the many miracles in the city of angels.

Note: Sections I and VII discuss mental-health struggles. VII also briefly discusses suicidal ideation, grief and substance use. Please feel free to skip either if these are sensitive topics for you.

After a weekend trip, I’m currently begging for Los Angeles to hand me yet another major bout of luck. While thinking rather intensely about this wish, I realised it might be worth acknowledging just how many miracles this city has already given me, in no particular order (except that I saved best for last). I’m sure I’ll forget several here, but hopefully this can remain a living list — one I return to whenever another miracle comes back to mind, or, with any luck, when Los Angeles decides to give me a new one. Also, I listened to Beach House’s Drunk in LA on loop the whole time I was writing this, so there’s a free music rec :)

I.

Whenever I tell people LA is the greatest city in the world (and they disagree with me), one of the most frequent counterpoints is that the people suck. What they really mean is that the transplants suck, and I agree (although I am also a transplant, but hopefully a good one!). Many of the anecdotes I’ll mention here affirm that LA has some of the kindest people in the world, but this one is probably my best evidence.

During my second and third terms at Caltech this year, I was not in my greatest mental state. I had started seeing a therapist and was trying my hardest not to take medication for numerous reasons. In one particularly strange episode, I took the metro to Vermont/Beverly, then wandered along the 101 in a delirious state, admiring the sunset. I felt tears running down my face as I listened to music, and when I eventually made it back to Vermont Ave and tried to cross a street, a guy in his twenties wearing headphones smiled at me. I smiled back, trying my hardest to hide that I had been crying.

I kept going toward Virgil Ave, only to realise I had accidentally followed him down a lonely street and now looked like a stalker. He turned back and smiled even brighter than before, and long story short, this kind stranger took me to a (very nice) Korean restaurant and then to what became my favourite bar in LA. He footed the bill, with only one condition: that we never learn each other’s names or exchange contacts, and simply listen to each other’s woes and offer advice. I wrote much of his advice in my Notes app, and still return to it whenever I’m in doubt. I remain deeply indebted to this stranger for his kindness, and for listening without judgement when I needed it most.

II.

One day, a friend and I were walking through Old Pasadena, slightly delirious from eating too much ice cream at Bacio di Latte. We were almost drunkenly rambling about something I can no longer remember when we passed two girls at a bus stop, actually drunk and loudly telling each other a story about some dude being a creep, with a great deal of cursing involved. In our sugar-induced haze, it briefly looked like they were yelling at us. We were about to keep walking when one of them ran over and handed us these adorable miniature rubber duckies they had won at an arcade a few hours earlier. It instantly lifted my spirits, and I still have my little ducky :)

III.

The first of two JMM-related stories: when I returned from JMM in January 2026, I was quite upset. I felt I had given a mediocre talk, was suffering from impostor syndrome after winning the Schafer Prize, and had received some unrelated bad news. Naturally, I decided the solution was to go to one of my favourite places in the world as soon as I landed: Howlin’ Ray’s.

I’m there almost every week, but that day I ordered an unreasonable amount of food to combat my sadness. I’ve befriended most of the employees, and the person at the counter was someone I’d spoken to especially often; she was telling me about an upcoming trip to Japan. I listened intently and said nothing about my own woes, but she comped my entire meal and refused to let me pay. Howlin’ Ray’s did the same when I returned to LA after months at Oxford and in India. Good food and community can truly fix many problems, I have had similar incidents involving free/discounted food at many great restaurants in LA.

IV.

The second of two JMM-related stories: before heading to DC for JMM, my penultimate meal in LA was at Mala Class, a Sichuan restaurant I really like (my final meal was obviously at Howlin’ Ray’s…). On my way to DC, I had a layover in Kansas, and while boarding the first flight, I noticed a familiar face smiling at me. Famously, I am quite face-blind, so I couldn’t immediately place him. The second I sat down, I remembered — and was a little stunned.

On my flight from Kansas to DC, I saw him again, and this time we ended up sitting next to each other. It was none other than the waiter from Mala Class, who is now a friend of mine! It turned out he was also going to JMM and shares my interests in mathematical physics, so we had a great conversation and have kept in touch ever since.

V.

Many know that during my time away from Caltech, I explored Los Angeles rather thoroughly — at a time when I was so broke I couldn’t even pay my phone bill. This meant finding my way back to Caltech from random corners of LA using only the metro, with no access to maps. The fact that nothing terrible happened to me is probably a miracle in itself, but this story is about something else.

Even after returning to Caltech and being able to pay my phone bill again, I kept doing this occasionally because they were fun little puzzles, and because I like seeing where life takes me. One day, I was walking north of Melrose when everything suddenly became unfamiliar, and I somehow found myself inside Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

I knew David Lynch was buried there, but had been too afraid to visit because I thought I might break down at his grave. Somehow, his was one of the first graves I stumbled upon. I sat there for a while listening to Linda Scott’s I’ve Told Every Little Star (iykyk). None of this was intentional, which made ending up there feel especially funny. I left strangely inspired, and Hollywood Forever ended up becoming somewhere I visited roughly twice a week for the rest of third term. On a side note, I could make a whole another blog post about miracles that have happened to me that had something to do with Mulholland Drive. I will mention one more in this post.

VI.

I’m quite intrigued by Japanese Buddhist philosophy. One day, while walking up from Wilshire/Western with a friend, a heated discussion turned into an argument, and I was getting increasingly angry and frustrated. Right at its height, a woman approached us and pressed cards into our palms that read Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō. I’ve kept mine in my wallet ever since, in the hope that it reminds me to keep my calm.

VII.

As I briefly mentioned in I., I was having a difficult time during my second and third terms at Caltech this year for several worldly reasons, though one event in particular sat at the centre of much of it. The day after it happened, I was still in shock and moving through the world in a strange numbness, caught up in questions of survivor’s guilt, whether life contained enough beauty or meaning to justify its suffering, and whether encountering something impossibly beautiful could alter the way a person felt about continuing to live.

I was wandering around Long Beach with these thoughts when a rather suspicious group of people offered me some equally suspicious substances. Despite my mood at the time — and my track record with such things — I declined and stayed put.

VIII.

My biggest complaint about LA for the longest time was its lack of good South Asian food (yes, I don’t mind the LA metro; I think it promotes introspection, and if you’re uncomfortable waiting ~20 minutes for a train, you should spend more time with yourself and make more time to think. It’s also a good exercise in practising punctuality). At the peak of my frustration, I discovered Roshona Bilash just as it was opening — and with it, the sweetest family on this planet and the best South Asian food I’ve had outside India. I’m deeply indebted to their love, support, and kindness, as well as everything they do for the Koreatown community. They are genuinely inspiring, and you must support them when you’re in LA. Support your local small businesses :)

IX.

I suppose I kind of lied when I said there were only two JMM-related stories, though to be fair, this one is about JMM 2025 rather than JMM 2026. It was my first ever JMM, and I only attended a subset of the sessions; by sheer coincidence, I picked exactly the dates to be in Seattle when the Los Angeles wildfires struck and were at their worst. I remember being heartbroken seeing the Palisades Fire as I landed back in LA. I tried my best to be useful to the community in the aftermath, and can only hope I made some nontrivial difference. The wildfires still feel surreal to me, and if I could undo one event from the past, it would be this.

X.

During my year away from Caltech but still in LA, I went to the Nuart Theatre effectively every week. Somehow, in the month before I left, they did a David Lynch retrospective, showing one of his classics every Friday night. The final film they screened before my departure was Mulholland Drive, my favourite movie of all time.

XI.

The final miracle on this list is one I could write an entire blog post about. I’m quite private about the details — there is only one person outside of those directly involved who knows everything that happened — but perhaps it will be worth telling properly after I graduate.

After my freshman year, I could no longer afford Caltech, and I genuinely believed I would never return. This was much to my dismay, since I loved LA. A series of events during that year could easily have ended with me moving to Cleveland, New York, or Chicago instead. Then, at the very last minute, my benefactor decided to make a $330k bet on my mathematical career. It changed my life, and allowed me to remain in the same city that had seen all my tears and anger while I had no idea what my future would look like.

I still have several messages from that period telling friends some version of, “I won’t be returning to Caltech unless a miracle happens.” Somehow, a miracle happened. I will never take it for granted.