Tag: first-year

Swiss Bliss & The Art of Going with the Flow

To my absolute favorite Sharvu Boy,

When we packed our bags for Switzerland, I thought we were getting ready for your first international trip. We had lists to tick off, itineraries to follow, Airbnbs to check into, trains to catch, mountains to admire, and a tiny human to keep fed, rested, and happy through it all.

Your papa, of course, had planned everything to the T. From our stays and tickets to the little details that make travelling with a baby easier, he had thought of almost everything. And me? I was excited. A little nervous, perhaps. Mostly, I was looking forward to showing you the world.

What I didn’t realise was that, somewhere between the Swiss trains, the mountain views, the stroller walks, the playgrounds, the endless berries, and your many on-the-go naps, you would end up showing me a different world altogether.

I went to Switzerland thinking I was taking you on an adventure. I came back feeling like you had taken me on one. Here are a few things my little travel companion taught me without saying a single word.

1. The world doesn’t have to be conquered. Sometimes, it just has to be enjoyed.

Before you came along, I measured a good holiday by how much we managed to see. But travelling with you changed that rather quickly! Suddenly, a successful day meant making it out of the Airbnb on time, catching the right train, finding a spot for your nap, and leaving room for little detours. Watching you discover your first playground and sandpit reminded me that a place isn’t memorable because of how much we see, but how deeply we experience it. I learnt that we don’t always need to do more to make a day meaningful. Sometimes, doing less leaves us with so much more.

2. Motherhood has taught me that slowing down isn’t falling behind.

Travelling with a baby is like travelling with a tiny, adorable tour manager who has absolutely no respect for schedules! Between naps, feeds and stroller-friendly detours, I learnt to let go of the rush. The mountains weren’t going anywhere, the trains would keep running, and the world would still be beautiful if we arrived a little late. You taught me that life isn’t always about racing towards the next thing. Sometimes, slowing down is the only way to truly be present.

3. Love is not always a grand gesture. Sometimes, it is a well-packed diaper bag.

This trip showed me love in the little things your Papa did, from planning every detail and lugging suitcases to managing your baths, naps and everything in between. It reminded me that love isn’t always flowers or grand declarations; sometimes, it’s carrying the heavier bag, taking over when someone is tired, and quietly making sure everyone is okay. And perhaps one of the greatest gifts we can give you, Sharva, is letting you grow up seeing that love isn’t just what we say, but how we show up for each other, every single day.

4. I learnt to see the world through your eyes, and it was a much more beautiful place.

While we marvelled at Switzerland’s mountains, lakes and little towns, you found magic in swings and slides at Rosengarten, your first sandpit in Oberhofen, and exploring Chillon Castle in Papa’s arms. You reminded me that wonder doesn’t always come from seeing something extraordinary, but from seeing ordinary things as if for the first time. I hope you always hold on to that curiosity, Sharva, finding joy in the little things and magic in the everyday. Because sometimes, the world’s greatest wonders aren’t mountains or lakes, but a swing, a berry, or simply being outside with the people you love.

5. A perfect family holiday isn’t one where everything goes perfectly.

Travelling with a baby isn’t all picturesque views and adorable photographs. There are naps, feeding schedules, changed plans and tired parents. But through flights, trams, buses and countless adventures, you were our little travel pro, and we learnt to make it all work together. We adjusted, took turns and learnt not to sweat the small stuff. You reminded me that a perfect holiday isn’t one without hiccups, but one where the imperfect moments don’t overshadow the joy of being together. And perhaps that’s true of family life, too. We don’t need to create a flawless life for you, Sharva, just a loving one.

6. Motherhood hasn’t made my world smaller. It has made it bigger in ways I never expected.

Motherhood may have changed my routines, priorities and the amount of luggage I carry, but it hasn’t taken away my love for exploring. Watching you experience your first international flight, playground swings and sandpit made even familiar joys feel new. I wasn’t just rediscovering Switzerland; I was building memories with you and learning to see the world differently. Motherhood hasn’t made me want to explore less, Sharva. It has given me a new reason to keep going. Now, I don’t just want to see the world. I want to show it to you, and one day, discover it all over again through your eyes.

7. Love is taking your home with you, even when you are thousands of kilometres away.

Amid Switzerland’s beautiful landscapes and unfamiliar places, it was our familiar little routines—your meals, cuddles and the arms you reached for—that made everything feel right. You reminded me that home isn’t just a place, Sharva; it’s the feeling of being loved, comforted and safe, even when everything around you is new. As you grow older and explore more of the world, I hope you always remember that home isn’t just somewhere you return to. It’s also the love you carry with you, and the love that will always be waiting for you here.

8. The best souvenirs are the versions of ourselves we bring back.

We returned from Switzerland with photographs, memories, and a camera roll that was probably 80% you (including a few where you looked ready to file a complaint with Switzerland’s management!) and gifts for you (some you wanted like the toys, some you didnt care about like the bottles and bags and some you hated like the woolen cap). But my most precious souvenirs were the things I brought back within me: a little more patience, a deeper appreciation for Papa, and the reminder that motherhood and exploring the world can go hand in hand. I learnt that I can give you both roots and wings, and that we don’t need perfect plans or perfect circumstances to make beautiful memories. Sometimes, we just need to show up, figure things out together, and enjoy the adventure along the way.

You were just a little baby when we took this trip, so you won’t remember the train rides, mountain views, your first playground or the sandpits. But we will remember how you napped on the go, ate at random places, charmed strangers everywhere, and explored this new world with curious little eyes.

One day, we’ll show you the photographs and tell you the stories, hoping you’ll see more than a baby in Switzerland. You’ll see two parents who wanted to share the world with their little boy, not because he would remember every moment, but because they wanted to experience it with him. And that was more than enough.

But here is what Switzerland really taught your mumma.

– It taught me that life doesn’t need to be rushed to be meaningful.

– That love is often found in the smallest, most practical acts of care.

– That travel is not about collecting destinations but about collecting moments.

– That a happy family doesn’t need a perfect itinerary, only the willingness to adapt and enjoy the ride.

– That I can be your mumma and still be the woman who wants to explore, learn, dream, and discover.

– And that the world becomes a little more wonderful when you have someone you love beside you, seeing it for the first time.

But perhaps the most important thing I learnt is this: I thought my job was to show you the world. I didn’t realise you would change the way I see it.

Thank you, Monkey boy, for being my tiniest travel companion and one of my greatest teachers.

Thank you for reminding me to slow down, to notice, to laugh at the little things, and to find joy in the moments that don’t make it onto an itinerary.

Thank you for giving your papa and me a whole new reason to explore.

And thank you for making even the most ordinary parts of life feel like an adventure worth remembering.

This was your first international trip, my love. But for me, it was also a little journey into a new version of motherhood, a new understanding of love, and a new way of looking at life.

I don’t know where our next postcard will come from. Perhaps another country, another little town, another beautiful corner of the world. But wherever we go next, I hope we carry these lessons with us. To travel slowly. To love generously. To be present. To make room for wonder. And to remember that the most beautiful part of seeing the world is getting to see it together.

All my love, always,

Mumma ❤️

P.S. Sharva, when you are old enough to read this, I hope you take us on a few adventures of your own. But please remember that your papa is still in charge of the itinerary, and I am still in charge of making sure we stop for photographs. Some family traditions are simply non-negotiable.

October 14, 2026
Priyank: Papa, Porter, Planner & Professional Baby Handler

Dear Monkey Boy,

There are some stories about a trip that don’t make it into the photographs.

The beautiful mountains are photographed.
The castles are photographed.
The lakes are photographed.
The happy baby is photographed.

But somewhere behind every one of those pictures was Papa, quietly making sure everything happened.

And the Swiss trip in particular deserves a little story of its own. Because while Mumma was busy making sure you had your food, your clothes, your things and everything a baby could possibly need for nine days in another country, Pappa was the person making sure the entire trip actually worked. He handled this trip like an absolute pro.

From the very beginning, Pappa took charge of the planning—working out the itinerary, figuring out where we would go, applying for visas, booking our Airbnbs, sorting out tickets and making sure all the little pieces of our Swiss adventure came together. And then came the less glamorous part: packing and lugging all that luggage.

And there was a LOT of luggage. Because apparently travelling internationally with a baby requires taking half the house along. Pappa carried it all. Suitcases, baby things, bags, stroller, everything that needed carrying—and probably a few things that Mumma had packed with a very confident “we might need this.”

And while all of this was happening, Pappa wasn’t just managing the trip. He was managing you too.

He helped with your meals, your naps, your outings and your countless little needs throughout the day. He became an expert at handling you on the go, figuring out when you were sleepy, when you wanted to be carried and when you were simply ready to get down and explore.

He gave you your baths.

He got you ready.

He carried you.

He entertained you.

He took you around.

He handled your naps while we were out.

And whenever you decided that sleeping on Mumma, Pappa, the carrier or the stroller was perfectly acceptable, he happily went along with the plan.

There were no complaints.

Just a very capable papa quietly doing papa things.

And somewhere in between figuring out Swiss trains, navigating new places, carrying luggage and keeping up with a nine-month-old explorer, Pappa was also taking care of Mumma.

Making sure Mumma had eaten.

Making sure Mumma got a break.

Helping with you whenever she needed it.

Sharing the load without being asked.

And making sure that Mumma wasn’t spending the entire holiday worrying about everything. That might not sound like a grand romantic gesture. But it is. Because sometimes being the best husband isn’t about grand gestures.

Sometimes it’s carrying the bags when your wife is carrying the baby.

Sometimes it’s taking the baby so she can eat.

Sometimes it’s handling bath time.

Sometimes it’s taking over nap duty.

Sometimes it’s figuring out the next train while she is busy feeding the baby.

Sometimes it’s simply noticing that she needs help before she has to ask.

And Pappa did all of it.

He didn’t just travel with us.

He travelled for us.

He made sure Mumma could enjoy watching you experience your first international adventure instead of worrying about every logistical detail behind it.

And perhaps the sweetest part was watching you two together. You were completely comfortable with Pappa. Whether he was carrying you through a Swiss town, helping you nap on the go, giving you a bath after a long day or simply being your entertainment between destinations, you were happy to be with him.

And Pappa was equally happy to be wherever you were. Of course, he still had to deal with your enormous feelings and those ridiculously shrill squeals of excitement. But somehow, he seemed to enjoy those too.

This trip showed Mumma something she already knew but perhaps appreciated even more after becoming a mother:

Papa is not just an amazing husband. He is an incredible papa. The kind who doesn’t wait to be told what needs to be done. The kind who carries the heavy things without making a fuss. The kind who gets involved in every part of raising you. The kind who makes sure his wife is okay while making sure his son is okay. The kind who can plan an entire international holiday and then happily spend the next moment giving his nine-month-old a bath. The kind who makes the overwhelming parts feel manageable.And the kind who somehow makes you feel like you’re doing this whole parenting thing together—not alone.

So, Sharva, when you read this years from now, you may remember Switzerland as the trip where you saw mountains, castles, lakes and playgrounds. But Mumma hopes you also remember this:

You had a Pappa who was right there beside you through all of it.

He carried you.

He carried the luggage.

He carried the responsibility.

He carried the itinerary.

And, in a hundred little ways, he carried us.

Your first international adventure may have had Switzerland as its backdrop, but behind the scenes was one very proud papa making sure his little family had the best possible time.

And to my husband—

Thank you for being the person who makes the big things possible and the difficult things feel easy.

Thank you for being such a hands-on papa.

Thank you for taking care of Sharva.

Thank you for taking care of me.

Thank you for carrying far more than just our luggage.

And thank you for making this trip one that Mumma and Sharva will remember for a very, very long time.

You were the planner, porter, navigator, baby-handler, bath-time assistant, nap-duty champion, luggage mule, travel partner, husband and papa—all rolled into one.

And you did every single role like a pro.

Sharva is one lucky little boy.

And I am one lucky wife.

We love you, Papa. ❤️

Love,
Mumma & Sharva

The official Nap-in-charge 😎

Flights, Trains, Buses, Trams or Gondolas Papa had things to show you! 🧑‍🧒

The best Naps were always on Papa, No Stroller or Carrier could match those 😴

Soaring High with Papa 🥰

Papa made sure you saw everything that was new for you! 😍

Everytime we clicked your picture, Papa made sure you dont fall! 💪🏻

The stroller was strolled #nocomplaints 🥹

The Luggage was Lugged #nocomplaints 🥹

The museums were experienced with you in arms #nocomplaints 🥹

The castles were explored with you on him #nocomplaints 🥹

Statues were touched 🧑🏻‍🦱

Fountains were played in ⛲️

Playgrounds and Toy Trains with you , for you 🥰

Unlimited fun, laughter and travels 👨🏻👦🏻

October 6, 2026
The Yellow Moustache Diaries: Two Months Into the Solids Business

Hello Fans,

Welcome back to Episode 2 of The Yellow Moustache Diaries! It has been nearly two months since I joined the world of solids, and I have some important updates from the frontlines.

First of all, I would like to address the great feeding accessories scam. When this journey began, Mumma seemed convinced that my dining experience required a collection of premium silicone bowls, suction plates, designer spoons, and various other colourful objects that looked like they belonged in a modern art museum.

Two months later, almost all of them have been replaced by silver. Silver bowl. Silver plate. Silver spoon. Apparently, after generations of successfully feeding babies, my grandparents had already solved this problem before Instagram was invented.

The same fate has befallen my drinking arrangements. There was a time when Mumma Papa discussed sippers around me with great seriousness. Different spouts were analysed. Leak-proof claims were evaluated. Reviews were read. Today, I casually drink from a Silver glass. Nobody speaks about the sipper anymore. May it rest in peace.

Then came what historians will refer to as The Great Baby Food Maker Investigation of 2026. Mumma spent days researching food makers that could steam, blend, puree, chop, mash, sing lullabies, and probably file taxes. Every product promised to revolutionise baby feeding. The final outcome?

One steel cooker.

One steel pan.

One steamer basket.

One masher.

One portable blender.

After extensive research, we somehow arrived at exactly the same kitchen setup that existed before the research. Remarkable.

Now for the exciting part. I have officially tasted nearly 50 foods. Fifty. And that’s without counting the 7-8 spices that have quietly sneaked into my meals. For someone who survived exclusively on milk not very long ago, I would say I have shown admirable courage.

Every new recipe at home now feels less like cooking and more like a scientific experiment. A new ingredient is selected. Hypotheses are formed. Grandmothers are consulted. Papa is included in the decision. Then everyone gathers around to observe the results. And by “results”, I mean my face.

Nobody cares how long the recipe took. Nobody asks whether Mumma enjoyed cooking it. Everyone just wants to know:

What did Sharva do?

Did he smile?

Did he demand more?

Did he make that face?

You know the face. The one that suggests a serious complaint is about to be filed. Thankfully, most food combinations have been a huge success. A few have been rejected with immediate and unquestionable authority. No appeals. No second chances. No negotiations. One spoon and the decision is final.

Among the winners, a few have become my comfort foods. Ragi Banana Porrdige and I are now close friends. Mango has maintained a strong reputation throughout the season. And Blueberry Apple Oats has established itself as a reliable crowd favourite. And so has Toor Dal and Sweet Potato. Whenever these appear on the menu, everyone relaxes. Nobody enjoys uncertainty. Especially not after spending 45 minutes preparing baby food.

What surprises the adults is that I genuinely enjoy trying new foods. Show me something unfamiliar and I am usually willing to investigate.

Taste it? Yes.

Examine it? Absolutely.

Approve it? Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I have also begun my journey into finger foods when I came to Ahmedabad. The adults seem very excited about this. They place food in front of me and wait expectantly. I touch it. I squeeze it. I inspect it. I wave it around. Sometimes I even eat it. Everyone celebrates as though I have solved a complex mathematical theorem.

One thing I have remained absolutely consistent about is texture.

Liquid food? No, thank you.

Runny food? Not interested.

Watery food? Please remove it from my sight.

From day one, I have preferred my meals with some texture. I may be a baby, but I have standards.

Meanwhile, an unexpected transformation has occurred. My Mumma, who would never have described herself as a kitchen expert, now spends a significant portion of her day researching recipes, food combinations, ingredient pairings, nutrient profiles, and ways to keep my sensitive tummy happy. She now casually discusses iron-rich foods, fibre content, digestion, and texture progression. Frankly, I think she deserves an honorary degree in Baby Food Studies.

My influence has expanded beyond the kitchen as well. There is now a high chair in Ahmedabad. A high chair in Rajkot. A high chair in Tramba. I have successfully established a multi-city dining network before my first birthday. Most days, I sit in my high chair like a responsible young gentleman. Other days, I reject formal dining entirely. On those days, I insist on sitting on the floor, face-to-face with Mumma. The same food. The same spoon. The same baby. Yet somehow the experience is completely different. I cannot explain it. I simply know what feels right.

Travel has become particularly entertaining. People often say babies don’t need much. Those people have clearly never travelled with my Mumma. A simple weekend trip now requires enough kitchen equipment to start a small catering business. Bowls. Spoons. Containers. Ingredients. Masher. Blender. Backup snacks. Emergency backup snacks. Backup snacks for the emergency backup snacks. At this point, I am fairly certain we carry more kitchen supplies than clothes.

As for me, I continue to enjoy most foods. However, there remains one important issue. Mumma seems eager for me to become independent and feed myself. I respectfully disagree. Why should I do the feeding when Mumma is already so good at it? I am happy to hold the food. I am happy to play with the food. I am happy to inspect the food. But when it comes to efficiently getting the food into my mouth, I strongly prefer professional assistance. Some call it dependence. I call it excellent customer service.

Of course, my responsibilities do not end once the meal is finished. Once I have eaten to my satisfaction, I dedicate myself to an equally important activity: creating a mess. A successful meal should leave evidence.

Food on the tray.

Food on the bib.

Food on the chair.

Food on Mumma.

Occasionally, food in my hair.

Sometimes, I look around at the end of a meal and wonder how so much of it ended up everywhere except where it was originally intended to go. The adults call it “messy eating.” I prefer to think of it as artistic expression. After all, how will future generations know I enjoyed my meal if I leave no trace behind?

So here we are. Almost two months into this adventure. Fifty foods tasted. Countless recipes tested. Several comfort foods discovered. A few dramatic rejections delivered. One entire family emotionally invested in my reactions. And a Mumma who now travels with half a kitchen wherever I go. I look forward to reporting back after the next fifty foods.

Until then,

Sharva

Chief Food Critic,

Texture Consultant,

Finger Food Intern,

Professional Mess Creator, and

Full-Time Recipient of Premium Feeding Services

Me Loves Mangoes 🤩😍

I do Healthy too!! Need to show off my All Clean Spinach Bowl! 😎

Beeeeeetrooooooot 😋

I am a well behaved boy when I travel 😇

One Moment I am Waiting for my Food all decked up in new clothes 🥸

And in the very next second I am stripped down to my Diaper because apparently I am a Messy Eater 😏

July 23, 2026
One Little Boy, Two Obsessed Grandfathers

As a mother, there is nothing more beautiful than watching your child be loved. And if there is one thing our little boy will never have to question, it is how deeply he is cherished.

Sharva, from the moment you entered our lives, you captured the hearts of everyone around you. But no one has fallen harder than your Dadu and your Motapappa. The love they have for you is the kind that makes you smile from across the room, the kind that shows up in the smallest moments and the biggest gestures, every single day.

Motapappa has become one of your favorite people in the world in Ahmedabad. Most mornings, before Mumma has even had a chance to properly wake up, he is already there, ready to spend time with his little boy. While Motamummy is busy working and Mumma is catching a few extra moments of sleep, Motapappa happily takes over.

He is usually the first one to pick you up in the morning. He changes your clothes, chats with you, plays with you, and keeps you entertained for hours. Your mornings are filled with laughter, stories, songs, funny faces, and conversations that only the two of you seem to understand. It is your special time together, and both of you absolutely love it.

One of the highlights of every day is your evening walk. No matter how busy things get, Motapappa makes sure that Sharva gets his daily outing. Watching you both leave together has become a routine we all cherish. Whether you are looking at people, trees, birds, or simply enjoying the fresh air, those walks have become a treasured part of your relationship.

What makes Motapappa so special is how intentionally present he is. Whenever he is home, he wants to be involved in everything. Every smile, every new sound, every tiny milestone matters to him. He often adjusts his schedule and plans his day so that he can spend more time with his Sharva. Not because anyone asks him to, but because there is simply nowhere else he would rather be.

And when you are away in Rajkot, the distance does nothing to reduce his involvement. If anything, it makes us realize even more how much he misses his little boy. The calls and videocalls begin early and continue throughout the day. He wants updates on everything. The moment your little face appears on the screen, Motapappa lights up. For those few minutes, everything else seems to disappear. It is a love that travels across cities without missing a beat.

Then there is Dadu. And Sharva if there is one person whom you have completely transformed, it is him. The man everyone knew before and the grandfather he has become almost seem like two different people. Family members, friends, and even people at school are constantly amazed by the change. Everyone says the same thing: they have never seen him like this before. Because the moment you enter the room, Dadu transforms.

Suddenly, he is speaking in baby language. He is making funny sounds. He is shouting, giggling, squealing, laughing, and doing everything possible to make his little boy smile. And Sharva you never fail to give the brightest smile to dadu! The serious, composed version of dadu disappears, and in his place appears a grandfather who is completely and hopelessly in love.

He plays with you endlessly. He showers you with cuddles, kisses, affection, and attention. Every little expression is celebrated. Every smile is admired. Every giggle is treated like the greatest achievement in the world. And then there are the endless questions.

Has he eaten?

What did he eat?

Did he finish his meal?

How long did he sleep?

Did he sleep well?

There is not a single detail that escapes Dadu’s attention. Whether he is at home or at work, Sharva is always on his mind.

Perhaps the most surprising change of all is something none of us ever expected. Dadu has never been the type of person to step outside the house unless there was a purpose behind it—work, an errand, or something important. But now all it takes is one little boy wanting to go out.

Suddenly, Dadu is standing outside the house with his Sharva in his arms, waiting for cars, bikes, trucks, and buses to pass by. Together you watch every vehicle with complete fascination. Dadu points them out one by one, shares in your excitement, and celebrates every sighting as though it is the most exciting thing in the world. The man who would never step outside without a reason now happily stands there for as long as needed, simply so his little boy can enjoy watching cars go by. That is what you have done to him. You have brought out a version of Dadu that none of us knew existed.

The most beautiful thing about both Dadu and Motapappa is that neither of them holds back their love. They love you openly, proudly, and wholeheartedly. They celebrate you, worry about you, make time for you, rearrange their days for you, and fill your world with warmth and joy. As parents, we often think about all the things we hope to give you. But when I look at you, Sharva and see the relationships you share with your Dadu and Motapappa, I know you already have one of life’s greatest gifts.

You are growing up surrounded by people who adore you beyond measure. And Sharva one day, you will understand just how lucky you are to have two grandfathers who love you with every ounce of their hearts. Until then, you will continue being the center of their universe—and judging by the smiles on their faces, that is exactly where they want you to be.

Playtime All the Time 🤩

Exploring the World, One Trip at a Time 😎

Seeing the World go by together 😍

Being Outdoors just because you want to be Outdoors 😇

July 10, 2026
Dadu Turned a Year Older, I Collected a Dozen Firsts

Some trips are special because of where you go. Mine was special because of who I was with. To celebrate my Dadu’s first birthday with me, my entire family packed their bags and headed to beautiful Diu. Joining me on this adventure were Dadu, Dadi, Chachu, Chachi, Mumma, and Pappa—the people who fill my world with love every single day.

But before the excitement of the trip even began, I had an important milestone to check off. I visited Tramba PHC for my Oral Polio Vaccine. Everyone was proud of how brave I was, and once that was done, I was officially ready for my first big family vacation!

What made this trip extra special was that every single decision revolved around me. The destination, the hotel, the travel timings, the cars, the meal plans, the sightseeing schedule—everything was thoughtfully planned keeping my comfort and routine in mind. For the first time, I wasn’t just joining a family trip; I was the centre of it!

The preparations started days in advance. By then, I had already begun eating solids, which meant travelling required military-level planning. My Mumma and Pappa, once famous for being minimal packers, suddenly found themselves carrying what looked like our entire home. There were clothes, diapers, toys, medicines, feeding supplies, cooking essentials, food containers, and enough baby gear to make anyone wonder if we were moving instead of vacationing.

The road trip itself was so much fun. I happily hopped between two cars enjoying cuddles, songs, conversations, naps, and endless attention wherever I went. Both the cars felt like my own personal VIP lounge.

The highlights of out trip was celebrating Dadu’s birthday on 28th June 2026. I came fully prepared in my special “Happy Birthday Dadu” onesie, and I looked absolutely adorable, if I may say so myself! The best part was helping Dadu cut his birthday cake. Everyone gathered around, smiling and cheering, while I enjoyed being part of the celebration. It was such a joyful moment and one that I’ll always see in photos and hear stories about.

The birthday celebrations also introduced me to something completely magical—balloons! It was my very first encounter with them, and I was fascinated. The bright colours, the way they floated and bounced, and the excitement they brought to the room completely captured my attention. Safe to say, I was a big fan.

At the hotel, while the rest of the family enjoyed delicious holiday meals, Mumma made sure I stayed on track with my solids journey. She lovingly cooked fresh meals for me, proving once again that mums never really go on vacation. Thanks to her, I got to enjoy my own special menu while everyone else enjoyed theirs.

Of course, despite being on holiday, the nights still revolved around my schedule. Dinner timings, evening plans, and bedtime routines all adjusted around me. I may have been the youngest traveller, but I was definitely the one running the itinerary.

And then came the biggest surprise of the trip. Until this vacation, I had always slept in my ghodiya. But somewhere between the long drives, hotel stays, and new experiences, I decided it was time for a change. During this trip, I gradually stopped sleeping in my ghodiya and learned to sleep between Mumma and Pappa on their bed! —What they expected to be a family vacation unexpectedly became the trip where I achieved a major sleep milestone.

Another memorable first was my very first swim. Everyone was excited to see me enjoy the water, splash around, and become a little water baby. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite convinced. The pool and I had very different expectations of how that experience would go. While everyone else loved it, I wasn’t particularly impressed. Maybe I’ll enjoy swimming more on future vacations!

As wonderful as Diu was, the journey back home brought another unforgettable milestone. I realised that I could sleep comfortably in my car seat, with no help! For Mumma and Pappa, this was nothing short of revolutionary.

On our way back, I also visited my very first Jyotirlinga—Somnath. It was a deeply meaningful moment for our family, made even more special because my Motapappa had thoughtfully arranged everything so I could have the best possible darshan. Being blessed with such a smooth and comfortable first visit to Somnath made the end of the trip truly memorable.

Looking back, this journey was so much more than a vacation. As if Dadu’s birthday celebrations weren’t reason enough to make this trip memorable, I had a milestone of my own to celebrate—I turned 7 months old during the vacation! So while everyone gathered to celebrate Dadu, I quietly marked my own special month birthday too. Looking back, it feels like the perfect time for a trip filled with so many firsts—my first family vacation, first swim, first balloons, first Jyotirlinga visit, and even a brand-new way of sleeping.

Most importantly, it was a reminder of how lucky I am to be surrounded by a family that plans every detail with love. From Dadu and Dadi to Chachu and Chachi, from Mumma’s endless preparations to Pappa’s careful planning, everyone made sure my very first vacation was comfortable, joyful, and unforgettable.

My first trip to Diu wasn’t just a holiday—it was a collection of beautiful firsts, wrapped in love, laughter, family, and memories that will be cherished forever.

Happy Birthday Dadu ❤️

Wait Let Me Cut the Cake 😎

Baloooooooooons 😍

Sleeping in the bed like a Big Boy 😴

I dont think I trust this Pool thing 🧐

Chilling with Mumma 🤗

The Bharad Boys 😎

I turned 7 months old 🥳

Papapapapa 😇

Chachu Chachi and Puchku 🧑‍🧑‍🧒

Being Squished is my Full Time Job 🤗

Sleeping in the Carseat like a Big Boy 😎

July 1, 2026
The Yellow Moustache Diaries: Food Review by a 6-Month-Old

For six whole months, my menu was pretty simple: Mumma’s milk, served fresh and on demand. Life was good. Then suddenly, everyone started talking about something called “solids.” Apparently, this was a Very Big Deal.

The excitement actually began weeks before the big day. Mumma, Dadi and Motamummy spent hours researching first foods! Mumma was reading articles, watching videos, and asking every parent she knew for advice. Packages started arriving at our doorstep almost daily—silicone bowls, tiny spoons, bibs, sippers, food-grade feeders, suction plates, and all sorts of baby dining accessories. If there was a gadget for a baby starting solids, chances are Mumma bought it.

And then there was my fancy new high chair, lovingly gifted by Raju Uncle and family! Thank you Misha Didi. It had been sitting in the corner for weeks, waiting for its grand debut. Every time Mumma walked past it, she’d smile excitedly and say, “Soon, Sharva!” Finally, the big day arrived. 30th May, 2026, a Saturday!

My very first meal was moong dal porridge with Dudhi (Bottle Gourd)—a traditional and gentle first food chosen with lots of love and care. But honestly, the food wasn’t the main attraction. The audience was.

My Dadu, Dadi, Chachu, Chachi, Naniji, Mumma, Papa—everyone was there. My Motamummy and Motapappa were on videocall. It felt less like Lunch and more like a championship final. Cameras were charged. Phones were ready. Dadi made me offer my first meal to all my god friends in the temple in our house.

After that everyone gathered around my high chair, smiling, laughing, and cheering me on. The room was filled with excitement, nervousness, anticipation, pride, and about a hundred other emotions that grown-ups seem to experience all at once.

Meanwhile, I was mostly interested in the colorful bowls and spoons. The bright silicone utensils and shiny silver bowl immediately caught my attention. I poked them, grabbed them, waved them around, and generally inspected the equipment before agreeing to participate in the actual eating part.

Then came the moment. My first bite, that my Mumma fed me. I opened my mouth, tasted the porridge, paused, and gave everyone my best look of complete confusion.

Wait.

What was THAT?

It wasn’t milk.

It wasn’t familiar.

It was warm, soft, and entirely new.

The adults held their breath. I thought about it. I made a funny face. Everyone laughed. And then, surprisingly, I decided it wasn’t so bad. Spoon after spoon, I kept going. The cheering grew louder with every successful bite. Before anyone knew it, I had eaten almost the entire meal. The adults looked as if I had just won an Olympic medal.

Naturally, I couldn’t let things stay too neat. A good solids journey requires a proper mess. There was porridge on my new kurta. Porridge on my hands. Porridge on the tray. Somehow, there was even porridge where no porridge should logically have reached. By the end of the meal, I had developed a magnificent yellow moong dal moustache that everyone found absolutely hilarious.

Then came water. Now that was truly confusing. Why would anyone drink this clear, tasteless liquid when milk exists? I stared at the sipper suspiciously. I chewed it. I played with it. I spilled some. I looked deeply unconvinced by the entire concept. The grown-ups, however, were thrilled by every tiny sip.

Of course, no milestone is complete without photography. Between bites, smiles, funny faces, and the legendary dal moustache, hundreds of photos were taken. Someday, when I’m older, I suspect Mumma will show me every single one of them.

Looking back, my first solids meal wasn’t really about food. It was about love. It was about great grandparents and grandparents proudly watching another generation grow. It was about parents celebrating a milestone they had been eagerly waiting for. It was about family gathering together for something that might seem small to others but felt enormous to us.

A tiny bowl of moong dal porridge marked the beginning of a whole new adventure—one filled with new tastes, funny expressions, messy fingers, colourful plates, and countless memories. And if my first meal was any indication, this journey is going to be delicious. Mumma better be prepared, the critic is ready!

Love,
Sharva ❤️

Sharing my food with my God Friends! 😇

First Reaction 😵‍💫

Pappa says Yum, so maybe it is Yum 🤔

Let me check 😎

Give me the bowl 🤤

Independent from the beginning 😂

What is this water thingy 🙄

What do you mean its over? 🫩

Half way to One and Step One towards Solids! 🥳

You get Cake, I get Dal and then you guys compensate with Kissi! 🥺

May 30, 2026
Cheeku’s Ahmedabad Diaries

Some chapters in life feel so full, so gentle, that you wish you could pause time and live in them a little longer. The past three months were exactly that for you and me, Sharva—a cocoon of love, laughter, and firsts. And now, as we returned from Ahmedabad to Tramba, carrying bags full of your baby things and hearts full of memories, it truly felt like we were closing a beautiful chapter while stepping into another.

These months at Motamummy and Motappa’s home were not just about staying—it was about growing, together. Sharva, you were wrapped in a kind of love that only grandparents can give. Every day revolved around you, and yet it never felt tiring—only joyful. Your Motamummy and Motapappa built so many little routines for you, making sure you were comfortable, happy, and always surrounded by warmth. From feeding times to nap times, from playtime giggles to evening walks—everything had a rhythm, and somehow, you settled into it so naturally.

And oh, how much you changed. From those tiny newborn days, you began discovering your world. First came the soft coos, those tiny sounds that felt like conversations from another universe. Then came your smiles—wide, innocent, and enough to melt every heart in the room (especially while looking at your passage plates and drawing room lights). Slowly, you began recognizing faces, responding to familiar voices with excitement. And one day, just like that, you rolled onto your side, as if to say, “Look what I can do now!” Each milestone felt like a celebration.

Your Motapappa made it a ritual to pick you up in the morning and play with you while your mumma slept a little and your motamummy did her work! He would take your out for evening strolls. Those quiet walks, with the soft breeze and fading sunlight, became your special time together. I could see the bond growing stronger with every step.

Your motamummy—her voice became a comfort you grew to love. She would sing poems and lullabies, filling the home with a calm, soothing rhythm. It wasn’t just music; it was love in its purest form! She would talk to you constantly and you would reply in your coos and babbles!!

And the most unexpected bond was none other than with your Mamu! Your mamu had his own little world with you. He would wait—sometimes impatiently—for his cheeku to wake up, just so he could play, talk, and make him laugh. The excitement in your eyes every time you saw him would light up the whole house. The way he talked about you like you were the most precious thing was so beautiful! And the way you laughed seeing him do his antics were his rewards.

And every videocall with your Mimi made you so excited but it made Mimi so sad she couldn’t be there with you! She couldnt wait to come back from Canada and hug you tight and spoil you like you were meant to!

The house was never quiet, never still. It was alive—with laughter, tiny sounds, soft conversations, and countless moments that stitched themselves into our hearts.

And while you were there so many of Motamummy, Motappa, Mamu and Mumma Papa’s friends came to meet you bearing gifts! Vidhu Masi, Sana Masi, Himani Masi all made it a point to come over again and again to be with you because your masis love you just like your mumma!

And then came the day we had to leave. Packing felt heavier than it should have. Not because of the things—but because of everything we were leaving behind. Every corner of that home held a memory. Every room echoed with your growth. The goodbye was not loud, but it was deeply felt.

Coming back home to Rajkot brought its own comfort. There was excitement too—you getting to spend time with your dad, being back in your own space, and of course, reuniting with Stella, who had surely missed her mom and her little human. And most excited are Dadu and Dadi who cant wait to spend time with their Sharvu!

Yet, even in that happiness, there was a quiet heaviness. Because some homes aren’t just places—they are feelings. And Ahmedabad, in those three months, became exactly that for us. This chapter may have ended, but its warmth will stay with us always. And someday, Sharva, when you read this—you’ll know just how deeply you were loved, even before you could understand it. And how, in those early months, you brought all of us even closer together.

Day 1 at Motamummy Motapappa house!

Day 2 in Ahmedabad

Making everyone tiptoe around you!

“Sounga to sirf Motamummy ke pass” Phase

Morning time with Motapappa

Cheeeeeku na Cheeks Khai Jauuuu!

Happy 3 months

Cheeku and Mamu

Motamummy, Mamu, Sana Masi and Himani Masi entertain me while my Mom is not home!

April 25, 2026
Sharva & The Unlimited Milk Subscription Plan

If someone would have asked me before becoming a mom what breastfeeding would be like, I would’ve probably said something stupid like, “a beautiful bonding experience between mother and child.” or “its going to be so simple, latch, feed, unlatch and done.” Now, 4 months in with you, I can confidently update that statement to: “A beautiful yet exhausting bonding experience mixed with snacks-on-demand service, unpredictable schedules, and a tiny human who thinks I am both a buffet and a pillow.”

There are moments that genuinely feel magical. Like when you look up mid-feed, pause, give me a little smile (milk-drunk and proud of it), and then go right back to business — because clearly, smiling is optional but feeding is serious work. There’s comfort in knowing: I am your safe space, I can calm you instantly (most of the time… we’ll get to that), my body is literally helping you grow every single day.

And then there’s something that fills me with a different kind of pride! Watching your weight gain. From that tiny newborn to the chubbier, stronger, more active baby you are today – knowing that I nourished you entirely is surreal. Also, the convenience? Unmatched. No bottles to sterilize at 3 am. No measuring, no mixing. Just me, half asleep, functioning as a 24/7 milk machine. Honestly, sometimes I feel like a superhero. Other times like a very tired café waitress.

Now let’s talk about the real side.

1. The “Am I a pacifier or a person?” phase
There are days when you dont just feed — you linger. You snack. You relax. You contemplate life. All while I stay very still like a statue because if I move, we start over.

2. The Night Shift Nobody Prepared Me For
Everyone talks about newborn nights. No one fully explains the 4-month version: Feed, Burp, Try to transfer, Baby wakes and Repeat. And sometimes, you wake up at 3:30 am and be like: “Hi. I’ve had a great nap. What’s next?”

3. The Overthinking Olympics
Are you feeding enough? Too much? Too often? Too quickly? Why only 7 minutes today? Yesterday it was 20. Is this a problem? A phase? A personality trait? At this point, I deserve a gold medal in overanalyzing baby feeds.

4. Being the Only One Who Can Fix Everything
It’s beautiful and exhausting. Because when you are hungry, upset, sleepy, overstimulated, or just having a moment — I am the solution. Which is amazing until I just want to drink a hot cup of tea or take a quick nap.

5. Hello Growth Spurts & Cluster Feeding Chaos
Also just when I think, “Okay, we have a rhythm now,” you decide it’s time to level up. Suddenly you want to feed every hour, sometimes every 30–40 minutes. But now I know this is your way of saying, “Hey mom, I’m growing. Please upgrade supply.” It’s exhausting, slightly confusing, and comes with zero warning. But when I notice new rolls, new skills, new little changes I just tell myself: “This is temporary. The milk machine is in high demand today.”

There are also the funny unexpected parts of my breastfeeding journey with you. The dramatic head turning when you are done, like: “I have finished. You may proceed.” The random unlatching just to stare at me like I’ve done something interesting (I haven’t). The tiny hand gripping my finger like you are anchoring yourself during a storm. The way you sometimes doze off and then suddenly remember there’s milk and resume like nothing happened.

But I have learnt that breastfeeding isn’t just feeding. It’s Comfort, Connection, Regulation and Routine (or lack of it). And most importantly, I’m learning that it doesn’t have to be perfect to be right. Some days feel smooth and easy. Some days feel long and tiring. But every day, it’s ours.

And Sharva one day, you won’t need this anymore. You won’t reach for me in the same way. You won’t fall asleep mid-feed with your tiny hand resting on me. And I know I’ll miss it — even the hard parts. Even the 3:30 am ones.

The Honest Truth is that Exclusive Breastfeeding at 4 months is: Beautiful, Exhausting, Emotional, Funny and Totally worth it. And if you will ask me tomorrow, I might give you a different answer — because this journey changes every single day. But today, on your 4 month birthday I am a little proud, a little tired and very, very full of love.

The after feed Milk Drunk sleep

The after feed Milk Monster Attack

March 29, 2026
Motamummy’s House Rule: Baby First, Logic Later

One day, when you’re big enough to read this on your own, we want you to know something. Before you ever remembered anything, you were already the center of everything.

Motamummy’s house was a place where time moved slowly, arms were always ready to hold you, and love showed up loudly and unapologetically. It was you, your mom, motamummy, japa aunty, mamu, motapappa—and a whole lot of laughter wrapped around a very tiny human.

You didn’t need toys back then. You had people. People who made absolute fools of themselves just to see your eyes widen. We sang you the weirdest songs—songs with no tune, no logic, and lyrics that changed mid-way. Sometimes we sang about milk. Sometimes about your tiny hands. Sometimes we just sang your name like it was the greatest song ever written. Motamummy took these performances very seriously. You watched us like we were fascinating or mildly confusing. Either way, you stayed quiet, so we counted it as a win.

And oh, your expressions. You had this way of looking at us like you were already figuring things out. A serious face that made us wonder what you were thinking. A sudden smile that made the entire room freeze and then explode with happiness. Sometimes you made a face so strange that all of us burst out laughing together. You had no idea why—but somehow, you were the joke and the joy at the same time.

We didn’t just talk to you. We talked as you. In a deep, confident voice, we’d say things like:
“Relax everyone, I’m in charge here.”
“Yes motamummy, I know I’m cute.”
“Mamu, good effort. You may sing again.”

We gave you a personality long before you could show us yours. You were witty. Slightly dramatic. Very aware of how adored you were. And motapappa—oh, motapappa adored you in the quietest, purest way. Day in and day out. Holding you, looking at you like you were the answer to something he’d been waiting for. You didn’t have to do anything. Just being you was enough.

We talked about your future a lot. At motamummy’s house, you were already a singer, a storyteller, a traveler, a dreamer. Sometimes you were all of those in one afternoon. We imagined you laughing, walking into rooms with confidence, being kind, being curious. No matter who you became, one thing was always certain—you would be deeply loved.

I watched all of this with a smile I didn’t even know I was wearing, already saving these moments for later. Motamummy held you like the world could wait. Japa aunty stood close, proud and protective. Mamu brought noise and fun. Motapappa brought calm and endless love. And you—so small, so new—somehow made everyone feel complete.

Motamummy’s house wasn’t just where you stayed. It was where you were celebrated. Where your earliest days were filled with laughter, silly songs, made-up stories, and a family that thought you were magic.

One day, you won’t remember any of this. So we’re writing it down for you. So you know that before you could speak, you were spoken for. Before you could laugh, you were the reason we did. And before you knew what family meant, you were already surrounded by it—every single day. Always remember this:

You were loved from the very beginning. 🤍

Tummy time

Sleepy baby

Sharva becomes Sharvari

February 7, 2026
The Great Motamummy House Wakeathon

Sharva! One day, when you’re big enough to read this, we want you to know about those two days. The ones that made everyone a little tired, a little confused and very, very in love with you.

You were just a tiny newborn when we went to Motapappa – Motamummy’s house. Everyone imagined sleepy cuddles and peaceful naps. But you, my monkey boy, had other plans.

For two whole days, you decided that sleeping for more than 20 minutes was absolutely unnecessary. Every hour—almost on the dot—you wanted to be fed. And if you weren’t being held? Well… that was simply unacceptable. You wanted arms, warmth, movement, and company at all times.

Motamummy, being Motamummy, sprang into full action mode. At the very first sign that you might need extra comfort, she instantly ordered a Ghodiyu. No waiting, no debating. And just like that, the mission was assigned: Dilip was asked to get the Ghodiya from Lal Darwaja and Mehul was rushed to get the khol from Paridhan! Teamwork at its finest.

The house was buzzing. Motamummy. Japa aunty. Motapappa. Mumma. Everyone was on their toes—taking turns, whispering, rocking, feeding, pacing—while watching your wide, curious eyes that simply refused to close.

But in the middle of all this was Mumma—
exhausted, frustrated, overwhelmed, sad, and so very tired. She was running on broken sleep, worried thoughts, and a heart that just wanted to make everything better for you. Some moments felt heavy. Some moments brought tears. And some moments were just about surviving the next hour.

And Motamummy saw all of it. She wasn’t only worried about you—she was equally worried about Mumma. Checking in, stepping in, reminding me to sit, to eat, to breathe. Holding the baby when Mumma’s arms ached, and holding Mumma together when it all felt like too much.

Seeing Mumma so exhausted, Dadda also came from Rajkot just for a few hours to be with the both of us. He sat close, helped in quiet ways, and simply being there brought comfort. You have no idea how thankful Mumma was in those moments—how supported and less alone she felt just because he showed up.

During this whirlwind even, Dadu, Dadi, Chachu, and Chachi came to meet you. They were so excited, eager to spend a few precious hours with their newest little love. But you… you wanted nothing to do with anything.

No cuddles.
No introductions.
No calm moments.

You cried. And cried. And cried some more.

Everyone tried everything—soft voices, gentle rocking, hopeful smiles—but you were not having it. It made them a little sad to see their tiny one crying nonstop, unable to soothe you the way they had imagined. But even through the worry, their love for you was overflowing.

You were overtired.
You were overstimulated.
You were fussy.
And you were determined to keep your eyes wide open.

We worried, of course. So Motapappa asked Viren Nana and we went to see a paediatrician the next day, carrying our exhaustion and a thousand questions with us. The doctor smiled calmly and said the simplest, most comforting words: “It’s just a phase.” And just like that, we breathed a little easier.

Those two days were super hectic. There was very little sleep, lots of concern, endless holding, and a house full of adults revolving around one tiny human. But they were also filled with love—messy, instinctive, drop-everything love.

You may not remember these days. But we will.

They remind us that from the very beginning, you had your own rhythm. And that Mumma learned how strong she could be—even on days she felt anything but strong. And that Motamummy stood right there, protecting both her baby and her grandbaby.

And if you’re wondering—yes, you eventually did sleep. And yes, everyone survived.

And just in case you’re reading this as a teenager or an adult and wondering why everyone in the family reacts very quickly when you say you’re “not sleepy”. This was your debut performance.

Two days.
Zero long naps.
One entire household trained to respond at lightning speed.

You taught us early. Very early. 😌

January 23, 2026
A Year of Firsts: Welcoming 2026 With You

As the calendar turns and the world steps into 2026, Sharva, you are just one month old. You don’t know what a “new year” is yet. You don’t know about resolutions, countdowns, or fireworks. Right now, your whole universe is made of warm arms, familiar voices, milk, sleep, and the simple comfort of being held. And yet, this New Year feels bigger and more meaningful than any before it—because it is our first one with you.

Before you arrived, life was full, busy, and familiar. Days moved quickly. Nights were quiet. Plans were made far in advance, and time felt predictable. We didn’t realize how much space there was in our hearts until you showed us. Life before you wasn’t empty—it just didn’t yet know what it was missing.

Then you arrived. In an instant, everything changed. Time slowed down and sped up all at once. Nights became shorter, days felt softer, and the smallest moments suddenly mattered the most. A tiny stretch, a yawn, the way you curl your fingers around ours—these became the highlights of our days. You made ordinary moments extraordinary simply by being here.

Life after your arrival is louder in some ways and quieter in others. There is less sleep, but more meaning. Less routine, but more wonder. We see the world differently now, because we see it through the lens of loving you. You have already taught us patience, presence, and a deeper kind of joy than we ever knew before.

And now we step into 2026 together.

This year will be special—not because we know exactly what it will bring, but because it will be filled with your firsts. Your first smiles, your first laughs, your first words, your first discoveries of the world around you. You will grow more each day, and we will grow alongside you, learning how to be the people—and family—you need.

When you read this someday, you might be much older. You might not remember these early days. But know this: as 2026 began, you were deeply loved. You were our greatest hope, our biggest change, and our favorite part of the future. And you were part of a family that includes not only people who adore you but also your fur sisters: one here to grow up with you, and one watching over you from heaven.

This year wasn’t just a new year.
It was the beginning of a life we couldn’t imagine before you.

Welcome to 2026, little man.
We’re so glad we get to walk into it with you. ❤️

Slumber Party on New Year’s Eve, 31st December 2025

January 1, 2026