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.

When dreams and reality diverge?

 There's a unique joy in seeing your efforts materialize into something close to your dreams. It's a deeply rewarding and uplifting experience. But this isn't everyone's reality. Many toil and achieve, yet the outcome feels distant from their hopes, leaving behind a residue of unmet longings.

 Navigating life when your aspirations and achievements align is a smoother path. The real challenge lies in confronting the persistent disconnect between your goals and your results. How do you find equilibrium and resilience when your hard work consistently yields outcomes that don't resonate? The typical response involves acceptance, recalibration, and compromise – an ongoing process of adjustment.

But what happens when this pattern becomes a relentless cycle? A feeling of being perpetually misplaced can take root. Despite outward success, inner discontent festers. You might begin to question the value of your efforts, even wishing you'd avoided them entirely. How does one walk this difficult path?

A world of extreme: from murder to Johastu!!

"This morning, a news story struck me deeply. A mother, driven to the unthinkable act of killing her three children to pursue a relationship with a former classmate, left me profoundly unsettled. It's precisely this kind of report that makes me retreat from the news, seeking solace only in the editorial section's familiar columns.

This incident dredged up a memory from my time in Jamalpur: another mother, also with three children, who murdered her husband. The method was chilling – poison followed by a railway rail laid across his throat, all orchestrated with her lover. I used to judge such acts with a harsh certainty. Now, I find myself judging the circumstances, the desperate, unfulfilled desires that might push someone to such extremes. I recall reading about lionesses, how postpartum depression can drive them to kill and consume their own cubs.

The sheer intensity of such mental strain is almost incomprehensible. What could possibly drive someone to such a point? While I can't justify these actions, I recognize that we all navigate periods of profound vulnerability.

Who among us welcomes rejection, persistent failure, debilitating illness, or crushing financial instability? We all yearn for happiness, yet it's not a universal experience. When life offers even a sliver of contentment, maintaining composure and gratitude is easier. But when life throws every conceivable hardship at once, the mind can fracture, leading to desperate, irrational actions.

In Japan, they have a practice called "Johatsu," meaning evaporation. People disappear from their lives, often due to financial ruin, personal failure, or social shame. The Japanese system, police generally doesn't pursue missing adults unless a crime is suspected. This concept of starting anew, of seeking a fresh beginning, stands in stark contrast to the tragic finality of the news I read. Why couldn't our systems, our very minds, offer such an escape, such a path to renewal, for everyone? Why must people die with their desires unfulfilled? Why can't everyone attain the dreams they dare to envision and work towards?

Sometimes, I find myself wishing that the very concept of unattainable dreams could be erased from our consciousness. What is the purpose of longing for something that will forever remain out of reach, a mirage? The realization of its impossibility is a crushing blow.

The disparity in life's fortunes – the inexplicable ease for some, the relentless hardship for others – remains a mystery. We are left to navigate these phases, both the joyful and the painful, seemingly without true agency. How, then, does one thrive in such a world, sustain joy, and cultivate excitement?"

Rest, Ghibli and the AI dilemma!!

 

"The past week, though intensely busy, proved surprisingly beneficial. The constant activity effectively quieted my usually restless mind, validating the adage that staying occupied prevents dwelling on the past or future. I found solace in work, as it shielded me from the negativity my mind tends to conjure.

Today, I've allowed myself a day of rest, indulging in some leisurely activities and preparing my favorite dishes. I also experimented with converting a photograph to a Ghibli-inspired style, which I'll share.

While the capabilities of AI are undeniably fascinating and at times, captivating, I remain ambivalent. Like any technological advancement, it presents both advantages and disadvantages. There's a concern that it may diminish the value of traditional animation and artistic skill, potentially overshadowing the unique creative output of human imagination in literature and art.

Though AI is a product of human ingenuity, it also poses a threat to livelihoods across various industries, and may contribute to a future generation facing complex, AI-related challenges.

I find myself grappling with these conflicting perspectives."

What speck of sand taught me about emotional pain!!

 Two days ago, while bringing my child home, a speck of sand got into my eye and wouldn't come out. Despite my efforts to clean it, my eye continued to hurt. This morning, I woke up unable to open it.

This experience with such a minuscule irritant has made me reflect on life's challenges. Just like this sensitive eye is easily aggravated by a small particle, our most vulnerable parts can be deeply wounded by seemingly small things. The discomfort can linger far longer than expected.

Just as the sand in my eye, seemingly a minor annoyance, has caused considerable distress, so too can the actions or inactions of others impact our mental well-being. What might appear trivial can create deep and lasting mental strain, much like an ant's presence in an elephant's ear can lead to significant agitation. Ultimately, no one should have to endure such unnecessary emotional pain.

Reflection on past and future!!

 "Imagine pleasing two versions of yourself: the wide-eyed 8-year-old and the reflective 80-year-old. They're both watching, every day.

This led me to ponder: what would my 8-year-old self have truly wanted? Likely, a simple dream—a doctor, an engineer—without grasping the depth of those paths. Later, my aspirations narrowed: financial independence, a job to call my own. I never chased grand ambitions, just a secure life. Yet, I yearned for a partner with the drive I lacked.

Why this disparity? Perhaps my subconscious, shaped by observing my parents, limited my own vision. I suspect my 8-year-old wouldn't be too disappointed with where I am now. But my 80-year-old self? That's a different story.

Impressing her will demand more. It will require actions I can't yet conceive. Will I rise to the challenge? Or will I succumb to the feeling of self-sacrifice, prioritizing others' needs over my own? This is the daily lesson life seems determined to teach, but I refuse to accept it as my final narrative."

Silly unfulfilled wishes!!

"Last year, after a long period of neglect, I rediscovered my favorite number. Today, it appeared as my OTP. A strange, serendipitous start to my evening. I find myself wishing it would appear again, in a specific, desired context.

This is another one of my seemingly insignificant, unnecessary wishes. Why do I cling to these fleeting desires? Perhaps this is what turning forty feels like—a sense of time slipping away, wishes left unfulfilled. We prioritize necessities, letting our dreams fade, only to realize later that some may never materialize.

It feels as if I'm subconsciously preparing for mortality, wanting to fulfill these small wishes to avoid future regrets. Responsibilities have overshadowed my desires, yet I know even in death, some responsibilities, especially motherhood, will remain incomplete.

The thought of leaving my young, dependent child is profoundly unsettling. Motherhood is a lifelong commitment, and its abrupt end would be the most difficult. While other responsibilities might be left behind without regret, this one is different.

Ultimately, fate will guide me. My path is beyond my control. So, what truly remains within our grasp? Perhaps, nothing at all."

Holi memories :- remembering the joy!!

 The vibrant hues of Holi, the festival of colors, suddenly flooded my mind this afternoon. I found myself reminiscing about my favorite Holi celebrations, and two distinct memories stood out.

First, there was the Holi in Jamalpur, Bihar. Our host family had extended a warm invitation for lunch, and the feast was truly spectacular.  The table overflowed with traditional delicacies: gujiya, malpua, sattu, luchi, sabji, and thandai. Many of these dishes were new to me, as they weren't commonly prepared in my home state. Intriguingly, each dish had two versions – one plain, and the other laced with bhaang.

As children, we were strictly forbidden from tasting the bhaang-infused treats. My curiosity, however, was piqued. I longed for just a tiny taste, but lacked the courage to ask. We joined in the Holi festivities with family and friends, thoroughly enjoying the vibrant atmosphere. The Bihari style of celebration was unique, featuring rhythmic dhol beats. The women, who had been busy preparing the feast since morning, joined the revelry around noon. The color play culminated in a playful mud session, a custom that was perhaps not my favorite, but certainly a part of their tradition. My lingering desire to sample bhaang remains unfulfilled, a small, whimsical regret.

Then, there was the unforgettable Holi of my final year of engineering.  Only a handful of us girls remained in the hostel, the others having departed for various courses. We decided to celebrate with a spirited water fight, armed with buckets. It was a chaotic, joyous farewell to our hostel days. The corridors were awash with water as we chased each other, gleefully drenching anyone within reach.  A particularly hilarious incident involved a classmate taking a shower. Another friend, unaware, pushed the bathroom door, causing it to burst open. The shared laughter that followed echoed through the hostel.

This year, unfortunately, I was unwell and unable to participate in our society's celebrations. My husband had work, and my son was hesitant to join, fearing he might catch my illness. So, our Holi was limited to enjoying the traditional sweets.  But, as the saying goes, "relive those old memories a zillion times," and that's exactly what I've done today.

Happy Holi!

Building bridges in time!!

 The relentless march of time, an equal measure for all, propels us inevitably towards our end. Though we know death is certain, our minds often resist using the present wisely. But perhaps, this realization itself is the first step towards change.

Regret weighs heavily on me, a deep sorrow for the time I squandered with those I loved. My mentor, Melissa, initially seemed distant, testing my patience and withholding opportunities. For a year, this continued, then slowly, she began to open up. She became a source of invaluable guidance, sharing life lessons during our calls, shaping me into a mentor myself. I planned to call her, but then, she was gone. A birthday voicemail, a precious gift discovered in my work files, is all that remains. I cherish it, just as I cherish the videos that preserve my father's voice. These fragments are all I have of moments that have vanished. But within those fragments, I find a powerful reminder: love endures, lessons remain, and the impact of connection transcends time.

If only I had known those were my last moments, I would have held them closer, hugged them tighter. Now, all that remains are the memories, replayed endlessly in my mind. Yet, these memories are not just echoes of the past; they are blueprints for the future. They teach me how to cherish the present, how to love more deeply, how to be truly present with those around me.

Yes, I'm surrounded by those who take me for granted, their actions chipping away at my self-worth. I know I'm not perfect, but I am me. Their dismissive attitudes force me to erect walls, to set boundaries. While this might be a form of self-preservation, a shield against future hurt, it also reveals a yearning for genuine connection. I choose to believe that these experiences, painful as they are, are opportunities to learn and grow. I will strive to find the courage to communicate my needs, to build bridges instead of walls, and to seek out those who value me for who I am.

Why can't we lift each other up, progress together, rather than create these isolating barriers? Why do words and actions inflict such deep wounds, making trust seem like foolishness? These questions remain, but I refuse to let them define my future. Instead, I will be the change I wish to see. I will extend kindness, practice empathy, and cultivate a spirit of collaboration. I will learn to discern genuine connection from fleeting interactions, and I will trust that there are those who seek the same. I will trust that the pain I feel now will lead to a deeper understanding, and a more fulfilling future. I will seek wisdom, and I will believe that a more compassionate world is possible, starting with me.

Shailaja's story : support and struggle of life.

 "Talking to Shailaja today, now a homeowner, was eye-opening. She finally felt comfortable sharing her journey with family and friends. We found a shared sentiment: sometimes, family support is lacking, while unexpected support comes from outside. It's as if friends become the brothers and sisters we need, backing our dreams when family seems indifferent, or even adversarial.

Shailaja's story is a testament to this. Her school and college friends were instrumental in helping her secure the land for her house, and then provided financial assistance to build it. Their support was invaluable, a stark contrast to her family's perceived lack of concern for her future. This experience has reshaped her perspective, highlighting the pain and isolation many endure.

Even a simple, belated compliment can resonate deeply, a reminder of the hard-earned wisdom life imparts. Today's generation might label this accelerated growth as "adulting," but it reflects the harsh realities that force us to mature quickly.

Life undoubtedly strengthens us, but for what purpose? What is the point of relentless resilience? The meaning of life remains elusive. I, too, grapple with uncertainty about the future, focusing solely on the present. Sometimes, the internal struggle is overwhelming, and finding solutions is a constant challenge. However, connecting with others and hearing their stories offers hope and a sense of shared experience.

Shailaja expressed a desire to write her story, but questioned who would read it. It's a valid concern – who wants to confront the uncomfortable truths many silently endure? Can we collectively address this pervasive sense of isolation and diminished self-worth? Can we transform these silent struggles into a narrative of collective support and empowerment?"

Nadaaniya!!

 

 "जाने दिया था तुम्हें, फिर भी यह दिल क्यों रोता है?

  जो मेरा था ही नहीं, उससे दूर होकर,

 आज भी यह दिल क्यों रोता है?"

 "ऐ खुदा, यह कैसी तकदीर है तेरी,

 जो मुझे बेबस कर देती है?

 क्या करूँ इस नादान दिल का,

 जो बेवजह मुझे रुला देता है?"

  "जब सब कुछ जाना ही है,

  तो यूँ सितम न कर,

 मुझे ले चल, और ज़ुल्म न कर।"

Materialism in later life: an observation and inquiry!!

 "I was talking to my mom about her recent visit with our extended family, specifically my father's cousins, all now over 80. She mentioned their continued, almost heightened, focus on money. Even though their children and grandchildren are financially secure, they remain meticulously calculative about every expense. This behavior, understandable when they faced resource scarcity, seems out of place now. Their families want them to relax, enjoy their lives, and accept help, but they cling to their possessions and routines. They resist moving in with their children, deeply attached to their homes and belongings.

This observation resonates with my own mother-in-law, who, in her late sixties, continues to work, finding satisfaction in meticulously tracking her daily earnings. She, like my father's cousins, exemplifies a strong attachment to material possessions. This contrasts sharply with our generation, where finances are largely digital, and the daily accumulation of cash is foreign.

The irony is that these individuals often preach detachment. Yet, their actions demonstrate the opposite. Their reluctance to relinquish control and trust their families, their insistence on maintaining their routines, and their focus on material wealth seem incongruous with their age and circumstances. Why, instead of embracing a life of service or simply enjoying their retirement, do they cling so tightly to material things? Is it normal for attachment to material possessions to intensify with age, rather than diminish? I'm genuinely curious to understand the psychological or sociological factors that contribute to this phenomenon."

Maintaining equipoise of mind!!

 "I recently read a book on forgiveness by a speaker I admire. He used the story of Sita's abduction to illustrate the importance of maintaining composure during difficult times. He's right; controlling one's mind is a constant struggle, especially when challenges pile up, leaving no room for respite. While we all possess inherent divinity and deserve happiness, life often throws us into a relentless cycle of pain. Maintaining equanimity is easy when life is smooth, but far more challenging when it's not.

It's true, we all have things to be grateful for, yet that can feel hollow during intense hardship. We crave support and cooperation, but these aren't always available. I often question if my own forgiveness is reciprocated. It feels like I'm expected to give without receiving, to act without desire. "Expect nothing" is my mantra, but how can action exist without some form of intention? I know I haven't reached that state of pure detachment.

These trials have deepened my spiritual understanding, but I recognize how much I still have to learn. Sometimes, I wonder why I wasn't taught these lessons earlier, but dwelling on the past is futile. I'm grappling with a sense of detachment from everything I do. Is this a healthy path? I'm left with more questions than answers, a constant stream of inquiries."

Triumph and turmoil:A days reflection!!

 Today's entry begins with a story of triumph: Sailaja. If you remember that from my earlier post on real life stories about Shailaja. After years of hardship, she's finally achieved her dream of owning a home. Reflecting on her journey, I'm struck by the sheer resilience it must have taken. Raising her daughter alone, navigating financial obstacles, and securing a stable future for them both – it's a testament to her strength. Imagine the emotional weight of those years, the constant uncertainty. Yet, she persevered. She learned, she adapted, and she built a life worthy of celebration. 

 I can't help but wonder about the emotional toll, the constant worry, the sheer weight of responsibility she carried. It's a triumph, undoubtedly, but it also raises a fundamental question: why does life have to be so relentlessly difficult? We're given one life, and for so many, it's a struggle for survival. Where is the balance? Where is the ease, the love, the support we all crave? I struggle with reconciling such hardship with my faith. It feels like a fundamental imbalance.

Her youth vanished, consumed by the relentless demands of single parenthood, a constant battle against financial strain. The weight of sole responsibility, meant to be shared, pressed down on her for atleast 21 years until her daughter finally found stability. How does one sustain faith through such a protracted ordeal? Doesn't everyone deserve a life filled with love and joy? This felt like a silent, unacknowledged punishment. If divine mercy exists, how can such a fate be explained? What word describes this experience?

The journey of Shivaratri: remembrance and beyond!!

 Seventeen years later, your memory resurfaces, vivid as ever. I recall that time with startling clarity: my chickenpox, my youngest brother's looming board exams, and my father's hurried journey to collect me. We went to Vijayawada, his then-posting, where the doctor's medications painted my face with a thick, ominous coating. As a young girl, I feared the scars they might leave. The drugs made me drowsy, and I languished in my father's quarters, the humid heat a stark contrast to Bangalore's climate.

Then came Maha Shivaratri. My mother's call brought devastating news: your suicide attempt. You were in the hospital, conscious, but when you spoke, you addressed your mother as your sister's mother, not your own.

Now, I understand the depth of your anguish. The day after Shivaratri, my mother called again, this time with finality. You were gone. Shiva, it seemed, had chosen to end your suffering. I hope he granted you peace, a better existence. If reincarnation is real, I hope your current life is filled with joy. You would be around fifteen or sixteen now, perhaps facing your own board exams. Do well this time. Build a meaningful life, and don't give up.

Your tragedy, I believe, strengthened my mother. She nurtured me through my own emotional turmoil years later, teaching me to forgive, both others and myself. Forgiving others came easier than forgiving myself. Though I pretended otherwise, the guilt lingered for years. I never realized how deeply intertwined these events were.

Did your experience fundamentally change how my family reacted to my own struggles? Perhaps. Are we still connected in some unseen way? Could you be near me, unknown?

We often dwell on "what ifs," mourning futures we envisioned but never realized. Losing you is a regret that still haunts me.

This Shivaratri, my brother is moving, and I pray that Shiva will guide him in all his plans. Seventeen years, and the memories still echo.

I used to observe the Shivaratri fast since my third year of college, stopping in 2008 due to illness. I'm unsure if I continued the following year, but eventually, I stopped altogether. I felt Shiva had not granted my wishes. It took time to understand that perhaps he had, in a way that was right, if not for me, then for someone else.

This year, I've decided to fast again tomorrow. But this time, I won't ask for personal wishes. Instead, I'll ask Shiva to reveal his plans for me, to guide me. I want to see if this surrender, this acceptance, is the true wisdom I should be seeking. 

Ohm! Namah Shivay!!

Colouring with broken crayons!!

 Today is Vijaya Ekadashi, and it fell on a Monday, which meant less cooking for me. However, I felt rather down all day. My mind raced relentlessly until evening. Some days are just like that—they come and go without offering any relief.

I felt a little better after evening, though. I had this sense that life has shattered me into pieces, but then I remembered the saying, "Broken crayons still color." Even though I felt restless, I continued with my duties. It's exhausting to maintain hope in a seemingly hopeless situation, to keep my spirits up, knowing that my hard work might not be as rewarding as it should be.

Ideally, I should be thinking about early retirement at this age. Instead, my plans have gone in the opposite direction. It's disheartening to experience delays in everything I aspire to, but do I really have a choice? My introspection leads me into a whirlwind of past decisions, choices that seemed right at the time but ultimately didn't serve me well. Nevertheless, I survived.

I don't understand what life is trying to teach me, or why. I just believe I'm still the same person I was before I entered the real world after graduation. Somewhere deep down, I'm still that girl who simply did her part without thinking about the consequences.

The bare minimum!!

 The phrase "I don't need much doesn't mean I deserve the bare minimum" resonated deeply with me. It made me realize how this applies to so many areas of life, not just material possessions.

For instance, I'm not a foodie. This doesn't mean I should eat bland, unappetizing food every day. Yesterday's dinner outing brought this home. We rarely eat out, and I'm perfectly fine with that. However, I occasionally crave non-vegetarian food. My husband is a strict vegetarian, and before we went to the restaurant, I specifically asked him if they served non-veg. He said yes, but it turned out to be a lie – it was a purely vegetarian establishment. I was incredibly disappointed. I've compromised my own food preferences for him, yet he can't even occasionally accommodate my desire for non-veg, even once a month.

If I had met my husband before marriage, I might have given up non-veg entirely or never would have married him. But that didn't happen. I entered this marriage largely for my family's happiness, hoping to find a loving and understanding partner. Instead, I'm faced with someone unwilling to respect even small, infrequent requests.

My mind keeps circling back to why I got married in the first place. I married with the hope of finding a partner who would exceed my expectations. I've been committed to my duties as a wife, but why do I have to constantly remind someone of their responsibilities towards me? Shouldn't these things be freely given?

Yes, I'm not a foodie. I prioritize healthy eating and cooking. But it feels like no one understands my needs. My mother advises me not to expect anything from people, only from God. But where is God in all of this? Why have I received only the bare minimum, with nothing extra to feel even a little contentment?

Arranged marriages: a gamble of your life!!

 I recently heard a disturbing story about a woman in Punjab who faced immense pressure after giving birth to her third daughter. She was told not to return home from the hospital if the baby was a girl. It's appalling that women are still subjected to such cruel treatment for something they have no control over – the sex of their child. No educated woman should have to endure this.

This situation highlights the immense societal and familial pressures that can lead women into marriage, often without truly knowing their partner. A woman might not discover her partner's true character, particularly regarding support and acceptance, until after conceiving. This underscores the importance of knowing one's partner before marriage, yet many families in India still prioritize arranged marriages, viewing marriage as a union between families rather than individuals. While some are fortunate to find compatible partners, others suffer regardless. What are your thoughts on this?

The buzz around the Hindi film "Mrs.," a remake of the Malayalam film "The Great Indian Kitchen," is hard to ignore. Yet, I've chosen not to watch it, not wanting to dwell on a reality we all know too well. Indian women, sadly, have often internalized these domestic expectations as simply part of their duty and life. While progress is being made, and some women are fortunate to have supportive partners, is this the norm? Certainly not. Societal change is happening, but at a glacial pace. Too often, women lack support from their husbands, fathers, and brothers when they need it most. The "kitchen politics" from in-laws and the constant scrutiny from even their own families can make women feel less like human beings and more like commodities. And yet, we still boast about the greatness of our culture.

Today, I acknowledge, without reservation, that this aspect of our culture is far from ideal. Marriage often feels like a lottery, and the realization of its true nature can be deeply disillusioning. This, perhaps, explains the rising divorce rates, the increase in extramarital affairs, and the growing number of women choosing to forgo marriage altogether.

The unspoken "what ifs"

 A short story about a young househelp, forced into early marriage, resonated deeply with me. She yearned for the chance to have chosen a different path, one where she could have pursued education and explored the world beyond her family's confines.

This feeling of "what if" struck a chord. Even though I married in my late twenties and had a child in my mid-thirties, and my marriage wasn't forced, I still wonder if I could have made different choices. That nagging sense of unrealized potential sometimes makes me question my self-worth. I find myself asking, "Why do I feel this way?"

Perhaps this is why I understand the projected decline in marriage rates by 2050. Are we destined to bear responsibilities without truly enjoying our present? How can we shape our lives to achieve contentment, happiness, and fulfillment? These questions constantly occupy my thoughts. I'm currently working on something that I hope will address these feelings, but I'm not ready to share it until I'm certain it will come to fruition.

I was also inspired by a story about a classmate's 72-year-old mother. After retiring from her career as a lecturer, she began investing in and selling flats in the Delhi NCR area. Her resilience is truly admirable. I remember from our school days that her family had faced some difficulties. I never had the courage to ask her about her father, but I knew he was either absent or had left them. Her mother, with the support of her parents, raised her and her older sister single-handedly. To overcome such a traumatic experience and build the confidence she now displays in her seventies is remarkable. I have so much respect for her strength.

These resilient women serve as powerful examples of how to live a fulfilling life, even amidst life's challenges. I hope more people will share similar stories of courage and resilience.

Dreams and acceptance!!

 Seeing a Nissan Sunny with my favorite number on it while picking up my son today brought a spontaneous smile to my face, touching something deep within me.

It made me think about how some of my dreams seem to have been taken away, like pieces of my bright future were stolen. I adapted, following the path laid out before me, and stopped revisiting those beautiful dreams. But now, I've learned to accept them, even if they never become reality.

So many little things I could have done never happened, and probably never will, in this lifetime. Yet, I still wish they could.

A mother's plea!!

 My child, when you are grown and wise and free,

Remember, Mom's just human, plain to see.

Not God above, but earthly, flawed and real,

I learned from mistakes, the stumbles that I feel.

When you arrived, my life was upside down,

I didn't know how to hold you, little one,

Or feed you right, or soothe your tiny frown.

I learned with you, each moment, slow and new,

Felt unprepared, though I had waited long for you.

I wondered how my own mom made it seem so light,

While I fumbled through the day and through the night.

I did my best, the love I had to give,

Though maybe other moms more brightly live.

I loved you deeply, with all my heart and soul,

And gave you what I thought would make you whole.

But when you're older, and you understand,

Don't put me on a pedestal, so grand.

Remember, flaws are part of who I am,

Forgive the times I didn't meet your plan.

Perhaps you'll wonder why I brought you here,

But darling child, forgive, and have no fear.

Do women need men? A modern perspective!!

 I recently watched a video where men and women were asked if they felt they needed a partner. All the women interviewed said they didn't, while all the men said they did. This prompted me to consider why women today seem less inclined to seek romantic relationships with men.

One possible explanation is financial independence. Women now often earn comparable salaries to men, yet they frequently still bear a disproportionate share of household responsibilities. Even with increased male participation in chores, or the option of hiring help, many women don't perceive a need for a male partner. This begs the question: why, as social creatures designed for connection and family, are younger generations seemingly less interested in traditional relationships?

It's no longer simply about security, love, or family. Many women appear to be opting out of the complexities of managing a relationship, including navigating the dynamics of a partner's extended family. Anecdotally, single women seem to report higher levels of happiness than married women, while the opposite appears to be true for men.

My own views have shifted over time, as I've considered both Indian and Western cultural values. Western cultures, for instance, don't have the dowry system and prioritize love and individual happiness in marriage, often choosing cohabitation over remaining in unhappy formal marriages. While each approach has its advantages and disadvantages, I believe a synthesis of the two could be ideal. However, it's now up to the next generation to chart their own course. What guidance should we offer them?

Indian values might sometimes compromise individual needs, while the abundance of choices in Western culture can lead to indecision. Ultimately, successful relationships aren't solely the result of hard work; luck and destiny play a role in finding the right person. Then, the real work begins – nurturing the relationship to endure, or accepting its dissolution. Regardless, it's essential to be prepared to live independently at any time.

Love in Modern times!!

 Happy Valentine's Day! I hope everyone finds love and experiences the kind of love they desire.

Today, while appreciating the positive aspects of our culture, I also want to address some areas that need improvement. Based on my own experiences, I believe these points contribute to the problems we see in relationships and families today:

 * Traditional gender roles have shifted. While women now contribute equally financially, they often still carry a disproportionate burden of household chores and childcare. Even with hired help, the mental load of managing the household often falls on them. This imbalance can create strain.

 * Despite progress, women are sometimes still treated as inferior to their partners, facing subtle (or not-so-subtle) discrimination, sometimes even from in-laws.

 * While intercaste marriages are becoming more accepted, it often seems to happen more easily when the woman comes from a wealthy or influential family, suggesting that power dynamics still play a role.

Even in arranged marriages, family wealth and influence are often prioritised over other factors when selecting a bride.

 * The pursuit of wealth and power has, for some, overshadowed the importance of family values and genuine connection. These material factors can become the primary focus in relationships.

 * Issues like sexless or unsatisfying marriages are often suffered in silence. The societal emphasis on arranged marriages, where families are heavily involved, can make it difficult to prioritize individual needs and happiness.

 * Divorce is often stigmatized, even when it might be a healthier option than remaining in an unhappy marriage.

True love involves prioritizing another person's happiness, not just clinging to them for selfish reasons. In a world that often feels isolating, it can be difficult to find someone who truly understands and meets our emotional needs.