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.