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On August 25th evening, my husband and I experienced true warmth and generosity.

On my Papa’s birthday, Michelin-starred celebrity chef Vikas Khanna’s team booked us a table at the much-acclaimed Bungalow restaurant in New York City and asked what time would work best. This is a restaurant where finding a reservation is next to impossible.

They had received a copy of my book, The Loss That Binds Us, and they were aware that it was my dad’s birthday. I couldn’t imagine a better celebration for Papa’s birth anniversary. Chef Khanna even brought a dessert with a candle on it to wish Papa a happy birthday.

Summer of 2023

I have no regrets or remorse or guilt about the time I spent with my father in this realm. He was my friend, confidante, safe space, favorite cold-war candidate, critic, and so much more. I have always said what’s in my heart, so I didn’t carry the baggage of cudda-shudda-woulda. It wasn’t a traditional relationship where my father ever expected me to do anything for him or fit into any roles. Papa would say that I was his guru. Mostly…we were each other’s safe spaces and mirrors.

One of the last things my father had said to me was, “I want to be in New York for my birthday.”

I couldn’t fulfill his dying wish. The only thing he ever asked for. I want to be in New York for my birthday, beta. I felt helpless about it. But then…he wasn’t supposed to die.

I was in India in April of 2023. I was supposed to fly back for my father’s birthday in August 2023. But May 2023 swallowed both my father and father-in-law unexpectedly within two days. When the airline staff asked why I wanted to cancel my August tickets, I said, “Because my father is dead. And this trip was about his birthday. Who will I visit in India for now?”

The expectations add heaviness.

Ayurveda teaches that our mind-body-spirit are connected. I didn’t realize that despite addressing my grief head-on—I am an external processor and wrote a book about navigating grief—so many layers of the grief never left me. I wasn’t just grieving the loss of my father; I was simultaneously grieving the loss of old relationships and my identity.

As an Ayurvedic Doctor, grief coach, yogi, and wellness speaker, I remind my clients that the only thing we have any control over are our own thoughts and behavior. Not what others do, say, or think. But I was so attached to and devastated by all that we lost this past year…and sometimes because of people not showing up the way I would have expected…I felt “stagnated.”

When storytelling and community-building are the connection.

People follow Chef Vikas Khanna for his culinary excellence. He’s a celebrity, an artist, and an enigma. Bungalow is the first Indian restaurant to receive 3 stars from The New York Times. But I have been in awe of Chef Khanna’s warmth, generosity, grit, and grief-grace more than anything else. The way he tells stories about his sister Radhika or acknowledges the strong support of his community or relies on his mother’s blessings or publicly appreciates those who gave him an opportunity when he was a nobody…it’s the humanity and humility in him that makes him stand out.

The Loss That Binds Us

At the root of it, grief has motivated both Chef Khanna and I to follow our dreams while keeping the legacies of our deceased loved ones alive. Like me, he too believes it’s a privilege to have loved and cared so deeply. His words and demeanor reiterated how we can take our wounds and turn them into wisdom.

No, I am not friends with Chef Vikas Khanna.

No, I had never met him before August 25^th.

But he pointed at his sister’s picture on the wall and mentioned I was sitting diagonally opposite from where she could see me. He said, “Broken souls find each other” and gave me a hug. I told him that I have looked up to him on days when my own grief felt dark and angry. He kissed my book and said, “When I see you, I see legacy.” I don’t cry easily, but that evening, the faucet in my eyes wouldn’t close.

The uniqueness that spoke to me.

Bungalow was Radhika and Vikas Khanna’s dream, and the place truly feels like an ode to his sister. When he showed me her picture on the wall, I told him that my book, The Loss That Binds Us, was my Papa’s desire. He wanted me to normalize grief and help others.

When the rest of my friends were being told to become engineers or doctors or marry some dude, my father taught me about kindness, happiness, independent thinking, ambition, poetry, and speaking up for myself. My father is the reason I turned out to be who I am. With him gone…What’s my new identity? That was another part of grief that I was grappling with.

Healing is nuanced.

After being able to formally celebrate Papa’s birth anniversary on August 25th, 2024, I feel like I am at peace. We ate, laughed, cried, partied, and hugged in his honor. I have accepted that while he’s gone, his blessings and presence will always be with me. I needn’t seek that affection from unavailable people. Trust me; grief will show you some hard truths about the world. Some of the people closest to me vanished when I needed them the most. In losing both my parents, I also lost many traces of my childhood because of how certain friends and family members behaved.

The thing about grief.

For the past 14 months, I have desired to honor my father in ink but didn’t want to rush. After dinner at Bungalow, I knew what I needed. I do have a picture of my dad in my workspace. But here’s the tattoo I got the day after his birthday—my husband designed it. This is literally my father’s handwriting. Now when that inner voice says I wish he was here, all I have to do is turn to my left arm. This tattoo reminds me that even though Papa is gone, he’s always there with me and for me. It’s also a reminder about finding the power within. Like Radhika’s photograph on the wall at Bungalow, this tattoo is a reminder that no one can replace your loved ones. So, keep them close to you however it works for you.

Grief brings communities together.

Sure, a few of my decade-old relationships died slowly after my father’s death. But I have also built a beautiful group of like-minded souls. That’s happened because in sharing our experiences around grief, we find our people who mostly get what we might be going through.

Chef Khanna graciously shares his sister’s blessings, true nature, and mystical connections in his Instagram posts. This allows others to see his human-side and understand what drives his purpose.

In giving grief a voice, there finally comes a day when you can sit with it in healthy silence. Healing doesn’t mean you have forgotten the person; it means you learn to live with the loss and minimize your expectations of others.

 “You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.” ~ Anne Lamott

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