This year has seen the loss of several trailblazers. Three of them have particularly impacted me. Sridevi, Anthony Bourdain and Kate Spade. I never met any of them, nor did I have anything in common with them, except an appreciation of their extraordinary talent, what they stood for and perhaps some common values we shared.

Sridevi – I can’t say I was ever a big fan. Her voice bothered me. Growing up you were in the Madhuri or Sridevi camp. I was the former. In the 85 times I watched Mr. India, I watched for Anil Kapoor and Mogambo. She was not #girlcrush status. That being said, I admired her spunk and knew the lyrics of Hawa Hawaii by heart. She shattered the stereotype of the Indian girl. She showed that women could be more than objects of affection – they could be funny, fearless and hold their own. Movies like Nagina, Lamhe and Chandni attest to that. Growing up, Sridevi was always there – on screen or in the news. Whether I liked her or not. She was like that distant relative you rarely saw but found solace in the fact that they were there. As I grew older, I admired how she transformed herself from Himmatwala to Hermes. Like many of us, she was not perfect, she made mistakes but always held her head high and that was admirable.

I was blown away by her in English Vinglish – she seemed more real than ever (even with the talk of extensive plastic surgery). That scene of her ordering the sandwich in the café moved me to tears – that intense vulnerability made her relatable – maybe it brought to life an emotion I was experiencing in my own life at the time. Suddenly I was a fan and follower.  Social media engines like Instagram have made celebrities more accessible than ever before. We’re able to look into their ‘somewhat’ regular lives – what they ate, wore, drank and where they went – much like the #ootd, #aboutlastnight and #bffgoals I post. It feels like we know them at a deeper level. That’s how I felt about Sridevi – like I knew her, like I was at that wedding… Her death felt like the loss of a family member. Maybe she was my family – the kind that brings comfort in any situation. Just like that, Hawa Hawaii brings me comfort and joy no matter what kind of day I’ve had. It has and will continue to be my feel good song forever. 

Anthony Bourdain – The Elvis of Bad Boy Chefs. This one hit me hard. He transcended geographies, genders, cuisine. He broke down stereotypes, barriers and taught us to be less afraid of the unknown. From chef to writer, journalist and storyteller. There is no one else I can think of who fits the title of the global citizen. He was unafraid to talk about the mistakes he had made on his journey. All these are traits I wish to possess. A life of travel, food, drink, talking to people and truly listening (the kind of human connection that we all crave) – in the words of Ina Garten, ‘how bad can that be?’ It was my dream job and I was living my dream through him. I remember watching Bourdain when I first moved to the US. It was at a time where I felt I had regressed from my global environs to suburbia. Watching his show was therapeutic – it made me feel it was me on those travels almost as his partner. And it is largely due to him and my brother that I learnt to appreciate good food and drink. They both also taught me that a true food snob didn’t necessarily dine at the Ritz Carlton – it was where you were in the moment, who you were with and the pleasure it brought you that was most important. Unbeknownst to me, I may have discovered some ‘Parts Unknown’ about me.

Kate Spade – I have never owned a Kate Spade bag. Somehow her preppy aesthetic didn’t quite appeal to me. I associate her brand with the first time I visited the US 20 years ago. I was naïve, shy and vulnerable. My brother would often drop me to the mall in the afternoons and I would see ladies carrying the simple black KS bag. The ladies seemed confident, carefree and cheerful, I wanted to be like them. I wanted to embody those seemingly easy breezy qualities – I wondered if the bag was the secret  Her brand made women feel beautiful, special and accepted. Accepted for whoever you were. Beyond the designer sheen, she seemed like a regular girl, a giver – someone you’d do happy hour with on hump day, someone who always had a kind word to say. Her passing took me back to my early days at the mall and the 20 year old girl who was innocent, impulsive and vulnerable – qualities that in hindsight are so endearing and raw but have hardened over the course of time.

Is it normal to feel the loss of someone we’ve never met? If you had asked me a few years ago, I may not have had this perspective. I will continue to feel the loss of Bourdain and Sridevi for the people they were and the lessons they taught me – be vulnerable, be relatable and the most important one of all, be yourself – gracefully and unapologetically.