Secret of the Pickled Dream

‘I still love hauls,’ I admitted softly, gazing at the stars. ‘But I love heritage too.’

‘Uh huh! You’ve fermented them together like a good pickle,’ Mumma said, her voice warm with approval. ‘That’s clever.’

‘Thanks, Ma. And, you know, though I love my name Amani,’ I continued, the words coming from somewhere deep inside, ‘now I find Amanpreet beautiful too. We don’t have to choose between the old and the new.’

‘WHY MAKE A CHOICE WHEN YOU CAN GET THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS?’ Mumma said, tying the end of my braid. Her lips gently kissed the nape of my neck—her special touch at the completion of the braid.

And she was right. I didn’t have to choose between the old and the new; I could embrace both. Making pickles with Mumma and filming pickling videos with Shanaya, Mumma braiding my hair and sharing my videos with her friends on Instagram—some moments felt like the past, some like the present, but together, they were extra special.

Everything I needed was right here—family, love and the moments that made life magical.

These were the real treasures.

They weren’t bought. They were made, shared and felt.

I looked up at the brightest star and whispered, ‘THANK YOU, BEBE.’


Yesha Gambhir Mirza
Children’s Books Author | Mental Health Advocate