41 Years of Service, A Lifetime of Impact - Diane you will be missed !!!

How do you sum up 41 years of legacy in one evening? The farewell evening for Diane was a true testament to her personality. The passion, compassion, empathy, and drive to serve the disability community are hard to capture in words

I witnessed how amazing that legacy is over the last few years while serving on the Advocates Board. At every board meeting, I learned something from Diane Gould. She has dedicated 41 years of service to Advocates, including 13 years as CEO and many years before that as COO.

One thing I heard repeatedly from everyone was how humble, calm, and genuine she is—even in the midst of a crisis. No matter what challenges came her way, Diane never seemed to lose her composure. She guided the organization through turbulent times with an unwavering smile, attention to detail, and an incredible ability to work with anybody and everybody.

Diane is one of the best listeners I have ever come across. When she is with you, she gives you her full attention and genuinely wants to make you feel heard and understood. That is something I would love to take away from her example.

As a board member, I always found Diane approachable and collaborative. She listened to everyone's ideas, carefully considered different perspectives, and then made thoughtful decisions. I noticed in every meeting how patient she was, even when there were many opinions around the table. She always seemed to find the right words to answer difficult questions.

Her farewell party was filled with laughter, tears, gratitude, and praise. People from all parts of the disability community came together to give her a standing ovation. Speaker after speaker shared stories about her leadership, kindness, and how she was always there when someone needed her.

The most remarkable thing was that every person said something similar: Diane is truly one of a kind.

Diane, you will be deeply missed. I hope you enjoy a well-deserved retirement. In the meantime, the rest of us will learn how to carry forward the values and spirit you brought to Advocates every day. 

    A Kanjivaram silk for the evening—a gift from a family in Desi Moms Network. The evening shower cooled the temperature, so I could wear this beautiful saree as a tribute to a woman whose legacy we will cherish for years to come.

This Is Where I Belong - Unified theatre program

Last night, the Hopkinton Unified Arts Theatre Program put on another outstanding show. More than 20 performers with disabilities took the stage, supported by 10 dedicated volunteers who helped bring out the very best in them. Dressed in red, white, pink, and black, they performed around the theme Put a Little Love in your heart.- https://www.hopartscenter.org/adaptivearts

One of the songs performed was This Is Where I Belong, and as I sat in the audience, I thought it was the perfect title for this blog. 

The program is directed by Libby Litt, who has been leading Unified Theatre for many years. We learned about the program last year and joined the session that began in October. After just a few weeks of practice, the group presented its first show in December. Anand quickly discovered that he did not feel comfortable being a performer. Singing and dancing on stage were not for him. But he found his own place in the program—as an Associate Director. He happily helped Libby with backstage preparation, administrative tasks, and anything else that needed to be done. He is incredibly proud of his title and takes his responsibilities very seriously.

After a short break, the next session began in March, and last night was the first show of the season. Anand could hardly wait. Not because he wanted to perform, but because he wanted to be there, helping, organizing, and being Libby's right hand. I am not sure what he loves more—the Unified Theatre program or Libby herself.

But this story is not really about Anand.

It is about every young person who stood on that stage Last night.

They learned the lyrics. They practiced the songs. They worked together as a team. When the music started, they gave it their all. The audience cheered them on every step of the way.

They looked beautiful, dressed up for their special night. They were smiling, shining, and enjoying every moment. what touched me most was that every single one of them looked happy to be there. They belonged.

A tremendous amount of credit goes to Libby and the volunteers. From selecting songs to rehearsals, from backstage support to helping performers feel confident on stage, they created an environment where everyone could succeed. Their patience, encouragement, and dedication made the evening possible.

As a parent, I cannot express how grateful I am. Whether a child is singing, dancing, helping backstage, or serving as an Associate Director, programs like this give our kids something priceless—a place where they are accepted, valued, and celebrated.

Tonight, as I watched Anand enjoying himself and watched all the performers shine, one thought stayed with me:

This is where they belong.

the amazing volunteers

See the background pic

I Lost a Neck Pillow and Found a Story

When I was leaving for India, my husband suggested that I should carry his travel pillow. I wanted to give it a try, so I did. Later I realized that it was too thick and high for my neck, but I still remembered to carry it with me on the way back.

My journey home was long—Bangalore to Delhi, Delhi to London, and London to Boston. I didn’t have much to carry back, so I kept the pillow in my carry-on bag for the Banglore Delhi flight.

At Delhi airport, I knew I had a long flight ahead. I remember going to the lounge, then stopping by the bathroom right before boarding. I opened my carry-on to take out the things I wanted for the flight and pulled out the pillow. Somewhere between the bathroom and the boarding gate, I lost it.

As soon as I entered the plane, I remembered. I immediately asked the staff if I could go back and look for it, but they kindly said they would check for me. The hostess smiled and said, “Looks like you’ll have a long flight without that neck pillow.”

Nobody could find it.

Instead, they noticed there were a couple of empty rows and suggested they could let me sit there so I could stretch out and sleep. It was such a thoughtful gesture.

She quietly settled me into one of those rows. Apparently, someone else had the same idea. A woman came and occupied the other seat in the row of three. For a moment, I wasn’t happy. I thought, “There goes my plan to stretch out and sleep.” But something about her made me feel like I should start a conversation.

We started simply.

“Where are you headed?”

That one question turned into hours of talking.

She was a yoga teacher and Ayurveda practitioner in her mid-50s with three children—two sons and a daughter, ranging in age from 17 to 23. Her husband is a white American whom she met while working in Europe in her early twenties. Life had taken her through Europe, Massachusetts, Bangalore, and eventually back to California.

I told her about my own journey, my philosophy of paying it forward, how much I value spending one-on-one time with people because every individual has a story worth hearing, and the philosophy behind Desi Moms Network and how it is different from any support group.

We talked about life in California and Massachusetts, the differences in people and culture, our experiences in India, and how dangerous it can be for any country or society when politics and religion become too intertwined. She was going on an Alaska cruise in July, so naturally, I showed her my Alaska pictures. We connected on so many levels. When I got back in town , facebook told me she is a cousin of a dear friend. Small world. 

It was funny because both of us had boarded the flight with exactly the same plan—to catch up on sleep and simply rest.

Instead, we ended up spending hours talking about life, work, children, women, careers, choices, travel, and everything in between.

Somewhere during that conversation, I completely forgot about the missing neck pillow.

In fact, I became grateful for losing it.

Had I not misplaced that pillow, I might have settled into a corner, fallen asleep, and missed meeting someone whose life intersected with mine in such an unexpected and meaningful way.

I texted my husband to tell him I had lost his pillow. I felt a little guilty.

His reply made me laugh.

“I’ll buy a few more in Bangalore next time.”

That simple response somehow captured the whole experience.

Sometimes what we lose makes room for what we are meant to find.

I boarded that flight thinking I had lost a neck pillow. Instead, somewhere between the Delhi airport bathroom and the London, I gained an unforgettable conversation, a new perspective, and a reminder that the best travel stories are rarely about the destination.

The story of a missing neck pillow turned into the story of meeting another fascinating human being somewhere between Delhi and London. And in the end, the conversation was worth far more than the pillow ever was.

Travel keeps reminding me that destinations are wonderful, but often it is the strangers we meet along the way who become the most memorable part of the journey. Sometimes, all it takes is losing a pillow to find a story worth telling. 

A kid enjoying his neck pillow in London lounge

 Delhi Airport someone is enjoying that neck pillow :)

One Evening Away From Everyday Life - Moms in Boston

 A few months ago, I asked the moms in our group a simple question:

“What would you want to do for yourself, your family, or your children as an activity?”

I took inventory of all the ideas and slowly started working on them — one event at a time. Boston Harbor Cruise was one of the choices many moms mentioned, and it stayed in the back of my mind for a long time. To be honest, it was an expensive proposition, and I was not even sure enough moms would join if I planned one.

Still, the idea sat on my list.
Every now and then, it would pop back into my mind.

A few weeks ago, I finally decided to give it a try.

Finding the right combination of date, timing, commute to Boston, and budget was not easy. I finally settled on the Boston sightseeing cruise.

Most families were busy with Duck tour celebrations on Saturday, so I thought maybe moms could take one evening out for themselves on the long weekend Sunday.

Planning began. A young mother in the group the responsibility for money collection and RSVP and parking arrangement. 

In the beginning, it was hard to imagine we could actually pull it off. Some moms were concerned about driving and commuting into Boston. Slowly, a few mothers offered to carpool, the date got finalized, the deposit was paid, and suddenly the plan became real.

And just like that, these 20 pairs of shoes took 20 moms out of their everyday grind and brought them to a Boston sightseeing cruise on a rainy evening. A perfect example of how, when you plan things, the weather sometimes adds another layer to your plans.

The original plan was to hang out outside the terminal and enjoy the waterfront before boarding. Instead, because of the rain, we gathered inside the Starbucks at Marriott Long Wharf and, for almost an hour, just hung out, made noise, laughed loudly, and took dozens of pictures like college girls meeting after years.

The moms came from 13 different towns. We had five carpools coming from different directions. Honestly, just organizing that itself felt like an achievement.

My whole idea was simple — we would do the cruise, maybe eat some snacks there, and everybody would head home.  The rain was disappointing, but it did not deter these mothers one bit. Everyone showed up dressed beautifully, carrying jackets, comfortable shoes, umbrellas, and the excitement of simply getting away for a few hours.

The cruise boarding got delayed because of the weather, but once we boarded, the mood completely changed.

We went to see a foggy Boston, barely paying attention to what the narrator was explaining. Instead, we took hundreds of pictures, laughed endlessly, made jokes, and simply enjoyed one another’s company. There were so many firsts that night.

There was a smaller crowd besides us, and the 20 of us slowly took over most of the ship. At one point, we formed a circle in the middle while the narrator continued giving history lessons to the rest of the passengers. Some moms stayed inside talking nonstop, some walked upstairs into the cold wind to take outdoor pictures, some grabbed drinks from the bar, and somehow we kept splitting into smaller groups and coming back together again.

Watching everyone so relaxed and carefree felt special.

When the cruise ended, nobody really wanted to go home. Only two moms left. The rest of us kept standing there asking,
“Now what?” Everyone wanted to stay for dinner.

At almost 8:45 at night, the race began to find a restaurant in Boston willing to take 18 women for dinner. One tavern was about to close and was supposed to take their last order at 9, but we walked in anyway with hope and a big request.

It turned out to be our lucky night.

The restaurant staff quickly rearranged tables, brought 18 seats together, cooked for us, welcomed us warmly.

And honestly, that dinner became one of the best parts of the evening.

Sitting around that long table under warm lights, sharing fries, salads, stories, laughter, and random conversations, it suddenly did not feel like an “event” anymore.

It felt like friendship.

Like belonging.

Like women finally pausing life for a few hours to breathe.

For those few hours, we were not only moms, wives, caregivers, chauffeurs, cooks, therapists, or problem-solvers.

We were just us.

It was heartwarming to watch these women do something they do not always get to do. Many of them came to Boston at night just for this gathering. Many stepped outside their routines and comfort zones to say yes to themselves for once.

These shoes have many stories to tell.
Stories of courage, friendship, freedom, healing, laughter, and women slowly finding themselves again. 

Boss Lady -thats what they call me- I kind of started liking this now.