Hello, it’s Farzana, your host for Thursday Connectors, with a new round-up of fantastic writing and some thought-provoking and emotional stories.

It’s the Easter holidays and I’ve been diagnosed with pre-diabetes and boy, am I depressed! Yes, I truly am. I’ve been told by my GP to lose weight and say goodbye to carbs and anything sweet.

It’s the sensible solution and right thing to do, of course… But! I have a pantry full of chocolaty treats, and with Eid just gone, a load of pastries and cakes and yummy biscuits in fancy tins at home.

What do I do?

My doctor blamed my heritage. He said most Asian women my age eat all the wrong foods and end up getting diabetes and heart disease. He said it probably runs in my family and I’ve most likely inherited it. But it’s not too late for me, as I’m on the borderline, so can work on reversing this.

Since being diagnosed, I’ve been quite upset, while trying my best to steer clear of most carbs and desserts. It’s been hard! And I’m back to intermittent fasting, which I did two years ago and lost 12kg. When I stopped, though, slowly, slowly, the weight crept back on and now I’m peri-menopausal and overweight again. And pre-diabetic!

In my culture, rice and roti made of wheat are staple foods which are eaten daily with our meats, vegetables and lentil dishes. Our meals are not complete without them. I remember as a teen going to the doctors and hospital appointments with my grandparents (as their interpreter) and the professionals would go on and on about not eating rice and breads to them. My grandparents would come home confused as to what else to eat to fill their bellies. They would feel conflicted on how to eat their curries if not with roti or smothered in rice.

However, I don’t think this is the case any more. In my house, we only cook rice once a week and roti probably once a fortnight. I cook from scratch every day and have incorporated a wide and diverse cuisine with recipes from all over the world belonging to many cultures. My boys are health-conscious. One being a Brazilian jiu jitsu fighter and the other into racing, they like to have lots of protein and greens. They love pasta and pizza and lasagne and couscous and mixed grills too.

So, I’ve not really followed my cultural heritage in terms of my food consumption, yet I’m pre-diabetic. It’s all the cakes and biccies then. Probably too many Pringles! Who knows? It’s definitely a cultural misunderstanding to assume it’s because I eat too much rice and roti!

Anyhow, it’s time to get serious and make a few more changes in my diet for the sake of my own wellbeing. As for being stereotyped into a category that states I will have diabetes because some of my family had it – what can be done about that?

Is this also a misunderstanding, or is it real? Why is it that genetics ignores some members of a family, yet dumps difficulties and differences on others? God forbid any of my siblings should suffer from the health problems I have been dealt with. But why me?!

It’s all very mind-boggling.

I’m sorry to have bombarded you with my health issues here when I have a fantastic poem to share sent in by Tavinder, our first Connector. This poem felt all too relatable when I was reading it. Belonging to the South Asian diaspora myself, I have seen and heard these judgments all too often. For your information, the word ‘Gora’ in the poem is translated to ‘White man.’

Hi, Tavinder. Let’s connect:

Who Is That Man You Are With?

Who is that man you are with?
They don’t see a human being,
it is a Gora he is viewed to be.

Who is that man you are with?
I explain he is my husband,
they nod, but somehow it is not OK.
It is a Gora he is viewed to be,
not one of us, not one of the community.

I explain he is my husband,
They say we don’t mind that kind of thing.

But in their hearts and soul, I can see the truth,
It is a Gora that he is viewed to be,
They don’t see him as a human being.

© Tavinder Kaur New, 2025

Connect with Tavinder on Instagram: @Tavinderknew

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And now we connect with Mary, who also sent in a poem which really sums it up for many of us. Our outer appearances shouldn’t really define us; yet so often they do.

Hi, Mary. Let’s connect:

Mistaken Identity

I am the invisible one
I have grey hair now
and my walking’s none too steady
I’m quite slow in the supermarket
But my brain is still ready
I have a head full of experience
Of things that I’ve seen
But no one wants to know the places I’ve been
They misunderstand that while my bodies unsound
my mind is quick and deep and profound
I have a voice
I have loved and I’ve cried
I’m not just some old woman
I’ve watched death and lives
I’ve watched all those younger ones
Grow up by my side
They misunderstand the woman inside
Looking only at the ageing raging away
I want to shout
I’m not invisible
You’ve made a mistake
I’m actually invincible!

© Mary L Walsh, 2025

Connect with Mary on Instagram: @Marelwa60

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Finally, we connect with Karthy, whose poem made me feel super-emotional and made me miss my late grandfather immensely. It reminded me of a story he and other members of my family have repeated many times over the years of how, when I was born, my grandfather rushed to the Asian mithai shop on Green Street called Ambala, and bought a massive order of sweetmeats to distribute to all his family, friends and relatives to express his joy on my birth. Yet many of my relatives shunned him; laughing at his unnecessary expense and mocking his extravagance. “Who celebrates a girl’s birth?” they jeered. “Why waste your hard-earned money like that?” This was 1978, by the way, and some aspects of our culture really sucked back then. Even if someone was happy on the birth of a daughter, some people would really try to dampen that happiness with weird and horrible judgments. (Forgive me for saying this, but it’s the brutal truth.)

Anyway, Karthy’s poem is special and I just had to share it here as my final Connector this month.

Hi, Karthy. Let’s connect:

Tribute To My Dad – A Small Poppy In The Trench

From childhood you were my unwavering encouragement.
You held my hand tight when I was that hyperactive little girl.
You never scolded me or hit me but guided me as my light.
Your patience inspired me to persist until I mastered tasks.
You gave me timeless gifts never expecting recognition.

All life begins, falls and ends, leaving cherished memories.
Unfortunately, your fall happened to be on our lunch out day.
I was blamed, but falls can happen anywhere to anyone. For months you shuttled around hospital wards to care home.
In your care home, hospital months, I prayed to light for hope.

My home glowed with your humour, laughter and love to us.
Enjoying my husband’s meals; my son always adored you.
You loved them both, always wanting to be around them.
At the dining table I often joked; father son and the holy spirit.
Now I guess you’re a guiding light watching above.

Known for your selflessness and resilience against negativity.
I miss your chats, and the rose petal touch of your petite hands.
In your hospital death bed our petite hands clung together.
As your senses faded I traced on your palm ‘Daddy I love you’,
Hoping you could feel my words,
Before your body shut down

Like a poppy in the trench you survived amidst dark harmful noise.
Red petals swayed under sunlight, reflecting peace in the war blast.
We welcomed you into our home with love with culture free blames.
Before this digital era, you took my best shots with your camera.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever get over this; everyone has to move on.

I guess you knew your time was up and came to us.
Your presence lights my home.
No it’s your home.
Happy birthday to my light in heaven.

© Karthy Sooraj, 2025

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Didn’t I tell you my Connectors this month are superbly written and heartfelt?

Many thanks for sending them in. If it weren’t for your loving words and your beautiful stories, Thursday Connectors would dwindle away for sure. Please keep recording your emotions in writing and keep connecting with me. See you soon!

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Issue 24, featuring John Marrs, is out now. You can find it in libraries and other outlets. Alternatively, all current and previous editions can be found on our magazines page here. 

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