My Lipan Art Secret: It's Made of Trash!

 ​You won't believe what this Lipan artwork is made of. No pricey MDF or pottery clay here!

​I built the entire thing from packing cardboard and made the textured "clay" myself using paper mache. It was decorated just like any beautiful mandala—mirrors and bright colors to bring it to life.

​I love using waste materials because home decor trends are always changing. Why spend a fortune and feel guilty later? Creating art this way is cheap, sustainable, and completely guilt-free.

 

​Need a mental reset? If you have a few hours, ditch the screen. Working on projects like this won't give you instant gratification, but the moment you see your final piece? That's a dopamine rush you earned.

DIY: bottle art!!

 As Diwali approaches and mood is all set to decorate the house. I ended up decorating a small corner. 

I did dot mandala art on two bottles with similar patterns to create a symmetrical look around the Buddha statue. I have used gold and silver metallic acrylic colour for the same. 

प्रार्थना

 

​हे जगत जननी, हे दिव्य शक्ति,

सुन ले पुकार इस थके हुए मन की।

जीवन की आधी राह चल चुकी हूँ,

अब मोह और हठ से थक चुकी हूँ,

बस तेरे इशारे पर चलना चाहती हूँ।

​जो मेरे भाग्य से अब मेल नहीं खाता,

और बोझ बन मेरे मन को भरमाता,

उस हर बंधन की बेड़ी काट दे माँ,

मुझे मेरे सच्चे स्वरूप से छाँट दे माँ।

​जीवन पथ में जो भी बाधाएँ हैं,

या रिश्तों की चुभती हवाएँ हैं,

उन्हें मुझसे शांति से दूर करो,

मेरे भीतर को अपने नूर से भरपूर करो।

​अब सही राह मुझको दिखाओ हे माँ,

मन के कोलाहल को मिटाओ हे माँ।

हिम्मत और स्पष्टता मिला देना,

मुझे मेरी अपनी ही आवाज़ सुना देना।

​अपना शेष जीवन तुझको सौंपती हूँ,

तेरे न्याय पर भरोसा करती हूँ।

पूर्ण विश्वास है, तू ही साथ देगी,

जो भी होगा, मेरे हित में ही होगा।

​मेरा आभार स्वीकार करो, हे माँ।

ऐसा ही हो, तथास्तु।

ॐ शांति। 🙏

पुकार !!

 हे जग के नाथ, सुनो मेरी पुकार,

इतने मासूम नयन न डालो बारंबार।

जब क्षमा मुझे तुम देते ही नहीं,

फिर क्यों यूँ करुणा से देखते वहीं।

मुझे तो ज्ञात नहीं, किन कर्मों का ये दण्ड है,

पर तुम तो जग के सृष्टा, जग माता अनंत।

फिर भी क्यों नहीं बरसती कृपा तुम्हारी,

किस कसौटी पर ठहरी है ये प्रार्थना हमारी?

अरे, माता-पिता तो डाँटने के बाद,

प्यार-दुलार भी करते हैं।

रूठकर जब बच्चा उदास हो,

उसे स्नेह से समझाते हैं।

फिर तुम ऐसा क्यों नहीं करते,

क्यों मेरी परेशानी बढ़ाते हो?

जब मैं इतनी अच्छी नहीं थी,

तो मन में मेरे इतने आस क्यों जगाते हो?

समझ नहीं आता, अब क्या करूँ मैं,

कैसे मान लूँ कि ये दर्द भी मेरे भले के लिए है?

पीड़ा से तड़पती हूँ, रोती हूँ,

पर मरहम लगाने तुम नहीं आते हो।

अब बस करो हे ईश्वर, और मुझे,

ले चलो मेरी मंज़िल की ओर।

राह दिखाओ और साथ चलो 

मेरे, मुझे अकेला न करो।

Easy DIY: A golden lamp shade makeover!!

There's a special kind of magic in the air as Diwali approaches, isn't there? It’s that time of year when we sweep out the old and welcome the new, filling our homes with light, love, and a fresh sense of joy.

Inspired by this spirit of renewal, I decided to start with a small project to brighten up a corner of my room. I’m so excited to share my first festive DIY: giving my old lampshade (plain off white shade)a glamorous golden makeover. It was such an easy project, and I'm absolutely in love with its new, warm glow.

I hope this little project inspires you to add a personal touch to your own festive decor!

वो सपने जो बिकते नहीं!!

 कितनी प्यारी थीं वो हसरतें मेरी,

न महलों की चाह थी, न गाड़ियों के घेरों की।

उनमें बसता था बस ढेर सारा प्यार,

एक छोटा सा संसार, मेरा अपना घर-बार।

रोज़मर्रा की इस आम सी ज़िन्दगी में,

एक प्यारा सा सुकून हो अपनी बंदगी में।

कि हर सुबह जब भी अपनी आँखें खोलूँ,

चंद ख़ास चेहरों को अपने सामने देखूँ।

कुछ लम्हें ऐसे हों जो इस जीवन को,

और भी हसीन और यादगार बना जाएँ।

जैसे बर्फ की सुंदर वादियों के बीच,

गर्म चाय की चुस्कियाँ मिल जाएँ।

पर इन सपनों का क्या, इन्हें तो,

बस तन्हाइयों में ही देखा है।

कुछ हकीकतें सपनों से बड़ी हैं बेशक,

पर वो सुकून कहाँ जो इनमें देखा है।

काश मेरे सपने भी उन चीज़ों जैसे होते,

जिन्हें दौलत से खरीदा जा सकता।

तो मैं भी एक-एक कर के,

अपना हर ख्वाब पूरा कर लेती।

मेरे सपने तो बस अधूरे ही रह गए,

ये किसी बाज़ार में बिकते नहीं।

मुझे अब अकेले ही इन्हें ताउम्र देखना है,

बस इस एहसास के

 साथ, कि ये कभी पूरे होंगे नहीं।

A wound in my heart of Cuttack!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Parable of the Jar: The Lesson We Often Forget

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beyond the nine colours of Navaratri!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Questions We Should All Be Asking

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

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

Let’s unpack this.

The Critical Flaw in a Flawless Rule

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How to Act with Integrity: A Better Path Forward

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Verdict: Is It Even Real?

The influence of our peers is very real.

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

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

छूटी हुई तक़दीर!!

 

कहाँ थी तू, जब तक़दीरें बट रहीं थीं?

किस सोच में डूबी, किस कोने में खड़ी थी?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

शायद तेरे हिस्से में बस यही बेबसी थी।

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

किसी को लगा होगा ये तेरा अभिमान था,

पर तूने तो बस दिल से हर कोशिश को जिया।

​तक़दीर में होता, तो सब हासिल होता,

तक़दीर ही न थी, तो कुछ भी न मिला।

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

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

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

किसी बुरे सपने की तरह,

इस ज़िन्दगी को जी लिया।

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

The scars we call strength!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A prayer in the puzzle!!

 

Oh Maa Durge, the grace I thought I knew,

Now feels a shade of some less certain hue.

What I once held as blessings, gifts from you,

No longer feels so simple, or so true.

​Does this hardship, this path I must endure,

Stem from a moment when my heart, unsure,

Dared to be angry? A fleeting, fragile ire

Against your own unconquerable fire?

​This life you gave, a puzzle incomplete,

With every forward step, marks a retreat.

I try to build a picture, whole and grand,

And find more pieces slipping through my hand.

​I have no map, no compass, and no sign,

To say if this dark road is wrong or right.

Yet baby steps I take into the grey,

Believing you will guide me through the day.

​

But hollow is the echo in my soul,

A vacant ache that leaves me far from whole.

How do I change what I don't understand?

How do I calm the tremors in this inner land?

​How do I serve when I feel drained and bare,

And give out goodness from a well of air?

So teach me what you wish for me to learn,

The reason for this slow and painful turn.

​What I'm to gain from all this hidden strife,

Show me the purpose, Mother, of this life.

The Unanswerable Questions of a Hospital Waiting Room!!

 A movie found me yesterday. It was called “Waiting,” and it tells the story of two strangers connected by the shared, silent anxiety of a hospital waiting room. With their spouses in critical condition, their conversations drift into the deep, unanswerable questions of life, forcing them—and me—to confront one of life’s most difficult questions: what does it mean to truly love someone at the end?

The film’s quiet intensity was a mirror, reflecting a period in my life that I can never forget. In the space of just one month, my world was upended by loss. First, it was my father. The memory is still sharp: watching him suffer through a long night as we frantically searched for a hospital bed. Once he was admitted, the pandemic built a wall between us. Our only connection was a video call. In our last call, he looked serene, almost smiling in his sleep. Was it the medicine that eased his pain, a pain he couldn't hide when we were by his side? I hold onto that image of peace, a stark contrast to the helplessness we felt.

A month later, grief visited again. My father-in-law, a doctor and my father’s old classmate, was in the ICU. We rushed to see him one last time, but we were too late. A doctor met us in the waiting area with the news. When we stepped inside his room, a machine was still breathing for him. His chest rose and fell in a steady, mechanical rhythm. “He is gone,” the doctor said softly, gesturing to the flat lines on the monitor. “We just haven’t turned off the ventilator.”

It was a chilling sight, one a friend had described to me when her husband was terminally ill. She spoke of the moment her brother had to explain that it was time to let him go, that keeping the machines on was no longer an act of hope, but a delay of the inevitable.

How does one make that choice? Your heart, full of emotion and memory, screams to hold on. Your brain, the seat of logic, whispers that it’s time to let go. The film captures this internal war perfectly through its characters. It shows that in the face of such a decision, logic feels like a betrayal, and emotion feels like an impossible burden.

Watching that movie, I realized that some of life’s greatest lessons come from these moments of powerlessness. They remind you that despite all we learn and all we think we know, we are often just beginners, struggling to keep pace with a world that changes in the beat of a heart.

The one thought that saved my life!!

On World Suicide Prevention Day, we talk about hope and reaching out. But I want to talk about the moment before hope returns—the moment you have to find a reason to survive the next five minutes. I know that moment because I’ve lived it.

It began with a loss. I had anchored my heart to a future that could never be, and when the illusion shattered, so did I. A heavy depression descended, and in its grip, my own life felt like a burden I had to set down.

It was a quiet morning. The sun was rising, and only one of my roommates was in our flat. The thought of going to our building's five-story rooftop wasn't just a thought anymore; it was a plan. But as I considered it, my eyes landed on my roommate.

She was just living her day, completely oblivious to the fact that my world was ending. And then it hit me: my final act would become the beginning of her nightmare. The police, the questions, the guilt, the trauma. My attempt to escape my pain would become a permanent source of hers.

In that instant, I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't be the person who destroyed someone else's peace for my own. It wasn't a grand revelation or a sudden return of hope. It was a simple, stubborn refusal to cause collateral damage. Ending your own life, I realized, is an attempt to outrun your pain, but that pain doesn't just disappear—it transfers to those you leave behind.

Life is still a complex journey. That deep sense of loss has become a part of my story, a quiet ache that I carry. I still grieve for what might have been. But I’ve never forgotten the lesson of that morning: sometimes, the will to live isn't for yourself. Sometimes, you hold on for the person in the other room. And in time, you learn to hold on for yourself again.

If you are in that dark place, please know I understand. And know that even if you can't see a reason for you, there is always a reason. Look for it. It might be smaller than you think, but it is just as powerful.

There are many helplines available who would listen to you without judgement. Consider speaking to them before you take any decision. 

Handmade with love and shared with joy !!

 It seems the little crocheted ball I made for my son’s lunch bag had an adventure of its own today—right into the hands of a new friend!

​When he came home, I noticed it was missing. After a little hesitation, he shared that he’d given it to his classmate, Shivaansh. My first thought? "Well, that's what kids do!" You can't really be mad at a generous heart.

​So, while he was busy with his homework, I quietly got out my crochet hook to whip up a replacement. But as the familiar round shape began to form, a new idea sparked. Why make just another ball? With a few extra stitches and a tiny green leaf, the simple sphere transformed into a cute little fruit!

​Here’s how it turned out. I secretly hope he keeps this little guy for himself, but if these handmade charms become his way of making friends and sharing joy, I think I’d be just as happy. A mother's heart is a funny thing, isn't it?

Crocheted ball keychain!!

 My son's favorite moon-shaped keychain, which was attached to his lunch bag, broke today. It was a small rubber charm, and he was so attached to it that he insisted I fix it. Since it was broken, there was no way to repair it. So, I decided to make him a crocheted ball to replace the old charm.

I had to search for the crochet floss I'd used when he was born, but once I found it, it only took a few minutes to crochet a new, lightweight ball. It's a perfect replacement for the old charm. I'm hoping he loves it!

 

A smile borrowed from past!!

 Suman's day started at 3 a.m. thanks to some very enthusiastic Ganapati Visarjan firecrackers. As if that wasn't enough, she also had a terrible cough. She was so out of it that she didn't even check the time, just thought, "Alright, I guess I'll get ready and make breakfast." By the time she was done brushing her teeth, she glanced at the clock—3:30 a.m. Seriously? She went straight to the couch and managed to sleep until 6.

​Once she was finally up for real, she decided to make the day special for Abhinav's birthday. She cooked up a storm: puri and ghuguni for breakfast, and palau and shahi paneer for lunch. And she mentally noted to order chicken biryani too. She savored her breakfast with a warm cup of ginger tea, feeling a sense of peace.

​After breakfast, Suman decided to wear a new dress. It had been sitting in her closet for ages, a silent testament to a bad shopping decision. She put it on after her bath and sat down with a coffee. Suddenly, a memory hit her.

​She could almost hear Abhinav's voice, his usual sarcastic tone. "What is that you're wearing? It’s not good. You look so fat." She'd roll her eyes and say, "I know, that’s why I’m just wearing it at home!" They'd go back and forth, a silly, familiar game. He'd ask if no one sees her at home, and she'd confess that the dress was a bad choice—comfy but not at all flattering. The conversation would end with her admitting she'd probably wear it a few times and then give it away.

​But that's not what happened in real. Today, her husband didn't say a word. He didn't even seem to notice she was wearing something different. Suman misses those small moments of being seen, even if it was through a sarcastic jab. She missed the feeling of smiling for no reason, of being noticed. Her brain goes back to those memories now and then, just to give her a little smile. And sometimes, that's enough.

Creative acts as soul curry!!

Some days, you just have to lean into the beautiful chaos of life. Today was one of those days. Despite my child being home sick from school, I decided to swap our usual routine for something a little more special. I cooked a delicious, multi-course lunch, including a special batch of jeera rice just for me, and made a new kind of breakfast we don't usually have.

With my little one's help, we made the most of a day at home. Even when sickness made him a bit stubborn, I was surprised to find a new level of patience within myself. It felt great to navigate the day with a sense of calm.

Later, while he was doing his schoolwork, I tapped into my creative side. I grabbed two old flowerpots and gave them a vibrant, fresh coat of paint. It's a small way I try to reuse things instead of throwing them away and adding more to our planet's garbage. It was so satisfying to give them a new life!

As the day came to an end, a quiet sense of contentment settled over me. While my reality hadn't changed, my mindset had. It was incredible how much peace I found in these small, creative acts—from the meal I cooked to the pots I painted. These little bursts of creativity truly felt like a "soul curry" for the day, nourishing my spirit and reminding me that sometimes, the best way to handle chaos is to embrace it.

A beautiful contradiction of chaos!!

 I found myself enjoying the chaos today. A strange kind of pleasure washed over me as I was able to offer support to someone in distress. But now, as I reflect on it, I'm left with some questions.

​Why did I find this so rewarding? Was it just that helping others is a natural mood-booster for me? Or was I feeling a sense of pride, a quiet acknowledgment that I'm still capable of handling these situations?

​This experience didn't change my life, but it did give me a newfound sense of confidence. I'm hoping to stay grounded and not let it morph into overconfidence.

​Interestingly, I've also noticed a shift in myself. I no longer feel the need to seek validation from others and am becoming more comfortable with the fact that not everyone will like me. I have no idea why my perspective has changed so much over time, but it’s led me to a new interest: human psychology. It’s a subject I had no interest in as a student, but now I’m genuinely curious.

​Does this happen to everyone? Do our interests shift with time, or am I alone in this?

When silence becomes too loud!!

Ever feel like your thoughts are a radio that won't turn off? The kind that plays the same overthinking loops on repeat, especially when you have too much free time. It’s easy to feel this way, to question if you’re doing the right thing, or to wish for a higher power to simply give you a task, a purpose, something to keep you so busy you can’t get lost in your head.

Sometimes, the simplest things can trigger an emotional response—a feeling of irritation at something so small it's embarrassing. You might ask yourself, "Why am I not as emotionally resilient as I used to be?" It’s a draining feeling, like you’re just a pawn in someone else’s game, being used up and discarded. There’s a quiet anger that comes from giving and giving until you feel like you've sacrificed your own happiness just to fit in with the crowd. You look around and see people with their own struggles, but yours feels uniquely heavy.

The weight often comes from placing too much value on others. You invest your time and energy into people, only to be met with pain. It's a scary and anxious feeling when your best efforts don't seem to make a difference. We all make choices hoping for a good outcome, but the results are never guaranteed. That’s where luck comes in. It’s the luck of getting your dream job, of finding people who truly value you, of having help arrive when you need it most. These are gifts that we can't force or demand; they just have to flow.

But then, you see stories of extreme misfortune, like the recent news of a woman set on fire in front of her six-year-old son. You see a beautiful person and can't find a flaw, yet her life was destroyed by a toxic situation. People who do such things will always find absurd ways to justify their actions. It makes you feel helpless. We can't change them, but we can choose how we respond. We can either be a victim or walk away. It often feels like women are unfairly burdened with the expectation to be selfless and sacrificing.

All the news, all the stories of crime, can make you overthink it all, be it the crimes against women or crimes caused by women themselves. What is right and what is wrong? Who defines it? Why do some get rewarded while others are punished for the same actions?

It’s a strange contradiction—a longing to be alone, yet a craving for genuine connection. You want solitude, but you also want the laughter and conversation that lift you up, not the kind that fuels your anger or mood swings. It’s a feeling that has no simple name. It’s the quiet cry for balance, for a way to fill your time and your life with purpose, and for connections that truly matter.

Abhinav's birthday!!

The morning air of September always brings a rush of memories for Suman. It's the month of Abhinav's birthday, a day that now exists only in her mind, yet feels more real than most. He's a part of her, a memory woven into the fabric of her being, as constant as her own thoughts.

She finds herself in the kitchen, a quiet smile on her face. A simple question pops into her mind: "What would I have made for him?" Abhinav was never one for grand gestures or expensive gifts. He just wanted to be with the people he cared about.

But Suman always wanted to give him something special—a meal made just for him. His birthday is in a week, and her mind drifts back to his words about the curd rice his mother used to make. Suman wishes she could have learned that recipe, a tangible link to his past.

"Tell me what you want for breakfast," she whispers to herself, imagining he's there with her. "Poha? Puri? I’ll make it for you and eat it myself, just for you."

Lunch is another matter entirely. Abhinav was a true foodie. Suman remembers the last time they were together. He was so engrossed in his seafood biryani, completely satisfied, and that's all that mattered to her. She just wanted to see that joy on his face forever.

Now, her life is different. Her husband is a foodie too, but a vegetarian, which limits what she can cook. And her energy isn't what it used to be.

Still, the thought of Abhinav's birthday lingers. After her husband and child leave for the day, she's alone with her thoughts. She can’t help but wish she knew more of his favorite foods. "I’ll order a biryani," she decides. "And eat it all by myself." Her husband won't eat it, and her kid can't handle the spice. It's a special day, a day to celebrate the person who made her feel seen.

We all want to be happy. But the happiness of being truly seen by someone is invaluable.

Hurt people dont always hurt!!

 We've all heard the saying, "hurt people hurt people." While there’s some truth to it, it's not the full story. Many people who have experienced immense pain choose a different path. Instead of passing on their pain, they work hard to ensure that others don't have to feel the way they did.

It’s an incredible act of resilience and empathy. These individuals are intentional about not repeating the cycles of hurt they've endured. They use their experiences as a guide for what not to do. This takes immense strength, and it’s a quiet, often unseen, act of goodness.

But what happens when that goodness goes unrewarded? When the person who chooses empathy and kindness is met with repeated emotional blows, misunderstandings, or rejections? Over time, this constant emotional toll can be draining. It’s not that they actively choose to inflict pain on others, but rather that the unreciprocated effort can lead to bitterness.

It’s crucial to understand that emotional pain—from rejections to feeling misunderstood—is just as real and debilitating as physical pain. When a person's efforts to be good are not met with the same level of kindness, it can break them down. This isn't a simple equation of "hurt in, hurt out." It's a complex, messy process.

Sometimes, the people who are most hurtful are those who are celebrated for their cleverness or wit. They can use their intelligence and charisma to inflict pain in ways that are more insidious than a simple lashing out. And often, society doesn't hold them accountable in the same way it does someone who is acting from a place of unhealed pain.

So, the next time we hear "hurt people hurt people," let’s remember that there's more to the story. Many choose to be a source of light, not darkness. It's only after a long, painful journey of their goodness not being reciprocated that some may become bitter. The real question is: how can we be the kind of people who see and reward that goodness before it's too late?

Life lessons from Ganesha

 Ganesha, the beloved elephant-headed deity, is revered not just for his wisdom and ability to remove obstacles but also for the powerful life lessons his stories impart. Here are a few motivational stories about Ganesha:

1. The Story of the Broken Tusk

Ganesha is often depicted with a broken tusk. The story behind it is a profound lesson in sacrifice and dedication.

The Story: The sage Vyasa wanted to write the epic Mahabharata. He needed a scribe who could write as fast as he could compose. Vyasa approached Brahma, who suggested Ganesha. Ganesha agreed to be the scribe, but on one condition: Vyasa must not stop dictating, even for a moment. Vyasa, in turn, put forth his own condition: Ganesha must understand every word before writing it.

As the dictation began, Vyasa, to take a break, would compose a particularly complex verse. Ganesha, needing to understand it, would take a moment to ponder, giving Vyasa a brief respite. When they were in the midst of a particularly intense session, the pen Ganesha was using broke. Unwilling to interrupt Vyasa and true to his promise, Ganesha broke off his own right tusk and used it as a pen to continue writing.

The Motivation: This story teaches us about dedication and resourcefulness. Ganesha's single-minded focus on his task was so strong that he was willing to make a significant personal sacrifice to ensure its completion. It tells us that true commitment often requires us to go beyond our comfort zones and use whatever is available to achieve our goals. It also highlights the importance of keeping one's word, even at a great cost.

2. The Race Around the World

This is perhaps one of the most famous stories of Ganesha's cleverness and wisdom.

The Story: Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati once held a contest for their two sons, Ganesha and Kartikeya. The challenge was to race around the world three times, and the one who finished first would receive a special fruit of knowledge.

Kartikeya, who was swift and had a peacock as his vehicle, immediately set off on his journey, flying at great speed to circumnavigate the globe.

Ganesha, on the other hand, was much larger and his vehicle, a tiny mouse, was not suited for a long-distance race. Instead of starting the race, he paused, thought for a moment, and then slowly began to walk around his parents, Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. After completing three circles, he bowed before them and claimed the prize.

Kartikeya returned much later, exhausted from his journey, only to find that Ganesha had already won. He was confused and asked how Ganesha could have won without leaving their home. Ganesha calmly replied, "For me, my parents are my entire world. By circumambulating you, I have circled the universe."

The Motivation: This story is a powerful lesson in wisdom over speed and the value of introspection. It shows that true success isn't always about brute force or following the most obvious path. Ganesha's victory came from his deep understanding of his own values—that family and reverence for his parents were more important than a physical race. It teaches us to think creatively and find our own unique solutions rather than simply following the crowd. It also highlights the importance of prioritizing what truly matters in life.

3. The Story of Kubera's Ego

This story demonstrates Ganesha's humility and his ability to teach a lesson without being confrontational.

The Story: Kubera, the god of wealth, was known for his immense riches and a bit of an inflated ego. To show off his wealth, he decided to host a grand feast and invited Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati. Shiva, however, politely declined, stating that he and Parvati were busy, but suggested that Kubera could invite their son, Ganesha, instead.

Kubera, still wanting to flaunt his wealth, arrogantly agreed, thinking, "How much can a child eat?" He prepared a magnificent feast with endless varieties of food. Ganesha arrived and was welcomed. As soon as he started eating, a startling thing happened: he began to eat everything in sight. He ate all the food prepared, then he ate the plates, the utensils, and even the furniture. When there was nothing left, Ganesha's hunger was still not satiated. He turned to Kubera, his belly rumbling, and said, "I am still hungry. Can you give me more food?"

Terrified, Kubera realized his mistake. His entire kingdom's wealth and food were not enough to satisfy Ganesha's hunger. He ran to Shiva for help. Shiva, with a gentle smile, handed Kubera a handful of puffed rice and told him to offer it to Ganesha with sincere humility and love. Kubera did as he was told, and the moment Ganesha ate the puffed rice offered with true devotion, his hunger was immediately satisfied.

The Motivation: This story teaches us about the pitfalls of ego and the power of humility and sincerity. Kubera's pride led him to believe that his material wealth could satisfy anyone. Ganesha, through his insatiable hunger, showed that material possessions are finite and cannot fill a truly empty heart. The story concludes by emphasizing that true contentment and fulfillment come not from wealth or grandeur, but from simple acts of love and sincerity. It reminds us that our true value is not in what we possess, but in the character we cultivate.

​ज़ख्मी दिल

 यूं तो कई ख्वाब थे एक छोटे से दिल में,

उम्मीद से भरे नैनों से मैंने जिंदगी से कुछ मांगा था।

पर ये नसीब भी अजीब है, हर बार उसने ऐसे घाव दिए,

कि उस छोटे से दिल में एक बड़ा सा जख्म बन गया।

फिर भी, रोते-बिलखते मैंने उम्मीद से आगे बढ़ना सही समझा,

पर किस्मत मेरी ऐसी निकली, हर बार एक नया घाव मिलता रहा।

अब तो उस छोटे से दिल में हजारों घाव बन चुके हैं,

जब लहूलुहान होकर चीख भी निकलती है,

तो पीछे से आवाज आती है, 'अरे! ये तो पुराना घाव है।'

मन करता है पलटकर कहूं, 'ऐ जिंदगी, तू बता,

तूने मेरे जख्मों को कब सूखने दिया?

जख्मों के बदले जख्म देकर तूने मुझे छलनी कर दिया।'

अब किस बात को भूल जाऊं और क्या उम्मीद बांधूं,

जब सब कुछ धुंधला सा है और कुछ नजर नहीं आता?

ऐ जिंदगी, क्या मैं इतनी बुरी हूं कि तुझे मेरा सुकून अच्छा नहीं लगता?

बस कर ऐ जिंदगी, अब और लड़ने की मुझमें ताकत नहीं बची।

The priceless things money can't buy!!

"Money is very important but peace of mind is priceless."

In our fast-paced world, it's easy to get caught up in the pursuit of wealth. We work long hours, chase promotions, and save for a future we hope will be comfortable. While money is an essential tool for navigating life, providing security and opportunity, it’s crucial to remember that its power has limits. There are some things so fundamental to a happy and fulfilling life that they simply cannot be purchased.

Let's explore what money can't buy, and what makes these things truly priceless.

1. Money can buy comfort, but not true rest.

You can buy the most luxurious mattress, the softest silk sheets, and a soundproof room, but you can’t purchase a quiet mind. A restless heart and a worried mind can keep you awake no matter how comfortable your surroundings are. True rest—the kind that rejuvenates your spirit and calms your soul—comes from peace, clarity, and emotional strength. It's a state of being you achieve by understanding and training your inner world, not by acquiring something external.

2. Money can buy a crowd, but not the right people.

Money can attract a large group of people. You can host extravagant parties, buy expensive gifts, and command attention. But a crowd is not a community. True friends, genuine love, and loyal companions are built on a foundation of trust, shared values, and mutual care. You can attract people with wealth, but staying surrounded by the right people takes truth and genuine intention. The most valuable relationships are the ones where you are loved for who you are, not for what you have.

3. Money can buy service, but not sincere help.

You can pay for labor, hire hands, or demand attention, but you cannot buy sincere help. Real help—the kind that comes from someone's heart—is born of their choice to stand beside you, not for a paycheck, but because they care. It comes from a place of human intention, not as a transaction. Sincere support is earned through trust and care over time.

4. Money can buy a house, but not a home.

A house is a structure, an address, a building. A home is a feeling. It's the warmth of family, the security of belonging, and the memories created within its walls. A home is where you feel safe, loved, and fully yourself. It's a sanctuary that no amount of money can replicate.

5. Money can buy medicine, but not health.

You can afford the best doctors, the latest treatments, and top-tier healthcare, but you cannot guarantee health. A body that is free from chronic pain, an immune system that works, and the energy to enjoy life are gifts that money can’t secure. While wealth can certainly provide access to care, a life of wellness requires self-discipline, balance, and a bit of good fortune that is beyond our control.

6. Money can buy a reputation, but not character.

You can hire publicists and spin doctors to craft a perfect image. You can buy awards and accolades to build a reputation. But true character is revealed in moments of crisis, not moments of comfort. It is about integrity, humility, and the choices you make when no one is watching. Your character is your moral compass, and it is a quality that cannot be bought or sold.

7. Money can buy time, but not a moment.

You can pay for services that free up your time—cleaning services, meal delivery, personal assistants. But you cannot purchase a moment back. You can’t relive a child’s first steps or a heartfelt conversation. Time is the most precious and finite resource we have. The simple moments of joy, connection, and peace are priceless.

In the end, while we all need money to live, let's not forget what truly makes life worth living. The most valuable currency we possess is not in our bank accounts, but in the richness of our relationships, the quietness of our minds, and the genuine kindness we show to others. These are the things that bring us true peace—a state of being that is truly priceless.

Rakshabandhan- the sacred trust!!

Rakshabandhan is a beautiful festival that celebrates the bond between siblings. It's often seen as the brother's duty to protect his sister, but what if that protection goes both ways? This year, as I reflect on my own journey, I’ve come to understand that the truest form of protection is safeguarding our values and the bonds that matter most—even from the very people we call family.

For too long, I kept a painful part of my life locked away, not wanting to revisit the hurt. But this Rakshabandhan, I'm choosing to share my story because I believe it's a truth that needs to be told: not all women are the same, and the strength of a family isn't always what it appears to be.

After my father's passing, my world crumbled. In the midst of my grief, I was faced with an unexpected betrayal . My in-laws saw my sorrow not as a moment for compassion, but as an opportunity for gain. They pressured me to claim a share of my father's property and insurance, trying to manipulate a difficult time for their own benefit.

Their perspective was cold and calculating, rooted in an ambition that was really just greed disguised. They saw material things where I saw human life and connection. I always looked for people who could inspire me, but in this situation, life gave me a different kind of lesson: it taught me what I should never become. As Dr. A.P.J. Abdul Kalam once said, "It is easy to hold others under microscopic lens for their mistake and difficult to find your own." While I am far from perfect, I know that my heart has never been driven by such a pursuit.

The laws in our country are meant to be a shield for women, not a weapon to be used against our loved ones. My personal values are simple yet fierce: I will never, for just money, cause pain or disruption to my family or in-laws ,

I have never sought a lavish life, nor have I ever shied away from hard work. The path I've walked has been difficult, and I've faced moments of frustration. Though I never got that lucky break. Yet, the thought of sacrificing my brothers’ happiness for financial gain is unthinkable. My bond with them is not a transaction; it's a sacred trust.

My in-laws may have judged me for my choices, but I no longer care. They misjudged the woman they thought I was. They believed I was someone who could be swayed by greed, but they failed to see that the ties of my heart run deeper than any inheritance. I pray to the Almighty that the greed of people should reduce so they can see the good in others, and find peace.

This Rakshabandhan, I want to say to all men out there: not every woman is the same. We have different values, different life experiences, and different motivations. Please, take the time to understand the women in your life—your wives and your sisters.  Don't assume that we are all driven by money. What we truly long for is to be seen, appreciated, and respected for who we are.

That, I believe, is the greatest gift we can give each other. It’s a gift that goes beyond a simple thread on a wrist; it’s a promise to protect the peace and love within our hearts, no matter the cost.

A tale of two loves !!

The rain fell in soft sheets outside Suman's balcony, a gentle rhythm accompanying the quiet tears on her cheeks. The smell of wet earth and brewing coffee filled the air, a comfort that only deepened the ache in her heart. Rain always brought her back to Abhinav.

It had been years. She had found the courage to marry, to build a new life with a child and a husband. Yet, this weather, the kind Abhinav used to describe with such romantic detail, brought his memory rushing back. She could almost hear him talking about all the rainy days they’d explore together. But life, relentless and unfeeling, had moved on without him.

Her reality was a stark contrast to those dreams. This morning, like many others, had been a whirlwind. She had woken early to pack her husband's lunch and get their child ready for school, all so he could make it to an important interview. She reminded him multiple times about the time, but he was still late because he didn't finish his chores. When she called to make sure he arrived safely, his words were a punch to the gut: "My interview got rescheduled because of you."

It was a familiar story. The blame always shifted to her. Whether it was being late or a visa being canceled, any failure was her fault. But when things went well, the credit was his and his alone. She had learned to take it, sometimes with silence, sometimes by simply ignoring it. But it always, always brought her back to Abhinav.

In these moments, she felt as if Abhinav was right beside her, whispering the words she desperately needed to hear: "You are brave, my dear. Don't worry, I'm around."

Her heart ached, and she wanted to scream at the sky. Why had her life been spared, while his ended so soon? Why did she have to know such a soothing, calm love, only to be left with a partner who was its complete opposite? She had loved talking to Abhinav; she dreaded talking to her husband. It was an unbearable contrast, a painful reminder of what she had so desperately wanted versus what she had.

And so, on days like this, she would close her eyes and let her mind drift to a future she knew she could never have in this life—a daydream of an afterlife where she and Abhinav would meet again. They'd laugh, they'd joke, and they would look at each other with the sense of coming home. A small smile touched her lips, and she realized her coffee cup was empty. The spell was broken. She went inside, ready to get busy again, to face another day.

DIY planters!!

 

Sharing a few pics of my latest DIYs. This is what I do when I'm utterly bored. Don't laugh—I have to do something to entertain myself! This is where my creative mind takes me.

Nowadays, I don't have much free time, so I don't want to take on more complex tasks because I need time for other things. So, I tried spray painting with acrylic spray bottles and used an acrylic marker pen. It's so easy to transform something old into something new! The photos of my finished work are below. I wanted to make these yellow from their original white color.

I think it's better to spend my time on myself, my home, and my life than to be bored, right? And I'm not a Gen Z who relies on technology alone for entertainment. Sorry, Gen Z, but the idea of being engrossed in AI hasn't appealed to me yet.

Authenticity!!

There was a moment today when I almost skipped writing. The thought flickered: Why bother? But then, something pulled me back, a quiet whisper that felt like an unseen connection, a sense that someone out there might just be listening, understanding, even if they never let me know.

I've heard the advice countless times: "Don't share too much. No one really cares about your happiness, or your struggles." For a long time, a part of me believed it. But a deeper conviction always pushed back, insisting that authenticity is a far better path than living in fear of judgment.

I often write here feeling a certain anonymity, a freedom that comes from knowing it’s unlikely anyone I personally know is reading. This space has felt like a sanctuary from judgment. Yet, lately, a question has been echoing in my mind: "Where did I go wrong?"

I've come to understand that often, it's not just my actions, but my background that plays a role. I don't have the luxury of a safety net, the kind of privilege where mistakes can be easily smoothed over. For me, there's no room for error. One wrong judgment, one misstep, and it feels like years of hard work could simply vanish.

Despite this, I've chosen to take risks. Because without them, how can you truly move forward? Playing it safe, paralyzed by the fear of failure, is, in itself, a form of failure. This applies to everything – your career,  your relationships and your wealth. 

My experience has taught me this: The earlier you take risks, the faster you learn the game. Do you agree?

This blog as a friend: A place without judgement!!

From the moment we're born, our lives are a journey of meeting people—our parents, siblings, and the friends we choose. I’ve always believed that every human relationship, at its core, is a form of friendship. These people love us, challenge us, and sometimes teach us hard lessons. And in their own unique way, each of them shapes who we become.

Some relationships are meant to be a chapter in our story, while others are a lifelong book. Looking back, many of us feel that the best chapters were written during our school and college days. Before the pressures of earning a living and facing "real life" challenges, life felt simpler. The good things seemed to come our way for free, which is why we often romanticize our youth as a time of pure joy.

But let's be honest, those years weren't perfect. We had days of uncertainty, frustration, and sadness. Yet, we pushed through because our hope was high. We were optimistic, even without knowing what the future held. As we age, life’s harsh realities can chip away at that optimism. Our options seem to narrow, and with that, our hope can fade.

This is where faith comes in for me. I believe the concept of God was created to keep that very hope alive. Unlike my two brothers, I find comfort in my faith. It helps me maintain patience and optimism on difficult days. It's also easier to hand over my anger, frustration, and sadness to a higher power rather than blaming the people in my life.

My blog has become a friend to me, a space where I can express my emotions without judgment. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to stumble upon this blog in another life—to read these words without knowing I wrote them. Would I laugh at my past self, or would I think, "Wow, this lady is crazy"?

This thought brings me back to friendship, and something my husband and I disagree on. He doesn't see all relationships as a form of friendship and doesn't seem to value friendship as much as I do. I'm not sure if this is a personal view or a general difference between men and women.

However, I believe how we think isn't determined by gender. Perhaps my husband simply hasn't experienced the value of friendship in the same way I have, especially since it's something that can't be measured in monetary terms. People who are focused on profit and loss may not see the importance of emotions and friendships, but for me, these connections are the most authentic and valuable parts of life. I will always choose them over any material possessions.

Happy friendship day dear blog!!

The good girl vs the girl who got what she wanted !!

 

My friend is a woman of immense strength. Not long ago, she lost her husband, and she is now navigating a world that feels both foreign and financially precarious. But the struggle isn't what you might expect. She is not being supported by her family or in-laws, yet she refuses to ask for a dime. Her family is financially stable—her brother is a professor, his wife a high-ranking officer, and their parents have a handsome pension—but they seem to take her situation for granted.

The problem, I've realized, is that people like her are not wired to show their fear. She doesn't want to admit her vulnerability or ask for a few thousand as "pocket money," even when she could really use it. She feels it's better to manage with her late husband's savings, which I suspect are not very large. I've never asked about her finances, respecting that this is a deeply personal boundary.

What I witness instead is a silent bargain. She has taken on the full-time care of her own child, her brother, and his child, all without any house help. Why does she do this, when her family could easily afford it? Because she doesn't speak up. She has accepted this as the price for a safe roof over her head for herself and her daughter. This is the ultimate expression of her self-respect and stoicism—she would rather endure the pain and exhaustion than compromise her dignity by asking for help.

This, I've come to believe, is the unspoken definition of being "good": you accept the pain, you carry the burdens, and you keep the family's secrets. The moment you break the silence, the moment you advocate for yourself, you are labeled as "bad." Your goodness is measured by how much pain you can silently endure.

But then I think of the girls from our school and college days. The ones who had multiple boyfriends, who accepted expensive gifts, and who always had a backup plan. They were not "good" in the traditional sense. They were assertive, strategic, and unapologetically pursued their desires. Some married their lovers; others, after keeping their options open, chose a partner with more money. One of them even became a model in her 40s. They all seemed to get what they wanted.

This contrast haunts me. Why did one woman's silent sacrifice lead to more pain, while the other's assertive choices led to everything she desired? Was the sacrifice of one simply a different way of getting to the same goal?

I'm left with a question that my heart and mind are still fighting over: Which is the right path? The one of being "good" at the expense of your peace, or the one of achieving your desires at the expense of traditional values? My own heart still clings to the idea of enduring relationships over money, but the world I see tells a different story.

Have you ever faced a similar dilemma? I would love to hear your thoughts.

The world in a hurry!!

 I read somewhere in the news that there has been a sharp increase in mental health issues ever since COVID broke out. Of course, this is now the new normal, I guess.

I want to understand why mental health issues seemed negligible in our previous generation. What made them more suited to adapt to situations, and what involuntarily goes wrong with us, Gen Z, and so forth?

Is it overexposure to data, which makes it a tough challenge for the human mind not to compare itself with others? Or is it because people are becoming more money-minded in comparison to our previous generation? Is it because of FOMO or YOLO? Everyone seems to be in a hurry to achieve, to gain experience of everything. Patience and tolerance are reducing over time. And it's not just my generation, but I see a sharp decrease in our previous generation's ability to harbor patience in old age, too. They sometimes seem to be comparing themselves with us.

Change is the only constant, yet accepting change is the major problem. Everything from infrastructure to the environment is rapidly changing. Things are turning very different in just a span of five years. This rapid growth is also the cause behind our inability to accept the change. Five years seems too soon for the human mind to adjust to all these changes.

When you go back to scriptures, they talk about a time that was slowly changing, but now the situation is very, very different. The safety net people had back then in the form of mental support is no longer available in today's world. Who really bothers about you? You seem to be fighting all alone always. Although you might be surrounded by many, there are very few who really understand you and are willing to make an effort to be available to just talk to you when you need them.

I read somewhere that it just takes eight minutes to console anyone in need. When someone is anxious, just listening to them for eight minutes can make a lot of difference. Yet, no one seems to have those eight minutes. Maybe that's why we now live in modern societies with lots of amenities, yet we suffer alone.