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?