises and black eyes that looked like they were painted on by some sadistic artist. And let’s not even talk about the hospital visits for attempted suicide. I mean, I once caught her drinking blea