Writer – Poet – Friend
Hi and welcome! I’m Prasanta, a writer, poet, artist, and mom of three fabulous kids. I write about culture, identity, race, and belonging. Most days, you can find me reading or writing, with a cup of chai in hand. When it’s warm and everything is blooming outdoors, you may find me out on a walk with a camera in hand.
I’m so glad you’re here, friend. I’d love for you to sign up for my monthly newsletter, where I share the latest news from my world, favorite books, writing updates, and other links and information for you that is not here on the website. And I promise to include poetry, because “poetry is a life-cherishing force” (Mary Oliver).
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If you want to know more about me: I was born under an Asian sun, raised in the Appalachian foothills in the southern U.S., and currently reside in the upper Midwest. I hold an MBA and an MPH, and served for many years as a volunteer high school debate coach. My day job: I work as a Realtor. My other job: writing as much as I can, with a strong side of reading. Feel free to reach out via the Contact page. : )
The leaves in fall.The smell of hot coffee,freshly baked bread,and cinnamon.Eyes that smile.Laughter.Fuzzy blankets.Dappled sunlight.Friendship.Good news.Flowers.Old trees.Grandmothers.Tea.Pecan pie.Music.Poetry.Brown skin.Brown eyes.Black hair.Your name.Your...
Leaf Abscission (noun)* the act of cutting off; sudden termination. Botany. the normal separation of flowers, fruit, and leaves from plants. Leaves change color in a glorious display for only a short time, only to fall to the ground, dead. Trees lose their...
Happy Diwali! To celebrate, I made one of my favorite Indian desserts, a carrot and cardamom pudding, called Gajar Ka Halwa. My mother told me she used to eat it in the winter months while growing up in India. This particular version is served hot, but in the...
A true story of courage and overcoming fear.
Two little words. Just two. I remember the times when others remembered to speak them to me. It's not that we do things for the "thank yous", but when others intentionally (or unintentionally) forget you--it can hurt. Perhaps you know of someone in your own life who...
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