Stories, told in full.

Nani's — grit, hard work, and a store of his own

August, 2026

I have known Nani since 2018. I first met him at my mom's place, where his parents lived in the same apartment complex — his father was a watchman and his mother a maid. Whenever we visited, Nani would come to help my mom and us. He is the same age as my son, Nikhil. We used to tell Nani to stay in school, but he stopped after the 10th grade and never went back, for reasons that life sometimes forces on a young boy. When my mom moved out of the apartment, Nani and his family could not move with her. I could not be there to help, but Nani was. He helped my mom move and stayed with her for a few days. Between 2018 and now, every time I visit India, Nani comes to see us. In between those visits, he helps my mom whenever she needs it — my mom always seems to have a few people looking out for her, and Nani is one of them. Nani's father was an alcoholic and would beat his mother. Nani stood between them, protecting his mother and younger brother from the person who should have been protecting them. That alone tells you the kind of person he is. But the real reason I want to share this story is what happened next. Nani started working in a clothing store, doing every chore that came with the job along with selling. My mom would tell me that the store owner eventually trusted Nani enough to open, run, and close the shop on his own. Now, Nani has bought the store with a partner. He owns it. And after all these years, he finally passed his 10th exam too. At the same time, he is sending his younger brother to college — his brother is preparing for NEET to go to medical school. What a story to tell. Grit. Hardworking. Nani.

Five thousand masks

When the pandemic closed everything, the need arrived faster than the supplies. Hospitals, adult care centers, and the Army Reserve were all asking for masks, and nobody had enough. So we made them. What began as a few neighbors with sewing machines grew into the New England Maskateers — seventy volunteers coordinating over a phone tree, sharing patterns, cutting fabric on kitchen tables, and dropping finished batches on each other's doorsteps. By the end, we had stitched and delivered more than 5,000 masks to Southern NH Hospital, adult care centers, and the Army Reserve. We had no pattern and no plan at the start — just a lot of fabric, a lot of goodwill, and a community that refused to sit still while others were at risk.

A hundred cupcakes, every year

Every year I bake around a hundred cupcakes for the Nashua Soup Kitchen. It started as a one-time thing — a small gesture, one batch, one afternoon. But some gestures refuse to stay small. The next year I baked again, and the year after that, until it became a rhythm the kitchen calendar could rely on. Measuring, mixing, frosting, boxing — a hundred small celebrations for neighbors who deserve one. The kitchen never really cooled down after that first batch. It grew into the annual Diwali sweet fundraiser, the traditional sweets for the CROP Hunger Walk, and a second life dusted in flour. It turns out the surest way to feed a community is one cupcake at a time.