CervivingMom

Zara doesn’t like things. She worships them. She’s not a fan; she’s a one-woman fan club, marketing team, and spiritual ambassador for whatever she’s obsessed with that month. From K-dramas to keto, astrology to almond flour, Taylor Swift to tarot, Zara goes all in. There was the time she got into clean eating. She didn’t just cut sugar… she gave motivational speeches at birthday parties. Zara: “You’re putting poison in your body, but I support your journey.” Me (mid-gulab jamun frowning): “Thanks?” Then came her minimalism phase. She threw out half her wardrobe and tried to get me to donate my scarves because they “don’t spark joy.” Seeing my scarves go definitely didn’t give me joy! Once, she watched a documentary on cold showers. By the next day, she was ice-bathing and posting about “discipline over comfort.” It was December! She’s intense, convincing, and occasionally a little terrifying honestly. But when she loves something… or someone… you’ll ...

Yash is the kind of guy who could agree with two people arguing on opposite sides—and genuinely believe he’s helping. He once told one friend: “Yeah, she can be really blunt. It’s a bit much.” And to the other: “Her honesty is so refreshing! We need more people like her.” He thought he was being supportive. What he actually was… exposed. Because, of course, he sent the wrong message to the wrong person. Twice. Planning a trip with Yash is like playing emotional roulette. Friend 1: “Let’s go to the mountains.” Yash: “Perfect! Love the quiet air and nature vibes.” Friend 2: “Beaches are better, let’s do that instead.” Yash: “Agreed! Nothing beats sand and sunsets.” Me: “Yash, which one do you actually prefer?” Yash: “Honestly? I’m happy anywhere. I just go with the flow.” Me (in my head): No, Yash. You don’t go with the flow. You are the flow. The Yashes of the world appear kind, agreeable, but are scared of confrontation. In trying to please ever...

Xenia loves all things foreign. Accents, countries, cuisines, even confusing customs—she’s enchanted by anything with international flair. But the charm? It sometimes borders on… selective enthusiasm. I met Xenia for the first time during a short trip to India. We were at a friend’s get-together—warm, casual, filled with laughter and snacks. Xenia was polite, but distant. That surface-level, mildly distracted tone that says, “I’ve already decided you’re basic.” She asked me what I do. I said something casual, nothing fancy. She nodded, unimpressed, and moved on. Ten minutes later, the friend who introduced us casually said: “You know she lives in France, right?” Xenia (visibly transforming): “Ohhh my god, that’s AMAZING! Paris or the South? I love French markets! Have you been to Lyon? Do you just drink wine all day?” The accent in her voice shifted. The enthusiasm spiked. Suddenly, I wasn’t “a person,” I was “a portal to Europe.” It was like I had unlock...

Waman doesn’t take breaks. He takes his work everywhere. To cafes, weddings, family get-togethers… even to the hospital. He doesn’t believe in “resting.” He believes in “working in a different location.” When Waman was briefly admitted to the hospital for a minor procedure, we all assumed he’d finally be resting. He sent a message to the group: “Please don’t visit. I just want to take this time to rest and recover.” Sweet, right? Except… He had requested a special room because it had a bigger table. “For food?” someone asked. “For my laptop,” he replied. He literally used a hospital side table as a desk. While others sent him “get well soon” messages, Waman was on conference calls from his bed, saying: “Ignore the beeping, that’s just the IV.” The Weekend That Wasn’t One Sunday, I asked if he was free to catch up. Waman: “Yes! I’m on a break. Just catching up on emails, prepping two decks, reviewing a proposal, and ideating for next week’s launch....

Varsha doesn’t believe in rest and heal. She believes in “intensive nutritional restoration and cellular-level immunity rebuilding.” No.. She’s not a doctor. No.. She’s not a nutritionist. But she once attended a free online webinar, follows wellness influencers, and says things like, “Your gut is the CEO of your body.” She doesn’t just give advice. She gives dosages. And honestly, she pitches it all with the confidence of someone trying to hit her supplement sales target by sunset. Here’s an incident.. I had just recovered from dengue. Still moving slow, still living on soup, still figuring out how to feel normal again. Varsha came over to “check in.” She took one look at me and gasped like she’d seen a ghost. Varsha: “Oh my god, you look SO pale. Like… chalk.” Me: “I just survived dengue. Not a zombie apocalypse.” She pulled out a rattling pouch of tablets and capsules like she was about to host a pop-up pharmacy. Varsha: “You need vitamin C, zinc, ir...

While the rest of us spiral, stress, overthink, and obsess… Utkarsh just… exists. Calm. Quiet. Unmoved by chaos. Like a human version of “airplane mode.” The Day the Group Chat Was on Fire (and He Sent a Sunset Pic) We were in the middle of a full-blown friend group meltdown. Plans clashed, feelings were bruised, three people were typing aggressively at the same time. And then… Utkarsh casually dropped in a photo of a sunset. Utkarsh: “Look at this sky. Nature’s so healing. Hope everyone’s staying hydrated in this heat.” Amit (clearly not vibing): “Bro. People are fighting and you’re posting clouds?” Utkarsh: “Clouds are temporary. Just like this fight.” If you listen closely, you can still hear Amit rolling his eyes. But that’s Utkarsh. He’s the kind of person who: - Meditates - Drinks herbal tea because it “feels grounding” - Has never rage-texted in his life - Genuinely believes, “If it’s meant to be, it’ll flow.” When you vent to him, he lis...

Tanya could tell someone their haircut is uneven and somehow make it sound like a compliment. She’s graceful, intentional, and somehow never caught in any drama—even though she knows everything that’s going on. There was this one time when a group chat exploded—someone said something, someone else took it the wrong way, screenshots were taken, and emotions were flying faster than forwarded GIFs. Everyone had picked a side. Tanya? She picked… neutral ground. She messaged each of us separately like the UN Secretary-General of friendships. Tanya: “Hey, I think they meant it in a different way. Maybe take a break before replying?” Also Tanya (to the other person): “I get why you’re upset. But maybe give it a day? Emotions were high.” And somehow, we all listened. By the next day, peace was restored, birthday plans were back on track, and Tanya had once again managed to be everyone’s favorite without being anyone’s enemy. She doesn’t fake it—she just knows how to say ...

Ramesh is the kind of person who comes to a wedding out of obligation, stays for exactly 42 minutes, avoids all the relatives, and leaves with a plate of gulab jamuns wrapped in tissue. No small talk. No mingling. Just… strategic attendance. At my cousin’s wedding, Ramesh arrived exactly 90 minutes after the invite time, stood at the edge of the entrance like he was considering turning back, and finally walked in like he was doing us a favor. Me: “Ramesh! You made it!” Ramesh (checking his watch): “Ya ya, of course. Thought I’d just swing by.” Swing by?? It’s not a petrol pump. It’s a wedding. He avoided the photographers like they were bounty hunters, refused to sit near the stage because “too much attention,” and somehow always ended up near the exit, pretending to take a call. When someone tried to pull him into a group selfie, he waved from the back and said, “Just tag me if I’m visible.” By the time dinner was served, Ramesh had disappeared. No goodbye, no h...

Sanya doesn’t enter a party. She glides in like she’s in a slow-motion rom-com entrance. She knows everyone. And even if she doesn’t, give her five minutes—she will. The party where I was her Plus-One, or should I say her Plus-Zero? Sanya once took me to a friend’s birthday bash. I knew no one. She knew everyone plus their childhood nicknames. Within ten minutes, she had: - Hugged five people - Asked three people about their dog’s surgery - Made a reel with the bartender And - Casually reconnected with her ex’s sister’s best friend Meanwhile, I was by the chips. Me: “Sanya, can we just sit down somewhere?” Sanya (laughing): “Sit? We just got here! You HAVE to meet Aarti—she’s obsessed with memes too!” Spoiler: Aarti was not. But Sanya was already introducing me to two more people while complimenting someone else’s shoes. She thrives on social energy. And yet—she remembers the tiny things. She’ll send voice notes after the party saying: “You ...

Qaynat is the kind of person who names her plants, has strong opinions about moon phases, and probably owns socks that don’t match on purpose. She once told me that the reason her toaster stopped working was due to an alignment of three planets. And honestly? I kind of believed her. After my treatment was done, Qaynat gave me goodies: - A sketchbook - A jar of homemade lavender scrub - A tiny cloth pouch Me: “What’s in this?” Qaynat: “Protection stones. I cleansed them under the full moon and charged them with positive energy.” I opened the pouch like I was handling sacred treasure. Me (hesitantly): “And this… works?” Qaynat: “Well, it can’t hurt, right?” Fair enough. She makes salad with flowers in it. Reads tarot cards on Tuesdays. And once sent me a voice note whispering, “Don’t go outside today. I had a dream you fell and hurt yourself. Just… stay alert.” I stayed in. No regrets. The Qaynats of the world bring color, chaos, and charm into ...

Priya can’t say no. Not to a plan, not to a favor, not even to a “Can I call you real quick?” that turns into a 2-hour emotional monologue. She’ll smile and say, “Of course!” Even when her inner voice is whispering, “You’re tired. You’re done. You need a nap and a chocolate bar.” One Saturday, Priya had committed to: A baby shower A birthday brunch Helping a friend move AND Checking in on me after my check-up Me: “Priya, why are you doing all of this in one day?” Priya: “Everyone just needed me! And I didn’t want to let anyone down.” Later that evening, I called her. Me: “Where are you?” Priya (flat on her bed): “Staring at the ceiling, wrapped in guilt and bubble wrap. I skipped everything because I couldn’t reach everywhere.” She felt bad for saying yes. Then felt worse for not showing up. Classic Priya. The Priyas of the world are kind to a fault. They want everyone to be happy—even if it’s at their own expense. But they also teach us t...

If there’s a situation, Omkar has thought of it. And re-thought it. And overthought it until it became three separate scenarios with twenty possible outcomes—most of which end in mild disaster. Omkar doesn’t sleep. He lies down to run simulations. The Case of the Unreturned Wave It started with a wave. Literally. Apparently, Omkar saw me across the street, outside a coffee shop. He waved. I didn’t. Two days later, I got this text: Omkar: “Hey… just checking, are we good?” Me: “Yeah? Why?” Omkar: “You didn’t wave back the other day. I was outside Brew Haus, around 6 PM. I thought maybe… I don’t know, you were upset with me?” Me: “I didn’t even see you!” Omkar: “Ohhh okay. Yeah, I figured that might be it. Or… that maybe you did see me and didn’t want to talk. Or maybe I imagined seeing you? Honestly, I went through about seven scenarios, and all of them ended with us not being friends anymore.” I sighed. It was just a wave. Not the final scene in a K-dra...

Neha is emotionally high maintenance—but in the most lovable way. She doesn’t just need you—she needs you to need her too. If she sends “Are you free?” and you take longer than 10 minutes to reply, she’ll follow up with: “Hello???? Did you die??” “You’re ignoring me, aren’t you?” “You’ve changed.” All this while I was in the shower. There was this one time—I replied to her “good morning” text without an emoji. Just plain: “Good morning!” Neha: “That’s it?” Me: “Yes?” Neha: “Where is the heart? The sun? The sparkle? Are you mad at me?” I had to call her and send a digital bouquet to prove I still liked her. She once said: “I’m not clingy. I’m just emotionally thorough.” And honestly? She is. She checks in when no one else does. She remembers tiny things you casually mention in passing and brings them up a year later. She makes you feel seen—even if she wants a detailed explanation for your 7-minute voice note delay. The Nehas in our lives teach...

Mehul’s emotions come in seasons, weather updates, and software updates. One day he’s “We should plan a Goa trip!” The next, he’s “I’m done with people. I’ve booked myself into a detox resort in Coorg. For clarity.” The Case of the Sudden Soul Cleanse It started with a plate of fries. Mehul (biting into one): “Why do we even eat junk like this? What’s the point of life? Everything is processed. Everything is toxic.” Me (mid-bite): “Bro, it’s Tuesday.” Mehul (serious): “I’ve decided. I’m going offline. I need to realign. I’m going to the hills for an ayurvedic retreat. No phones. No noise. Only ghee and healing.” Me: “You just got WiFi installed last week.” Mehul: “I have already uninstalled Instagram. I’m uninstalling myself.” 48 hours later… Mehul (texting excitedly): “GUESS WHO MET A FOREIGNER AT THE RESORT WHO TEACHES AERIAL YOGA! I’M STAYING AN EXTRA WEEK!” Me: “I thought you went there to be alone?” Mehul: “I was. But now we’re doing drum circles and jou...

If Google had a human form, anxiety issues, and a deep, undying love for me—it would be Luv. My husband. My worrier-in-chief. My human emergency protocol manual. When I had a cold, he looked up flu stats. When I had cancer, he Googled “how to stay strong when your wife is stronger than you.” Me (yawning): “I’m a little tired.” Luv: “Did you hydrate? Did you sleep enough? You should have rested in the day. You didn’t eat too well today.” Me: “It’s just that I chased our toddler for an hour.” Luv: “Exactly. You overexerted. Let me make you some warm turmeric milk.” He’s the guy who sanitized the house before returning home from chemo, sent me food pics for approval while I was on a bland diet, and gave threat stares (with a smile) to anyone who asked, “How are you feeling?” He wasn’t just there—he was all in. Every step, every scan, every sleepless night. Loyalty isn’t always grand gestures and speeches. Sometimes, it’s vitamin reminders, controlled thermostat se...

Some people “Google it.” Some people are Google. Meet Kabir. He doesn’t browse—he broadcasts. He doesn’t read—he recites. He doesn’t suggest—he instructs. We were catching up at a cozy café when I made the mistake of ordering coffee. Not a double shot, not a macchiato—just a regular, very human cup of coffee. Kabir (raising eyebrows): “You’re still drinking coffee?” Me: “Yes, because I love it as you know well.” Kabir: “You know white tea has triple the antioxidants with barely any acidity? Way better for post-chemo gut repair. Plus, it’s what Chinese emperors preferred.” Friend (whispering): “What does that even have to do with anything?” Me (sipping quietly): “It’s Kabir. Let him finish the TED Talk.” Moments later, I choked slightly while laughing, and the coffee went down the wrong way. Kabir (immediately switching modes): “Was that a dry cough or wet? Because if it’s dry, it might be bronchial hyperresponsiveness. Happens post-chemo. It’s good to do a ch...

Some people “Google it.” Some people are Google. Meet Kabir. He doesn’t browse—he broadcasts. He doesn’t read—he recites. He doesn’t suggest—he instructs. We were catching up at a cozy café when I made the mistake of ordering coffee. Not a double shot, not a macchiato—just a regular, very human cup of coffee. Kabir (raising eyebrows): “You’re still drinking coffee?” Me: “Yes, because I love it as you know well.” Kabir: “You know white tea has triple the antioxidants with barely any acidity? Way better for post-chemo gut repair. Plus, it’s what Chinese emperors preferred.” Friend (whispering): “What does that even have to do with anything?” Me (sipping quietly): “It’s Kabir. Let him finish the TED Talk.” Moments later, I choked slightly while laughing, and the coffee went down the wrong way. Kabir (immediately switching modes): “Was that a dry cough or wet? Because if it’s dry, it might be bronchial hyperresponsiveness. Happens post-chemo. It’s good to do a ch...

Some people check in by asking, “How are you feeling?” Jay checks in by making sure I’m laughing too hard to answer. He knew I had just come home after chemo, but instead of sympathy, he hit me with this: Jay: “Bro… I may have just ruined my entire love life with one tap.” Me: “Oh, this is going to be good. What did you do?” Jay: “I sent a broadcast message by mistake.” Me: “That doesn’t sound so bad.” Jay: “It does when the message says, ‘I miss you.’” I paused. “…Wait. You sent ‘I miss you’ to multiple people at once?” Jay: “YUP. And guess what? I HAD NO IDEA WHAT A BROADCAST MESSAGE WAS.” Me: “Jay. No.” Jay: “Oh, YES. I thought I was texting only my girlfriend. But no, no, no. The entire female population in my contacts got it.” I gasped. Me: “How many responses did you get?” Jay: “Two. And BOTH were terrifying.” Me: “Who were they?” Jay: “One was my ex.” I nearly dropped my phone. “AND THE OTHER?” Jay: “My neighbor’s mom.” At this point, I was...

Ishita doesn’t speak much. But when she does, she hits you with wisdom you didn’t even know you needed. She’s the kind of person who can sit quietly at a gathering, barely say a word, and still leave knowing everyone’s life story. Ishita doesn’t ask too many questions. She doesn’t need to. While most people hear what’s being said, she notices what’s left unsaid. I was going through a rough time. One of those phases where you smile, say “I’m fine,” and hope no one asks further. Most people didn’t. But Ishita did. We met for coffee one evening. As always, she was calm, unhurried, and observant. I, on the other hand, was on autopilot—smiling, joking, pretending. Midway through stirring her coffee, she looked at me and said something that made me freeze. Ishita: “You’re tired of being strong all the time, aren’t you?” I let out a small laugh. “What? No, I’m fine.” She tilted her head slightly, watching me like she was putting together a puzzle. Ishita: “You keep sayi...

Harish doesn’t do “free time.” If he’s awake, he’s hustling. If he’s asleep, he’s probably dreaming about hustling. He has five side projects, a morning routine that involves ice baths, and a calendar so packed, even Google sends him alerts. And if you dare say you’re just ‘chilling’, he looks at you like you’ve committed a federal crime. The last time I met Harish for coffee, it turned into a Ted Talk. I casually said, “I’ve been feeling a bit tired lately.” Harish’s eyes lit up. Not with concern. With opportunity. Harish: “Bro, you’re not optimizing your energy levels. What’s your morning routine?” Me: “…I wake up?” Harish: “Wrong! See, that’s where you’re losing productivity! You need to start your day with a power routine—cold showers, meditation, goal setting.” Me, just trying to enjoy my cappuccino: “Uh-huh.” Harish: “Also, have you read that book I sent you? ‘10X Your Life in 10 Days’?” Me: “No, but I—” Harish: “Bro. Come on. You NEED to be reading at ...

If curiosity killed the cat, Gautam would have nine extra lives. He doesn’t just love gossip—he lives for it. If you bump into him after a long time, he won’t ask how you are. Oh no. He’ll go straight for the real questions: “So, tell me… what’s the story?” The Interrogation Disguised as a Catch-Up A few years ago, I ran into Gautam at a wedding. I barely had time to say hello before he leaned in, eyes full of excitement. Gautam: “So… what’s happening in your life?” I should’ve known this wasn’t a casual question. I kept it vague. “Oh, you know… same old, nothing much.” Wrong move. Gautam thrives on digging deeper. Gautam (grinning): “Come on. ‘Nothing much’ is never nothing. I heard you were unwell for a while… what happened exactly?” Before I could answer, he continued. Gautam: “Someone told me it was dengue. Someone else said it was something serious. Then I heard you were hospitalized? How bad was it?” I gave a short, safe answer. But Gautam wasn’t done...

Farah is always making plans. She’ll message you out of nowhere, bursting with excitement, promising a long-overdue meet-up. And you believe her—because she sounds so sincere. But here’s the thing about Farah. She disappears. No, not because of drama or fights. Not because she’s angry. She just… forgets you exist. Until she suddenly remembers. The “Afternoon Plan” That Never Happened One fine morning, Farah called me, sounding unusually enthusiastic. Farah: “OMG, let’s meet today! Lunch, coffee, a whole catch-up session!” Me (suspicious but hopeful): “Are you sure?” Farah: “100%!! No backing out this time. Pinky promise.” I got dressed. Before leaving my house I called her. No answer. I waited And waited. And waited. I called her. No answer. I texted her. No reply. At one point, I considered calling her parents. Maybe she fell and got hurt? Maybe she was trapped under something heavy? The next day, I finally got a message: Farah: “OMG YAAAR (YAAAR is ...