Secret Solace

I saw your painting, and it spoke only of your love for me. You painted the most beautiful scenery with all my favorite colours. The paint dripped slowly, settling into shades that felt like they had always belonged to me. The mountains stood tall, Speaking of my ambition. The river flowed gently, like the softness I hide within myself. Flowers swayed in the quiet breeze, fragile and tender, like the delicate parts of me you somehow have learned to hold with care. My destiny is entwined with yours, like two rivers meeting without resistance. You could see and listen to the things I could never speak about. You became my mirror who saw my pain and reflected happiness instead.

In one of my travels there was a mitti ki surahi at the place we stayed. It had been a long time since I had tasted water from one. I had it and felt so refreshed with the adequately cooled water. Not like the sharp cold water of a refrigerator. It was softer and more comforting. My thoughts instantly drifted to my nani's stories. She always used to talk about village life. My thoughts started drifting to her stories and to what she used to talk about. How often do we think about the life people led with fewer modern resources. Why is the modern lifestyle so glorified? I mean people in older generations living in villages didn't have access to electricity or conveniences like refrigerators and gas stoves. But food was still cooked. In a hearth of course. With fresh ingredients brought straight from the farm. In summers you could still have cool water from the clay pots. In lack of electricity lanterns lit the evening hours. They used to have an early dinner, sleep as soon as da...

Iktara is a beautiful song. I have been listening to this song for years now and it's one of my favorites. I particularly like the opening lines "O re manwa tu toh banwara hai Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai Tu hi jaane tu kya sochta hai banware Kyun dikhaye sapne tu sote jaagte" This aptly describes the true nature of soul which believes in wandering, dreaming, searching for new possibilities. It's not bonded. It's free. By nature, by definition the soul is free. No one can confine it. It can flow, dream endlessly.  The soul may feel trapped by fear, expectations, memories but freedom is not something the soul has to earn — it already exists within it. The next lines go like - "Jo barse sapne boond boond Naino ko moond moond" Now that can mean the person has closed the eyes and dreams are flowing in ecstasy. The lines create a dreamy feeling — as if someone is drifting into imagination and deep thoughts while dreams gently pour over them like rain. It bea...

I called sadness to sit with me We hugged each other and watched the fading sunlight on the walls, breathing in the smell of rain lingering in the evening air. I loved the comfort sadness gave me, and I slept in her arms, allowing her to hold me for a little while longer. I felt like a tired bird finally finding a place to rest. When I felt better, she waved goodbye to me, happy to see me smile. “See you next time,” she said. “Enjoy life when I am not around. But sometimes, I have to come visit you. That is the law of nature. But we are good with each other, so do not worry, my dear.” And thus, she left, leaving me with hopes of better days and sunshine leaving me in the company of songs of the wind, and comfort of the meadows.

One of my favorite activities is taking my son to the playground. It's joyful to watch him play, explore, try different equipments, mingle with other kids. It's amazing to see him play in the mud, splash in the little pool of rainwater, smell the flowers, touch the leaves, talk to the birds and lie on the grass. It's a wonder to see him ask me so many curious questions whenever he is outdoors. It's funny to see how he tries to copy older kids, how he tries to do more challenging play. And then there is another side of him which is so amazing to witness. If any kid gets hurt especially the younger ones, he soothes them, runs to me to ask for water and band aids. Oh yes! mom is his first aid kit. I am grateful he shows empathy for other kids.  Some of the younger kids come to the playground with caretakers who would be busy chatting amongst themselves. I started helping those kids actively on the playground, on the slides and other equipments. They squealed with happiness...

I felt like celebrating my birthday more intentionally this year. I woke up hoping today gives me a few moments that feel truly mine. I promised myself I would shower myself with a little more love and a little more kindness than I usually do. I am going to give permission to myself to give more time to me. Today I will take space, not shrink myself.   Today I would do all the little things for myself that I usually keep putting off. I don’t remember the last time I truly allowed myself to do that.  So I did. And I felt so happy.  Today reminded me that amidst the questions, the storms and the wild dreams I am blooming in my own way. I am still growing, still creating, still becoming - and I am deeply grateful for that.  Today made me feel the nicest birthdays are often not the loudest ones, but the ones where you feel light inside for a while… understood, peaceful, and quietly happy. I rested dreaming about sunlit rivers, my spirit warm and flowing.

There was a time when their laughter knew the same roads, when silence between them felt warm like sunlight resting on old wooden floors. They were only friends, or so they believed, hiding little storms inside ordinary conversations. Years passed softly. Life scattered them through crowded days and distant nights, yet somewhere beneath it all, their hearts kept returning to the same unfinished place. And then one evening, truth arrived trembling— not loud, not grand, just two souls finally admitting what love had whispered for years. For a moment the world bloomed. Every memory wore gold. Every word carried wings. But love is delicate when wrapped in confusion. A misunderstanding, a fear neither could explain, grew like fog between them. The boy, unable to hold the weight of lies told closed every door quietly. And the girl remained with echoes of him— with songs that still sounded like home, with conversations replaying at midnight, with the ache of a love that arrived too late and v...

The wild in me does not believe in fences. It does not pause before walls, nor bow before locked gates. It breaks through barriers like rivers that cut through stone. The wild in me is like the restless wind, like untamed fire that wants to explore,  explore and explore, without the weight of fear tied to the ankles. The wild in me loves the freedom of the wilderness that ignites the desires lying latent - to demystify the mystic, to unconceal the concealed, within myself and beyond.