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.

If love be sin!!

If loving's wrong, I did the deed,

You too, with me, planted the seed.

We both were lost, a twisted fate,

One freed, one left to bear the weight.

Why do I ask, then, day by day?

Is pardon's touch so far away?

If tears bring joy, or love's too slight,

Will mercy ever grace my night?

How long, dear Lord, must I endure?

Is kindness truly, surely pure?

This time, I'll try a different way,

Perhaps you'll smile at my new play.