Anoop Judge | Author · Writing Instructor · Former T.V. Host​

Something inherited I will not pass on . . .

This love of clothes, it’s a cursed thing. Everywhere I look there are cabinet drawers, boxes, plastic bags, canvas sacks, more cardboard boxes, and sundry junk drawers overflowing with outfits for every season and every reason—pastels, brights, neutrals, whites, blacks, reds, and every color in between.

Take, for example, my decades-long obsession with animal print. I have animal print in every style—in a flowy maxi dress, a knee-length dress, a jumpsuit, a romper, a Manish Malhotra gown; even a bikini or two in ubiquitous animal print.

I wasn\’t ready to let you go . . .

Two days before my mother passed, the temperature in Delhi— my hometown—was 104 degrees. Not a leaf stirred and the aerial roots of banyan trees in our backyard hung down limply, and languidly, immobile. The day my mother passed it was raining. A welcome healing rain that cooled the scorching, heat-baked earth. I saw poor children dancing in the street in joy, their upturned faces creased in smiles as their tongues mopped greedily at the raindrops. It was as if the heavens had opened their arms to welcome my mom into its embrace.

For ten days, my mom struggled for her life in the ICU—a sterile room with white walls, beeping machines, and a smell of Dettol antiseptic hanging in the air like the thick smog that blankets the congested streets of New Delhi in the wintertime.

Anoop Judge is a blogger and an author, who’s lived in the San Francisco-Bay Area for the past 27 years. As an Indian-American writer, her goal is to discuss the diaspora of Indian people in the context of twenty-first century America.