Reflecting on celebrating New Year in the US with snow, met Srimani my bestie, and experienced the vibrant South Indian cultural expressions through children.

In a land far away—across the vast, snowy expanses of the United States—I found myself ushering in a New Year in a way that was both foreign and yet deeply familiar. The cold was crisp and unforgiving, each flake of snow a gentle reminder of the distance from everything I once knew. Yet, in that frosty embrace, warmth emerged from the most unexpected corners of my journey.

It was there, in a quiet yet bustling US home, that I reconnected with Srimani, my cherished friend since the long days of our Ph.D. studies. Known to me as the “dove-eyed beauty” I first met in the hushed corridors of the RIE Mysore library, she had always possessed an uncanny ability to transform even the coldest moments into celebrations of life and kinship. Her home, a sanctuary of laughter and shared memories, became my refuge that New Year, a place where every corner echoed with the promise of belonging.

As the hours melted away and the midnight bells rang, a delightful surprise awaited me—a gathering of children from families of South Indian origin.  They all sang classical Indian music, their parents lending their voices in between.  All their voices, pure and vibrant, rose in song as they danced to the familiar, rhythmic beats of our homeland. In that moment, I was reminded that our roots are not confined to a single location. Instead, they are the living, growing seeds of our identity, replanting themselves wherever life takes us.

Dinner was elaborate in a neighbouring friend’s house.  It was a spread of short eats filled with Indian flavour of “Chats”.  To sooth the youngsters palate they also had Mexican delights – tacos, enchiladas, and quesadillas. The family was so selflessly serving food to all of us.  Children took active part in arranging from kitchen to the dining table.  Such a wonderful sight which is missing in the present world of speed and individualism.

That night, beneath the shimmering lights and amidst a snowfall that blanketed the ground like a whispered promise, I truly understood the essence of home. It isn’t just about the physical spaces we inhabit; it’s about the memories we cultivate, the friends who welcome us, and the cultural echoes that resonate in our hearts. Wherever we fall, we bring with us the seeds of our origins—nurturing them in every new land, every fresh beginning.

This New Year, in a world that feels both vast and intimately connected, I embraced the idea that every ending is but a new beginning. With every step, I planted a seed of hope, and with every smile shared with Srimani her friends and family specially their children, and countless kindred souls, I re-established the roots that define me.