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, once 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.

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!

 

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.