In continuation of this e-mail thing.

Today I received an e-mail that started off with “Dear Mosaranna”, and I cried. I have half a mind of writing back to my friend saying this has caused emotional trauma, but the tears are purely of joy because I am uncertain of when I can eat good mosaranna again. ūüė¶

I also have half a mind to change the name of this blog to Mosaranna’s Musings. Maybe when I’m older and have more sophisticated thoughts aside from “How many hours can I spend on my bed today?”

Imagine the evolution. Curd Rice Daily to Mosaranna’s Musings: The Evolution of an NRI who embraces his Kannadiga self.

Wow. I’d buy that book.

Tell me if you want a signed copy now itself. Otherwise you will have problems later. Then don’t come crying saying “Oh but we are your friends please give us signed copy.”

I am not Congress party. I will not show this favouritism.

Thinking of writing this book.

So I scrolled full e-mail and it ends with Uppinkai.



I¬†really¬†need to get some home food in me soon. But you know what the worst part is! I’m not homesick. I just want access to that food. I wish I had a kitchen. Would’ve 100% made food.


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