PEACE, AND THE WEIGHT OF MEMORY

HE night before the news broke, my husband and I had gone out for a modest date night—no occasion, no celebration. Just a gentle pause carved out of the everyday. We stepped into one of the finest restaurants in the country, tucked away in a quiet corner of Colaba.

- VERNIKA AWAL is a food writer who is known for her research- based articles through her blog 'Delectable Reveries'

Now settled as journalists in Delhi—a city that, over the past decade, has become more than just a workplace or a postal address—we've built a life shaped by the rhythm of headlines and deadlines, late-night edits and early morning coffees.

Delhi, with all its noise and nuance, has become a kind of chosen belonging. But Mumbai is different. In Mumbai, there are roots. There's family and friendship, and memories tucked into every lane.

That evening, as we entered the restaurant, an old acquaintance spotted us.

"A special occasion?" he asked, smiling. "No," we replied, smiling back. "Just the two of us. Just because."

He found the sentiment endearing—the idea of turning an ordinary night into something quietly meaningful. And in that moment, it struck me too: how far we've come, not just as individuals but as a country. Once, an evening like this—a leisurely dinner overlooking the Taj Mahal Palace—felt aspirational, almost cinematic. Now, it sits within reach. The extraordinary woven into the everyday.