A wound in my heart of Cuttack!!

 News from home usually brings a sense of comfort, a gentle reminder of where I come from. But the recent headlines from Cuttack during the Durga Puja immersion did the opposite; they sent a wave of sorrow through me. On a day meant for the heartfelt farewell of Maa Durga, the streets of my city, which should have echoed with chants and celebration, were silenced by clashes and a curfew.

​As someone born and raised in Cuttack, this is a reality I have never known. The Cuttack I carry in my heart is a city of profound harmony. It's a place where our Odia culture is so beautifully interwoven with respect for all. I've written before about our unique tradition of singing bhajans dedicated to devotees of other faiths—a testament to our inclusive spirit. This isn't just a story; it's our identity.

​We saw this identity shine brightly during the pandemic when the world watched Odisha. The sacred Rath Yatra was granted permission to proceed based on a heartfelt plea from a Muslim devotee. News like that makes my chest swell with pride. It’s the story I tell people when I speak of my home.

​To hear that this very fabric of unity has been torn is deeply unsettling. My heart sinks.

​I wish I could shout to those responsible: For the sake of your political ambitions, do not destroy the proud, beautiful image of Cuttack that we carry around the world. You cannot imagine how deeply it hurts when you gamble with the very sentiments that define us.

​Who benefits from this division? Is this how you want to be remembered—as people who broke a community for power, rather than building or uniting it? It is a sad, hollow victory.

​May wisdom prevail, and may my Cuttack heal soon.

The Parable of the Jar: The Lesson We Often Forget

 We are all told the story of the Jar, a simple and powerful lesson in priorities.

A teacher fills an empty jar first with large rocks, then with pebbles, and finally with sand. The moral is clear: if you don’t put the big rocks—your family, health, and core values—in first, you’ll never fit them in. We are taught to build our lives around this principle.

And so, a person begins their journey. They carefully place the big rocks in their jar. They add the pebbles of career, ambitions, and material security. They fill the remaining space with the sand of daily tasks and fleeting pleasures. From the outside, their jar looks full, a testament to a life built on sound principles.

Yet, for many, a strange paradox emerges. The jar is full, but their spirit feels empty. A quiet hollowness begins to creep in, a sense that something is fundamentally wrong despite having done everything right. The joy, like fine sand, seems to be slipping away through some unseen crack.

This is when the deeper lesson is revealed. The original parable, in its beautiful simplicity, overlooks the most vital element of all: the jar itself.

The problem is often not with the contents, but with the container. The vessel that holds our life is not made of glass; it is forged from Trust, Respect, and Honesty. When these are compromised, the jar begins to crack.

The sharp pebbles of unspoken resentments, of broken promises, of integrity compromised—these are what cause the fractures. At first, they are just hairline cracks, but soon they widen. Through them, the small joys and daily happiness—the sand—begin to leak out, leaving life feeling barren and gritty.

The large rocks of family and health become unstable. Instead of being a source of strength, they feel like a heavy, precarious weight threatening to shatter the weakened vessel. A foundation, after all, is only as strong as the ground it rests upon.

And so, a more profound wisdom emerges. It teaches us that before we obsess over the contents of our life, we must first ensure the integrity of the vessel that holds it.

The journey then shifts. It is no longer about rearranging the rocks and pebbles, but about mending the jar. It is about sealing the cracks by demanding honesty and creating boundaries. It is about understanding that you cannot build a whole life within a broken container.

The final lesson is the most transformative: before we can be a rock for anyone else, we must become our own rock.

This is the rock of one’s own well-being, sanity, and inner peace. It is the solid, unwavering core that must be placed in the jar first. When your own foundation is secure, the actions of others are less likely to crack your vessel. You learn to protect your own pebbles—your energy, your resources, your spirit—ensuring they are smooth and contribute to your strength.

The true measure of a life is not how full it is, but how whole it is. The ultimate goal is not just to fill our days, but to build a life held together by a foundation of trust so strong that it can truly contain the weight of lasting joy and meaning.

The sound of surrender: My first Mata ki Chowki!!

 Last night, I stepped out of the audience and into the heart of a tradition I had only ever witnessed through a screen. For the first time, I attended a "Mata ki Chowki," an event I had often associated with overwhelmingly loud music, wondering how devotion could flourish amidst such intensity.

​Yet, what I discovered was a profound and beautiful surprise. As I became a part of the vibrant gathering, the very loudness I had questioned began to work its magic. The rhythmic clapping and the powerful surge of the bhajans didn't distract; they focused. They created a space where the constant chatter of the mind had no room to exist. It was a kind of forceful, joyous meditation. My mind, usually a chaotic marketplace of thoughts, fell silent. In that shared energy, there was only the moment—a feeling of pure presence and devotion.

​The experience was a powerful reminder of a universal truth: we can never truly understand the core of something from the sidelines. We can observe, analyze, and even critique, but the true feeling—the soul of an event, whether of great joy or deep sorrow—is only revealed through participation. You have to be in the room to feel its pulse.

​A heartfelt thank you to our wonderful neighbors for organizing this beautiful evening. It was a soul-stirring conclusion to the Durga Puja celebrations, leaving me feeling completely and truly blessed.

Beyond the nine colours of Navaratri!!

 Happy Navaratri! It’s Day 3, and while I’m a little late to the party, I wanted to share a few pictures of our beautiful Golu display.  I began thinking about how our puja rituals and festive traditions have evolved over the last 15 years.

One of the most striking changes is how color has come to dominate our celebrations. I have no memory from my childhood of being told a specific color to wear for weddings or pujas. Yet today, color codes are the norm. For these nine nights of Durga Puja, a specific color is assigned to each day, and my society's WhatsApp group diligently reminds us every morning. This practice isn't limited to Navaratri; it's everywhere—from marriages to baby showers. I grew curious: how did this all begin?

My first guess was that it was a brilliant business idea from our Gujarati or Marwari communities, always innovative in creating new avenues for sales. To be honest, I'm still not entirely convinced they weren't involved! However, my research led me to a far more unexpected source. The trend was apparently sparked by a Marathi newspaper's marketing strategy to revive its sales. Isn't that fascinating? A newspaper advertisement has successfully woven itself into the cultural fabric of India.

But while the sea of vibrant, coordinated ethnic wear adds undeniable joy to our festivities, it casts a shadow we often ignore: overconsumerism.

Our faith and devotion never required nine different colored outfits. This marketing-turned-tradition has, however, created an unspoken obligation. In urban and semi-urban India, we now purchase far more ethnic wear just to keep up. In a country with our population, this fuels a cycle of overconsumption and contributes to a mountain of waste.

This leads to some uncomfortable questions every Indian woman should consider. How many times do we actually re-wear the sarees, lehengas, and anarkalis we buy for each festive season? What happens to them when the trend or the year is over? Many modern Indian women, even senior citizens, don't wear sarees daily, yet our wardrobes are overflowing.

Is this consumption harming our planet? Are we making the best use of our resources? When these clothes end up in landfills, they contribute to the very global warming we read about. Just because our purchasing power has increased, our consumption has multiplied, perhaps at an even faster rate.

As we move forward, from one generation to the next, this trend only seems to be accelerating. It forces us to ask: where is this path leading us and what kind of future are we celebrating?

The Friendship Fallacy: Should You Really Ditch Your Unsuccessful Friends?

We’ve all heard the advice, a cornerstone of the self-help world: “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”

The logic feels sound, almost mathematical. If your four closest friends are fitness fanatics, you’ll likely be the fifth. If they are all entrepreneurs talking growth, you’ll start thinking bigger. The flip side is the warning: if your four friends have failed, you will be the fifth.

It’s a powerful idea. A clean, simple rule for curating a life of success.

But then, real life intervenes. Life is not clean, and it is rarely simple. 

The Questions We Should All Be Asking

"What should one do when in life you find your friends in pain? They have failed now but weren't losers always. Is it that you should avoid such friends, and stick around only the successful ones? And what if your successful friends go around finding more successful ones and treat you the same? Is it even real?"

This isn't just a question; it's a test of character. It challenges us to decide what we value more: a ruthlessly optimized life or one rich with loyalty, compassion, and true human connection.

Let’s unpack this.

The Critical Flaw in a Flawless Rule

The "average of five" rule works beautifully on paper because it correctly identifies that we are deeply influenced by our environment. Mindsets are contagious. Habits are normalized by our peers. In this, the advice is correct.

But its fatal flaw is that it fails to account for adversity. It treats people as assets or liabilities, as stocks to be held or sold based on their current performance. Life, however, is lived in seasons. Everyone, without exception, will face a season of failure, of grief, of pain.

Here's a more compassionate and effective way to think about it.

The Crucial Distinction: Is It a State or a Trait?

Before you decide whether a friendship is "pulling you down," you must make a crucial distinction. Are they defined by a permanent trait of negativity, or are they going through a temporary state of hardship?

 * The Good Friend in a Bad Place (A State): This is a person with a good heart and a strong character who has hit a wall. They lost their job, their business failed, or they're navigating a painful breakup. They are struggling. These are not the friends you abandon. This is when your friendship is forged in fire. This is your moment to prove what your loyalty is worth.

 * The Chronically Negative Person (A Trait): This is the person the original maxim is truly about. This individual has a permanent trait of victimhood. Nothing is ever their fault. They drain your energy, mock your ambition, and consistently reject any advice or help. They don't want a ladder out of their hole; they want company in it.

Distancing yourself from a person with a permanent negative trait is an act of self-preservation. Abandoning a good friend in a temporary state of failure is an act of betrayal.

How to Act with Integrity: A Better Path Forward

So, what do you do when a good friend is in a bad place? You don't become the "fifth failure." You become their first hope.

 * Be the Influence, Not Just the Influenced: The rule assumes you are a passive sponge. You are not. Your positive energy, your belief in them, and your resilience can be the very influence they need. Instead of being pulled down, you can be the one who lifts them up.

 * Support, Don't Enable: There is a world of difference between these two actions.

   * Support sounds like: "This is tough, and it's okay to feel this way. I believe in you. Let's look at your resume together when you're ready."

   * Enabling sounds like: "You're right, the world is unfair and everything is pointless. Let's just forget about it."

     Support empowers them to get back up. Enabling encourages them to stay down.

 * Recognize Real Success vs. Transactional Networking: The question, "What if my successful friends leave me for someone more successful?" is brilliant because it exposes the transactional nature of the rule when followed blindly. Someone who drops friends based on their current status is not a "successful" person; they are a cold networker. True success includes character. Real friends don't just celebrate your victories; they help you navigate your defeats. Anyone who would leave you in a moment of weakness was never your friend to begin with.

The Verdict: Is It Even Real?

The influence of our peers is very real.

But the idea that you should curate your life by cutting out anyone who is currently struggling is a fantasy that creates a fragile, shallow, and lonely existence.

Don't abandon your friends when they fall. Life is long, and the roles may one day be reversed. The true measure of your life won't be the success you achieved, but the loyalty you showed. The true strength of your friendships won't be measured in the good times, but in how you weathered the bad ones, together.

छूटी हुई तक़दीर!!

 

कहाँ थी तू, जब तक़दीरें बट रहीं थीं?

किस सोच में डूबी, किस कोने में खड़ी थी?

कैसे फिसल गई हाथों से, वो जो लकीर तेरी थी?

​अब रोती है पगली, कि क्यूँ सब वीरान लगता है,

पर ग़लती तो तेरी थी, तूने ही कहाँ ध्यान रखा था?

जो ज़ाहिर था ज़माने पर, क्या तुझको वो ज्ञान न था?

अब आँसुओं से क्या होगा, जब सब कुछ छोड़ जाने का वक़्त आया है।

​समय रहते तूने अपने हक़ में कोई ज़िद न की,

अब क्या ज़िद करेगी भला, जब तेरी कोई बात ही न रही?

शायद तेरे हिस्से में बस यही बेबसी थी।

​क्या तू मगरूर थी, जो ये सब तेरा गुरूर तोड़ने को हुआ?

किसी को लगा होगा ये तेरा अभिमान था,

पर तूने तो बस दिल से हर कोशिश को जिया।

​तक़दीर में होता, तो सब हासिल होता,

तक़दीर ही न थी, तो कुछ भी न मिला।

कोशिश तो पूरी थी, पर किसी का साथ न था,

शायद तू उतनी अच्छी न थी, या किसी को भाया तेरा साथ न था।

​खैर, जो भी हो, तूने ये वक़्त गुज़ार लिया,

किसी बुरे सपने की तरह,

इस ज़िन्दगी को जी लिया।

अब बस रुलाना है उसे, जिसने तुझे तक़दीर देने से इनकार किया।

The scars we call strength!!

 I came across an article today listing the nine life experiences that forge the mentally strong. As I read through the list, it felt less like a quiz and more like a summary of my own chapters.

Losing someone you loved deeply... Yes, I lost my father. I watched him in pain for a long time before he left us.

Facing the crushing weight of financial struggle... Yes, I did manage well so far but still this haunts.

Navigating the sting of rejection... Yeah, both personally and professionally.

Healing from a heartbreak ... Yes, I don't know if it reshaped me or not but that pain is an integral part of me now.

Overcoming the silent battle of mental health issues... Yes, I did and I am watchful of my behaviour after this.

Starting over in a new and unfamiliar place... Yes, I did it though this came easily for me. I did it for a new job offer. 

Finding the courage to stand up for yourself... The situation forced me to defend myself and force others to accept their wrong behaviour towards me. I didn't like it nor would like that to ever happen again. 

Surviving the humbling experience of failure... Yes, even though I choose it .. it still feels like failure 

And watching a cherished dream slip through your fingers... Of course.many small dreams I gave up and don't really think about it now. Although I can fulfill I no longer feel like it. 

The list was meant to be affirming, a testament to resilience. Yet, I'm left with a profound question: What is the purpose of this hard-earned strength?

With every trial, a piece of the hopeful, courageous person I once was seems to have been chipped away. The challenges haven't ended, and I find myself still walking a long, uncertain road with no destination in sight. I'm left to wonder, why does life demand we learn so much by taking so much away? If this is what it means to be strong, where does one find the strength to keep going?