introducing: chai with zia
image credit: the delhiwalla
In my house, chai is sacred time. In the fall, it’s late afternoon, just as the sun starts to dip and the earth starts to glow, and all the work stops for an hour. A pause, a transition, a few minutes to slice the ginger, crush palmful of cardamom, crack a few peppercorns, drop them into a little pot on the stove. Sometimes, a little something spicy to snack on, a sweet slip of jaggery in a steaming cup, a neighbor to gossip with.
When I was little, and my maa’s closest friends from art school would visit — my masis — I’d delight in how unspeakably cool they were. One owned a gallery and jewelry studio in Philadelphia, and she arrived in a frenzy of red hair and melodic laughter, with plastic baggies of glass beads and a box of old silk skirts as gifts for us. I remember sitting by her knees, listening to her chatter away about a new boyfriend, a cup of tea balanced precariously on the edge of the couch.
These days, I find I’m the local auntie — or, to my gaggle of niecephews, bua or masi or zia. There’s nearly always a mending kit tucked in my tote, not to mention a plethora of snacks, a tin of OTC medications, and a shawl for whomever gets cold first. Many of the people I love are having pregnancies, abortions, miscarriages, babies, toddlers, kiddos. We’re auntie-ing ourselves, too — going to therapy, hustling to pay our bills, exploring a new facet of our sexuality, taking medical leave, reparenting ourselves and our parents, making time for an afternoon pause when we can.
Sometimes, we need someone to ask the questions that feel unmentionable, someone with whom we can speak about the unspeakable — someone to put on the kettle, lay out the olives and brie, dispense a little wisdom, and share in the elegant and imperfect chaos of vulnerability.
So, I’m delighted to share chai with zia, my new monthly kaffeeklatsch-style chat for paid subscribers of the newsletter. Have a question about your practices of healing and nourishment? Ask auntie shivani: submit it here, in text or in a voice note. I’ll answer questions and talk about my own practice in the first episode, coming soon. Thank you for being here, in these early days.
a few medicines, or a few newsletters I love:
deep gratitude to Marlee for the inspiration for this new offering. “we feel afraid and we hit send anyways.”
embracing “halfway homemade” thanks to my dear friend Ani.
I agree with Fariha: sometimes pleasure is wanting nice things.
Ismatu writes viscerally on love and other concepts.
Sana shares a queer business manifesto, and Grace writes about queer quilting.
I find the best abortion swag (and obvi, updates on our shared world) via the always wonderful Stephanie.
my friend and teacher Lakshmi wrote about rest and shavasana in Chetna’s fiftieth letter.
until next time.