From courtrooms to canyons, Tirath traces her lifelong study of anger — learning from Native elders, family laughter, and her own children that peace is a practice, not a mood. Anger Be Gone begins the journey with stories of survival, sarcasm, and self-mastery — where a grandmother, a lawyer, and a storyteller become one voice teaching how to turn fire into wisdom.
Tirath pours her heart into honouring her grandfather’s legacy — learning to read Punjabi, recording sacred scripture, and repairing the Gurdwara where her family once prayed. But when greed and betrayal close in, her devotion is met with violence. Silence is about faith that holds steady through fear — and the quiet strength that remains after the crash.
After the crash, Tirath and Mark learn to live again — not through comfort, but through endurance. Between hospital beds and homemade soup, they rebuild their marriage, their health, and their faith in small daily acts: breathing without pain, reading stories aloud, and finding joy in good food and quiet company. This chapter is about survival stripped bare — love, strength, and gratitude rebuilt from the wreckage.
When Tirath’s father falls ill, science and spirit meet in a single room — a ruby stone, a doctor’s pills, and a daughter’s prayers all working side by side. Between hospital visits, lucid dreams, and old Punjabi beliefs about fate, she begins to question what can be changed and what must simply be accepted. This chapter holds that quiet battle — between kismet and choice, surrender and love.
After her father’s passing, Tirath carries both duty and devotion — arranging the cremation, leading prayers, and holding the family steady. Yet beneath the rituals, she begins a quiet dance with grief. From gold-filled cracks in pottery to hymns at dawn, she learns that strength isn’t the absence of sorrow but the art of shaping it into love, faith, and motion.
Tirath rebuilds her world one meal at a time. Between Gurbani and the hum of a waffle iron, food becomes her prayer — a way to serve others and soothe herself. From royal paneer langar to chocolate waffles for her granddaughter, this chapter turns everyday cooking into an act of devotion and quiet joy.
When missiles from Pakistan light the night sky, Tirath takes her family to the mountains to breathe again. Between war, work, and the rise of machines replacing human hands, she asks what still gives life meaning. From her printing press to organic farms to stories told beside the river, she finds one answer: care is the last human work that cannot be replaced.
A daughter, a song, and a sign from the universe. In this chapter, Tirath finds her writer’s voice again through Ed Sheeran’s “Sapphire” — a gift that seems to arrive straight from her late father and the cosmos. Between court battles, family memories, and the ache of anniversaries, she rediscovers faith in music, justice, and love. From the rooftop rhythms of Punjab to the lyrics of a red-haired Brit singing in Punjabi, she learns that when women hold the line — for land, family, or truth — the universe sometimes answers back in song.
A meditation on desire, devotion, and destiny — from the loss of a newborn calf to monks on the mountains in Ladakh. Tirath traces how temptation, money, and longing test the human heart, from family feuds and broken inheritances to moments of spiritual clarity under mountain skies. Drawing from the Bible, Gurbani, and Sonam Wangchuk’s example, she learns that freedom doesn’t mean following every desire — it means knowing which ones deserve your life. This chapter turns the ache of wanting into a lesson in grace, restraint, and purpose.
From a library storytime in Santa Barbara to the sacred dawn calls of Leh, this chapter follows Tirath’s search for voices that rise with truth. Between a farmer’s conference that silences women of color and a mountain prayer that lifts into the sky, she learns what real belonging sounds like. It’s not found in systems or agendas but in honest voices — a woman reading, a man singing, a people praying. Voices Rising reminds us that faith, justice, and love all begin the same way: when someone dares to speak from the heart.
A journey through mountains, mosquitoes, and nations — this chapter follows Tirath’s search for belonging across continents until she realizes home was never lost, just waiting. From racist glances in Toronto to bed bugs in the Aryan Valley, each stop teaches what beauty hides and integrity reveals. Along the way, a Sikh soldier’s kindness cuts through fear, showing that safety isn’t found in scenery but in character. In the end, Punjab — flawed yet full of heart — becomes not her escape, but her answer.
Food, family, and faith — this chapter tastes like all three. Tirath weaves history, memory, and migration into one simmering pot of love, from her mother’s kitchen in Toronto to an unforgettable Gyakko feast in Leh. She shows how real nourishment is not about recipes but about remembrance — of ancestors, of land, and of care passed hand to hand. Machines can cook, but they can’t make love; that’s the work of hearts and kitchens that still remember who they’re feeding.
Endurance isn’t about never breaking — it’s about staying open through the breaking. In this chapter, Tirath travels from childhood lessons in patience to mountain peaks in Ladakh, where every challenge tests her body and faith. From Reva’s wheelchair courage to the frozen monasteries and apricot dreams, she learns that endurance is love in motion — the strength to stay gentle while carrying weight. It’s not stubbornness or surrender; it’s the quiet art of lasting with grace.
A perfect day isn’t flawless — it’s chosen. In this chapter, Tirath relives a single day in Srinagar when love, memory, and laughter replaced the weight of loss. Between gondola rides, birthday celebrations, dry fruit shopping, and quiet gratitude, she finds a joy shaped by intention — the kind that honours both parents and children. Guided by family, heritage, and Chat’s help, she discovers that perfection is not the absence of pain but the presence of meaning. It’s a day stitched with care, remembrance, and radiant peace — a day worth reliving.
A homecoming full of warmth and warfare — mixing family love with the fight for justice in Punjab’s courts. Tirath returns from Ladakh to a storm of deceit, where her lawyer betrays her trust, neighbors destroy her wall, and corrupt officials twist the truth. Yet amid the battles, she finds grounding in family — in Ari’s fresh pizza, Harbhajan’s laughter, and the cow’s newborn calf. This chapter shows how endurance and faith can turn even the courthouse circus into a lesson in courage. It’s not just about land; it’s about dignity, legacy, and the cost of staying true when justice itself has a price.
A lifetime of battles for fairness — from classrooms in Toronto to courtrooms in Punjab — showing that justice isn’t a gift, it’s earned through patience, courage, and relentless truth. Tirath fights corrupt systems, land disputes, and caste prejudice while holding on to her parents’ teachings about fairness and kismet. She learns that even in a world of bribes, betrayals, and endless court delays, integrity and endurance can still change your stars. Through every judgment, loss, and small victory, she redefines what it means to be fair — not equal, but just — and turns survival itself into a kind of faith.
A lifetime journey from doubt to faith, blending science, mysticism, Gurbani, and family into one clear voice about living with purpose and truth. Tirath answers her childhood question — creation or evolution — and grows into a bilingual storyteller who learns that knowledge and faith can live together. Through memories of Toronto streets, Ladakh healing, her father’s wisdom, and modern Punjab, she connects logic with love and science with spirit, finding peace in the place where curiosity and devotion meet.