Yes, My Accent Is Real: And Some Other Things I Haven't Told You

I was reminded of something important that my father had taught me all those years ago: If it happens, good. If it doesn't happen, very good.

Nothing in life is ever handed to us.

India is always a very colorful country, but Holi is India on steroids.

I never understood why men couldn't just go up to a girl, ask her name, ask if she was having a good time, where she was from, and if she would like a drink. Instead, they opt for something like this: Walk close enough to group of girls, order a round of shots, and say, "Yo, son, let's get a round of lemon drops and drop it like it's hot; where the honeys tonight, y'all?"
I'll tell you where the honeys are tonight, my friend: they are hanging out with guys who don't sound like you.

Music is fodder for my soul. Without it, I could not have gotten through heartbreak. I could not have traveled so far. I could never have loved the way I do now. Music taught me that. It eased my pain. It has been my lifeline.

"Would you be willing to go to Mass with me?" Allison asked me a few weeks later. She said that she had prayed about it and that she was willing to forgive me. I thanked her and apologized again. Yes. Of course I would go to Mass with her. I would have climbed Everest naked for her.

"What kind of girl do you think I am, Kunal?" (You know you're in troble when they use your name.)

I was insecure, and a lot of that was from thinking people did not like me because I was different. Which I later discovered was not true. I think it is common for people to do that, to live in a shell protecting themselves from an imaginary enemy.

If I were ever fortunate to be in a position where someone needed my advice, I would never make him or her feel stupid or small. I would always give them my time.

That happens in life, where a brief, fleeting moment can change us forever, and as hard as we try, it cannot be re-created. And just as hard as it is to re-create, it is harder yet to let it go.