April Letter

to a friend

Dear friend,

I hope you are still chasing sunsets in NYC. I feel sad that we had to postpone our letter writing, but here is a glimpse of my April. I am sitting in the office at the petrol pump (though I still prefer calling it a gas station, haha) as I write this. Due to the oil crisis and ongoing global events, the business has seen its share of ups and downs, but we are holding strong, financially as well. We had leased the petrol pump to other operators until April this year, after which I took over. My family acquired this Indian Oil dealership 20 years ago, and we have six more years remaining. I plan to develop this land into a hospitality unit in about ten years. I feel that caring for others is truly my calling.

I have always enjoyed noticing things that others might overlook. Returning to India for good has been a significant change—in lifestyle, in freedom, and in culture. I have learned to embrace and find joy in this change. It is helping me grow, meet new people, and explore new experiences and emotions. I have also begun forming a new friendship here, and I feel comfortable being myself with him.

I have realized that many things go unnoticed in childhood. You live in a small bubble until you grow older and wiser, and begin to connect the past with the future—then everything starts to make sense. My hometown is beautiful, with hills surrounding the city that make for perfect sunset views and long drives. From my petrol pump office window, I see the majestic Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama nestled among a canopy of Ashoka trees, with hills forming a stunning backdrop. It feels like looking at a living painting. Now imagine if families could experience this view from the comfort of their own space—that is my vision. I want to transform this land into a place for people to live and experience this beauty. It will carry a “Mexico meets India” vibe—a vibrant pink paradise. It will be my work of art.

April is also the birthday month of my father and sister. As expected, I baked my signature refreshing citrus cakes. I am slowly becoming known as “the cake guy.” At events and gatherings, people often ask when I will start taking orders, and hearing that makes my heart race. Whenever I can, I pack my bags and head to my happy place—my farm—with my dog Zoey, for an overnight stay. These trips are deeply special to me. I get to bake, and it brings me immense joy. I take early morning and evening walks with Zoey through the mosambi orchards, soaking in the entire experience. On one such April morning walk, we witnessed a leopard chasing a deer not far from the farmhouse. Villagers often spoke about leopard sightings in the area, but it turns out I was the first to see one myself. While the sight was unforgettable, so was the sprint Zoey and I made right after, haha.

As for my citrus cakes, my immediate goal is to establish a central citrus processing and cake production unit at the farm, followed by opening a pilot outlet at the petrol pump in the city. I am actively working towards this. Starting at the petrol pump is helping me understand the fundamentals of running a business—managing staff, inventory, customer satisfaction, and defining what sets us apart. Not a single day passes without me thinking about my cake business. It feels like the perfect way to merge my family’s farming legacy, the mosambi heritage of Marathwada, and my desire to give back to people. The instant joy I see on people’s faces when they try my citrus cakes is all I want to keep experiencing.

April also brought a difficult moment—a big argument with my mother. We both said many things, and I ended up crying deeply. I know she worries about me, and it is not right for me to keep her in the dark, but I always try to reassure her that everything will be okay. I will build a good life and take care of myself and my sisters. One day, I hope to write letters to her. Even thinking about it makes me emotional. In fact, writing this now has moved me.

Amid all of this, I spend a few hours every day with God. I long for this quiet, sacred time. I attend the evening Aarti at the Ramakrishna Ashram, which is right across from my home. It feels as though He is my next-door neighbor, always there to listen. He may not speak, but He brings me a deep sense of peace. As a small, meaningful ritual, I have begun supplying farm-grown marigold flowers to the ashram for their daily garlands. Marigolds are my favorite flowers.

And now it is May. May life bring you everything that is meant for you.

Later,

Tarak