Shifting my mood: one thread at a time!!

 Today was one of those days where everything felt like an uphill battle. The irritation was palpable, and I just couldn't shake it. But then, in the evening, I stumbled upon a piece of my past that offered an unexpected solace: a pure silk saree I bought during my Bangalore days, about 15 or 16 years ago.

I vividly recall buying a collection of these beautiful silk sarees, each a different design and unique color. Funnily enough, my mother and aunt ended up "claiming" two of them without a word, even though I'd bought them for myself. They both looked stunning in them at my wedding reception, so I couldn't really complain!

I still had two left. One I've worn regularly, but this specific one had been at my in-laws' house for years. I finally brought it back on my last visit and had been experimenting with different blouses. Tonight, however, I was curious to see if it would look better with its original blouse or a contrasting one. This simple, focused activity of styling the saree was incredibly therapeutic. It was like the irritation just melted away.

From there, I moved on to another project: giving a small grocery cabinet a much-needed facelift. It was a time-consuming task, but by the time I finished, I felt a profound sense of calm and accomplishment.

These moments of irritation often stem from a recurring thought: the feeling that people don't truly choose me for who I am. Instead, it feels like I'm chosen only when it's convenient or when they find me useful. It’s a tough realization to sit with.

What’s the answer when people don't choose you? You can't force anyone, can you? I just wish I was inherently "good enough" that they naturally would. And so, another day draws to a close. Perhaps I overthink these things. It's probably not even worth the mental energy, right?

यह नज़र भी उसी को ढूँढती है!!

 यह नज़र भी उसी को ढूँढती है,

जो कभी उसका था ही नहीं।

दिल की गहराई से निकली चाहत,

जिसकी कोई मंज़िल ही नहीं।

तन्हा रातों का वो मुसाफ़िर,

जिसकी कोई हमदम ही नहीं।

ख्वाबों में भी जिसकी परछाई,

हकीकत में जिसकी आहट ही नहीं।

यह नज़र भी उसी को ढूँढती है,

जो कभी उसका था ही नहीं।

Beyond the fairy tale: Family dynamics!!

Following up on my earlier post today, I want to share something deeply personal that has weighed on me. My upbringing was quite unusual for its time. I grew up in a nuclear family, a rarity in an era when large families were the norm. My grandfather was an only child, and I never heard of him having any siblings who might have died at birth, which was a common tragedy back then. An only child was quite the opposite to families with more than six to eight kids. 

My father’s family also faced its share of loss. He had two elder siblings; one passed away shortly after birth, and another at the age of eight from an illness. This left my father and his sister as the only surviving children. Tragically, my grandmother died while giving birth to her fifth child. What was truly uncommon was that my grandfather chose not to remarry, despite being young enough to do so in a society where it was expected.

After my aunt got married, our household naturally became a nuclear family. To add to this, my grandfather passed away the year before I was born. This meant my mother never experienced living with in-laws, nor did she ever have to navigate the complexities of a relationship with a mother-in-law.

When I got married, my understanding of handling in-laws was purely fictional. I had no practical experience, having never witnessed such dynamics at home. It was just what I heard from others, never saw it happen before my eyes. I was genuinely eager to learn how people managed large families, picturing them as vibrant hubs of activity and fun, with endless family functions. And yes, many functions do happen, which is wonderful! But what I hadn't anticipated was the undercurrent of "kitchen politics."

With no interaction with my husband before our wedding, I struggled immensely in the beginning to understand the unspoken rules and navigate who to say what to. Perhaps my innocent demeanor or my ignorance of this family led people to believe I can be easily manipulated, because my expectations of a large, joyful family quickly clashed with the harsh reality I faced. I found myself with a number of mothers-in-law, all seemingly ready to critique everything from my posture to my clothing to every word I uttered or even when I didn't speak at all. 

I have to admit, I now despise the "kitchen politics" so much that I've retreated, choosing to say nothing to anyone. It feels as though I've stagnated in building new relationships within my married life; my closest connections remain the same people I had before marriage.

A growing sense of isolation and loneliness consumes me daily. As a woman, there's an unspoken expectation that my primary attachments should shift from my birth family to my in-laws. But how can I achieve this alone when I'm consistently made to feel like an outsider, even after years of being a part of this family? Can I truly make everyone my own if they're unwilling to embrace me as one of them?

It's easy to hear advice like, "learn to leave the baggage behind if it's burdening you." But the truth is, I often wonder, how much, and what exactly, am I supposed to leave behind? Am I simply a solo traveler on this journey of life? Was it a fault to accept challenges head-on instead of trying to run away? Was it a mistake to hold onto positivity, even when a part of me knew things might not be as ideal as I hoped?

Life often feels like an endless series of problems to solve. Yet, it's those meaningful relationships that are supposed to provide moral support, offer new ideas, and inspire us to explore our abilities. Sadly, in my current situation, this feels unfulfilled. I've come a long way from being positive and believing that divine help would guide my every step, to now feeling quite the opposite. I've reached a point where I've had to accept that many of my dreams may simply remain out of reach.

I've found myself replacing my own aspirations with what was offered to me, even when it didn't truly resonate. Perhaps the first time I did this set a precedent, leading to a recurring pattern. I feel like a fool for understanding this cycle, yet feeling utterly powerless to change it. 

Family ties: sisterhood dynamics!!

I recently watched a powerful video of a woman my age, born the same year as me, openly sharing her struggles on social media. We both grew up in similar tier-3 cities or towns, and it was striking how much our mindsets aligned. Even if her background was more affluent than mine, I immediately connected with her experience.

Though she hadn't yet fully revealed the source of her pain, I had a strong intuition about it. She's a woman with only sisters. This resonated deeply with me because I have several friends from my childhood and college who also grew up in all-girl households. While I still wish I'd had a sister, I've witnessed some of the unique challenges these friends have faced.

I remember my parents talking about how, in their time, families often preferred not to marry their sons to girls who didn't have brothers. The belief was that without brothers, a girl would lack long-term ties to her original family after her parents were gone. One of my closest childhood friends, Kunu, didn't have a brother. Tragically, she passed away at a young age, and the reasons were never entirely clear to me.

Another college friend, who has two elder sisters, often shares the difficulties they've encountered with parental property and the disagreements that arose between the sisters after marriage. In some ways, it makes me feel like they behave more like brothers who drift apart after marriage. Yet, I also see my mother and aunt, both sisters, thoroughly enjoying their old age together. They aren't dependent on us or my cousins; instead, they prefer to live together, chatting about their childhoods in retirement, just like two best friends.

I'm incredibly grateful to the woman who is bravely sharing her story publicly. It takes immense courage to reveal your vulnerabilities and what you've been through. No one's life is a smooth, one-way road filled only with happiness. Most of our lives are marked by numerous U-turns, steep downhill slopes, and only brief periods of effortless upward movement. It's truly difficult to find such genuine openness in people these days.

What are your thoughts on shared experiences and the complexities of family dynamics?

Stuck in First love!!!

 

Never did I dream,

When I was just a teen,

That the love I felt so strong,

Would stay with me for so long.

I wish I could forget,

Erase every regret.

If only I had better luck,

To escape this memory's stuck.

Still, I live in that old dream,

It feels safe, a gentle stream.

My body's grown, but in my head,

Those young thoughts aren't quite dead.

Why did I care so deep,

For something you didn't keep?

It didn't mean much to you,

But for me, it felt so true.

I wish I could be like you,

So easy to let go, it's true.

To find new luck, new love, with grace,

Just like you did, in your own place.

Is solitude truly lonely??

Today was a day for rest and rejuvenation. After a turbulent night's sleep, my mantra was simply to unwind. I found solace in the soulful ghazals of Jagjit Singh, letting his melodies wash over me as I delved into the meaning of each word. It was a day dedicated to enjoying my own company, a much-needed reprieve.

It's interesting how often life seems to echo my thoughts. I've often found my internal questions reflected in the newspaper, and today was no different. An article touched on the very nature of these recurring questions, suggesting they stem from an inherent tendency to compare our life experiences with others. Perhaps it's true; maybe I see those around me navigating life with more apparent ease, wishing for similar moments of joy and success, even as I genuinely celebrate their happiness.

As an eight-year-old, I could never have imagined the complexities and beautiful moments life would throw my way. Yet, when I look to the future, an unknown fear creeps in, a sense of uncertainty about what lies ahead. Maybe everyone harbors these same fears, carefully hidden from view, especially when children are present. I remember, as a teenager, sensing my own parents' anxieties, and from then on, a similar apprehension took root in me. I've managed to navigate through it, but that lingering fear, in hindsight, still troubles me.

This is why I've always yearned for someone who could simply sit with me and understand, even without words. Life, in its peculiar way, did grant me such a connection – someone who could articulate my doubts and fears, but it was, unfortunately, short-lived.

I recall a particularly challenging time when I received two excellent job offers. However, my father's wish for me to marry first led me to decline them. Neither of us could have foreseen that marriage wouldn't bring the satisfaction we hoped for. I genuinely regret not taking those opportunities; at the very least, I could have gained more financial independence during those years. Despite witnessing so many difficult marriages among his peers and even people my age, my father remained remarkably optimistic about my future.

For the sake of his optimism, I reluctantly agreed, stepping into the unknown without a clear vision. To this day, I've managed to put on a good show for others, but deep down, loneliness persists. Perhaps this is why one must never compromise on their fundamental desires from the very beginning. Life will inevitably demand compromises, and one day, the weight of them might become overwhelming. But in those moments, I truly felt I had no other path. I took a chance, hoping for a stroke of good luck.

Is this life just a dream??

An evening spent with scripture recently stirred something deep within me. The text spoke of our earthly existence as merely a dream, an illusion for our soul, not its true reality. The interaction described was between the soul and the divine after death, with the divine declaring, "That was just your illusion, not reality." For a brief moment, those words offered immense comfort, a gentle easing of the ever-present weight of life.

But, as it often does, my mind quickly spun back into the familiar whirlwind of my daily reality. Is this truly an illusion? Or is the meeting with the divine something that awaits us only after death?

Perhaps psychology or philosophy could offer some profound insights, but I'm just a flawed human, grappling to comprehend the vastness of this creation, its intricate balance, and its mysterious trajectory. Yet, in that same moment of reflection, Osho's words resurfaced: "All these scriptures teach us what happens post-death, but not what we should do for a fulfilled life." He has a point. Where is fulfillment? It feels like our human minds are constantly busy manufacturing new desires, and perhaps that's the primary culprit in our inability to feel truly content.

Maybe you're one of the fortunate ones who sees a different picture, whose path is clearer. But I find myself caught in a relentless cycle of one storm after another, desperately trying to discern if it's finally passed or if it's just gathering strength to strike again. I've spent so long striving for happiness by any means necessary, only to realize, much later, that it's simply not going to happen that way.

I honestly wish I could just end this never-ending "bad dream" of mine. When I have a nightmare at night, I can jolt myself awake. Why doesn't that happen in life?

Just yesterday, some senior citizens in my community shared a lovely message about finding happiness in your 60s, and I instinctively forwarded it to my family. My brother's immediate response perfectly captured the irony: "Tell me how to be happy now! I'll worry about my 60s later." My cousins and I shared a good laugh over that. Then, today, one of them sent a list of tests for early cancer detection in your 40s. All I could think was, "Who wants a long life? If you do, go for it. I, for one, don't wish to prolong this." Life, after all, will inevitably end, whether by illness or accident. So, why fear it? Of course, I have no control over life or death. But if I'm meant to survive for a long time, please, just wake me up from this bad dream.

"Just for yourself" truly enough??

Today, I stumbled upon a thought-provoking reel that really made me pause. The speaker made a stark point: if you were no longer here, your position at work, your business, your friends, and even your family would eventually move on. Life, they argued, continues without you. Therefore, the takeaway was clear: we must prioritize caring for ourselves.

It's a valid perspective, and I understand the sentiment behind it. However, a question immediately sprung to mind: what exactly does "caring for ourselves" truly entail, especially when taken to an extreme? While the idea of focusing solely on oneself might sound appealing, I can't help but wonder if it's genuinely fulfilling.

Can we truly be happy in isolation? My immediate answer is no. We are, by nature, social creatures. We need people to share our joys, our laughter, and yes, even our moments of sadness and tears. The notion of going to the cinema or a restaurant alone, while sometimes necessary, often feels more like a concession than a celebration. While we should absolutely be prepared to navigate life independently if circumstances demand it – think traveling or dining solo in a new country – it's rarely a source of sustained enjoyment if it becomes the norm.

Perhaps this is precisely why we're designed to be sociable – to build connections, to share our journeys, and to experience life together. The richness of human experience often lies in the shared moments, the empathetic ear, and the collective support.

This brings to mind another speaker whose words resonated deeply with me. Her suggestion was simple yet profound: give what you feel you lack to others, and you will ultimately attract it into your life. I, for instance, often yearn for someone to truly listen to me. Following her advice, I thought about how I could be a better listener to others, offering compassion and understanding, especially to those facing pain and sorrow.

Shortly after, a friend called. I'd mentioned previously that he'd suffered a paralytic attack, leaving one of his hands impaired, and consequently, he lost his job. His wife now works in a different city, and their child is with maternal grandparents. It's a truly challenging situation, and I expected to hear the weight of his struggles. Yet, to my surprise, I heard a smiling voice on the other end, just as I remembered from our college days. His tone, his way of speaking – nothing had changed.

Despite knowing the immense difficulties he's facing, I found myself unable to directly ask about his situation. I simply listened to what he was saying. While I know the ache he must feel deep down, his ability to project such normalcy was both inspiring and heartbreaking. After a few minutes, we ended our call. I'm aware that many people are dealing with incredible pain, and perhaps my own challenges pale in comparison. Still, I find myself wishing for a bit more luck, a deeper sense of satisfaction and contentment in my own life.

What are your thoughts on finding balance between self-care and our innate need for connection? Share your perspective in the comments below!

Expections vs hope!!

Growing Through the Cracks: A Reflection on Hope and Hardship

I recently came across a fascinating image: a tree, not thriving in fertile soil, but stubbornly growing in the narrow crevices between two massive boulders. Its roots, against all odds, meticulously trace every tiny gap, gradually widening them. This image resonated deeply with me, mirroring the diverse journeys of human life. Some are born into nurturing environments, much like a sapling in rich soil. Others, however, endure harsh conditions from the very beginning, like that resilient tree.

When the weight of daily life feels overwhelming, I often find myself questioning the divine. Why does intervention seem to arrive only when I'm in the throes of immense pain? Why can't guidance appear before things spiral out of control? Why must suffering precede blessings? And why, oh why, couldn't I have been blessed with a bit more luck from the start? In these moments of agony, the solitude can be deafening, even with others physically present. It feels like no one truly sees or cares about the depth of the struggle.

I’ve heard scholars say that our expectations are the root of our pain. But then, what should I expect? Isn't expectation, in its purest form, a kind of hope? The hope that things will improve after a period of hardship, the expectation that suffering will eventually end. How can one expect nothing yet still remain hopeful? Without hope, where would this imaginative mind wander? And why must life stretch so long that the very thought of not hoping becomes a crushing burden?

Am I transforming into a worse person, or am I evolving into a better one through these trials? I have a multitude of questions, a cascade of "whys" and "hows," but to whom can I pose them? Who possesses the wisdom or the empathy to calm this restless mind? Who is willing to listen to a stream of unanswerable inquiries that seem to lead nowhere? I confess, I'm at a loss. If there truly is a higher power, I plead: unravel these knots, answer these questions, and bring some semblance of peace to this turbulent soul.

What are your thoughts on this perspective? Do you find yourself grappling with similar questions about hope, suffering, and divine intervention?

Ved Vyasa: The Sage, The Epic, The Lineage – Happy Guru Purnima!

Happy Guru Purnima, dear readers! Today, the air is filled with reverence as we celebrate the sacred occasion of Guru Purnima, a day dedicated to honoring our gurus and teachers. It is particularly auspicious as it marks the birthday of the very sage we are about to explore: Rishi Ved Vyasa.

So, let's step back in time, far beyond the confines of our bustling modern lives, to an era where gods walked among men, and sages held the wisdom of the cosmos. Our journey takes us to the heart of ancient India, to unravel the fascinating story of a being whose very existence shaped the destiny of a subcontinent and gifted humanity its most profound epic: Rishi Ved Vyasa.

His life isn't just a biography; it's a saga in itself, woven with threads of divine intervention, profound purpose, and an unyielding commitment to Dharma.

Born of the Waters: The Mystical Dawn of Dwaipayana

Imagine a serene morning on the banks of the mighty Yamuna River. A young, captivating woman named Satyavati, known for her captivating beauty and a peculiar fishy scent (which would soon transform into a divine fragrance), ferried people across the waters. One day, a revered and powerful sage, Parashara, sought passage. He was not just any sage; he possessed foresight and recognized a unique, auspicious moment.

Parashara was drawn to Satyavati, not merely by her beauty, but by the cosmic alignment that indicated the birth of an extraordinary being. With his immense yogic powers, he created a secluded, misty island in the middle of the river, ensuring their privacy. He blessed Satyavati, granting her the boon of a divine fragrance and preserving her maidenhood. From this ethereal union, on that very island, a child was born.

This child was Krishna Dwaipayana – "Krishna" for his dark complexion, and "Dwaipayana" for his island birth. But this was no ordinary birth. The moment he was born, he was not a wailing infant but a fully grown, enlightened being, imbued with immense knowledge and spiritual power. With a promise to his mother that he would return whenever she needed him, he immediately departed for the dense forests and mighty Himalayas to undertake rigorous penance and assimilate the vast cosmic knowledge. Thus began the journey of the one who would eventually be known as Ved Vyasa, the classifier of the Vedas.

The Architect of the Mahabharata: When Ganesha Held the Pen

Centuries passed. Krishna Dwaipayana, now revered as Vyasa, had accomplished monumental feats. He had observed that the human mind was growing weaker, its capacity diminishing, making it difficult to grasp the entirety of the vast, undivided knowledge contained in the single Veda. So, in an act of unparalleled service to humanity, he undertook the colossal task of classifying the Veda into four distinct parts: Rig, Yajur, Sama, and Atharva. This monumental achievement earned him the eternal title of Ved Vyasa.

But his work was far from over. He conceived of an epic, a grand narrative that would encapsulate the essence of Dharma, Artha, Kama, and Moksha – the four pursuits of human life. This would be the story of the Kuru dynasty, a tale of righteous kings, noble warriors, cunning villains, and the ultimate triumph of good over evil: the Mahabharata.

This epic was so vast, so comprehensive, that Vyasa needed a scribe of divine intellect. He meditated upon Lord Brahma, who then advised him to seek the help of Lord Ganesha. Ganesha agreed to write, but with a condition: Vyasa had to dictate continuously, without pause. Vyasa, with his sharp intellect, accepted, but with his own counter-condition: Ganesha must understand every verse before he wrote it. This ingenious exchange allowed Vyasa to compose intricate and complex verses, giving him a moment's pause while Ganesha pondered their meaning, thus allowing Vyasa to formulate the next verses.

Imagine the scene: the great sage, his mind a torrent of wisdom, dictating the verses, and the elephant-headed god, his broken tusk serving as a pen, meticulously inscribing the longest poem known to humanity. It was an act of divine collaboration that gifted us the very fabric of Hindu philosophy and history.

Father to a Dynasty: A Necessity Born of Dharma

Vyasa's life wasn't just about scholarship; it was intertwined with the very lineage whose story he was chronicling. Remember Satyavati, his mother? After her union with Parashara, she later married King Shantanu of Hastinapura. Shantanu's son, Bhishma, took an impossible vow of celibacy, ensuring his father's happiness but leaving the Kuru lineage without an heir. Shantanu's other son, Vichitravirya, died young, also childless.

The Kuru dynasty faced extinction. A desperate Satyavati remembered her powerful son, Vyasa, and invoked his promise. She pleaded with him to ensure the continuation of the royal line through the ancient practice of Niyoga – a custom where a qualified man could beget children with a childless widow for the sole purpose of lineage continuation, driven by duty, not desire.

Vyasa, despite his ascetic nature, agreed out of profound respect for his mother and his deep understanding of Dharma, which mandated the continuation of the royal lineage for the welfare of the kingdom.

 * First, Ambika, Vichitravirya's first wife, was sent to him. Overwhelmed by his austere and intense spiritual aura, she closed her eyes in fear. Consequently, her son, Dhritarashtra, was born blind.

 * Next came Ambalika, the second wife. She turned pale upon seeing Vyasa's formidable presence. Her son, Pandu, was born with a pale complexion and a tendency towards ill-health.

 * Disappointed, Satyavati asked Ambika to try again. But Ambika, still fearful, sent her intelligent maidservant instead. The maidservant approached Vyasa with reverence and calmness. Her son, Vidura, born from this union, was the epitome of wisdom and righteousness, considered an incarnation of Dharma himself.

Thus, Vyasa, the ascetic, the scholar, the divine compiler, also became the biological father of the three pivotal figures who would steer the course of the Mahabharata: the blind king Dhritarashtra, the pale but mighty Pandu, and the wise and just Vidura.

The Eternal Sage and a Serene Reminder

Ved Vyasa is not just a character from a distant past; he is a timeless presence. He is considered one of the Chiranjivis, the immortals who live on for the welfare of humanity. His teachings, embedded in the Mahabharata, the Puranas, and the Brahma Sutras, continue to illuminate the path of Dharma, guiding us through the complexities of life.

It's a testament to his enduring legacy that places associated with him still hold a unique spiritual pull. I remember a particularly memorable visit during my 3rd year of engineering, when I was in Rourkela for a summer course at the Rourkela Steel Plant. I had the opportunity to visit Vedvyas in Rourkela, Odisha. This isn't just a geographical location; it's a unique and serene confluence point of three rivers – Shankha, Koel, and Saraswati (which flows underground). The calm atmosphere, the gentle murmur of the rivers, and the ancient temple complex dedicated to Ved Vyasa create an incredibly peaceful and spiritually uplifting experience. It felt like stepping into a different realm, a tangible connection to the very sage whose stories I'd grown up with. It's truly a spot where you can feel the echoes of ancient wisdom.

His story is a testament to the power of purpose, the depth of spiritual wisdom, and the enduring legacy of a sage who, through his unparalleled contributions, truly became the "Guru of the Universe."

What are your thoughts on this extraordinary sage and the significance of Guru Purnima? Share them in the comments below!

Unconventional approach to motherhood!!

A story I read years ago in a Sunday newspaper has stayed with me ever since, its unsettling details lingering in my mind. I'm not sure why I was so drawn to such narratives back then, but now I wonder if it would have been better to have never encountered them at all. Did they shape me, or simply reveal the harsh realities life can present? Regardless, their imprint remains.

The story revolved around a married, working woman who desperately yearned for a child. Her husband's health condition, however, made conception impossible. Her depression was palpable, even to her colleagues. One day, her boss, a seemingly considerate man, broached the sensitive topic. Hesitantly, she confided in him about her struggles. To her surprise, he invoked a Hindu belief that permits having a child outside of marriage if the partner is unable to conceive. He suggested, "You can have a kid with anyone." When she, perhaps impulsively, asked if he would help, he was taken aback but ultimately agreed. They devised a plan: she would give her husband homeopathic medicine, claiming it would aid conception. Their clandestine encounter in a hotel room led to a successful pregnancy. Her husband, blissfully unaware, attributed their good fortune to the medicine.

Yet, a profound incompleteness settled upon the woman. In her private world, she replayed the intimate moment with her boss, the one that brought her child into existence. They never spoke of it again, remaining colleagues who respected each other's boundaries. Still, the memory of that shared moment continued to haunt her, leaving her with an enduring sense of unfulfillment.

Echoes in Literature and Modern Solutions

A few months ago, I encountered a similar theme in an Amrita Pritam story. In her narrative, a woman conceives a child with her brother-in-law, raising the child with funds she earned or received from him. Despite her marriage, her affection for her brother-in-law persisted.

More recently, I watched a film about the first IVF procedure, though I only saw half of it. It struck me how thankfully, medical advancements like IVF now offer a path to parenthood, sparing women the need to seek out multiple partners to conceive. The desire to experience parenthood is a fundamental human need, and it should be accessible to all. While some cultures forbid IVF, our own scriptures offer a different perspective. The birth of the Kauravas—99 brothers and one sister—to mother Gandhari in a process akin to IVF, or Kunti and Madri conceiving children with different gods due to Pandu's inability to father, all suggest unconventional paths to procreation. Even Dhritarashtra, Pandu, and Vidura were born from Rishi Vedavyas, and Satyavati, Vedavyas's mother, conceived him with Rishi Parashar, not her husband Santanu.

The Unspoken Plight of Women

Despite these historical and mythological precedents, there's a glaring omission: nowhere do these narratives fully explore the emotional and personal toll on women who undertake such journeys simply to have a child. Our scriptures often prioritize societal norms and lineage over the individual needs of a woman. Why is it that a woman's fundamental desire for a complete and satisfying life, encompassing the experience of motherhood, seems to be overlooked? Conversely, if a woman is unable to conceive, the man can simply marry another woman, often taking care of both women. Why is this disparity so prevalent? Atleast he do not have to just have a kid. 

The Game of Love!!

Love, a bargain, it seems, a peculiar art,

Where if you cherish, you play but a small part.

Too available, your worth starts to fade,

The love you deserve, a promise unmade.

Play too cautious, and love slips like sand,

For fading it does, with a careful hand.

Take a bold risk, yet it still takes its flight,

Perhaps too risky, you lose the good fight.

So tell me, dear heart, how is this game won?

For I have failed, and my loving's not done.

Though my love is gone, a part of me yearns,

For the self that was mad, where passion still burns.

That self that cared, and tried to embrace,

Gave its everything, in love's tender space.

Yet I lost in this game, with a heavy, sad sigh,

Still I love the same, as moments go by.

Maturity: A reckoning!!

 Did I truly mature, or did I simply age? This question gnaws at me today, amplified by a newspaper article on aging and maturity. Why couldn't I foresee my present struggles when I was younger? Why did I consistently sideline my own needs, prioritizing the understanding of others? Even when I didn't give people exactly what they wanted, I was always trying to grasp their situations, their states of mind.

Is this maturity, or a profound denial of my own problems, an endless effort to just "understand" others as they are? Was I seeking to please them, or just clinging to the hope that everything would somehow work out? Unlike my peers, why did I always believe "it will be fine"?

Now, I find myself struggling to understand my own needs, to discern what's truly best for me. Am I a fool for thinking I could navigate anything, or for not knowing myself at all?

Do Our Childhood Mistakes Shape Our Future Suffering?

I recently watched a powerful reel featuring a mother of a child with special needs. She candidly shared a profound realization: her current struggles felt like an echo of her past, a consequence of her youthful inability to empathize with her own mother's pain. As a teenager, her father suffered paralysis, rendering him bedridden. Her mother, overwhelmed by the demanding care, desperately needed help. Yet, this woman, then a teen, admitted she didn't grasp the gravity of the situation and often failed to offer timely assistance. She confessed that her present challenges, caring for her own child with special needs, felt like a harsh lesson, a mirroring of the very burden her mother once carried. Her message was clear and deeply appreciated: it's crucial to understand and support those around us.

It takes immense courage to acknowledge personal shortcomings, strive for amends, and then openly share that vulnerability to guide others. However, a nagging question lingered in my mind: Is it truly just for someone to carry the burden of a childhood mistake throughout their entire life? Wasn't witnessing her father's paralysis and the subsequent upheaval a punishment in itself? Surely, it brought immense financial, psychological, and emotional strain to the entire family. They must have, in some way, collectively endured that suffering. To then face a similar, lifelong dependency with her own child – how can this be justified? Is it not cruel that a lack of understanding as a teenager could lead to such a profound and enduring consequence? As I understand it, most religions depict God as all-merciful. So, why would such suffering not be alleviated? Why must a person who so clearly recognizes their past error continue to endure such hardship?

This reflection brought to mind a similar experience from my own life, back when I was in 9th or 10th grade. My aunt, my father's sister, visited and I overheard her comparing her misfortunes to my father's, lamenting her lack of his "fortune." At the time, I couldn't comprehend her pain; I only registered her jealousy. Of course, her life had been incredibly tough. She couldn't continue her studies after my grandmother's passing, married young, and had a much larger family than ours. She too had a child with special needs, all of which fueled her envy. Tragically, she passed away prematurely, unable to cope with the immense pain that ultimately led to her illness.

Where does it all go wrong? Why does God not grant mercy to those who so desperately need it? Sometimes, it feels like a cruel paradox: just as money begets more money, pain seems to beget more pain.

A phantom Love!!

A love in my mind, a phantom so bright,

He laughs with my soul, he holds me so tight.

Always beside me, a comforting guide,

This version of you, where true feelings hide.

But reality calls, a harsh, sudden chime,

It's just me, this vision, a trick of time.

Perhaps you were different, a stranger unknown,

Yet my heart won't release what my mind has sown.

Years fade like whispers, but he lingers on,

This dream I created, at dusk and at dawn.

Was it ever real? I truly can't say,

This love I still carry, come what may.

I question the heavens, why this path for me?

To love what was never, nor meant to be.

What good has this burden, this ache I still bear?

A love unfulfilled, hanging in the air.

Today, understanding, a truth I embrace,

How could I bring joy, or fill your life's space?

My soul etched with sorrow, a constant, deep sign,

If pain was my choice, then you were not mine.

You, meant for triumphs, for dreams to take flight,

And I, to surrender, and fade into light.

So different our paths, no match to be found,

Yet this echo of you, forever profound.

Let me hold this illusion, till memories cease,

Or I, too, am erased, finding ultimate peace.

My unfinished story!!

I wish I'd learned, when I was small,

To set my goals, and give my all.

To hit each target, year by year,

And chase away all doubt and fear.

I wish for siblings, older, wise,

To teach me things before my eyes.

To show me what I ought to do,

And guide my steps the whole way through.

I wish I'd put my looks first, then,

My confidence, again, again.

For girls, a truth, I now can see:

Looks matter most, for you and me.

I wish I'd left before they left,

Before my heart felt so bereft.

To guard myself from feeling deep,

No promises I couldn't keep.

I wish I'd chosen love for me,

Not sacrificed so willingly.

To own my wrongs, with open mind,

No hiding places left behind.

I wish I'd prayed for my own soul,

And made my well-being truly whole.

To know I'm just as worthy, too,

As anyone, in all I do.

I wish for bravery, strong and bold,

A story waiting to unfold.

So many flaws, I carry still,

Yet here I am, by strength and will.

Some find success, and fame so bright,

Then fade away into the night.

They die too soon, their race is done,

But I'm still here, without a sun,

No second chances, yet I stand,

A quiet life, across the land.

I know that after death's embrace,

These lessons learned will leave no trace.

If born again, in future years,

My own words read, might bring forth tears,

Of faults discovered, fresh and new.

So what's the point of all I gain?

This wisdom small, still brings me pain.

I feel so little, though I've known,

A wisdom small, yet all my own.

Dear Lord, This Time, I'm Angry!!

 

It's not often I feel this way, but right now, I'm genuinely angry. Angry at you, my Lord. I wish more than anything I could sit across from you and just get some answers. You've appeared for others, for your devotees. I know I'm not a grand devotee, or someone particularly special. You are out of your abode to meet everyone. But please, tell me: Where did I go wrong?

I look at my friend – she had her fun in college, got divorced a few years back, and now she's getting remarried. Is love and trust really that easy for some? If so, why has it been so incredibly hard for me? Why couldn't I just give up on this seemingly "out of syllabus" life questionnaire that felt impossible from the start? Am I being punished for even attempting it?

My choices have led me down a dark, uncertain path. Why couldn't I have made the same choices as my friends? Even realizing it now, I still don't have the courage to just walk away from everything.

And what about two years ago? Why did you allow something so unrealistic, so ideal for me, to happen? Why did I do something so foolish, something I'd guarded against for years? And last year? If something isn't meant for me, can't you just keep it away? And if there are loose ends, who's cleaning them up, dear Lord? Please don't tell me it's me. I prayed. That was my best.

I know my understanding of what's best for me is limited. I don't have all the answers. So, can't you just protect me? Who do you think is going to? I've even lost faith that you can change anything in my life. So, I'm begging you: Take something from me, resolve whatever I did without your approval. Maybe I make terrible choices, but I still believe you can keep me on the right path. Please, don't let me become someone I never wanted to be.

When life throws stones at you!!

During my college years, a particular quote resonated deeply with me: "If you throw a stone at me, I will carve statues out of it." It felt like a more active, perhaps even defiant, version of the familiar "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

The first time life truly taught me a lesson through hardship, not through gentle learning, that quote immediately came to mind. I even posted it on my Facebook wall. A friend, perhaps trying to be witty, commented, "So, we should throw stones at you?" It stung, making me question if I was inadvertently inviting negativity into my life.

Since then, my journey has felt less like a stroll through a garden and more like navigating a rocky path. It often feels as though life has thrown more stones my way than it has offered pleasant memories. Despite this, I've consistently tried to embody that quote, reminding myself to keep going and to make the best of every challenging situation.

Yet, a persistent question nags at me: why does it feel like I'm constantly being given "waste" to turn into "best out of waste" projects? Why not the "best out of best"? Imagine the marvelous creations I could build if I had premium materials, rather than expending all my energy transforming scraps into something merely meaningful. When you start with the finest raw materials, the end product is undeniably more appealing than something painstakingly crafted from discarded junk. The effort required to make something worthwhile from waste is immense, and it often struggles to compete with creations born from fresh, high-quality materials. While an occasional "best out of waste" project can be satisfying, it's not a perpetually joyful endeavor.

I hope this metaphor resonates with your own experiences in life. Lately, however, I feel as though I'm drowning in that very "waste garbage." My interest in transforming it into anything meaningful has dwindled. Still, I find myself unable to escape, compelled to continue until something truly extraordinary offers a miraculous way out.

Oh lord of the lord's!!

 Oh, Divine within, my very soul's own core,

You see me bare, know depths I can't explore.

Yet in this knowing, a space I feel, unbound,

A whisper of Your presence, nowhere found.

No plea for boons, no bounty do I seek,

For Your true wisdom, my spirit's humble peak.

This time, no gratitude, no whispered prayer,

But all I am, laid vulnerable and bare.

Take this, I beg, before my spirit shifts,

Before the changing winds bring weary drifts.

Claim all of me, and set my spirit free,

Make haste, dear Lord, for patience fades from me.

I've learned its grace, yet now it slips away,

Before my thoughts condemn me to dismay.

Oh, right my sums, untangle every thread,

Let tears not fall, nor bitter words be said.

Release me now from every binding deed,

In peace, not fragments, plant my final seed.

Accept this offering, swiftly, I implore,

And let me find my peace, forevermore.

When your own mother breaks your heart!!

 I'm reeling from something I read today – a news story about a mother who abandoned her 16-month-old baby for ten days to go on vacation, returning to find the child had cried to death. The sheer lack of remorse from this woman, who was sentenced to life imprisonment, is utterly soul-destroying.

As a mother, this incident has shattered some fundamental beliefs I held. It's a brutal reminder that the capacity for immense cruelty can exist even within a mother. We're so accustomed to elevating mothers to near-divine status in our cultures, celebrating their role as life-givers. And yes, mothers endure incredible pain, they nurture, they care. But this story, and others like it, force me to confront the uncomfortable truth: a mother's love isn't always unconditional. It can wane, or even disappear, especially if a child challenges her will, or if she simply doesn't truly value them. Not every mother embodies goodness.

This profound realization has led me to a crucial wish for my own child. I don't want your love for me to be a default setting, simply because I'm your mother.

My dear child, when you are older and capable of critical thought, if you ever perceive that I've fallen short, I urge you to tell me. Come to me privately and explain where you believe I went wrong. Don't love me blindly. While I promise to always strive to be the best mother I can be, my judgment is not infallible. I'm not the smartest or the wisest, and I will make mistakes.

My only plea is that these important conversations happen in private. As I grow older, I will become more fragile and less able to cope with public humiliation. Our cultures often promote the idea of unconditional parental love, but in reality, it often comes with an unspoken boundary – the limits of a parent's tolerance for a child's independent thoughts and actions. You're too young to grasp the nuances of this now, but it's something we will both learn and grow into. I'll continue to reflect on this and articulate it better as I find the right words.

A mortal's plea to the devine!!

 Sometimes, the world just feels... heavy. The news, the hurt, the way we treat each other. And in those moments, a silent scream rises from deep within. A question, directed to the heavens, that feels too big to even whisper:

Oh, God, If you protect us all,

If you nurture every soul,

Then why the hate, this human mess?

 Why don't you stop this bitterness?

It's a bold question, I know. We're taught of your immense power, your endless grace. But then I look around and wonder:

 Are you so mighty, do you need

To come as Avatar, plant a seed

Of goodness here, on earthly ground?

Can't hearts be changed, without a sound,

From deep inside, where true change lies?

We wait. We suffer. We hope for a better time, a peaceful place. But why does it feel like an infinite journey, a cycle of pain we must endure?

Why must we wait, so very long,

Or die and rise, where we belong,

In peace at last, a sacred space?

If love is truly your embrace,

Why can't we simply reach there now?

And the pain... oh, the pain. Not just the physical, but the soul-deep ache of disappointment, of betrayal, of unforgiveness.

Why must we suffer, bear such weight?

Why does resentment seal our fate?

Why can't a father just forgive,

His child's misstep, and let them live

Without the harshness of a blow?

In those moments, when my spirit aches, and tears threaten to fall, my voice often catches. My mind wants to surrender to the despair, but something deep within refuses to break. It's a silent battle.

Sometimes, it hurts, everywhere I turn,

I want to scream, but lessons learned

Keep voice held back, a silent plea.

My mind gives up, but still I see

No way to stop this pain, it flows.

And so, I ask you, God, wherever you are, listening to the murmurs of our troubled hearts:

Tell me where it ends, how soon, how fast?

When will this shadow finally pass?

When can I truly find release?

When can I finally know your peace?

 "Perhaps the answers aren't simple, but asking the questions is the first step." or "Even in the asking, there's a kind of hope."

Unloved!!

I didn't hate the one I held so dear,

But your love for me just wasn't clear.

You let me go, without a sigh,

No feeling touched you, watching me fly.

It hurts me still, this very day,

I miss what was, come what may.

But I know well, it means to you

Nothing at all, my heart so blue.

So what then, is the greater ache?

To feel such pain, as love forsakes.

To know my love, though strong and true,

Was never quite enough for you.

I forgot what loving truly meant,

Only to learn, when all was rent,

That love is caring, deep and wide,

Even if in your heart, I cannot reside.

And worse, to live, forever bound,

By knowing I'll never again be found

As "enough," in any heart or mind,

A broken piece, left far behind.

Echoes of a Cheerleader

Oh, to be that cheerleader,

The one I yearned to be.

To lift my voice in joyful cheer,

For victories, wild and free.

I miss the taste of sweet success,

Baked by my own two hands.

The special meal, a loving press,

For triumphs across the lands.

But fortune's gaze, it turned away,

No luck for me, it seemed.

My patience tried, my courage frayed,

A path I'd never dreamed.

No grand parades, no quiet joys,

No wins, nor small nor great.

My wishes now, like fading toys,

Succumb to cruelest fate.

Yet sometimes, from the shadows deep,

A memory takes hold.

One person gone, a promise to keep,

My world shattered, stories untold.

And still, I breathe, still here am I.

Alive, beneath a fractured sky.

The Art of waiting!!

 Having tasted life's design,

A wisdom deep, I then did find:

That patience holds a truth divine,

The very core of humankind.

Should cruel words sting, or judgment fall,

'Tis patience that withstands it all.

When cherished bonds begin to pall,

'Tis patience answers freedom's call.

When anger burns, a sudden fire,

'Tis patience calms the wild desire.

When hopes are met with no acquire,

'Tis patience lifts us ever higher.

So let its gentle current keep,

Your spirit flowing, soft and deep.

The Curious Case of the India Post Parcel: A Near Scam Experience

 

Yesterday morning, a message popped up on my phone: "A parcel has been booked for you in India Post." My immediate reaction was a mix of surprise and suspicion. Who would be sending me something via India Post? Then, this morning, another message arrived, stating the parcel was near my location.

My alarm bells were ringing. A few years ago, I'd almost fallen victim to a similar scam involving an unexpected parcel and demands for excise duty. I braced myself, fully expecting a call from a scammer, ready to demand payment for some fabricated customs charge. But a nagging question lingered: how could a scammer generate a legitimate India Post tracking number, one that was actually traceable on their official website? This thought truly bothered me, especially considering how easily such tactics could trick elderly individuals.

As evening approached, my phone rang. A man's voice on the other end announced, "I'm from the post office, and I'm at your door. Please collect your parcel; it's from Amazon." Amazon? My confusion deepened. Since when did Amazon use India Post for deliveries? My recent Amazon order was still showing an expected delivery date of Thursday.

To my immense relief, it wasn't a scam after all! It turns out India Post has partnered with Amazon for deliveries, and surprisingly, they're providing speedy service. It's fantastic to see the government-run India Post, known for its affordable services, adapting to the times.

This whole experience got me thinking about how much India Post has evolved. With the internet boom and the advent of services like IMPS, I doubt many people are still sending money orders. And telegrams? A relic of the past! I remember drafting telegrams in English class back in school; now, I imagine that's been replaced by email drafting lessons.

It's truly a testament to India Post's resilience and adaptability that they're finding new ways to stay relevant in our rapidly changing digital world.

Have you had any surprising experiences with traditional postal services recently? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

The Uncomfortable Truth About Modern Success!!

 I recently stumbled upon a video clip that left me perplexed and a little unsettled. It featured a woman, seemingly around my age, radiant in a red princess dress, accepting an award. What truly caught me off guard, and honestly, irked me a bit, was her insistent prompting to the announcer. "Make sure they know I won that pageant a few years back!" she’d loudly interject. Then, "Don't forget to mention I'm a celebrity jury!" And, almost immediately after, "Announce that I'm the CEO of XYZ company!" My mind reeled. "Wow," I thought, "how the fundamentals of self-promotion have drastically changed." It felt like a direct contradiction to everything I was ever taught – a time when we were repeatedly told, "Don't brag about yourself." It just goes to show, time truly changes everything, even the very essence of how we present ourselves.

This incident dragged me back to a vivid memory. I once had a manager who asked me about my contribution to a project. I remember being hesitant, almost cringing at the thought of "bragging" about my work. His response, delivered with a mix of amusement and genuine appreciation, was, "Why are you being so humble? I know you did this, and I'm happy with your work. You don't have to be humble always." It was a stark contrast to observing a teammate of mine later that day, confidently claiming and even exaggerating their role in the very same piece of work. A part of me, even now, wishes I could do that. I’ve always felt I lag behind in that department – the ability to effectively highlight my achievements without feeling like I'm overstating them. But these days, people seem to possess an innate understanding of how to frame their contributions in a way that makes them appear proportionally larger, more significant. The words they choose, the way they articulate their actions, just makes everything seem bigger and better.

I genuinely wish I could learn that skill. Though, at times, it feels almost pointless to try and adapt now, a new and pressing anxiety creeps in when I think about the future. I have a child, and I know I need to equip them for a world that will likely be even more challenging and competitive. How do I teach a child something I've never truly mastered myself? Will AI be the answer? Will someone, anyone, just give me a clear roadmap, a practical guide on how to navigate and thrive in this new reality of self-promotion? The thought, honestly, frightens me.

जीवन और मृत्यु का विरोधाभास!!

 

अभी तो आधा ही साल बीता है,

हादसों ने हर रोज़ हमें है सताया है

कभी मासूम घूमने गए, जान गँवा बैठे,

कहीं खुशियों के रंग में मातम छाया।

दफ्तर जाते हुए लोग फिसल कर गिरे,

कोई परदेस जाते-जाते दुनिया से विदा हुआ।

छात्रावास में पढ़ते-पढ़ते किसी ने दम तोड़ा,

हर हादसे ने दिल को गहरा दर्द पहुँचाया।

ये सब देख हर कोई मायूस हुआ,

पर कुछ ऐसे भी हैं जिन्हें मौत का बेसब्री से इंतजार है।

साँसें चलती हैं, पर जीवन थम सा गया है,

वो बस जिए चले जा रहे हैं।

मेरी बातें शायद अजीब लगें, पर ज़रा सब्र से सोचो:

वो बूढ़े, बीमार माँ-बाप, जो लाचार हैं,

अपने काम भी नहीं कर पाते, उन्हें मौत का इंतज़ार है।

जिनके छोटे बच्चे लाइलाज बीमारियों से पीड़ित हैं,

वो भी बस मौत की राह ताक रहे हैं।

आखिर कब तक कोई जीवन से मोहब्बत करे,

गर ज़िंदगी हर पल इम्तिहान लेती रहे?

ऐसे लोग दुआ करते हैं, "बस आ ओ मौत, हमें ले जा।"

पर देखो इस माया को, किसे कब ले जाए?

मरना तो सबको है, पर कोई हादसे का शिकार है,

तो कोई उम्मीद लगाए इंतज़ार में 

है, कि मौत जल्दी आ जाए।

प्रेम क्या होता है??

 प्रेम क्या होता है??

जैसे इंजीनियरिंग की डिग्री पर IIT का स्टाम्प !!

प्रेम क्या होता है ??

जैसे सिल्क की साड़ी पर जरी का काम !!

प्रेम क्या होता है

जैसे काजू कतली पर चाँदी की वर्फ !!

प्रेम वह है जो किसी को और सुन्दर बनाये 

जैसे कृष्ण के छूने से बास बासुरी बन जाए !!

Guests in our own homes!!

You might think I'm always expressing my anguish in my posts, and yes, I am. I admit it. For the past few years, I've been going through a very hard time personally. I've also seen terrible things happen to people I care about. I used to wake up and try to think positively, hoping for a better day, but I've given up on that now.

Today, for example, I was doing quite well until my friend called this evening. She finally opened up about the money problems she's facing after losing her husband.

I grew up hearing that Empowering  women is vital for a healthy society. But tell me, what exactly does "empowerment" mean? Is it just about a girl being born, getting an education, being allowed to work, and then marrying into another family who decides her future? After marriage, it seems a woman's fate is sealed. If she's lucky, she'll have an understanding and supportive husband who takes care of her needs. Otherwise, no one cares about her because everyone is too busy protecting their own image in society.

If a girl faces abuse and tells her family, they don't easily accept that their daughter is in trouble. If she loses her husband, they say it's "her fate." She can come back and live with them, but they won't help her financially. Let me explain: my friend's parents both worked and now get good pensions. Her brother and sister-in-law have good jobs in government. They don't have any money problems. But my friend, she's the only one struggling. She left her job after her husband died because she couldn't handle the loss at such a young age and found it too hard to be at work by herself.

At first, her family pretended to care about her health, but now they act like she's just a burden. Her in-laws won't even pay for their grandchild's education, saying she got insurance money. How much is that? Just a few lakhs, for a life that could last many years. Do you think that's enough?

A woman wouldn't expect money from her own family or in-laws if they were struggling. But no, they are all doing well, buying new properties and building houses, yet they can't lend her a few thousand to help her get her confidence back. Where has this "empowerment" gone?

True empowerment is about the support a woman gets from her own family and her in-laws. When that support is taken away, it slowly destroys the confidence of a woman who might have worked for many years. And remember, women don't just sit around at home.

But the work they do at home is never valued. Educated, well-off parents don't understand their daughter's pain. It's heartbreaking. It makes me wonder: were they even happy when their firstborn, a daughter, was born? She made them parents, but were they truly as happy as when they had their second child, a son?

This is the situation for women who don't even face dowry harassment or physical abuse. What do we call it? Why is there such a big difference between how girls and boys are treated in our society? From childhood, we are told we will go to another family. We become like guests in our own homes just one day after we get married. Even though we help pay for the house we make with our husband, it never truly feels like ours. Any day, they can make our lives miserable and force us to leave just for our own peace of mind. Someone asked why we stay in such situations for so long. Tell me, who is there to support us?

All this talk of empowerment can be taken away just by removing the support a woman needs to grow. Your support is vital, not just education or a job. Life teaches hard lessons. When a daughter goes through a tough time, can her family not share that pain? No, the pain belongs only to you. No one is there to hold your hand and say, "I'm here for you, I'll look after you, go ahead, I'll have your back."

Echoes of a Name: A legacy of pain!!

Oh, the ache in my soul as I revisit those ancient words! I wrote them so long ago, musing on the very essence of my name, Sharmistha. I wondered then, with a youthful innocence I now mourn, what did that queen, that noble Sharmistha, truly gain from the countless sacrifices she made for her kingdom, for her people? Even then, the answer was a whisper of despair: only pain.

Today, after what feels like an eternity, that same agonizing question rips through me, only this time, it's my own life I hold under the microscope: what have I gained from the endless compromises I've made? And the answer, a cruel echo from the past, screams back: pain, nothing but pain. I never claimed to sacrifice for anyone, no grand, sweeping gestures. But I've been forced to compromise on a level that gnaws at my very being.

Is there truly a difference between sacrifice and compromise? Google, in its cold, clinical wisdom, says compromise is a negotiation, a middle ground, while sacrifice is a surrender, a giving up without recompense. So tell me, where do my choices fall? Did I sacrifice, or did I compromise? My mind, always battling, always seeking meaning, once believed sacrifice was a willing surrender, while compromise was a forced acceptance. But now… now they seem to be two sides of the same tarnished coin, separated by a line so gossamer-thin, it's invisible.

I made these choices, these agonizing concessions, because I saw no other path, no other solution. And oh, how I regret it! I regret accepting this uphill battle, this thankless task, with absolutely nothing in return. The pride I once felt in my name, the surge of meaning that swelled within me when I first understood it, when I first poured out those words on paper… it's gone. Utterly, completely gone.

A part of me, a deep, wounded part, wishes with every fiber of my being that my father had named me Soumya . What if names truly are destiny? What if they sculpt our very character? Soumya… she would have conquered, like the fierce and glorious Goddess Durga, not just accepted pain in the brutal negotiations of life's harsh choices. What if Durga herself had imbued me with that unyielding strength, that power to overcome every challenge with effortless grace? But alas, it’s far, far too late even to dwell on such a heartbreaking "what if?"

The price of modern emotions!!

 It hit me hard when I saw that post—a woman celebrating her divorce with a huge cake, a photoshoot, and a party that looked like a destination wedding. My immediate, gut reaction was a surge of confusion and discomfort. I know, I know, I shouldn't judge other people's choices, but let's be honest, we all filter the world through our own beliefs, don't we?

It just makes me wonder... is this what we've come to? People shelling out significant money—hundreds of thousands, even—on lavish vacations or luxury cars to "get over" something as deeply personal as a breakup or divorce. It's almost as if they're screaming, "These emotions? They're worth so little! I can just replace them with something shiny." When there are genuinely caring people who would offer them comfort and support, freely given from the heart, it feels like such a stark contrast.

Then, I saw something even more perplexing: people buying luxury cars right after a parent's death. My jaw practically dropped. What?! That just feels so incredibly weird to me. In our culture, we're taught to observe a period of mourning, often not even buying new clothes for a year. How does a luxury car fit into that? Are they trying to tell us that the profound grief of losing a parent is so easily quantifiable, so easily swept aside by a material possession?

It makes me sick to my stomach to even consider it, but could we be headed towards a future where people celebrate losing a spouse with the purchase of a grand bungalow? It's not impossible, is it? Especially with life insurance payouts worth millions. Why not just invest that windfall in a luxury property deal? The thought is truly unsettling.

Is this the true cost of emotions these days? Because they're "free," are they seen as easily replaceable, effortlessly swapped out for something expensive? Is this truly uplifting us, or is it dragging us down, making us more superficial? Maybe I'm one of the few who still believes that certain emotions, certain experiences, shouldn't be overridden by a mere purchase.

Sure, that fancy car or lavish party might bring a momentary flicker of happiness, but can it truly erase the deep-seated ache of loss? Perhaps having that kind of money offers a different kind of relief, but it certainly can't fill the void. Even if a breakup or divorce was ultimately for the best, it's rarely a truly "happy" event. So what's the real purpose of these elaborate celebrations? What are they really trying to prove?

When Compassion Fades: A Heart's Lament!!

 

My heart ached today as I listened to my dear friend, her voice heavy with a pain no mother should bear. Her child, navigating the demanding path of an internship and looming entrance exams, carries the added burden of their uncle's cruel words. Since losing her husband, my friend and her child have found refuge with her brother, but that sanctuary has become a source of fresh wounds, daily reminders that they are seen as a burden.

It shattered me to hear, stirring a familiar, unsettling question: who truly stands by us when life unravels? We instinctively turn to family, seeking comfort in their embrace, especially when unpredictable sorrows strike. Is it so wrong to expect that solace? Each of us possesses a unique capacity for pain. What one person might shrug off, another finds utterly crushing. The irreplaceable loss of a partner is a chasm no love can fill, yet why does the compassion of family so often dwindle, leaving a suffocating void?

Why do we, as siblings, fail to offer the unwavering support our own flesh and blood desperately needs? If we cannot extend kindness within our closest circle, how can we hope to genuinely help anyone else? This slide into greed and selfishness, this inability to truly see and acknowledge another's suffering, is a deeply unsettling reality.

I tried to offer my friend solace, to encourage her to seek other avenues, but even as I spoke, a profound weariness settled over me. Why does life, already so inherently painful, insist on piling on these unnecessary cruelties?

The world outside seems to mock this private anguish. News reports trumpet arrests of individuals caught with illicit wealth, men who brazenly flaunt their ill-gotten gains. How many more slip through the cracks, part of an unseen network of corruption that thrives unchecked? It feels so profoundly unjust. Some are born into lives of ease, their desires seemingly met with every turn, while others are condemned to a relentless parade of suffering. Is this the cosmic balance? That those who cheat prosper, and those who bear their pain are simply destined for more? What, then, is the highest good in all of this?

I've spent a lifetime writing about finding ease in life, yet today, those words feel hollow, impossible to embody. Is it the inevitable weariness of age, or the bitter taste of unfulfilled desires replaced by an abundance of pain? What is this force that compels me to question, to rail against such apparent injustice?

समय का घाव !!

 वक़्त ने जो छीन लिया ..

वह कभी लौटकर नहीं आया !!

चेहरे वही है आस पास.. 

पर अपनापन कही खो गया ! 

हर दिन कुछ तोह बदलता है..

पर बीते कल की चुभन रहती है !!

वक़्त सब कुछ ठीक करता है..

यह भी एक झूठ सा लगता है !! 

Scars of unreciprocated affection !!

 Today, I finally finished that movie I'd left hanging, and what an ending it had! The courtroom debate and the defense lawyer's powerful punchline about our education system failing to teach the consequences of loving a minor girl really struck a chord with me. It was a love story between a 19-year-old boy and a 17-year-old girl, and it made me reflect deeply. You know, nobody becomes truly mature overnight, as much as society expects them to. It made me wonder, how does love really happen? Do we honestly calculate so much when we fall in love? They call it "falling" for a reason, right? Because you absolutely don't weigh the consequences when it happens.

I desperately wish modern science could invent some miraculous technology to tell us if the person we fall in love with is meant for our future. But then, would that even stop anyone from loving someone else? Love is this incredible force that creates everything – it's the love for technology, for innovation, that brings new things into existence. Yet, the world seems to divide and categorize love when it's between individuals. While our society is rapidly changing, and love isn't suppressed like it was for our parents' generation, there's a new kind of pain.

The only thing that truly hurts now is how fast people change. One day, they love you, and the next, you're nothing to them. To love someone so deeply and have them not reciprocate in the same way leaves a scar that might never heal.

It's ironic, isn't it? Our technology is evolving with terms like "self-healing" in Kubernetes. I even heard in psychology that you can only truly self-heal, before I started learning Kubernetes – in both cases, it means recovering on your own. But human emotions can never truly go back to where they were, unlike those Kubernetes pods.

It's almost amusing how the masterminds behind Kubernetes borrowed terminology from psychology. Then again, great scientists were always seen as crazy or mad to invent things that first existed only in their minds. So, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by the parallels between these rapidly advancing technologies and our ever-changing human psychology.

It makes you wonder, doesn't it? How resilient are you to changing your perspective on everything life throws your way?

Love, power and the unseen hand of society!!

 Today, I settled in for a movie, something I hadn't done in a long time. But I couldn't finish it. Instead, I felt an overwhelming urge to write about it, and about so many other things in our society that we've come to accept as "normal."

The film told a familiar tale: a boy from a humble background falls in love with a girl from a wealthy family. It was the kind of love story that dominated the themes of movies during my school days. But this one had a brutal, realistic twist. The girl's affluent family, desperate to protect their social standing, fabricated charges against the young man, sending him to police custody. The final hearing is still pending. I couldn't bear to watch any further.

It's a chilling reminder of how the powerful often manipulate the system to preserve their reputation, no matter the cost to others. It might sound like an exaggeration, but this ruthless pursuit of status is a reality, even today.

Our society is deeply divided by wealth and political influence, divisions that seem to trump everything else. I was recently struck by this when a distant relative had a love marriage. My first thought was, "How did the family agree so easily?" Then I learned the girl came from a politically influential family in her area. That explained it. Despite their daughter being overweight—a fact I don't wish to judge, but one that certainly made me wonder how her parents were convinced—her influential background smoothed the path. The groom, on the other hand, is highly educated and holds a well-paying government position. It makes you wonder, doesn't it? Why is it so much easier for girls born into affluence and power to achieve their desires compared to those from less privileged families?

We have no say in where we are born. Yet, with our birth, we inherit more than just genetic predispositions; we inherit a fate, regardless of our inherent good qualities. I remember my parents telling me that in their time, girls without brothers were often overlooked as brides, as a brother was seen as a protector. Now, I see a drastic shift. Girls without brothers, especially only children, are often preferred. The reasons for this change, I believe, are painfully clear and require no further explanation.

What then, is truly good in this world? Perhaps nothing. It feels like mere survival, accepting whatever hand you're dealt, whether you like it or not. Can we blame anyone for this? Of course not. There's no point even dwelling on it. Time rushes on, and soon, our own stories will reach their end. I write this knowing that while you may ponder these words for a moment, they too, like so much else, will eventually fade from

 memory.

Savitri Amavsya- in modern Indian society!!

 Today is Savitri Amavasya in my state, a day celebrated with much excitement. I see women dressed in new clothes, their hands decorated with beautiful mehndi. They get ready for a day of prayer and devotion. It's lovely to see their commitment as they put on sindoor, a red mark showing they are married, and wear things like a mangalsutra and bangles. These are all believed to protect their husbands.

Married women fast today, a loving gesture for their husbands' health and long life. They wear their new clothes and makeup only after offering them to God first, showing their strong faith. This old tradition comes from a story about a wife's amazing love, how she fought to bring her husband back from death. It's a tale of truly deep devotion.

But as I watch, I also think about how much things have changed in India. More people are getting remarried, and both men and women are choosing different kinds of partners. Sometimes, people who truly love each other are separated for many reasons. So, where does this old tradition fit in today's world?

Is Savitri Amavasya just about wearing new clothes and jewelry now? Or does it still hold a deeper meaning for women today? It's a mix of old ways and new beliefs. Some women choose not to follow every part of this tradition, and that's okay. We shouldn't judge their choices. True love isn't just about following rituals, and a husband's well-being shouldn't depend on his wife's traditions.

The story of Savitri is about incredibly strong love. But in our modern world, where love comes in so many forms, who are we really celebrating? Is it just loyalty to one partner, or the amazing power of love itself, no matter the situation? I'm curious to find out more perspective. 

Ego vs empathy: Navigating life's unsolicited advice!!

 There’s a deep spiritual feeling within me that says good deeds lose their purity if they're shared. But then there’s the world we live in, a world where you have to "sell yourself" to get anywhere. This constant tension leaves me wondering: when is it genuinely helpful to speak up, and when is it just my ego taking over? The line between the two feels impossibly thin.

It’s especially hard when you’re struggling. Everyone, whether they mean to or not, talks as if they’re the expert and you’re completely clueless. You could argue, but it just seems better to stay quiet and listen. I’ve lived this so many times in doctor’s waiting rooms—with my dad, for myself, and now for my son. Complete strangers feel entitled to offer advice. My mind screams, "Do you know anything about my life?" But I just offer a gentle smile, because saying what I really feel would be too rude.

Sometimes, I just want to ask whoever made me this way: did they understand my strengths and weaknesses? If they didn't give me the strength to handle this pain, why give me the pain that makes me question everything about myself and feel so rebellious? Even with these tumultuous thoughts, I sit there, a smile fixed on my face, accepting that even this difficult, unwanted pain is simply part of my path. And I breathe a sigh of relief when another day is done.

The unseen audience!!

 During a difficult period, I started this blog as a personal motivator, a space I could revisit to reignite my spirits. Life's demands eventually pulled me away, and the blogging landscape seemed to have shifted. However, another challenging phase drew me back, this time with a commitment to raw honesty, unburdened by the fear of judgment.

Yet, I still catch myself over-explaining. It makes me wonder, if life is a solitary journey through difficulties, who is my audience? This perplexing journey demands my response, however limited my understanding. Whether it benefits me, whether I learn correctly, or whether I achieve success seems to concern no one else.

Unless I was born into prominence, who truly cares?

Often, the thought arises: why would anyone read the words of an ordinary person simply for trying and failing?

A strong personality appears vital for navigating life's hurdles. Encountering the right people and opportunities at the opportune moment seems crucial for progress. Yet, I consistently find myself in contrary circumstances, my timing perpetually out of sync with my aspirations.

Am I misguided in my life choices? Or am I destined to feel pain so acutely that I learn to release my desires?

What can motivation and discipline achieve without the favor of fortune?

Unveiling the unmasked self!!

 It would be wonderful to have someone in my life with whom I could share my deepest feelings openly and honestly, just as I do in my blog. I long for that close connection, someone who would offer a comforting embrace as I reveal my vulnerabilities, free from the fear of being judged.

When we talk about "letting go," isn't it truly about releasing our ego, our fears, our judgments, our anger—everything we never intended to hold onto in the first place?

The circumstances we face, the environments we inhabit, and the people we encounter along our path significantly influence how we think, behave, and develop our values. But how authentic are these ingrained beliefs?

Some of these influences shape our emotions and our intuition, guiding us to discern what feels right and wrong for us. Our actions, in essence, stem from these deeply rooted perceptions. Yet, life often requires us to learn and then unlearn these very constructs in order to navigate its complexities. Ultimately, we are called to let go of these values.

And yet, throughout our lives, we often cling tightly to the very things we are meant to release.

Why "Letting go" feels like a battle!!

 Letting go is the final act. I saw a sad clip of a couple silently breaking up, their pain clear without words. But when people say "just let go," it's hard. We feel things deeply because we're human, so goodbyes can really hurt. It makes you wonder why we're made to feel such strong connections if we have to lose everything in the end.

Some goodbyes leave scars and make you question why you feel so much. Pain has taught me different things each time. Some hurt made me kinder, some more caring, some tough, and some bitter. Looking back, I wonder if fighting through all that pain, thinking it would fix things, was worth it. Was it really about bad luck, or did I just think I deserved to suffer and that things would get better on their own? I still don't know what went wrong or how to move forward. I still feel lost.

Why did I ever think I deserved pain? Why did I keep believing things would improve? What made me who I am? Was being honest and loyal a mistake? No, those are good things about me. My mistake was thinking everyone else was like me. The world doesn't work that way. I wish I could see people as they really are, not just how I see them.

I wish I knew how people really felt about me when I wasn't around. How they laughed, how they made fun of my feelings, how they were happy when I wasn't there. How some people hurt me and thought I was fine just because I didn't cry. Life has been hard, and I don't expect good things anymore. My life story feels like a sad book, each part worse than the one before. I just wish I could skip to the end and finish this sad story now.

साँसों का सौदा!!

 

अजीब सी आज ये तमन्ना उठी,

दुआओं का अर्पण कर जाऊँ अभी।

जिन्होंने न की कभी परवाह मेरी,

उन्हें भी सुखी रहने की आशीष दूँ सभी।

समेटो ये लम्हे जो जीवन के बचे,

मिटा दो निशाँ मेरा, बस अब यहीं।

निछावर किया प्यार मैंने बेशुमार,

अब साँसों की बारी, ये भी करूँ निसार।

ले जाओ ये जीवन की अंतिम भीख मेरी,

खुशी से बसो तुम, सदा आबाद रहो यार ।

जब राहें हैं जुदा, जाना ही है दूर,

तो हे मेरी रूह, अब तू भी हो जा दूर,|

मेरे साथ क्या पाया तूने बता?

सिवा दर्द के कुछ न था मेरा व्यक्त।

अब उड़ चल कहीं और, अपना जहाँ तू रच।

What Does Terraform Have in Common with the Universe? More Than You Think!!

Lately, I've been diving deep into the world of infrastructure as code with Terraform. As I was practicing my technical skills, something struck me – isn't it fascinating how the fundamental processes we use to manage technology seem to echo patterns we see everywhere else?

Think about it. With Terraform, we go through a clear lifecycle: we initiate our configuration, build or create our infrastructure, and then eventually, when it's no longer needed, we destroy it. This simple sequence got me thinking about how this "initiate, build, destroy" cycle appears in so many different aspects of our world.

Consider, for instance, the concept of the divine in Hinduism. The Trimurti – Brahma, the creator; Vishnu, the nurturer; and Shiva, the destroyer – embodies these very stages at a cosmic level. It's a powerful reminder that creation and destruction aren't necessarily opposing forces, but rather integral parts of a larger, continuous process.

This pattern extends beyond the spiritual realm too. In the software development lifecycle, we initiate a project, build and implement our applications, and then eventually retire or decommission them as newer technologies emerge. It's the same fundamental flow.

Even our own lives seem to follow this pattern. We spend our early years being "built" through education and experiences. Then, we enter a phase of "sustaining" as we apply our skills, build careers, and perhaps even raise families. Finally, we reach a stage of "decommissioning" as our active roles change, eventually leading to the "destruction" of our physical form, making way for new generations.

It's quite a thought, isn't it? This underlying rhythm of initiation, building, and destruction seems to be a fundamental characteristic of existence, from the smallest software deployment to the grandest cosmic cycles and even our own personal journeys.

What are your thoughts on this? Where else do you see this "initiate, build, destroy" pattern in action? I'd love to hear your perspectives in the comments below!

Who Lays Your Bricks?

 Ah, yes, I recall that poignant Hindi story from school, "Neev ka iit" – "The Foundation Brick." Its beauty lies in that very metaphor: some individuals and their quiet efforts become the unseen yet essential foundation upon which grand structures rise. Just as the initial bricks lay the groundwork for a magnificent building, so too do the contributions of certain eminent figures pave the way for a nation's progress.

This resonates deeply on a personal level as well. Our individual foundations are built upon the tireless efforts of those who came before us, most notably our parents. And as we journey through life, the people we encounter continue to shape this foundation, either fortifying it or, sadly, sometimes chipping away at its strength.

Among these human bonds, friendships stand out as particularly significant. These are the individuals who introduce us to love, offer unwavering support, mentor us with their wisdom, and, for many, become our life partners. It's a fascinating aspect of life that many of these crucial connections aren't consciously chosen but rather seem to be woven into the fabric of our destiny, determining who we meet and the duration of their presence in our lives.

Yet, life imparts a crucial lesson: you might find yourself diligently laying bricks for someone else's foundation, only to discover they are undermining yours. Therefore, discernment becomes essential. We must learn to recognize and nurture only those relationships that contribute to our growth and resilience. Life, being the one-way path it is, offers no rewinds or restarts. We can only move forward with the foundation we've built and the choices we continue to make. So, indeed, we must tread carefully in selecting those who will help shape our journey.

आँचल की छाँव!!

 

श्मशान की देवी तू, माँ चंडी अब आस,

एक तुझसे ही बची है, जीवन की अंतिम साँस।

पुकार ले अपनी गोदी में, सुला दे आँचल तले,

थक चुकी हूँ मैं अब माँ, उम्मीद के सब रंग ढले।

तू सुला दे मुझे माँ, एक आखरी बार प्यार से,

न लड़ने की ताकत बची, न कुछ सुनने को अब।

जाने दे मुझको अब माँ, न कर और परेशान,

बस एक बार तू बुला ले, मिटा दे हर निशान।

बहुत हुआ अब जीवन, और कुछ भी नहीं भाता,

बस यही विनती है माँ, तू सुला दे मुझको माता।

Internal reflections on acceptance and change!!

 Amidst heightened security following the recent terrorist attack, my thoughts drifted inwards this morning, contemplating the multifaceted ways we learn and flourish in this shared world.

It seems this world favors those who learn swiftly and possess an unwavering belief in their ability to navigate even the most challenging times. The knack for leveraging opportunities or inspiring others to work towards their goals appears to be a key to thriving, though it's a skill not everyone possesses.

Intelligence alone proves insufficient without opportune timing and placement. To truly thrive, one must find themselves in the right place, surrounded by the right people, at the right moment – a confluence of factors that feels like a rare blessing.

After some deep self-reflection on my own circumstances, a sense of calm settled within me. I recognized my slowness in accepting situations and the intensity of my desire for things to align in my favor. The finality of certain endings and the need to adapt felt particularly difficult, leaving me with a sense of helplessness and dependency. Perhaps enduring a little longer, allowing both the good and the bad to run their course, might have been beneficial. Could this be why similar challenges have resurfaced through different people? Or is this suffering merely a construct of my own mind? Perhaps I would have experienced even greater emotional turmoil. It's impossible to know for sure.

Yet, a question lingers: if those feelings served no positive purpose, why were they bestowed upon me? What if I had possessed detachment from the outset? Wouldn't that have brought a profound sense of peace to my present? What are your thoughts?

Some advice to my lost self!!

 Looking back, here's what I'd tell my younger self at 20:

* Never dim your light to illuminate someone else's path, not even for family.

 * Your journey unfolds at its own pace. Don't rush it.

 * Take chances. The outcome will be either a valuable experience or a lasting story.

 * Be discerning with praise and criticism alike.

 * People often hold you responsible for their unspoken desires. Be aware of this.

 * Pay close attention to behavior, as words can be deceiving.

 * When someone exits your life, they take a piece of you with them. Their vision for the future might not have included you, and that's a hard truth.

 * While support may be scarce, judgment often isn't. Be prepared.

* Ensure your acts of kindness don't come at your own expense.

 * The grace you extend might not always be reciprocated.

* When someone speaks rudely, it's often wise to create distance rather than trying to dissect their behavior. Protecting your peace is paramount.

 * Truly understanding the complexities of human nature can be a significant challenge.

 * You might encounter situations where others create difficulties and then hold you responsible for navigating them.

 * The people who enter and leave our lives are often a matter of chance, a roll of the cosmic dice.

 * Support can sometimes come from unexpected places, like friends, rather than family.

 * There are times when inaction is more beneficial than excessive effort directed towards the wrong individuals. Hindsight often reveals the true nature of our interactions.

 * Navigating difficult interpersonal situations can be messy and confusing. Your reactions, whether silence or anger, primarily impact you.

 * Remember that actions taken cannot be reversed.

Liberation!!

 Life taught me to let go.

It showed me what real love means.

Now I need to use what I learned.

I have to let go of someone I love so much.

Tears in my eyes, my heart feels heavy.

I want to stop wanting you.

I tried so hard to be with you.

But today, for you to be happy,

I have to let you go.

It will make me free too.

I won't have to worry anymore,

And you won't have me in your life.

I made many mistakes.

I took chances and failed badly.

I didn't see the bad signs.

I didn't know what people really wanted.

I thought if I was good, good things would happen.

But people didn't appreciate me.

I can't go through that again.

I don't know how to be better at seeing things.

I can't teach you something

I don't fully understand.

So, how can I help you?

I have to let you go.

Trust me, you will be happy, just not with me.

Even if it hurts, we need to say goodbye.

Don't ever look for me again.

Be happy. You and I were not right for each other.

I prayed so much to have you. When I did, I thought God listened.

I was wrong. Maybe I bothered him so much he just said yes to get rid of me.

You are good, happy, and full of love. Go find someone better than me.

I love you and hope you have a better life than most.

छोड़ गए तुम, उजाड़ गई वो !!

 माना की तुम बेवफा नहीं थे 

मजबूरी थी जो आपने आप को कायर बोलकर चले गए

पर क्या सोचा तुमने कभी तुम्हारी एक निर्णय 

उसको उम्र भर कायर ही बने रहने देगी 

उम्मीद बहत थी उसको तुमसे 

नादान ने ज़िन्दगी भर तुम्हारे साथ

ज़िन्दगी जीना शिखना  चाहती थी 

उसको कोई संभल ने वाला न मिला

 न सीखने वाला 

तुम तोह ज़िन्दगी में खुश हो लिए 

पर उसकी ज़िन्दगी उजड़ गयी, 

कभी आकर शिकायत भी न करे 

उस पगली को सब ने दर्द दिया 

किस किस से उम्मीद हारे उसने 

अब मुस्कुराना वह भूल गयी 

Life's unfairness!!

 Experiences bright, a cherished art,

A happy heart plays a vital part.

To feel the love that gently binds,

A deep content for heart and minds.

The thrill of triumph, sweet and clear,

To hold the reins, dispelling fear.

Yet life's own weave, a tangled thread,

Can bring the wrong things to your bed.

No single soul to bear the blame,

Nor let self-reproach ignite the flame.

Justice delayed= justice denied!!

 Father of the cosmos, if that's truly who You are, how can You stand by and allow the vulnerable to languish? Is Your grand design one where the weak are forged in the crucible of endless struggle against each other? Do You honestly believe that suffering imposed upon suffering breeds true strength, or merely deeper wounds?

Look at me, here, in the dead of night, ripped from sleep despite my body screaming for rest. What cruel whisper does my own subconscious carry from You that it jolts me awake like this? Why does nearly every facet of this existence You've granted feel like a trial, a burden I never asked for?

My mind is a relentless tormentor, a whirlwind of thoughts that lead nowhere, solve nothing. Don't dare speak to me of patience! Fifteen years I've endured this relentless internal battle. My speaking out now is not a testament to a lack of patience, but to its breaking point!

I can no longer reconcile Your supposed omniscience with this agonizing delay, this feeling of utter abandonment. If You know all, then surely You know me. So, is this neglect deliberate? Was my yearning for something different so inherently flawed that it warranted this silence, this void where a better plan should be? You speak of a divine order, a way things are meant to be? Then show me! Unravel the tapestry of what has become my reality based on my past desires. Let it all go, and let me finally glimpse this 'better plan' You supposedly hold. Let me face pain, yes, but let it be a pain with purpose, a lesson learned this time.

Will You finally answer? Will You finally act?

Delayed support -- challenging life!!

 A cloud of unanswered questions hangs heavy in my mind, and the thought of speaking feels unbearable today. Too often, sharing my vulnerabilities has led to the sting of blame, as if I conjured the very chaos that surrounds me. My soul longs for the warmth of connection, the ease of laughter, not this constant ache of isolation within a crowd.

From my earliest memories, I learned to silence my own needs, the fear of stern eyes a powerful deterrent to any request beyond the barest necessities. Even the simple joy of learning to ride a bicycle was a silent sacrifice to my parents' anxieties about Bihar, a concern I intuitively grasped. It wasn't until my ninth grade that I finally taught myself. Was that a failing on my part?

 So many good things have arrived late, their sweetness dulled by the passage of time and the constant feeling of being an afterthought. I remember an office outing, a rare moment of escape. The lure of the disco was simple – to watch others move with joy. Yet, my desire yielded to the preference of a dear friend, a silent concession that became a familiar pattern. Even a fleeting glance was too much to ask.

 This has been the story of my life: the quiet surrender of my own longings, met with a cold indifference when I finally reach out. Now, in my forties, my list of unfulfilled dreams remains long, not for lack of trying, but for the persistent absence of genuine support. To be told I lack seriousness feels like a cruel dismissal of the solitary battles I've fought. Not everything can be conquered alone.

 The chasm between those who are lifted by support and those who are consistently left to flounder creates vastly different destinies. If this is fate, then mine has been a relentless uphill climb.

 I am asked to bloom in a desert of loneliness, surrounded by faces that offer little solace. Help often arrives only when the dam has already burst, not in the gentle, steady drops that could have prevented the flood. And yet, blame feels like a futile exercise against the tide of unfairness.

 Years of weathering this imbalance have left their mark. Sometimes, bitterness seeps into my words; other times, a fragile sweetness remains. There are moments of sharp edges and unexpected tenderness. I am not a machine that consistently produces the desirable when life's pressures mount. I offer a spectrum of responses, each a testament to the ongoing struggle.

My desires are not grand; they are the simple things that others take for granted, arriving for me only after arduous battles. When even the easily attainable demands such a fight, how can I possibly reach for more?

 The urge to express myself feels muted by the question: who truly listens? And even if they do, what tangible difference does it make? The weight of past disappointments has blurred the lines of what even brings me comfort anymore.

Why this constant feeling of being swept along, my own agency curtailed by circumstances I never invited? Before you dismiss my struggles with a laugh, consider the long and painful journey I have endured. You may have been blessed with a smoother path; please, do not mock the landscape of my current misery. I am not the sole architect of this profound unhappiness.