A sweet Surprise

Welcome again to unapologetically both.

A few days ago, something happened that completely made my day.

I received a very thoughtful gift and heart warming digital message card in person from members of my Heidelberg Meetup group-people who walked into this city as total strangers years ago, and who are now my absolute chosen family. Reading through what they wrote and holding that gift filled my heart with happiness and gratitude.

When you spend years organizing events—booking restaurant tables, leading hikes through the vineyards, planning walks, setting up spontaneous lunches, or standing at the door of a crowded room trying to break the ice—you do it purely because you love it. You do it because you remember the exact  feeling of landing in a foreign country and wondering if anyone is ever going to say hello to you.  

You certainly don’t do it expecting gifts or thank-you notes. But when they hand you something like this in person? Let me tell you, it makes every single minute completely worth it.

Reading through these messages, one massive theme kept popping up: Loneliness is tough, but human connection is something we can actively build.

Wenjing shared how she arrived in Heidelberg 14 years ago without knowing anyone , and how our events helped her find her life here.

Others shared how the group helped them find friends, feel welcome, and get through difficult times. Eliza talked about making memories and living life to the fullest, while Anusha beautifully described the people she met as her closest friends and family in Heidelberg.

And that’s when I realized something: I started bringing people together to build my own social life, but along the way, I helped create a home away from home for many.

We don’t just organize events. We create opportunities for strangers to become friends—and sometimes, chosen family.

Anna thanked me for the time, energy, and passion I put into our meetups. Filip called the group an important part of Heidelberg’s social life, and Ahmed even shared a meme calling me the soul of our Meetup group. That one made me laugh and almost tear up at the same time! Franzi and Christoph reminded me why we keep opening doors in the first place—because bringing people together means people don't have to be alone. Ahmad wrote the sweetest thing about how having company when you have nobody around can completely lift you up when life gets dark. Stefan shouted out all the walks, dinners, parties, and spontaneous lunches that turned Heidelberg from just a nice tourist postcard into an actual living , breathing home. 

 To M, Filip, Stefan, Franzi, Anna, Wenjing, Ahmad,Deed, Anusha, Christoph, Eliza, and everyone who has ever walked into one of my events. thank you for making this journey so meaningful. 

For  me Unapologetically Both means bringing a little Indian warmth and hospitality into my German life and creating a community that crosses cultures, languages, and borders.

Sending lots of love and feeling gratitude.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dancing Between Worlds

 Welcome back to Unapologetically Both

Today, we are exploring 'Dancing Between Worlds'—how the ancient rhythm of Bharatanatyam didn't just keep me connected to my Indian heritage while living in Germany, but how it ultimately kept me connected to myself.

When I first moved from India to Germany in 2001, I spent a lot of time trying to look forward. I wanted to master the language, understand the social structures, and build a career. I thought that to fit into my new German life, I had to pack my past away in a box. When your life is that fluid—when you are constantly adapting,  to the world around you—it is incredibly easy to lose your center. But for me, no matter how fast the world spins, there is one place where the noise stops completely. For me that is my dance Bharatnatyam. 

For many years, while building a life in Germany, I was also learning and practicing Bharatanatyam. And looking back now, I realize something important. I wasn't just learning a dance form. I was carrying a piece of home with me.

When people think about staying connected to their culture abroad, they often think about food, Festivals, Language, Family traditions. And yes, all of those matter. But for me, Bharatanatyam became something deeper. 

living abroad changes you. It should. That's part of the experience. You adapt. You learn new ways of thinking. You absorb different values. You become more than the person who first arrived. But sometimes, while growing into a new version of yourself, you need something that reminds you where you started. For me, that reminder was dance.

There is something incredibly grounding about that. Because Bharatanatyam is not just movement. It is storytelling. Discipline. History. Devotion. Precision.

In a world obsessed with speed and instant results, Bharatanatyam teaches patience. You cannot rush mastery. You cannot shortcut discipline. You cannot download experience. You simply return. Again and again.

The older I get, the more I realize that meaningful things are rarely built quickly. Friendships take time. Communities take time. Confidence takes time. Healing takes time. And beautiful art takes time. Bharatanatyam reminds me of that every single week.

For me, dance became a conversation with myself. One that didn't require words.

Today, when I step into class, I am still a student. Still learning. Still making mistakes. Still improving. And I love that. Because it reminds me that growth never ends.  Life is still teaching me. And I am still listening.

So if there is something in your life that connects you back to yourself... a hobby... a tradition... a creative practice... a passion... Protect it. So, I want to leave you with a challenge today: What is that one thing—that art, that melody, that movement—that makes you feel completely like yourself? Don't leave it in your past. Bring it into your present. Let it ground you.

Being Unapologetically Both means recognizing that your roots are not meant to tie you down—they are meant to keep you steady while you stretch your branches across the world. You can love the efficiency of your European life and still bow to the ancient rhythms of your ancestors. You don't have to choose.

This is Unapologetically Both. And this is where we stop choosing between who we've been and who we're becoming... and start dancing gracefully between both.

The Reverse Culture Shock

 welcome back to Unapologetically Both. 

Today, I want to talk about something that nobody warned me about. Moving to Germany 25 years ago was a culture shock. I expected that. Learning a new language. Understanding German directness. Discovering that shops close on Sundays. Trying to decode German bureaucracy. I knew those things would take time.

But what nobody prepared me for... was going back to India even for a few weeks of holiday and getting a reverse culture shock.

Because here's the strange thing. After living in Germany for 25 years, visiting India no longer feels like simply going home. Sometimes... it feels like arriving in another foreign country.

And the first time I admitted that—even to myself—I felt guilty. How could the place where I was born suddenly feel unfamiliar?"

"It's the little everyday habits that catch you off guard. Suddenly, I’m surprised when a meeting starts an hour later than planned. I automatically reach for a seatbelt in the back seat of every single car. I instinctively look for a queue instead of gently finding my way to the front of a crowd.

And when someone says, 'We'll see,' my German brain quietly asks, 'So... is that a yes or a no.

My Indian friends tease me all the time. They say, 'You've become so German!' And maybe they're right.

But then, I return to Germany. The train arrives exactly on time... well, they used to. Now the German train system has basically become a joke! But still, people lower their voices on public transport. The supermarket cashier scans my groceries with Olympic speed, always greets me, and says thank you. driving on express is fun again. Everything feels organized, and I think, 'Okay, I'm home.'

But then, the moment I'm back in Germany, I instantly start missing the incredible service industry I enjoy in India.

In India, life moves with this amazing, instant convenience. All the shops are open seven days a week, for long hours. You can order absolutely anything online and it is delivered to your doorstep instantly. If you need a doctor, you get an appointment immediately. Medical facilities are open until late at night, and you get your test results sent directly to your phone via email and WhatsApp. you can go to any lab to do your tests on your own. you do not need a note from your family doctor for that.  domestic help service is cheap and available 7 days a week. you don't need to wait months just to get a handy man to repair small things at home. 

In Germany? The service industry practically does not exist! For every single thing, you have to wait for days, weeks, sometimes months. It is incredibly frustrating. even if you get this help it is super expensive and bad quality. 

Do you see the paradox? I now have two places that feel like home. And two places where, occasionally, I feel like a visitor. Someone will wish me a pleasant evening in Heidelberg, and sometimes, when I'm in India, I deeply miss the quiet of a Sunday morning here. But I am always caught between both.

People always ask me, 'After 25 years, do you feel more Indian or more German?'

I never know how to answer that question. Germany has shaped me. India has shaped me. Neither cancelled the other out. They simply added new chapters to the same story.

When you only know one way of living, it's easy to assume it's the normal way. But when you've experienced two cultures deeply, you realize that 'normal' is often just another word for 'familiar.' One culture isn't right. The other isn't wrong. They're simply answering life's questions in completely different ways.

So if you've ever returned to a place you once called home and felt unexpectedly out of step... please don't think you've lost something. Because very few people get the privilege of loving more than one home.

This is Unapologetically Both. And this is where we stop asking whether we belong here or there... and start embracing the extraordinary life that unfolds in the space between.

Because perhaps home isn't a destination we return to. Perhaps home is simply the person we've become through every place we've loved.

Five Languages, One Brain

 welcome to Unapologetically Both.

And today, I want to invite you inside my head.

Now, if you opened up my brain on any random day, you wouldn't find a neat filing cabinet. You would find a busy international airport.

Planes arriving. Planes departing. Announcements in multiple languages.

A little bit of organized chaos.

And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way. I speak four languages fluently.

I've used them to navigate 25 years in Germany.

To organize communities and events for thousands of expats.

To travel through 46 countries.

To build friendships across cultures. Most people would say four languages are enough.

But if you know me  little bit by now you already know that "enough" has never been one of my favorite words. while my feet are still learning the discipline and beauty of Bharatnatyam, my brain has decided it wants a new challenge.

I am currently learning my fifth language: Korean. And today, I want to talk about why.

Not just why Korean. But why continuing to learn after 40 might be one of the greatest gifts we can give to ourselves. One thing I've discovered about speaking multiple languages is that every language unlocks a different version of me.

And if you're multilingual, I suspect you know exactly what I'm talking about. When I speak Marathi or Hindi, I become more emotional. More expressive. More instinctive. There are feelings that simply arrive faster in Marathi and Hindi. 

When I switch to German, something changes. My thoughts become more structured. More direct. More efficient. There is a precision in German that I genuinely love.  

And then there is English. The language of my international life. The language of travel, Of Meetup events, Of connecting people from twenty different countries around one table in Heidelberg. 

For years I wondered: Which one is the real me? The Indian me? The German me? The international English-speaking me? But eventually I realized something.  Languages are not separate identities. They are different rooms in the same house. And every language I learn simply adds another room. 

Which brings us to Korean. People ask me all the time:

"Why Korean?" "Are you moving there?" "Is it for work?" No. Not at all. (may be secretly I want to do that 😊)

It started quite innocently.

Like many people around the world, I discovered Korean dramas.

And what began as entertainment slowly turned into fascination. The sounds, The expressions, The culture, The rhythm of the language, and before I knew it, I was sitting at my desk trying to learn Hangul; The Korean writing system. 

And here's the funny thing. I absolutely love being bad at it. 

Now that may sound strange. Because by our forties, most of us have become experts in something. We're good at our jobs. Good at our routines. Good at navigating life. We become very attached to competence. But learning a new language completely destroys that comfort. Suddenly you're making mistakes again. Forgetting words. Mispronouncing basic sentences.  And honestly I think that's healthy. Because the moment we decide we're too old to be beginners... we stop growing. 

When I sit in Korean class struggling to remember a grammar rule, nobody cares that I've lived in Germany for 25 years. Nobody cares that I've organized hundreds of events. Nobody cares how many countries I've visited. I'm simply a beginner.

And there is something incredibly humbling about that. Something refreshing. It reminds me that growth is available at every age. I think this lesson extends far beyond language. So many people quietly stop challenging themselves after 40.

Not because they can't learn. But because they're afraid of looking foolish. And that's a shame.

Because curiosity is one of the most powerful anti-aging tools we have. Curiosity keeps the brain alive. Curiosity keeps life interesting. Curiosity keeps possibility open. 

Over the last decade, I've watched thousands of people walk into my Meetup events feeling nervous. Afraid of not fitting in. Afraid of awkward conversations. Afraid of being the newcomer. 

And yet the people who thrive are always the same. The curious ones.

The ones willing to risk discomfort. The ones willing to ask questions.

The ones willing to learn.

 Language works exactly the same way. When you learn even a few words of another language, you're doing more than communicating.

You're building a bridge. You're saying: "I respect your world enough to step into it." And I think that's one of the reasons I've loved living abroad for so long.

Because every culture teaches you something. Every language teaches you something. Every conversation teaches you something. My five languages are not just communication tools. They're passports. They're bridges.

They're reminders that identity is not fixed. That my brain is still growing. My world is still expanding.

And there are still new parts of myself waiting to be discovered. So here's my challenge for you today.

What have you always wanted to learn?

A language?

An instrument?

A dance style?

A skill? And more importantly: What's stopping you? 

Because life doesn't become smaller after 40.

It only becomes smaller if we stop being curious. Learn five words.

Take one class. Start badly. Laugh at yourself. Trust me. Your future self will thank you. 

If there is one message I want to leave you with today, it's this:

You are allowed to evolve.

You are allowed to surprise yourself.

You are allowed to start new things.

You are allowed to become someone different from the person you were five years ago.

And perhaps that's what being unapologetically both really means.

Not choosing between who you were and who you're becoming.

But making space for both

This is Unapologetically Both.

And this is where we celebrate not only who we are...

but everything we're still becoming.

Borrowed Traditions

 Holi colors in the spring, Wine festivals in Summer, Oktoberfest in the fall, Diwali lights in November, and Christmas markets in December. Living between India and Germany for 25 years taught me that integration isn't about replacing your traditions—it’s about becoming a cultural collector. 

Welcome to Unapologetically Both. Today we dive into the pure joy of 'Borrowed Traditions.

When I first moved to Germany 25 years ago, I fell into the trap that many immigrants fall into. I thought I had to make a choice. I thought that to embrace my new European life, I had to let go of the festive, colorful world I left behind in India. But that's not true. Soon I realized , there is a pure  joy in collecting traditions instead of replacing them. 

Let’s look at the sheer energy of these celebrations . Think about Oktoberfest and Holi. On the surface, they couldn't look more different. One is a historic Bavarian festival in a massive beer tent; the other is an ancient spring festival born in the heart of India. But structurally? They are doing the exact same thing. They are spaces designed to break down social barriers. When you are throwing colors at a complete stranger during Holi, or standing arm-in-arm on a wooden bench singing folk songs with a local German at Oktoberfest, the usual social distance melts away. As an expat who has built a massive community here in Heidelberg, I have 'borrowed' both of these energies. They are tools that allow us to step out of our structured, professional boxes and simply laugh together.

Then comes sunny summer months and I pair that deep Indian love for vibrant, open-air community gatherings with the classic local lifestyle and enjoy wine hikes and wine festivals in my region. Wear hiking shoes, pack small backpack with water and small snacks and walk through gorgeous vineyards enjoying wines from different wine stands on the way with friends , cheer with strangers.  I get to borrow the quiet, intentional peace of the local culture, inject it with that uninhibited, chaotic Indian warmth, and create my own vibe. I don’t choose between them—I just collect them.

And then come the dark months of winter, where the magic of borrowed traditions truly shines. In late autumn, I light the diyas for Diwali, filling my home with light to celebrate this beautiful festival of lights. And just a few weeks later, the exact same windows are lit by the fairy lights of a German Christmas tree.

There is an old, rigid way of looking at integration that says you must overwrite your past to belong in your present. But true belonging is additive. When I walk through the Heidelberg Christmas markets, smelling the cinnamon and roasted almonds, drinking mulled wine, I don't feel less Indian. And when I celebrate Diwali in Germany, I don't feel like an outsider. 

By borrowing these traditions, my year has double the joy. I haven't lost my culture; I’ve expanded my horizon. 

When you are living between the cultures, you should stop asking Which tradition should I keep? And instead you start asking, "What brings joy? What creates connection? What reminds me to celebrate life.

Today, my home reflects that journey. There might be Indian spices in the kitchen. A Christmas party  in December. Music from one country. Food from another. Friends from ten different nationalities sitting around the same dinner table. Sometimes we celebrate Diwali. Sometimes Christmas. Sometimes someone's birthday. Sometimes Iranian New year, sometimes enjoy the traditional Egyptian food cooked during Ramadan.

Living between the cultures has taught me that identity doesn't have to be protected behind walls. It can be enriched through open doors. The more traditions I've embraced... the richer my own life has become. Christmas has never made me less Indian. Celebrating Diwali has never made me less at home in German.

So here is my challenge for you  Look at the cultures around you—whether you are an expat in Germany, a global traveler, or living in your hometown. Stop viewing other people's traditions as a spectator. Borrow one. Adopt a ritual that brings you joy. Learn the story behind it.

Life is far too short, and the world is far too complicated, to only celebrate the days you were assigned at birth. Collect the joy.

This is Unapologetically Both.

And this is where we stop choosing between traditions...

and start collecting the ones that make our lives richer.

Friendship Is the Real Love Story

  welcome to Unapologetically Both.

today, we are writing a love letter to the people who actually show up when the fairy tale fades. friendship is the real love story.

when you move countries, you leave behind more than geography.

You leave behind automatic belonging. You leave behind built-in support systems. You leave behind familiarity. So slowly, over the years, friendships become something much deeper.

Not casual. Not secondary. Essential. I’ve lived in Germany for 25 years now.

And when I look back at my life here, one of the biggest things I feel grateful for is not a career achievement. Not travel. Not even survival. it’s the people.

The friendships that stayed through different phases of my life. Friends who became family without ever officially being called family. friendship has carried me through some of the hardest transitions of my life.

For over 13 years, I’ve been running Meetup group in Heidelberg, bringing thousands of international expats together. People think I do this just because I’m a massive extrovert who likes a good party. But the truth is much deeper than that. I build community because I know what it feels like to land in a foreign country where you don't know a single soul. In my  decade of hosting, I have witnessed the birth of the most spectacular love stories. I’ve seen two strangers from completely different continents meet at a Heidelberg event, navigate the brutal German bureaucracy together, become roommates, and eventually become each other's chosen family.

When you don't have your biological family nearby, your friends become your safety net. They are the ones who pick you up from the hospital, the ones who celebrate your promotions, and the ones who celebrate your favorite Indian festival with you  just to make you feel at home. And honestly, I think that’s one of the most beautiful things about long-term expat life. You learn that family can be created. not only inherited.

True friendships are built on choice, freedom, and an identical frequency. There is no legal contract keeping you together. There is no societal expectation forcing you to stay. You stay because you genuinely admire each other's mind.

So here is your homework for this week: Stop waiting for Valentine's Day or an anniversary to celebrate love. Look at your inner circle—the ones who answer your chaotic midnight texts, the ones who share your silence, the ones who make living abroad feel like an adventure.

Send them a message today. Tell them they are your real love story.

This is Unapologetically Both.

And this is where we celebrate the lives we build…

and the people who quietly help us become ourselves

The Accidental Community Builder

Welcome to  Unapologetically Both

And today, I want to tell you a story that still surprises me. Because if you had met me when I arrived in Germany on May 31st, 2001, and told me that one day I would be organizing events for  international people, bringing strangers together, and becoming known as one of Heidelberg's biggest community builders... I would have laughed.

Not because I didn't like people. I've always loved people. I've always been curious about their stories. But I certainly didn't arrive in Germany with a  vision of building communities. I came here to build  my  life.

When I first moved from India to Germany, I was like many expats. Learning the language. Learning the culture. Trying to understand why every piece of paperwork seemed to require three additional pieces of paperwork.

Trying to find my place. And if you've ever lived abroad, you know that one of the hardest things to build isn't a career. It isn't language skills. It's belonging.

Belonging takes time. Belonging takes people. Belonging takes connection.

Over the years, I met wonderful people. Some stayed in Heidelberg. Some moved away. Some became lifelong friends. But I also noticed something else. Every week, new people arrived. Students. Researchers. Engineers. Doctors. Partners who had followed someone else's career. People from every corner of the world.

And they all had the same question: How do I meet people? How do I make friends? How do I create a life here?

The funny thing was... I had spent years asking the exact same questions myself."

And one day, without really planning it, I decided to organize a small Meetup event. Nothing ambitious. Just a few people getting together. I thought maybe ten people would show up. They did. Then twenty. Then few more.  And suddenly, something unexpected happened. People started returning.

But they weren't coming back because of me. They were coming back because of each other.

Friendships were forming. People were finding travel partners. Language exchange partners. Business contacts. New friends. Even relationships. I realized I wasn't organizing events. I was creating opportunities, for me and for others to  connect. Opportunities for belonging. Opportunities for people to feel less alone. 

For the last decade, I've watched many people walk into a room carrying the same invisible question: 'Will I fit in here?'

I know exactly what it feels like to stand on the edge of a social circle and wonder if there's space for you. And maybe that's why I became good at hosting. Not because I'm exceptionally outgoing. But because I remember what it feels like to be new. I remember what it feels like to be the outsider.

One thing I've learned after hosting hundreds of events is that loneliness doesn't care how successful you are. It doesn't care how educated you are. It doesn't care where you're from. Human beings need connection. It's that simple."

And yet, so many of us sit around waiting for it to happen. Waiting for invitations. Waiting for introductions. Waiting for someone else to make the first move.

At some point, I stopped waiting. And I started creating. Looking back, I think that's the biggest lesson community building has taught me: Community isn't found. It's built.

One conversation at a time. One event at a time. One invitation at a time. Community can start with inviting one person for coffee. It can start by saying hello to the new colleague. It can start by introducing two people who don't know each other. The magic is rarely in the big gesture. The magic is in consistency.

People often call me the 'social butterfly' or the 'socialite.' But what they don't see is that behind every successful event there are countless small acts of intention. Remembering names. Making introductions. Following up. Creating spaces where people feel welcome. Because belonging doesn't happen automatically. Someone creates it.

And over the years, I realized something beautiful. The community I thought I was building for others... was also building me. It gave me friendships. Purpose. Perspective. A front-row seat to thousands of human stories.

I've met people from countries I'd never even imagined visiting. I've watched strangers become best friends. I've watched newcomers become hosts themselves. And every single time, I'm reminded of the same truth: People don't remember perfect events. They remember how they felt, Seen, Welcomed, Included, Connected.

Maybe that's why I love this work so much. Because in a world that often feels divided, rushed, and distracted... creating connection feels like a small act of hope.

So if you're feeling disconnected... I want to leave you with a challenge. Don't wait for community. Build it.

Send the message. Organize the dinner. Create the WhatsApp group. Invite the new person. Say hello first. You don't need permission. You don't need special skills. You just need willingness. Because every community starts the same way. One person deciding to open the door.

This is Unapologetically Both. And this is where we stop waiting to belong... and start creating spaces where others can belong too.