Mothers Myths and Memories: Personal Tales Of Love Loss And The Lives We Carry.

Imagine a tiny silver window in the palm of your hand – with four panes – all different colours. The window is this book. In the pages there is no grand tale no heroes no villains no stolen kisses and unfortunately no murders. The pages do not hide philosophies that would change your life. In your hands you have fleeting moments – short bite-sized moments frozen on paper. The world and lives around you viewed from the silver window. Read it when you need a moment for yourself—on the metro while waiting in line for your coffee or stuck in traffic. Each piece is short yet layered enough to linger in your mind rent-free. Read it as you would scroll through memories or Instagram reels: pause smile reflect and move on—perhaps a little lighter than before. Hello I’m Payal. I like to think of myself as a typical Indian woman—though maybe what sets me apart is how I see the world and how I write about it. Chat-GPT our universal guru says post-Emergency India and the liberalised economy shaped me. Maybe they did. But I know this: my parents shaped my world. Raising two daughters in a time when daughters were seen as burdens couldn’t have been easy yet I grew up believing I could be anything I wanted to be. My nani taught me something just as powerful; not art for art’s sake but art for happiness. She painted sewed sculpted even worked with driftwood—not to sell not to show just for the sheer happiness of it. That’s why I write: because I have stories to tell and telling them makes me happy. I hope they make you smile too.